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 of her arm, and rocked it for Mary Parsons' benefit; and Gipsy put an amount of sham sentiment into her execution calculated to convulse the others. At the end of the lesson the class trooped away in a state of frank rebellion. "Really, this is too much!" protested Dilys Fenton. "We can't be expected to sing her silly songs." "It's just baby nonsense!" exclaimed Norah Bell. "The music's pretty," said Joyce Adamson. "Oh, yes, the music--but look at the words!" scoffed Gipsy, turning over the pages of the new copies. "Did you ever see anything so absolutely idiotic in all your life as this? "'Old hare's little son Is up to good fun, And skipping and prancing He's bent upon dancing. Just see how he spins On his dear little pins!'" "It's an affront to ask us to learn such rubbish!" declared the outraged girls. "We shall really have to speak to Poppie about it." "Yes, a good idea! Let's complain to Poppie." "If she'll listen." "She's not generally so ready to hear our grievances." "Well, something will have to be done, for we can't go on week after week with this baby stuff. It's like turning back to one's ABC. I declare we'd more sensible songs when I was in the Kindergarten." "I'll take my book home, and perhaps I can get my mother to write a letter to Poppie about it," suggested Mary Parsons. "You! Why, you're the one who's to sit serenading over your infant brother's cradle!" "Perhaps Sausage will bring a doll to school next week and make us practise with it in turns! She'd be quite capable of it," sniggered Maude Helm.