‘Just one more problem,’ said Macalister; and before we had time to make any excuse about catching our steamer, Macalister said to the school: ‘With the same conditions as before, assume that Captain Cook had landed a pair of rabbits in New Zealand instead of a pair of pigs, how many would there now be in the country? Before stating the answer, half of you can go to your dinners, but mind and be back by two o’clock.’
Half the school had no sooner gone than the remainder of the children commenced saying, ‘Millions of millions of millions of millions,’ in a monotonous sort of rhythm. When they were going to stop we could not tell.
At two o’clock those who had been to their dinner came back, and as they dropped into their places struck up the millions of millions tune. The detachment who had commenced the answer, being in this way relieved, retired to their dinners.
‘It’s a gey lang answer,’ said the schoolmaster, ‘isn’t it?’ Mac looked black. ‘Better take a seat; you will appreciate the children’s intelligence much better.’
It was then close on three o’clock, and still the children kept on singing ‘Millions of millions of millions.’
‘Wonderful children,’ I remarked. ‘How many more times will they say “Millions of millions of millions”?’ I inquired.
‘Oh,’ said the schoolmaster, ‘the number of times they will say it will be millions of millions of millions of millions of millions.’
Mac looked furious. Millions of millions of millions. ‘The old fool’s mad,’ he whispered.
‘Civility costs nothing,’ I replied; ‘his tongue will get tired in time.’
But still the schoolmaster kept repeating, ‘Millions of millions of millions.’