Catching the Professor's eye, Chilvern looks suddenly solemn and deeply interested. It _is_ a pity that they will go on being buffoons. "The study of algebra suggests the mode of treatment." Wry face made by Mrs. Frimmely. Mrs. Boodels is seated, placidly, with her ear-trumpet raised and on her lips a smile of calm contentment, from which we subsequently infer that she doesn't catch one word. "As the wealth so the Pleasure. [_Here he draws on his slate. Milburd inquires, 'What's that?' but is hushed down._] "As x : 2 :: b : 5. "The product of the extremes equals the product of the Means, and as long as this sum in proportion is observed, Ruin is impossible. "* The key here is that b = £1,000,000. "Then:-- 5x = 2b * x = 2b/5 = 2,000,000/5 = £400,000. "Not a bad sum per annum," says the Professor, smiling, in order to throw a little pleasantry into the matter, which is becoming a trifle heavy. Mrs. Boodels asleep. "Though I thought it was more when I commenced the equation. "I will now," he says, "write down a text." [_Watches out .... a yawn from Cazell .... ladies restless._] "To _Give_ is a Wealthy Pleasure. "And on this I make what I call 'suggestions.' "The poor man has it in his power to cause the Rich great pleasure. "Let =I= stand for me." ("Impossible," interrupts Milburd, _sotto voce_. Our Philosophic Lecturer takes no notice. He is rising with his subject). "Let us say '=I= is poor.'" Miss Bella says, "Excuse me a moment," and vanishes. Wish I could get out. "Let all =I='s rich friends subscribe according to their means from £5 upwards. "Result, easily attained, £5,000. "Say that eighty people subscribed £62 10s. apiece. Are there not eighty people in London, Manchester, and Liverpool who could do this and not miss it so much as I should miss a farthing put by accident into a Church plate--of course I mean by mistake for half a sovereign. "But how could such a mistake arise? you would say." (We wouldn't, but _he_ couldn't tell that.) "Why simply because I never give less in Church than half a sovereign. _Ergo_, I never give in Church unless I have half a sovereign in my pocket. _But_ I _never_ have half a sovereign in my pocket." [Smiles from everyone, and applause from Milburd, towards whom the Professor looks appealingly, as much as to say, "There, I can be just as funny as _you_, only without Tomfoolery."] "_Ergo ... cela va sans dire._ "So, you see, eighty people could make '=I=' happy. [Medford is practising his trick with a shilling by himself.] "Which is equivalent to saying that eighty people could make _me_ happy. "And '=I=' has it, you observe, in his power to make eighty people happy by accepting the subscription."