“No,” said the dean firmly, “they must be amused first—amused and interested and entertained. And I must amuse them, and I never amused any one in my life before. I can’t take them to the races, because there are undergraduates about. I can’t take them to dances for similar reasons. I’m going to do it all myself.” He burst out sobbing again. “And I know it will kill them. The fairies won’t play out of Epping Cocoa, so I shall have to undertake every character in the piece. Now I must go back, and practise my songs. I am so anxious to be amusing. It quite weighs on my mind. You don’t know anything that would do for the conjuring entertainment, do you? Card-tricks, you know, or think-of-any-number-you-like, or something of that sort?”
As he said these words he got into my boat, which started down a river that flowed into a drawing-room. We got out. Then the boat changed into a piano, and the dean sat down to it, and began to play the symphony.
“It’s one of those simple, touching songs, and it’s called ‘Papa.’”
Then he sang:
Take my head on your shoulders, papa,
Let’s have it back when you’ve done;
I only unscrewed it in jest, papa—
Only unscrewed it in fun.
And it’s pleasant to lie and to think, papa,
You can give it me back all right;