ng with a volume
of songs of her own composition, their discontent verged towards mutiny.

"Ze original vords are, of course, in German," explained Fraeulein, "but
I have had a translation made 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 Fraeulein
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 Fraeulein, 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.

Fraeulein 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 allowed by even the most
unappreciative of the girls. There was a joyous lilt and a true melody
about them that put them high in the rank of composition, and the
accompaniments played with Fraeulein's delicate touch were harmonious and
suitable. The words, unfortunately, were childish in the extreme, and
more fit for youngsters of five than girls of eleven to fourteen. Even
the members of the Lower Third turned up supercilious noses. They were
further marred by Fraeulein's accent, and when she unctuously rendered

"Hush, my baby, sweetest, best,
Little mousie's gone to rest",

as

"Hosh, my baby, sveetest, best,
Leetle moozie's gone to rest",

a ripple of mirth passed round the class.

Having gone through one or two as specimens, Fraeulein selected the
lullaby and set the girls to work at it. I am afraid that, instead of
doing their best, they only sang in mockery. Fiona Campbell made a
pretence cradle