Now, if truth must be told, Fisher minor had come to Fellsgarth determined that whatever else he failed in, he would make a hit at "lamb's singing." He had made a careful calculation as to what sort of song would go down with the company and at the same time redeem his reputation from all suspicion of greenness; and he flattered himself he had hit upon the exact article. "Oh," said he, with an attempt at offhand swagger, in response to the demand. "It's a comic song, called _Oh no_." It disconcerted him a little to see how seriously everybody settled down to listen, and how red his brother's face turned as he took a back seat among the seniors. Never mind. Wait till they heard his song. That would fetch them! He had carefully studied not only the song but the appropriate action. As he knew perfectly well, there is one invariable attitude for a comic song. The head must be tilted a little to one side. One eyebrow must be raised and the opposite corner of the mouth turned down. One knee should be slightly bent; the first finger and thumb of one hand should rest gracefully in the waistcoat pocket, and the other hand should be free for gesture. All these points Fisher minor attended to now as carefully as his nervousness would permit, and felt half amused at the thought of how comic the fellows must think him. "Do you--" he began. But at this point Ranger unfeelingly interrupted, and put the vocalist completely out. "Did you say `Oh no' or `How now'?" "Oh no," repeated the singer. "You mean h-o-w n-o-w?" "Oh no; it's o-h n-o." "Thanks--sorry to interrupt. Fire away." Fisher tried to get himself back into attitude, and began again in a thin treble voice;-- Do you think I'm just as green as grass! Oh no! Do you take me for a silly ass! Oh no! Do you think I don't know A from B! Do you think I can't tell he from she! Do you think I swallow all I see? Oh no--not me! He was bewildered by the unearthly silence of his audience. No one stirred a muscle except Wheatfield, who was apparently wiping away a tear. Was the song too deep for them, or perhaps he did not sing the words distinctly, or perhaps they _had_ laughed and he had not noticed? At any rate he would try the next verse, which was certain to amuse them. He looked as droll as he could, and by way of heightening the effect, stuck his two thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat and wagged his hands in time with the song. Do you think I lie abed all day? Oh no! Do you guess I skate on ice in May? Oh no! Do you think I can't tell what is what? Do you think I don't know pepper's hot? Or whereabouts my i's to dot? Oh no, no rot! As he concluded, Fisher minor summoned up enough resolution to shake his head and lay one finger to his nose in the most approved style of comedy, and then awaited the result.