The Vice-Warden and his wife shook with well-acted merriment.
"Not in this room, darling!" said the fond mother. "We've been sitting here this hour or more, reading———," here she referred to the book lying on her lap, "——reading the——the City-Directory."
"Let me feel your pulse, my boy!" said the anxious father. "Now put out your tongue. Ah, I thought so! He's a little feverish, Professor, and has had a bad dream. Put him to bed at once, and give him a cooling draught."
"I ain't been dreaming!" his Exalted Fatness remonstrated, as the Professor led him away.
"Bad grammar. Sir!" his father remarked with some sternness. Kindly attend to that little matter, Professor, as soon as you have corrected the feverishness. And, by the way. Professor!" (The Professor left his distinguished pupil standing at the door, and meekly returned.) "There is a rumour afloat, that the people wish to elect an——in point of fact, an——you understand that I mean an——"
"Not another Professor!" the poor old man exclaimed in horror.
