THE OTHER PROFESSOR.
"We were looking for you!" cried Sylvie, in a tone of great relief. "We
_do_ want you so much, you ca'n't think!"
"What is it, dear children?" the Professor asked, beaming on them with a
very different look from what Uggug ever got from him.
"We want you to speak to the Gardener for us," Sylvie said, as she and
Bruno took the old man's hands and led him into the hall.
"He's ever so unkind!" Bruno mournfully added. "They's _all_ unkind to
us, now that Father's gone. The Lion were _much_ nicer!"
"But you must explain to me, please," the Professor said with an anxious
look, "_which_ is the Lion, and _which_ is the Gardener. It's _most_
important not to get two such animals confused together. And one's very
liable to do it in their case--both having mouths, you know----"
"Doos oo _always_ confuses two animals together?" Bruno asked.
"Pretty often, I'm afraid," the Professor candidly confessed. "Now, for
instance, there's the rabbit-hutch and the hall-clock." The Professor
pointed them out. "One gets a little confused with _them_--both having
doors, you know. Now, only yesterday--would you believe it?--I put some
lettuces into the clock, and tried to wind up the rabbit!"
"Did the rabbit _go_, after oo wounded it up?" said Bruno.
The Professor clasped his hands on the top of his head, and groaned.
"Go? I should think it _did_ go! Why, it's _gone_! And where ever it's
gone to--that's what I _ca'n't_ find out! I've done my best--I've read
all the article 'Rabbit' in the great dictionary---- Come in!"
"Only the tailor, Sir, with your little bill," said a meek voice outside
the door.
"Ah, well, I can soon settle _his_ business," the Professor said to the
children, "if you'll just wait a minute. How much is it, this year, my
man?" The tailor had come in while he was speaking.
"Well, it's been a doubling so many years, you see," the tailor replied,
a little gruffly, "and I think I'd like the money now. It's two thousand
pound, it is!"
"Oh, that's nothing!" the Professor carelessly remarked, feeling in his
pocket, as if he always carried at least _that_ amount about with him.
"But wouldn't you like to wait just another year, and make it _four_
thousand? Just think how rich you'd be! Why, you might be a _King_, if
you liked!"
"I don't know as I'd care about being a _King_," the man said
thoughtfully. "But it _dew_ sound a powerful sight o' money! Well, I
think I'll wait----"
"Of course you will!" said the Professor. "There's good sense in _you_,
I see. Good-day to you, my man!"
"Will you ever have to pay him that four thousand pounds?" Sylvie asked
as the door closed on the departing creditor.
"_Never_, my child!" the Professor replied emphatically. "He'll go on
doubling it, till he dies. You see it's _always_ worth while waiting
another year, to get twice as much money! And now what would you like to
do, my little friends? Shall I take you to see the Other Professor? This
would be an excellent opportunity for a visit," he said to himself,
glancing at his watch: "he generally takes a short rest--of fourteen
minutes and a half--about this time."
Bruno hastily went round to Sylvie, who was standing at the other side
of the Professor, and put his hand into hers. "I _thinks_ we'd like to
go," he said doubtfully: "only please let's go all together. It's best
to be on the safe side, oo know!"
"Why, you talk as if you were _Sylvie_!" exclaimed the Professor.
"I know I did," Bruno replied very humbly. "I quite forgotted I wasn't
Sylvie. Only I fought he might be rarver fierce!"
The Professor laughed a jolly laugh. "Oh, he's quite tame!" he said. "He
never bites. He's only a little--a little _dreamy_, you know." He took
hold of Bruno's other hand, and led the children down a long passage I
had never noticed before--not that there was anything remarkable in
_that_: I was constantly coming on new rooms and passages in that
mysterious Palace, and very seldom succeeded in finding the old ones
again.
Near the end of the passage the Professor stopped. "This is his room,"
he said, pointing to the solid wall.
"We ca'n't get in through _there_!" Bruno exclaimed.
Sylvie said nothing, till she had carefully examined whether the wall
opened anywhere. Then she laughed merrily: "You're playing us a trick,
you dear old thing!" she said. "There's no _door_ here!"
"There isn't any door to the room," said the Professor. "We shall have
to climb in at the window."
[Illustration: THE OTHER PROFESSOR]
So we went into the garden, and soon found the window of the Other
Professor's room. It was a ground-floor window, and stood invitingly
open: the Professor first lifted the two children in, and then he and I
climbed in after them.
The Other Professor was seated at a table, with a large book open before
him, on which his forehead was resting: he had clasped his arms round
the book, and was snoring heavily. "He usually reads like that," the
Professor remarked, "when the book's very interesting: and then
sometimes it's very difficult to get him to attend!"
This seemed to be one of the difficult times: the Professor lifted him
up, once or twice, and shook him violently: but he always returned to
his book the moment he was let go of, and showed by his heavy breathing
that the book was as interesting as ever.
"How dreamy he is!" the Professor exclaimed. "He must have got to a
_very_ interesting part of the book!" And he rained quite a shower of
thumps on the Other Professor's back, shouting "Hoy! Hoy!" all the time.
"Isn't it _wonderful_ that he should be so dreamy?" he said to Bruno.
"If he's always as _sleepy_ as that," Bruno remarked, "a _course_ he's
dreamy!"
"But what are we to _do_?" said the Professor. "You see he's quite
wrapped up in the book!"
"Suppose oo _shuts_ the book?" Bruno suggested.
"That's it!" cried the delighted Professor. "Of course that'll do it!"
And he shut up the book so quickly that he caught the Other Professor's
nose between the leaves, and gave it a severe pinch.
The Other Professor instantly rose to his feet, and carried the book
away to the end of the room, where he put it back in its place in the
book-case. "I've been reading for eighteen hours and three-quarters," he
said, "and now I shall rest for fourteen minutes and a half. Is the
Lecture all ready?"
"Very nearly," the Professor humbly replied. "I shall ask you to give me
a hint or two--there will be a few little difficulties----"
"And a Banquet, I think you said?"
"Oh, yes! The Banquet comes _first_, of course. People never enjoy
Abstract Science, you know, when they're ravenous with hunger. And then
there's the Fancy-Dress-Ball. Oh, there'll be lots of entertainment!"
"Where will the Ball come in?" said the Other Professor.
"I _think_ it had better come at the beginning of the Banquet--it brings
people together so nicely, you know."
"Yes, that's the right order. First the Meeting: then the Eating: then
the Treating--for I'm sure any Lecture _you_ give us will be a treat!"
said the Other Professor, who had been standing with his back to us all
this time, occupying himself in taking the books out, one by one, and
turning them upside-down. An easel, with a black board on it, stood near
him: and, every time that he turned a book upside-down, he made a mark
on the board with a piece of chalk.
"And as to the 'Pig-Tale'--which _you_ have so kindly promised to give
us--" the Professor went on, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I think
that had better come at the _end_ of the Banquet: then people can listen
to it quietly."
"Shall I _sing_ it?" the Other Professor asked, with a smile of delight.
"If you _can_," the Professor replied, cautiously.
"Let me try," said the Other Professor, seating himself at the
pianoforte. "For the sake of argument, let us assume that it begins on A
flat." And he struck the note in question. "La, la, la! I think that's
within an octave of it." He struck the note again, and appealed to
Bruno, who was standing at his side. "Did I sing it like _that_, my
child?"
"No, oo didn't," Bruno replied with great decision. "It were more like a
duck."
"Single notes are apt to have that effect," the Other Professor said
with a sigh. "Let me try a whole verse.
There was a Pig, that sat alone,
Beside a ruined Pump.
By day and night he made his moan:
It would have stirred a heart of stone
To see him wring his hoofs and groan,
Because he could not jump.
Would you call that a tune, Professor?" he asked, when he had finished.
The Professor considered a little. "Well," he said at last, "some of the
notes are the same as others--and some are different--but I should
hardly call it a _tune_."
"Let me try it a bit by myself," said the Other Professor. And he began
touching the notes here and there, and humming to himself like an angry
bluebottle.
"How do you like his singing?" the Professor asked the children in a low
voice.
"It isn't very _beautiful_," Sylvie said, hesitatingly.
"It's very extremely _ugly_!" Bruno said, without any hesitation at all.
"All extremes are bad," the Professor said, very gravely. "For instance,
Sobriety is a very good thing, when practised _in moderation_: but even
Sobriety, when carried to an _extreme_, has its disadvantages."
"What are its disadvantages?" was the question that rose in my
mind--and, as usual, Bruno asked it for me. "What _are_ its lizard
bandages?"
"Well, this is _one_ of them," said the Professor. "When a man's tipsy
(that's one extreme, you know), he sees one thing as two. But, when he's
_extremely_ sober (that's the other extreme), he sees two things as one.
It's equally inconvenient, whichever happens."
"What does 'illconvenient' mean?" Bruno whispered to Sylvie.
"The difference between 'convenient' and 'inconvenient' is best
explained by an example," said the Other Professor, who had overheard
the question. "If you'll just think over any Poem that contains the two
words--such as----"
The Professor put his hands over his ears, with a look of dismay. "If
you once let him begin a _Poem_," he said to Sylvie, "he'll never leave
off again! He never does!"
"Did he ever begin a Poem and not leave off again?" Sylvie enquired.
"Three times," said the Professor.
Bruno raised himself on tiptoe, till his lips were on a level with
Sylvie's ear. "What became of them three Poems?" he whispered. "Is he
saying them all, now?"
"Hush!" said Sylvie. "The Other Professor is speaking!"
"I'll say it very quick," murmured the Other Professor, with downcast
eyes, and melancholy voice, which contrasted oddly with his face, as he
had forgotten to leave off smiling. ("At least it wasn't exactly a
_smile_," as Sylvie said afterwards: "it looked as if his mouth was made
that shape.")
"Go on then," said the Professor. "_What must be must be._"
"Remember that!" Sylvie whispered to Bruno, "It's a very good rule for
whenever you hurt yourself."
"And it's a very good rule for whenever I make a noise," said the saucy
little fellow. "So _you_ remember it too, Miss!"
"Whatever _do_ you mean?" said Sylvie, trying to frown, a thing she
never managed particularly well.
"Oftens and oftens," said Bruno, "haven't oo told me 'There mustn't be
so much noise, Bruno!' when I've tolded oo 'There _must_!' Why, there
isn't no rules at all about 'There mustn't'! But oo never believes
_me_!"
"As if any one _could_ believe _you_, you wicked wicked boy!" said
Sylvie. The _words_ were severe enough, but I am of opinion that, when
you are really _anxious_ to impress a criminal with a sense of his
guilt, you ought not to pronounce the sentence with your lips _quite_
close to his cheek--since a kiss at the end of it, however accidental,
weakens the effect terribly.