“Oh, yes! The Banquet comes _first_, of course. People never enjoy Abstract Science, you know, when they’re ravenous with hunger. And then there’s the Fancy-Dress-Ball. Oh, there’ll be lots of entertainment!” “Where will the Ball come in?” said the Other Professor. “I _think_ it had better come at the beginning of the Banquet—it brings people together so nicely, you know.” “Yes, that’s the right order. First the Meeting: then the Eating: then the Treating—for I’m sure any Lecture _you_ give us will be a treat!” said the Other Professor, who had been standing with his back to us all this time, occupying himself in taking the books out, one by one, and turning them upside-down. An easel, with a black board on it, stood near him: and, every time that he turned a book upside-down, he made a mark on the board with a piece of chalk. “And as to the ‘Pig-Tale’—which _you_ have so kindly promised to give us—” the Professor went on, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “I think that had better come at the _end_ of the Banquet: then people can listen to it quietly.” “Shall I _sing_ it?” the Other Professor asked, with a smile of delight. “If you _can_,” the Professor replied, cautiously. “Let me try,” said the Other Professor, seating himself at the pianoforte. “For the sake of argument, let us assume that it begins on A flat.” And he struck the note in question. “La, la, la! I think that’s within an octave of it.” He struck the note again, and appealed to Bruno, who was standing at his side. “Did I sing it like _that_, my child?” “No, oo didn’t,” Bruno replied with great decision. “It were more like a duck.” “Single notes are apt to have that effect,” the Other Professor said with a sigh. “Let me try a whole verse. There was a Pig, that sat alone, Beside a ruined Pump. By day and night he made his moan: It would have stirred a heart of stone To see him wring his hoofs and groan, Because he could not jump. Would you call that a tune, Professor?” he asked, when he had finished. The Professor considered a little. “Well,” he said at last, “some of the notes are the same as others—and some are different—but I should hardly call it a _tune_.” “Let me try it a bit by myself,” said the Other Professor. And he began touching the notes here and there, and humming to himself like an angry bluebottle. “How do you like his singing?” the Professor asked the children in a low voice. “It isn’t very _beautiful_,” Sylvie said, hesitatingly. “It’s very extremely _ugly_!” Bruno said, without any hesitation at all. “All extremes are bad,” the Professor said, very gravely. “For instance, Sobriety is a very good thing, when practised _in moderation_: but even Sobriety, when carried to an _extreme_, has its disadvantages.” “What are its disadvantages?” was the question that rose in my mind—and, as usual, Bruno asked it for me. “What _are_ its lizard bandages?”