“I would like to meet the Professor,” I said. “And I would like to take you all with me, to see some friends of mine, that live near here. Would you like to come?” “I don’t think the _Professor_ would like to come,” said Sylvie. “He’s _very_ shy. But _we’d_ like it very much. Only we’d better not come _this_ size, you know.” The difficulty had occurred to me already: and I had felt that perhaps there _would_ be a slight awkwardness in introducing two such tiny friends into Society. “What size will you be?” I enquired. “We’d better come as—common _children_,” Sylvie thoughtfully replied. “That’s the easiest size to manage.” “Could you come to-day?” I said, thinking “then we could have you at the picnic!” Sylvie considered a little. “Not _to-day_,” she replied. “We haven’t got the things ready. We’ll come on—Tuesday next, if you like. And now, _really_, Bruno, you must come and do your lessons.” “I _wiss_ oo wouldn’t say ‘_really_ Bruno!’” the little fellow pleaded, with pouting lips that made him look prettier than ever. “It _always_ shows there’s something horrid coming! And I won’t kiss you, if you’re so unkind.” “Ah, but you _have_ kissed me!” Sylvie exclaimed in merry triumph. “Well then, I’ll _un_kiss you!” And he threw his arms round her neck for this novel, but apparently not _very_ painful, operation. “It’s _very_ like _kissing_!” Sylvie remarked, as soon as her lips were again free for speech. “Oo don’t know _nuffin_ about it! It were just the _conkery_!” Bruno replied with much severity, as he marched away. Sylvie turned her laughing face to me. “Shall we come on Tuesday?” she said. “Very well,” I said: “let it be Tuesday next. But where _is_ the Professor? Did he come with you to Fairyland?” “No,” said Sylvie. “But he promised he’d come and see us, _some_ day. He’s getting his Lecture ready. So he has to stay at home.” “At home?” I said dreamily, not feeling quite sure what she had said. “Yes, Sir. His Lordship and Lady Muriel _are_ at home. Please to walk this way.” CHAPTER XVII. THE THREE BADGERS. Still more dreamily I found myself following this imperious voice into a room where the Earl, his daughter, and Arthur, were seated. “So you’re come _at last_!” said Lady Muriel, in a tone of playful reproach. “I was delayed,” I stammered. Though _what_ it was that had delayed me I should have been puzzled to explain! Luckily no questions were asked. The carriage was ordered round, the hamper, containing our contribution to the Picnic, was duly stowed away, and we set forth.