“Before you begin, Hans,” laughed Frank, “you had better make sure no one in the room has a gun.” “Coot cracious!” gurgled the Dutch boy, staring at Frank. “Vos you shelus, too? I didn’d oxbect dot vrom you, Vrankie. Py Chorch! This vos a surbrise vor you!” “It will be a surprise for a great many when you begin to sing,” sighed the big Yale man. “Mister Prowning, your remarks vos oxceeding der blace out uf. Laties, vot shall I sung to you?” “Oh, anything!” cried Hattie. “Make your own selection.” “I nefer sing any dose common songs uf. Der oldt songs vos goot enough me vor, such as, ‘Holdt der Vort Up,’ ‘Bull der Shore Vor,’ ‘Vait Till der Glouts Roll Pie, Shenny,’ ‘Der Oldt Oaken Pocket,’ und such as dose.” “Oh, do sing ‘The Old Oaken Bucket,’” urged Hattie. “Yes, do!” cried the others. “Vale, I ain’d sung dot some dime vor, but id peen my vavorite song. I vill gif him to you, laties.” “Who will accompany you?” “I don’d needed nottings dot kindt uf. I can done my own accombanying. Shust kept sdill now, und I vill wable.” Then Hans took a position in the middle of the room, threw his chest out and his head back, opened his mouth and let out some very remarkable sounds. This is his version of “The Old Oaken Bucket” as he gave it: “How tear to your heart der scenes uf my shildhoot vos alretty yet, Ven I sot me town und let vond reggolections bresent dem vor me to view ofer, Der abble drees, der meatow, und der pushes vot vos all tangled up, Und efery odder oldt blace vot I knew ven you vos a kid. Der vrog pond spreat oudt, und der mill britty near it to, Der pridge und der pig stone vere der water run ofer und vell down, Der house vot pelonged mein varter to, und der blace vere dey made putter britty close to dot, Und der nexd thing vos der oldt oaken pucket dot hung der vell down indo. Der oldt oaken pucket, the pucket vot vas cofered mit moss all ofer, Der iron-pound pucket, der pucket vot hung der vell down indo.” By the time he got that far the entire gathering was convulsed with laughter. As he had been singing with his eyes closed, he had not seen them laughing, but now he opened his eyes and caught his breath in preparation for starting in on the next verse. He did not start. The shout of laughter that went up made him stagger and gasp. He stared around blankly, and then he looked disgusted. “Py Chorch!” he muttered, “I pelief they vos laughin’ me at!” In high indignation he stalked to his seat, and dropped down heavily, dragging a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopping the perspiration off his face. Frank was laughing as heartily as anyone. Even Jack Diamond was smiling. “Oh! oh! oh!” cried Hattie Hazle, with her handkerchief over her face. “Vale,” said Hans, sadly, “I nefer oxbected you vould laugh me at, Miss Hazles!” “Oh! oh! oh!” gasped Hattie. “I’m—not—laughing.” “Vot?” “No.” “Vot you vos doin’?” “I—I’m—crying!” she shrieked, with another outburst.