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The Zankiwank

takes the two of chem to do a Prog—Prog—don’t interrupt me—a Prog—Prognostication!—phew, what a beautiful word!—Prognostication ten minutes now. Therefore it stands to reason, as the Sun Dial remarked, that nine could do it in much less time!”

“You will excuse me,” halloed the Zankiwank down the next door dining-room chimney, “I beg to differ from you. That is to say on the contrary. For instance:—If it takes two people ten minutes to do a prog—you must fill in the rest yourself—prog—of course, as there are so many more to do the same thing, it must take them forty-five minutes.”

“What a brain,” exclaimed the Jackarandajam, ecstatically; “he ought to have been born a Calculating Machine. He beats Euclid and that fellow named Smith on all points. I never thought of it in the light of multiplying the addition.”

“More nonsense,” observed Willie to Maude. “What does it all mean?” They looked out of window and saw the Zankiwank arguing with