“But”, said the First Year’s Man, “you just said that...”
“And,” continued O’Neill firmly, not heeding the interruption, “and you may use the Third Person of the verb for the Second and the Second for the Third; and you may use a Plural for a Singular and a Singular for a Plural; and you may use U for UE, and UE for UEdele; you use jij for je, and je for ge, and ge for gij, and you use jullie for gy(lieden) with brackets round the lieden; but no one now ever does say gy(lieden) with brackets round the lieden, except in poetry; and nobody in any circumstances ever uses UEdele except when dining with members of the Royal Family. Then you are allowed to utter this vocable once, and must maintain a discreet silence during the rest of the repast.”
“Where do you get all that rubbish?” I asked in disgust.
“Boyton and Brandnetel”, he answered glibly, “page 52.”
“At least”, he added, “it was something like that. That gives you a good general idea of the thing.”
“When you are quite done with Boyton,” said the Professor slowly, “when your education’s finished, you know, I’ll make you a reasonably high offer for that book. Boyton would relieve the tedium of my philological studies, I can see.”
“Perhaps,” interposed the First Year Incorrigible, “perhaps Mr. O’Neill’s accuracy was all used up in his Artistic Studies. That would leave none for the grammar.”
“That’s a nice way to put it,” said the Philosopher. “Please curb your imagination, O’Neill; stick as near to probability as you can—without too great pain to yourself—and we’ll not be hard upon you. Wasn’t there a third clear principle that emerged in the course of your investigations?”
“Oh, yes”, said O’Neill with some show of caution. “As nearly as I can remember, it was this: