for you by a friendt of mine, and it is sehr gut. Ze first it is a cradle song. Now, I ask has any girl in ze class got at home a leetle, leetle brozer or sister?"
"I have," volunteered Mary Parsons bluntly. "A brother."
"And how old?"
"Six months."
"Ach! Zat is beautiful! You shall sing zis song to ze leetle baby in ze cradle, vile you rock him gently, gently, till he sleep!" and Fräulein gazed ecstatically at Mary, as if calling up a mental picture of her sisterly attention.
"He'd soon squall if I did!" grunted Mary to her neighbour, who exploded audibly.
"You, who are not so all-fortunate as to have a baby in ze home, must sing it to ze child of a neighbour," went on Fräulein, evidently determined that the value of the lullaby should receive a practical trial.
"And what are we boarders to do?" enquired Lennie Chapman ironically.
"Sing it to the cat!" whispered Hetty, whereat the bystanders tittered.
"You've stumped her there!" murmured Fiona.
Fräulein certainly for a moment looked a little at a loss, but she soon recovered her presence of mind.
"Vait till ze holidays, zen you sall see!" she returned with an engaging smile. "I shall now sing von or two of ze lieder to you, to show you vat zey are like."
The music of the songs was beautiful, that was
