“Bad grammar, Sir!” his father remarked with some sternness. “Kindly attend to _that_ little matter, Professor, as soon as you have corrected the feverishness. And, by the way, Professor!” (The Professor left his distinguished pupil standing at the door, and meekly returned.) “There is a rumour afloat, that the people wish to elect an—in point of fact, an—you understand that I mean an——” “Not _another Professor_!” the poor old man exclaimed in horror. “No! Certainly not!” the Vice-Warden eagerly explained. “Merely an _Emperor_, you understand.” “An _Emperor_!” cried the astonished Professor, holding his head between his hands, as if he expected it to come to pieces with the shock. “What will the Warden——” “Why, the _Warden_ will most likely _be_ the new Emperor!” my Lady explained. “Where could we find a better? Unless, perhaps——” she glanced at her husband. “Where indeed!” the Professor fervently responded, quite failing to take the hint. The Vice-Warden resumed the thread of his discourse. “The reason I mentioned it, Professor, was to ask _you_ to be so kind as to preside at the Election. You see it would make the thing _respectable_—no suspicion of anything underhand——” “I fear I ca’n’t, your Excellency!” the old man faltered. “What will the Warden——” “True, true!” the Vice-Warden interrupted. “Your position, as Court-Professor, makes it awkward, I admit. Well, well! Then the Election shall be held without you.” “Better so, than if it were held _within_ me!” the Professor murmured with a bewildered air, as if he hardly knew what he was saying. “Bed, I think your Highness said, and a cooling-draught?” And he wandered dreamily back to where Uggug sulkily awaited him. I followed them out of the room, and down the passage, the Professor murmuring to himself, all the time, as a kind of aid to his feeble memory, “C, C, C; Couch, Cooling-Draught, Correct-Grammar,” till, in turning a corner, he met Sylvie and Bruno, so suddenly that the startled Professor let go of his fat pupil, who instantly took to his heels. CHAPTER X. THE OTHER PROFESSOR. “We were looking for you!” cried Sylvie, in a tone of great relief. “We _do_ want you so much, you ca’n’t think!” “What is it, dear children?” the Professor asked, beaming on them with a very different look from what Uggug ever got from him. “We want you to speak to the Gardener for us,” Sylvie said, as she and Bruno took the old man’s hands and led him into the hall. “He’s ever so unkind!” Bruno mournfully added. “They’s _all_ unkind to us, now that Father’s gone. The Lion were _much_ nicer!” “But you must explain to me, please,” the Professor said with an anxious look, “_which_ is the Lion, and _which_ is the Gardener. It’s _most_ important not to get two such animals confused together. And one’s very liable to do it in their case—both having mouths, you know——” “Doos oo _always_ confuses two animals together?” Bruno asked.