“Quite beyond belief!” my Lady added--meaning, no doubt, to be more complimentary still. The Professor bowed, but he didn't smile this time. “I can assure you,” he said earnestly, “that, provided the bath was made, I used it every morning. I certainly ordered it--that I am clear about--my only doubt is, whether the man ever finished making it. It's difficult to remember, after so many years--” At this moment the door, very slowly and creakingly, began to open, and Sylvie and Bruno jumped up, and ran to meet the well-known footstep. CHAPTER 3. BIRTHDAY-PRESENTS. “It's my brother!” the Sub-warden exclaimed, in a warning whisper. “Speak out, and be quick about it!” The appeal was evidently addressed to the Lord Chancellor, who instantly replied, in a shrill monotone, like a little boy repeating the alphabet, “As I was remarking, your Sub-Excellency, this portentous movement--” “You began too soon!” the other interrupted, scarcely able to restrain himself to a whisper, so great was his excitement. “He couldn't have heard you. Begin again!” “As I was remarking,” chanted the obedient Lord Chancellor, “this portentous movement has already assumed the dimensions of a Revolution!” “And what are the dimensions of a Revolution?” The voice was genial and mellow, and the face of the tall dignified old man, who had just entered the room, leading Sylvie by the hand, and with Bruno riding triumphantly on his shoulder, was too noble and gentle to have scared a less guilty man: but the Lord Chancellor turned pale instantly, and could hardly articulate the words “The dimensions your--your High Excellency? I--I--scarcely comprehend!” “Well, the length, breadth, and thickness, if you like it better!” And the old man smiled, half-contemptuously. The Lord Chancellor recovered himself with a great effort, and pointed to the open window. “If your High Excellency will listen for a moment to the shouts of the exasperated populace--” (“of the exasperated populace!” the Sub-Warden repeated in a louder tone, as the Lord Chancellor, being in a state of abject terror, had dropped almost into a whisper) “--you will understand what it is they want.” And at that moment there surged into the room a hoarse confused cry, in which the only clearly audible words were “Less--bread--More--taxes!” The old man laughed heartily. “What in the world--” he was beginning: but the Chancellor heard him not. “Some mistake!” he muttered, hurrying to the window, from which he shortly returned with an air of relief. “Now listen!” he exclaimed, holding up his hand impressively. And now the words came quite distinctly, and with the regularity of the ticking of a clock, “More--bread--Less taxes!'” “More bread!” the Warden repeated in astonishment. “Why, the new Government Bakery was opened only last week, and I gave orders to sell the bread at cost-price during the present scarcity! What can they expect more?”