Meanwhile a chair had been placed for the Other Professor, between the Empress and Sylvie. Sylvie found him a rather uninteresting neighbour: in fact, she couldn’t afterwards remember that he had made more than _one_ remark to her during the whole banquet, and that was “What a comfort a Dictionary is!” (She told Bruno, afterwards, that she had been too much afraid of him to say more than “Yes, Sir,” in reply; and that had been the end of their conversation. On which Bruno expressed a very decided opinion that _that_ wasn’t worth calling a ‘conversation’ at all. “Oo should have asked him a riddle!” he added triumphantly. “Why, _I_ asked the Professor _three_ riddles! One was that one you asked me in the morning, ‘How many pennies is there in two shillings?’ And another was——” “Oh, Bruno!” Sylvie interrupted. “_That_ wasn’t a riddle!” “It _were_!” Bruno fiercely replied.) By this time a waiter had supplied Bruno with a plateful of _something_, which drove the plum-pudding out of his head. “Another advantage of dinner-parties,” the Professor cheerfully explained, for the benefit of any one that would listen, “is that it helps you to _see_ your friends. If you want to _see_ a man, offer him something to eat. It’s the same rule with a mouse.” “This Cat’s very kind to the Mouses,” Bruno said, stooping to stroke a remarkably fat specimen of the race, that had just waddled into the room, and was rubbing itself affectionately against the leg of his chair. “Please, Sylvie, pour some milk in your saucer. Pussie’s ever so thirsty!” “Why do you want _my_ saucer?” said Sylvie. “You’ve got one yourself!” “Yes, I know,” said Bruno: “but I wanted _mine_ for to give it some _more_ milk in.” Sylvie looked unconvinced: however it seemed quite impossible for her _ever_ to refuse what her brother asked: so she quietly filled her saucer with milk, and handed it to Bruno, who got down off his chair to administer it to the cat. “The room’s very hot, with all this crowd,” the Professor said to Sylvie. “I wonder why they don’t put some lumps of ice in the grate? You fill it with lumps of coal in the winter, you know, and you sit round it and enjoy the warmth. How jolly it would be to fill it now with lumps of ice, and sit round it and enjoy the coolth!” Hot as it was, Sylvie shivered a little at the idea. “It’s very cold _outside_,” she said. “My feet got almost frozen to-day.” “That’s the _shoemaker’s_ fault!” the Professor cheerfully replied. “How often I’ve explained to him that he _ought_ to make boots with little iron frames under the soles, to hold lamps! But he never _thinks_. No one would suffer from cold, if only they would _think_ of those little things. I always use hot ink, myself, in the winter. Very few people ever think of _that_! Yet how simple it is!” “Yes, it’s very simple,” Sylvie said politely. “Has the cat had enough?” This was to Bruno, who had brought back the saucer only half-emptied.