But Bruno did not hear the question. “There’s somebody scratching at the door and wanting to come in,” he said. And he scrambled down off his chair, and went and cautiously peeped out through the door-way. “Who was it wanted to come in?” Sylvie asked, as he returned to his place. “It were a Mouse,” said Bruno. “And it peepted in. And it saw the Cat. And it said ‘I’ll come in another day.’ And I said ‘Oo needn’t be flightened. The Cat’s _welly_ kind to Mouses.’ And it said ‘But I’s got some imporkant business, what I _must_ attend to.’ And it said ‘I’ll call again to-morrow.’ And it said ‘Give my love to the Cat.’” “What a fat cat it is!” said the Lord Chancellor, leaning across the Professor to address his small neighbour. “It’s quite a wonder!” “It was awfully fat when it camed in,” said Bruno: “so it would be more wonderfuller if it got thin all in a minute.” “And that was the reason, I suppose,” the Lord Chancellor suggested, “why you didn’t give it the rest of the milk?” “No,” said Bruno. “It were a betterer reason. I tooked the saucer up ’cause it were so discontented!” “It doesn’t look so to _me_,” said the Lord Chancellor. “What made you think it was discontented?” “’Cause it grumbled in its throat.” “Oh, Bruno!” cried Sylvie. “Why, that’s the way cats show they’re _pleased_!” Bruno looked doubtful. “It’s not a good way,” he objected. “Oo wouldn’t say _I_ were pleased, if I made that noise in my throat!” “What a singular boy!” the Lord Chancellor whispered to himself: but Bruno had caught the words. “What do it mean to say ‘a _singular_ boy’?” he whispered to Sylvie. “It means _one_ boy,” Sylvie whispered in return. “And _plural_ means two or three.” “Then I’s welly glad I _is_ a singular boy!” Bruno said with great emphasis. “It would be _horrid_ to be two or three boys! P’raps they wouldn’t play with me!” “Why _should_ they?” said the Other Professor, suddenly waking up out of a deep reverie. “They might be asleep, you know.” “Couldn’t, if _I_ was awake,” Bruno said cunningly. “Oh, but they might indeed!” the Other Professor protested. “Boys don’t all go to sleep at once, you know. So these boys—but who are you talking about?” “He _never_ remembers to ask that first!” the Professor whispered to the children. “Why, the rest of _me_, a-course!” Bruno exclaimed triumphantly. “Supposing I was two or three boys!” The Other Professor sighed, and seemed to be sinking back into his reverie; but suddenly brightened up again, and addressed the Professor. “There’s nothing more to be done _now_, is there?” “Well, there’s the dinner to finish,” the Professor said with a bewildered smile: “and the heat to bear. I hope you’ll enjoy the dinner—such as it is; and that you won’t mind the heat—such as it isn’t.” The sentence _sounded_ well, but somehow I couldn’t quite understand it; and the Other Professor seemed to be no better off. “Such as it isn’t _what_?” he peevishly enquired.