--and then all the people cheered again, and one man, who was moreexcited than the rest, flung his hat high into the air, and shouted(as well as I could make out) "Who roar for the Sub-Warden?" Everybodyroared, but whether it was for the Sub-Warden, or not, did not clearlyappear: some were shouting "Bread!" and some "Taxes!", but no oneseemed to know what it was they really wanted.

All this I saw from the open window of the Warden's breakfast-saloon,looking across the shoulder of the Lord Chancellor, who had sprung tohis feet the moment the shouting began, almost as if he had beenexpecting it, and had rushed to the window which commanded the bestview of the market-place.

"What can it all mean?" he kept repeating to himself, as, with hishands clasped behind him, and his gown floating in the air, he pacedrapidly up and down the room. "I never heard such shouting before--and at this time of the morning, too! And with such unanimity!Doesn't it strike you as very remarkable?"

I represented, modestly, that to my ears it appeared that they wereshouting for different things, but the Chancellor would not listen tomy suggestion for a moment. "They all shout the same words, I assureyou!" he said: then, leaning well out of the window, he whispered to aman who was standing close underneath, "Keep'em together, ca'n't you?The Warden will be here directly. Give'em the signal for the march up!"All this was evidently not meant for my ears, but I could scarcely helphearing it, considering that my chin was almost on the Chancellor'sshoulder.

The 'march up' was a very curious sight:

[Image...The march-up]

a straggling procession of men, marching two and two, began from theother side of the market-place, and advanced in an irregular zig-zagfashion towards the Palace, wildly tacking from side to side, like asailing vessel making way against an unfavourable wind so that the headof the procession was often further from us at the end of one tack thanit had been at the end of the previous one.

Yet it was evident that all was being done under orders, for I noticedthat all eyes were fixed on the man who stood just under the window,and to whom the Chancellor was continually whispering. This man heldhis hat in one hand and a little green flag in the other: whenever hewaved the flag the procession advanced a little nearer, when he dippedit they sidled a little farther off, and whenever he waved his hat theyall raised a hoarse cheer. "Hoo-roah!" they cried, carefully keepingtime with the hat as it bobbed up and down. "Hoo-roah! Noo! Consti!Tooshun! Less! Bread! More! Taxes!"

"That'll do, that'll do!" the Chancellor whispered. "Let 'em rest a bittill I give you the word. He's not here yet!" But at this moment thegreat folding-doors of the saloon were flung open, and he turned with aguilty start to receive His High Excellency. However it was only Bruno,and the Chancellor gave a little gasp of relieved anxiety.

"Morning!" said the little fellow, addressing the remark, in a generalsort of way, to the Chancellor and the waiters. "Doos oo know whereSylvie is? I's looking for Sylvie!"

"She's with the Warden, I believe, y'reince!" the Chancellor repliedwith a low bow. There was, no doubt, a certain amount of absurdity inapplying this title (which, as of course you see without my tellingyou, was nothing but 'your Royal Highness' condensed into one syllable)to a small creature whose father was merely the Warden of Outland:still, large excuse must be made for a man who had passed several yearsat the Court of Fairyland, and had there acquired the almost impossibleart of pronouncing five syllables as one.

But the bow was lost upon Bruno, who had run out of the room, evenwhile the great feat of The Unpronounceable Monosyllable was beingtriumphantly performed.

Just then, a single voice in the distance was understood to shout"A speech from the Chancellor!" "Certainly, my friends!" the Chancellorreplied with extraordinary promptitude. "You shall have a speech!"Here one of the waiters, who had been for some minutes busy making aqueer-looking mixture of egg and sherry, respectfully presented it on alarge silver salver. The Chancellor took it haughtily, drank it offthoughtfully, smiled benevolently on the happy waiter as he set downthe empty glass, and began. To the best of my recollection this is whathe said.

"Ahem! Ahem! Ahem! Fellow-sufferers, or rather suffering fellows--"("Don't call 'em names!" muttered the man under the window."I didn't say felons!" the Chancellor explained.)"You may be sure that I always sympa--"("'Ear, 'ear!" shouted the crowd, so loudly as quite to drown theorator's thin squeaky voice) "--that I always sympa--" he repeated.("Don't simper quite so much!" said the man under the window."It makes yer look a hidiot!" And, all this time, "'Ear, 'ear!" wentrumbling round the market-place, like a peal of thunder.)"That I always sympathise!" yelled the Chancellor, the first momentthere was silence. "But your true friend is the Sub-Warden!Day and night he is brooding on your wrongs--I should say your rights--that is to say your wrongs--no, I mean your rights--"("Don't talk no more!" growled the man under the window."You're making a mess of it!") At this moment the Sub-Warden enteredthe saloon. He was a thin man, with a mean and crafty face, and agreenish-yellow complexion; and he crossed the room very slowly,looking suspiciously about him as if be thought there might be asavage dog hidden somewhere. "Bravo!" he cried, patting the Chancelloron the back. "You did that speech very well indeed.Why, you're a born orator, man!"

"Oh, that's nothing! the Chancellor replied, modestly, with downcasteyes. "Most orators are born, you know."

The Sub-Warden thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Why, so they are!" headmitted. "I never considered it in that light. Still, you did it verywell. A word in your ear!"

The rest of their conversation was all in whispers: so, as I could hearno more, I thought I would go and find Bruno.

I found the little fellow standing in the passage, and being addressedby one of the men in livery, who stood before him, nearly bent doublefrom extreme respectfulness, with his hands hanging in front of himlike the fins of a fish. "His High Excellency," this respectful man wassaying, "is in his Study, y'reince!" (He didn't pronounce this quite sowell as the Chancellor.) Thither Bruno trotted, and I thought it wellto follow him.

The Warden, a tall dignified man with a grave but very pleasant face,was seated before a writing-table, which was covered with papers, andholding on his knee one of the sweetest and loveliest little maidens ithas ever been my lot to see. She looked four or five years older thanBruno, but she had the same rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, and thesame wealth of curly brown hair. Her eager smiling face was turnedupwards towards her father's, and it was a pretty sight to see themutual love with which the two faces--one in the Spring of Life,the other in its late Autumn--were gazing on each other.

"No, you've never seen him," the old man was saying: "you couldn't,you know, he's been away so long--traveling from land to land,and seeking for health, more years than you've been alive, little Sylvie!"Here Bruno climbed upon his other knee, and a good deal of kissing,on a rather complicated system, was the result.

"He only came back last night," said the Warden, when the kissing wasover: "he's been traveling post-haste, for the last thousand miles orso, in order to be here on Sylvie's birthday. But he's a very earlyriser, and I dare say he's in the Library already. Come with me and seehim. He's always kind to children. You'll be sure to like him."

"Has the Other Professor come too?" Bruno asked in an awe-struck voice.

"Yes, they arrived together. The Other Professor is--well, you won'tlike him quite so much, perhaps. He's a little more dreamy, you know."

"I wiss Sylvie was a little more dreamy," said Bruno.

"What do you mean, Bruno?" said Sylvie.

Bruno went on addressing his father. "She says she ca'n't, oo know.But I thinks it isn't ca'n't, it's wo'n't."

"Says she ca'n't dream!" the puzzled Warden repeated.

"She do say it," Bruno persisted. "When I says to her 'Let's stoplessons!', she says 'Oh, I ca'n't dream of letting oo stop yet!'"

"He always wants to stop lessons," Sylvie explained, "five minutesafter we begin!"

"Five minutes' lessons a day!" said the Warden. "You won't learn muchat that rate, little man!"

"That's just what Sylvie says," Bruno rejoined. "She says I wo'n'tlearn my lessons. And I tells her, over and over, I ca'n't learn 'em.And what doos oo think she says? She says 'It isn't ca'n't, it'swo'n't!'"

"Let's go and see the Professor," the Warden said, wisely avoidingfurther discussion. The children got down off his knees, each secured ahand, and the happy trio set off for the Library--followed by me.I had come to the conclusion by this time that none of the party(except, for a few moments, the Lord Chancellor) was in the least ableto see me.

"What's the matter with him?" Sylvie asked, walking with a little extrasedateness, by way of example to Bruno at the other side, who neverceased jumping up and down.

[Image...Visiting the profesor]

"What was the matter--but I hope he's all right now--was lumbago,and rheumatism, and that kind of thing. He's been curing himself,you know: he's a very learned doctor. Why, he's actually inventedthree new diseases, besides a new way of breaking your collar-bone!"

"Is it a nice way?" said Bruno.

"Well, hum, not very," the Warden said, as we entered the Library."And here is the Professor. Good morning, Professor! Hope you're quiterested after your journey!"

A jolly-looking, fat little man, in a flowery dressing-gown, with alarge book under each arm, came trotting in at the other end of theroom, and was going straight across without taking any notice of thechildren. "I'm looking for Vol. Three," he said."Do you happen to have seen it?"

"You don't see my children, Professor!" the Warden exclaimed, takinghim by the shoulders and turning him round to face them.

The Professor laughed violently: then he gazed at them through hisgreat spectacles, for a minute or two, without speaking.

At last he addressed Bruno. "I hope you have had a good night, my child?"Bruno looked puzzled. "I's had the same night oo've had," he replied."There's only been one night since yesterday!"

It was the Professor's turn to look puzzled now.He took off his spectacles, and rubbed them with his handkerchief.Then he gazed at them again. Then he turned to the Warden."Are they bound?" he enquired.

"No, we aren't," said Bruno, who thought himself quite able to answerthis question.

The Professor shook his head sadly. "Not even half-bound?"

"Why would we be half-bound?" said Bruno.

"We're not prisoners!"

But the Professor had forgotten all about them by this time, and wasspeaking to the Warden again. "You'll be glad to hear," he was saying,"that the Barometer's beginning to move--"

"Well, which way?" said the Warden--adding, to the children,"Not that I care, you know. Only he thinks it affects the weather.He's a wonderfully clever man, you know. Sometimes he says things thatonly the Other Professor can understand. Sometimes he says things thatnobody can understand! Which way is it, Professor? Up or down?"

"Neither!" said the Professor, gently clapping his hands. "It's goingsideways--if I may so express myself."

"And what kind of weather does that produce?" said the Warden."Listen, children! Now you'll hear something worth knowing!"

"Horizontal weather," said the Professor, and made straight for thedoor, very nearly trampling on Bruno, who had only just time to get outof his way.

"Isn't he learned?" the Warden said, looking after him with admiringeyes. "Positively he runs over with learning!"

"But he needn't run over me!" said Bruno.

The Professor was back in a moment: he had changed his dressing-gownfor a frock-coat, and had put on a pair of very strange-looking boots,the tops of which were open umbrellas. "I thought you'd like to seethem," he said. "These are the boots for horizontal weather!"

[Image...Boots for horizontal weather]

"But what's the use of wearing umbrellas round one's knees?"

"In ordinary rain," the Professor admitted, "they would not be of muchuse. But if ever it rained horizontally, you know, they would beinvaluable--simply invaluable!"

"Take the Professor to the breakfast-saloon, children," said theWarden. "And tell them not to wait for me. I had breakfast early,as I've some business to attend to." The children seized the Professor'shands, as familiarly as if they had known him for years, and hurriedhim away. I followed respectfully behind.