"Sit mit Owgoost!" he said.
"We haven't any 'August'," I responded, "that is Hans Dorflinger."
"Sit mit Owgoost," he repeated thickly and firmly.
"Is this boy a friend of yours, Hans?" I inquired, and the twins nodded blandly.
"Is your other name August, Hans?"
This apparently was too complicated a question for the combined mental activities of the pair, and they lapsed comfortably into their ordinary state of coma.
The Corporal finally found the boy who originally foisted upon our Paradise these two dullest human beings that ever drew breath. He explained that I had entirely misunderstood his remarks. He said that he heard I had accepted Hansanella Dorflinger, but they had moved with their parents to Oakland; and as they could not come, he thought it well to give the coveted places to August and Anna Olsen, whose mother worked in a box-factory and would be glad to have the children looked after.
"What's the matter mit 'em?" he asked anxiously. "Ain't dey goot?"
"Oh, yes they are good," I replied, adding mysteriously. "If two children named August and Anna allow you to call them Hansanella for five weeks without comment, it isn't likely that they would be very fertile in evil doing!"