The Other Professor regarded him with some anxiety. "The smalleranimal ought to go to bed at once," he said with an air of authority.

"Why at once?" said the Professor.

"Because he can't go at twice," said the Other Professor.

The Professor gently clapped his hands. 'Isn't he wonderful!" he saidto Sylvie. "Nobody else could have thought of the reason, so quick.Why, of course he ca'n't go at twice! It would hurt him to be divided."

This remark woke up Bruno, suddenly and completely."I don't want to be divided," he said decisively.

"It does very well on a diagram," said the Other Professor."I could show it you in a minute, only the chalk's a little blunt."

"Take care!" Sylvie anxiously exclaimed, as he began, rather clumsily,to point it. "You'll cut your finger off, if you hold the knife so!"

"If oo cuts it off, will oo give it to me, please? Bruno thoughtfullyadded.

"It's like this," said the Other Professor, hastily drawing a long lineupon the black board, and marking the letters 'A,' 'B,' at the two ends,and 'C' in the middle: "let me explain it to you. If AB were to bedivided into two parts at C--"

"It would be drownded," Bruno pronounced confidently.

The Other Professor gasped. "What would be drownded?"

"Why the bumble-bee, of course!" said Bruno. "And the two bits wouldsink down in the sea!"

Here the Professor interfered, as the Other Professor was evidently toomuch puzzled to go on with his diagram.

"When I said it would hurt him, I was merely referring to the action ofthe nerves--"

The Other Professor brightened up in a moment. "The action of thenerves," he began eagerly, "is curiously slow in some people.I had a friend, once, that, if you burnt him with a red-hot poker,it would take years and years before he felt it!"

"And if you only pinched him?" queried Sylvie.

"Then it would take ever so much longer, of course. In fact, I doubtif the man himself would ever feel it, at all. His grandchildren might."

"I wouldn't like to be the grandchild of a pinched grandfather, wouldyou, Mister Sir?" Bruno whispered. "It might come just when you wantedto be happy!"

That would be awkward, I admitted, taking it quite as a matter ofcourse that he had so suddenly caught sight of me. "But don't youalways want to be happy, Bruno?"

"Not always," Bruno said thoughtfully. "Sometimes, when I's too happy,I wants to be a little miserable. Then I just tell Sylvie about it,oo know, and Sylvie sets me some lessons. Then it's all right."

"I'm sorry you don't like lessons," I said.

"You should copy Sylvie. She's always as busy as the day is long!"

"Well, so am I!" said Bruno.

"No, no!" Sylvie corrected him. "You're as busy as the day is short!"

"Well, what's the difference?" Bruno asked. "Mister Sir, isn't the dayas short as it's long? I mean, isn't it the same length?"

Never having considered the question in this light, I suggested thatthey had better ask the Professor; and they ran off in a moment toappeal to their old friend. The Professor left off polishing hisspectacles to consider. "My dears," he said after a minute,"the day is the same length as anything that is the same length as it."And he resumed his never-ending task of polishing.

The children returned, slowly and thoughtfully, to report his answer."Isn't he wise?"

Sylvie asked in an awestruck whisper. "If I was as wise as that,I should have a head-ache all day long. I know I should!"

"You appear to be talking to somebody--that isn't here," the Professorsaid, turning round to the children. "Who is it?"

Bruno looked puzzled. "I never talks to nobody when he isn't here!" hereplied. "It isn't good manners. Oo should always wait till he comes,before oo talks to him!"

The Professor looked anxiously in my direction, and seemed to lookthrough and through me without seeing me. "Then who are you talkingto?" he said. "There isn't anybody here, you know, except the OtherProfessor and he isn't here!" he added wildly, turning round and roundlike a teetotum. "Children! Help to look for him! Quick! He's gotlost again!"

The children were on their feet in a moment.

"Where shall we look?" said Sylvie.

"Anywhere!" shouted the excited Professor. "Only be quick about it!"And he began trotting round and round the room, lifting up the chairs,and shaking them.

Bruno took a very small book out of the bookcase, opened it, and shookit in imitation of the Professor. "He isn't here," he said.

"He ca'n't be there, Bruno!" Sylvie said indignantly.

"Course he ca'n't!" said Bruno. "I should have shooked him out,if he'd been in there!"

"Has he ever been lost before?" Sylvie enquired, turning up a corner ofthe hearth-rug, and peeping under it.

"Once before," said the Professor: "he once lost himself in a wood--"

"And couldn't he find his-self again?" said Bruno. "Why didn't heshout? He'd be sure to hear his-self, 'cause he couldn't be far off,oo know."

"Lets try shouting," said the Professor.

"What shall we shout?" said Sylvie.

"On second thoughts, don't shout," the Professor replied."The Vice-Warden might hear you. He's getting awfully strict!"

This reminded the poor children of all the troubles, about which theyhad come to their old friend. Bruno sat down on the floor and begancrying. "He is so cruel!" he sobbed. "And he lets Uggug take away allmy toys! And such horrid meals!"

"What did you have for dinner to-day?" said the Professor.

"A little piece of a dead crow," was Bruno's mournful reply.

"He means rook-pie," Sylvie explained.

"It were a dead crow," Bruno persisted. "And there were a apple-pudding--and Uggug ate it all--and I got nuffin but a crust! And I asked fora orange--and--didn't get it!" And the poor little fellow buried his facein Sylvie's lap, who kept gently stroking his hair,as she went on."It's all true, Professor dear! They do treat my darling Bruno very badly!And they're not kind to me either," she added in a lower tone,as if that were a thing of much less importance.

The Professor got out a large red silk handkerchief, and wiped his eyes."I wish I could help you, dear children!" he said. "But what can I do?"

"We know the way to Fairyland--where Father's gone--quite well,"said Sylvie: "if only the Gardener would let us out."

"Won't he open the door for you?" said the Professor.

"Not for us," said Sylvie: "but I'm sure he would for you.Do come and ask him, Professor dear!"

"I'll come this minute!" said the Professor.

Bruno sat up and dried his eyes. "Isn't he kind, Mister Sir?"

"He is indeed," said I. But the Professor took no notice of my remark.He had put on a beautiful cap with a long tassel, and was selecting oneof the Other Professor's walking-sticks, from a stand in the corner ofthe room. "A thick stick in one's hand makes people respectful,"he was saying to himself. "Come along, dear children!" And we all wentout into the garden together.

"I shall address him, first of all," the Professor explained as we wentalong, "with a few playful remarks on the weather. I shall then questionhim about the Other Professor. This will have a double advantage. First,it will open the conversation (you can't even drink a bottle of winewithout opening it first): and secondly, if he's seen the Other Professor,we shall find him that way: and, if he hasn't, we sha'n't."

On our way, we passed the target, at which Uggug had been made to shootduring the Ambassador's visit.

"See!" said the Professor, pointing out a hole in the middle of thebull's-eye. "His Imperial Fatness had only one shot at it; and he wentin just here!

Bruno carefully examined the hole. "Couldn't go in there,"he whispered to me. "He are too fat!"

We had no sort of difficulty in finding the Gardener. Though he washidden from us by some trees, that harsh voice of his served to directus; and, as we drew nearer, the words of his song became more and moreplainly audible:-

"He thought he saw an AlbatrossThat fluttered round the lamp:He looked again, and found it wasA Penny-Postage-Stamp.'You'd best be getting home,' he said:'The nights are very damp!'"

[Image...He thought he saw an albatross]

"Would it be afraid of catching cold?" said Bruno.

If it got very damp," Sylvie suggested, "it might stick to something,you know."

"And that somefin would have to go by the post, what ever it was!"Bruno eagerly exclaimed. "Suppose it was a cow! Wouldn't it bedreadful for the other things!"

"And all these things happened to him," said the Professor."That's what makes the song so interesting."

"He must have had a very curious life," said Sylvie.

"You may say that!" the Professor heartily rejoined.

"Of course she may!" cried Bruno.

By this time we had come up to the Gardener, who was standing on oneleg, as usual, and busily employed in watering a bed of flowers with anempty watering-can.

"It hasn't got no water in it!" Bruno explained to him, pulling hissleeve to attract his attention.

"It's lighter to hold," said the Gardener. "A lot of water in it makesone's arms ache." And he went on with his work, singing softly to himself

"The nights are very damp!"

"In digging things out of the ground which you probably do now andthen," the Professor began in a loud voice; "in making things intoheaps--which no doubt you often do; and in kicking things about withone heel--which you seem never to leave off doing; have you everhappened to notice another Professor something like me, but different?"

"Never!" shouted the Gardener, so loudly and violently that we all drewback in alarm. "There ain't such a thing!"

"We will try a less exciting topic," the Professor mildly remarked tothe children. "You were asking--"

"We asked him to let us through the garden-door," said Sylvie:"but he wouldn't: but perhaps he would for you!"

The Professor put the request, very humbly and courteously.

"I wouldn't mind letting you out," said the Gardener. "But I mustn'topen the door for children. D'you think I'd disobey the Rules?Not for one-and-sixpence!"

The Professor cautiously produced a couple of shillings.

"That'll do it!" the Gardener shouted, as he hurled the watering-canacross the flower-bed, and produced a handful of keys--one large one,and a number of small ones.

"But look here, Professor dear!" whispered Sylvie. "He needn't openthe door for us, at all. We can go out with you."

"True, dear child!" the Professor thankfully replied, as he replacedthe coins in his pocket. "That saves two shillings!" And he took thechildren's hands, that they might all go out together when the door wasopened. This, however, did not seem a very likely event, though theGardener patiently tried all the small keys, over and over again.

At last the Professor ventured on a gentle suggestion. "Why not trythe large one? I have often observed that a door unlocks much morenicely with its own key."

The very first trial of the large key proved a success: the Gardeneropened the door, and held out his hand for the money.

The Professor shook his head. "You are acting by Rule," he explained,"in opening the door for me. And now it's open, we are going out byRule--the Rule of Three."

The Gardener looked puzzled, and let us go out; but, as he locked thedoor behind us, we heard him singing thoughtfully to himself

"He thought he saw a Garden-DoorThat opened with a key:He looked again, and found it wasA Double Rule of Three:'And all its mystery,' he said,'Is clear as day to me!'"

"I shall now return," said the Professor, when we had walked a fewyards: "you see, it's impossible to read here, for all my books are inthe house."

But the children still kept fast hold of his hands. "Do come with us!"Sylvie entreated with tears in her eyes.

"Well, well!" said the good-natured old man. "Perhaps I'll come afteryou, some day soon. But I must go back now. You see I left off at acomma, and it's so awkward not knowing how the sentence finishes!Besides, you've got to go through Dogland first, and I'm always alittle nervous about dogs. But it'll be quite easy to come, as soon asI've completed my new invention--for carrying one's-self, you know.It wants just a little more working out."

"Won't that be very tiring, to carry yourself?" Sylvie enquired.

"Well, no, my child. You see, whatever fatigue one incurs by carrying,one saves by being carried! Good-bye, dears! Good-bye, Sir!" he addedto my intense surprise, giving my hand an affectionate squeeze.

"Good-bye, Professor!" I replied: but my voice sounded strange and faraway, and the children took not the slightest notice of our farewell.Evidently they neither saw me nor heard me, as, with their armslovingly twined round each other, they marched boldly on.