“Your school!” exclaimed Boy. “Do you keep a school?” “Yes,” replied the Crab, “I am the Head Master of Drinkon College.” “What a funny name!” said Boy smilingly. “Not at all,” replied the Crab; “no funnier than Eaton--Eaton on land and Drinkon under the sea, you know.” Boy thought about this as they proceeded along the hard sand under the water, and then he noticed to his great surprise a number of fishes about his own size, in short jackets and deep collars, and wearing College caps, swimming in their direction. [Illustration: 0053] “These are some of my scholars,” remarked the Crab as they came in sight--the fishes, swimming in a perfectly upright position, raised their caps when they saw the Crab, and one of them said very politely,-- “Good-morning, Professor.” “Good-morning,” replied the Crab as they swam past. Just then a curious-looking little creature covered all over with little prickly spikes called out rudely,--“Yah! old Professor Crab--who caned the Oyster?” and scuttled away behind some seaweed. “That,” said the Crab, “is one of the Sea Urchins; they are very rude and ill behaved. I do not allow my scholars to associate with them.” “Are you really a Professor?” asked Boy, who felt greatly impressed with the Crab’s importance. “I’m afraid I am,” said the Crab. “All schoolmasters are, you know--whether they admit it or not.” “What do you mean?” exclaimed Boy. “I don’t think my schoolmaster is a Professor; at any rate he does not call himself one.” “Ah, that’s his artfulness,” said the Crab. “A professor,” he explained, “is one who professes to know more than he really does, and all schoolmasters do that more or less, whether they admit it or not--they are obliged to; however, let’s change the subject; it is a painful one.” Boy was greatly surprised at this admission on the part of the Crab, but he was too much interested in his strange surroundings to think much about it. They were walking along a roadway with great seaweeds planted at regular intervals on either side, and in the distance Boy could see the outlines of some great buildings. “Why, there are some houses!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Of course,” replied Professor Crab. “What did you suppose we lived in?” “I had no idea that fishes built houses before,” said Boy, “except sticklebacks; I know they build a kind of nest with sticks and things, because I have seen pictures of them in my Natural History book.” “My dear sir,” remarked the Professor, “those were in the old days, before fishes became civilised: you might as well refer to the time when human creatures dwelt in caves and huts. No, my dear sir, the spread of education has extended to us also, and we have now as fine cities under the sea as any on land.”