“For vy you nod shpeak der Deutsche sprache?” inquired Frau Dinkelmann skeptically. “Pecause I dry hardt to make some berfections in der English.” The baron, however, in order to prove that he was not an impostor, rattled away in his native tongue. Herr Dinkelmann was in the cabin, but he was not feeling well. He was a good-for-nothing, the herr, and he was not brave enough to call his soul his own except when he was at his schnapps. Would the baron put up his mule in the corral behind the house, and come in? The baron would--and did. He found the interior of the house a bare enough place. There were two chairs and a lounge in the front room, and a table on which stood the lamp. Herr Dinkelmann was stretched out on the lounge. He was a short, fat man and seemed in great distress over something. “Ged oop, you lazy lout, und see vat iss come already!” cried Frau Dinkelmann. “A visidor has come py us, und you peen so drunk like nodding. Fritz! Ged oop yourseluf und sit der lounge on, den look vat you see. A visidor yet.” Frau Dinkelmann talked English, perhaps out of deference to the baron, perhaps only because she wanted to show him that she also was proficient in foreign tongues. As she talked to Fritz, she grabbed him and heaved him bodily into a sitting position. “Vat a fool I don’d know!” puffed Frau Dinkelmann. “Macht schnell, Fritz! Lieber Gott, vill you your eyes oben und see vat iss here?” A groan escaped Fritz Dinkelmann’s lips. His eyes opened and he saw the baron’s hand. Grabbing at the hand, he clung to it with a fervor that almost threw him off the lounge. “Safe me!” he blubbered; “safe me or I vill die! Vere vas it put you der schnapps, Katrina? Liebe Frau, gif me der pottle some more yet.” Katrina stood in front of him and stuck up an admonitory finger. “Hear me vat I say now und reflect,” she cried. “I gif you nod der pottle some more yet to-nighdt. Dot’s all aboudt it. You make oof yourseluf some pigs, some mules, ven you der schnapps trink so great. It iss nod dot he loves der trink so,” she explained to the baron, “aber dot he vants it der Dutch courage vat you call. He iss troubles in, ve art bot’ troubles in, lieber Gott, und he takes der schnapps to forget him der troubles. Vat a nonsense.” “I haf hat drouples meinseluf, yah, so helup me,” said the baron, “aber I look dem in der eyes und face dem oudt. Vat’s der use to trink und make some forgeddings? Der drouples vas dere alretty, ven ter trink iss gone. Fritz, mein lieber freund, douple der fist oop und knock der drouples oudt oof der vay.” Fritz moaned and tried to slump back on the lounge. “I don’d got it some nerve to knock me my drouples oudt mit der fist. Liebe Frau----” But Katrina had grabbed him and pushed him back to a sitting posture. “Iss it to dreat a visidor righdt you act like dot?” she cried. “I vill handt you vone auf der kopf oof you don’d make some vakings oop und act mit resbect.”