“Let’s go and see the Professor,” the Warden said, wisely avoiding further discussion. The children got down off his knees, each secured a hand, and the happy trio set off for the Library—followed by me. I had come to the conclusion by this time that none of the party (except, for a few moments, the Lord Chancellor) was in the least able to see me. “What’s the matter with him?” Sylvie asked, walking with a little extra sedateness, by way of example to Bruno at the other side, who never ceased jumping up and down. [Illustration: VISITING THE PROFESSOR] “What _was_ the matter—but I hope he’s all right now—was lumbago, and rheumatism, and that kind of thing. He’s been curing _himself_, you know: he’s a very learned doctor. Why, he’s actually _invented_ three new diseases, besides a new way of breaking your collar-bone!” “Is it a nice way?” said Bruno. “Well, hum, not _very_,” the Warden said, as we entered the Library. “And here _is_ the Professor. Good morning, Professor! Hope you’re quite rested after your journey!” A jolly-looking, fat little man, in a flowery dressing-gown, with a large book under each arm, came trotting in at the other end of the room, and was going straight across without taking any notice of the children. “I’m looking for Vol. Three,” he said. “Do you happen to have seen it?” “You don’t see my _children_, Professor!” the Warden exclaimed, taking him by the shoulders and turning him round to face them. The Professor laughed violently: then he gazed at them through his great spectacles, for a minute or two, without speaking. At last he addressed Bruno. “I hope you have had a good night, my child?” Bruno looked puzzled. “I’s had the same night _oo’ve_ had,” he replied. “There’s only been _one_ night since yesterday!” It was the Professor’s turn to look puzzled now. He took off his spectacles, and rubbed them with his hankerchief. Then he gazed at them again. Then he turned to the Warden. “Are they bound?” he enquired. “No, we aren’t,” said Bruno, who thought himself quite able to answer _this_ question. The Professor shook his head sadly. “Not even half-bound?” “Why _would_ we be half-bound?” said Bruno. “We’re not prisoners!” But the Professor had forgotten all about them by this time, and was speaking to the Warden again. “You’ll be glad to hear,” he was saying, “that the Barometer’s beginning to move——” “Well, which way?” said the Warden—adding to the children, “Not that _I_ care, you know. Only _he_ thinks it affects the weather. He’s a wonderfully clever man, you know. Sometimes he says things that only the Other Professor can understand. Sometimes he says things that _nobody_ can understand! Which way is it, Professor? Up or down?” “Neither!” said the Professor, gently clapping his hands. “It’s going sideways—if I may so express myself.” “And what kind of weather does _that_ produce?” said the Warden. “Listen, children! Now you’ll hear something worth knowing!”