Yes, we were in the garden once more: and, to escape that horrid discordant voice, we hurried indoors, and found ourselves in the library—Uggug blubbering, the Professor standing by with a bewildered air, and my Lady, with her arms clasped round her son’s neck, repeating, over and over again, “and _did_ they give him nasty lessons to learn? My own pretty pet!” “What’s all this noise about?” the Vice-Warden angrily enquired, as he strode into the room. “And who put the hat-stand here?” And he hung his hat up on Bruno, who was standing in the middle of the room, too much astonished by the sudden change of scene to make any attempt at removing it, though it came down to his shoulders, making him look something like a small candle with a large extinguisher over it. The Professor mildly explained that His Highness had been graciously pleased to say he wouldn’t do his lessons. “Do your lessons this instant, you young cub!” thundered the Vice-Warden. “And take _this_!” and a resounding box on the ear made the unfortunate Professor reel across the room. “Save me!” faltered the poor old man, as he sank, half-fainting, at my Lady’s feet. “Shave you? Of course I will!” my Lady replied, as she lifted him into a chair, and pinned an anti-macassar round his neck. “Where’s the razor?” The Vice-Warden meanwhile had got hold of Uggug, and was belabouring him with his umbrella. “Who left this loose nail in the floor?” he shouted. “Hammer it in, I say! Hammer it in!” Blow after blow fell on the writhing Uggug, till he dropped howling to the floor. [Illustration: ‘HAMMER IT IN!’] Then his father turned to the ‘shaving’ scene which was being enacted, and roared with laughter. “Excuse me, dear, I ca’n’t help it!” he said as soon as he could speak. “You _are_ such an utter donkey! Kiss me, Tabby!” And he flung his arms round the neck of the terrified Professor, who raised a wild shriek, but whether he received the threatened kiss or not I was unable to see, as Bruno, who had by this time released himself from his extinguisher, rushed headlong out of the room, followed by Sylvie; and I was so fearful of being left alone among all these crazy creatures that I hurried after them. “We must go to Father!” Sylvie panted, as they ran down the garden. “I’m _sure_ things are at their worst! I’ll ask the Gardener to let us out again.” “But we ca’n’t _walk_ all the way!” Bruno whimpered. “How I _wiss_ we had a coach-and-four, like Uncle!” And, shrill and wild, rang through the air the familiar voice:— “He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four That stood beside his bed: He looked again, and found it was A Bear without a Head. ‘Poor thing,’ he said, ‘poor silly thing! It’s waiting to be fed!’” [Illustration: A BEAR WITHOUT A HEAD]