We were rather tired, and, as it was nearly one o’clock, somewhat hungry; but not wishing to offend the scholar, we said we were delighted.
‘Jock,’ said he, pointing to the board, ‘hoo mony muckle is that?’
‘Six hundred and eighty-four,’ said the boy.
‘Sax hunner an auchty-four, my braw bairn; but whaat? Tell me whaat? dinna be blate and skirl a’ thegither.’
With that each child drew a long breath, clutched the back of a bench, shut his eyes, and began, ‘Of millions of millions of millions of millions of millions,’ as if they were never going to stop.
Suddenly the schoolmaster lifted his hand, and the noise ceased.
‘How many times did ye say millions of millions of millions?’ asked the teacher.
‘Five score and twelve times,’ was the answer.
‘Quite correct, you see,’ said Macalister. ‘It’s only an application of the formula. The rabbits which die don’t affect the answer.’
It was now one o’clock, and Mac was shuffling his feet to get away.