st cry right avay alretty quick now!"

"Waal, gol dern my punkins!" exploded Ephraim. "It sartinly is old
Hans!"

"Oldt Hans? Oldt Hans?" yelled Dunnerwurst indignantly. "Who vos you
callin' oldt Hans mit such carelessness? Py Chiminy! I peen not more
than a year younger as you vos yourselluf! Don'd you git so bersonal in
my remarks!"

Then he saw Barney Mulloy, who was standing near, a broad grin on his
face.

With a howl, Hans flung the carpetbag and the flute straight up into the
air.

"Id vos Parney!" he shouted. "Id vos dot Irish pogtrotter!"

Then the carpetbag came down, struck Hans on the head and knocked him to
a sitting position on the grass.

"Sarves ye roight for torturin' our ears wid thot croupy flute, ye
bologna sausage!" laughed Mulloy.

"Pologna sissage! Pologna sissage!" howled Hans. "You vos chust as
sauciness as I efer vos! Vy don'd I learnt some manners dot vould make a
chentleman uf you!"

Together, Mulloy and Gallup seized the Dutchman, one by each arm, lifted
him part way to his feet and then permitted him to fall back with a
thud.

"Look out there, boys," laughed Frank, "you'll dent the ground!"

"Mine cootness!" gurgled Hans. "The ground dented me alretty soon! Don'd
put my hands on you again!" he ordered, as his friends once more offered
assistance. "Don'd try to pull der ground avay from me! I vill dood it
mineselluf. I vill got up mitoudt nopody's resistance."

Puffing and grunting, he finally rose to his feet, wiped the
perspiration from his face, and stood there, bowing and smiling in a
manner that was little short of distressing.

Frank led the Dutchman up the steps and presented him to the ladies.
Hans' effort at suave politeness as he bowed with his hand over his
heart was most laughable.

"Mine cootness! vos dot Inza Purrage?" he gurgled. "I used to think she
vos der most peautiful girl vot efer seen me, but, so hellup me sour
krout, she vos sixdeen times prettier-lookin' than efer!"

"You're the same old flatterer, Hans," said Inza; "but you mustn't try
to flirt with me now. I'm married, you know."

"Vy dit you hurriness so much? Vy dit I not vait for you?" he demanded.

"Here's Elsie, Hans."

"Vot, dot--dot angel vomans mit der golden hair her head all ofer?"

"She's now Mrs. Hodge," explained Bart.

Hans struck himself a furious blow on the chest and staggered.

"Dere I vos again!" he groaned. "Oh, vot a terrible misdake for her!
Elsie Pellwood--und she i