“It aren’t in there,” he said, with such unusual solemnity, that Sylvie’s curiosity was roused.
“What is in there, Bruno?”
“There’s cobwebs—and two spiders—” Bruno thoughtfully replied, checking off the catalogue on his fingers, “—and the cover of a picture-book—and a tortoise—and a dish of nuts—and an old man.”
“An old man!” cried the Professor, trotting across the room in great excitement. “Why, it must be the Other Professor, that’s been lost for ever so long!”
He opened the door of the cupboard wide: and there he was, the Other Professor, sitting in a chair, with a book on his knee, and in the act of helping himself to a nut from a dish, which he had taken down off a shelf just within his reach. He looked round at us, but said nothing till he had cracked and eaten the nut. Then he asked the old question. “Is the Lecture all ready?”
“It’ll begin in an hour,” the Professor said, evading the question. “First, we must have something to surprise the Empress. And then comes the Banquet—”
“The Banquet!” cried the Other Professor, springing up, and filling the room with a cloud of dust. “Then I’d better go and—and brush myself a little. What a state I’m in!”
“He does want brushing!” the Professor said, with a critical air, “Here’s your hat, little man! I had put it on by mistake. I’d quite forgotten I had one on, already. Let’s go and look at the platform.”
“And there’s that nice old Gardener singing still!” Bruno exclaimed in delight, as we went out into the garden. “I do believe he’s been singing that very song ever since we went away!”
“Why, of course he has!” replied the Professor. “It wouldn’t be the thing to leave off, you know.”
“Wouldn’t be what thing?” said Bruno: but the Professor thought it best not to hear the question. “What are you doing with that hedgehog?” he shouted at the Gardener, whom they found standing upon one foot, singing softly to himself, and rolling a hedgehog up and down with the other foot.
“Well, I wanted fur to know what hedgehogs lives on: so I be a-keeping this here hedgehog—fur to see if it eats potatoes—”
“Much better keep a potato,” said the Professor; “and see if hedgehogs eat it!”
“That be the roight way, surely!” the delighted Gardener exclaimed. “Be you come to see the platform?”
“Aye, aye!” the Professor cheerily replied. “And the children have come back, you see!”
The Gardener looked round at them with a grin. Then he led the way to the Pavilion; and as he went he sang:—
“He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:
‘And all its Mystery,’ he said,
‘Is clear as day to me!’ ”
“You’ve been months over that song,” said the Professor. “Isn’t it finished yet?”
“There be only one verse more,” the Gardener sadly replied. And, with tears streaming down his cheeks, he sang the last verse:—
“He thought he saw an Argument
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
‘A fact so dread,’ he faintly said,
‘Extinguishes all hope!’ ”
Choking with sobs, the Gardener hastily stepped on a few yards ahead of the party, to conceal his emotion.
“Did he see the Bar of Mottled Soap?” Sylvie enquired, as we followed.
“Oh, certainly!” said the Professor. “That song is his own history, you know.”
Tears of an ever-ready sympathy glittered in Bruno’s eyes. “I’s welly sorry he isn’t the Pope!” he said. “Aren’t you sorry, Sylvie?”
“Well—I hardly know,” Sylvie replied in the vaguest manner. “Would it make him any happier?” she asked the Professor.
“It wouldn’t make the Pope any happier,” said the Professor. “Isn’t the platform lovely?” he asked, as we entered the Pavilion.
“I’ve put an extra beam under it!” said the Gardener, patting it affectionately as he spoke. “And now it’s that strong, as—as a mad elephant might dance upon it!”
“Thank you very much!” the Professor heartily rejoined. “I don’t know that we shall exactly require—but it’s convenient to know.” And he led the children upon the platform, to explain the arrangements to them. “Here are three seats, you see, for the Emperor and the Empress and Prince Uggug. But there must be two more chairs here!” he said, looking down at the Gardener. “One for Lady Sylvie, and one for the smaller animal!”
“And may I help in the Lecture?” said Bruno. “I can do some conjuring-tricks.”
“Well, it’s not exactly a conjuring lecture,” the Professor said, as he arranged some curious-looking machines on the table. “However, what can you do? Did you ever go through a table, for instance?”
“Often!” said Bruno. “Haven’t I, Sylvie?”
The Professor was evidently surprised, though he tried not to show it. “This must be looked into,” he muttered to himself, taking out a notebook. “And first—what kind of table?”
“Tell him!” Bruno whispered to Sylvie, putting his arms round her neck.
“Tell him yourself,” said Sylvie.
“Can’t,” said Bruno. “It’s a bony word.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Sylvie. “You can say it well enough, if you only try. Come!”
“Muddle—” said Bruno. “That’s a bit of it.”
“What does he say?” cried the bewildered Professor.
“He means the multiplication-table,” Sylvie explained.
The Professor looked annoyed, and shut up his notebook again. “Oh, that’s quite another thing,” he said.
“It are ever so many other things,” said Bruno. “Aren’t it, Sylvie?”
A loud blast of trumpets interrupted this conversation. “Why, the entertainment has begun!” the Professor exclaimed, as he hurried the children into the Reception-Saloon. “I had no idea it was so late!”
A small table, containing cake and wine, stood in a corner of the Saloon; and here we found the Emperor and Empress waiting for us. The rest of the Saloon had been cleared of furniture, to make room for the guests. I was much struck by the great change a few months had made in the
