“We ca’n’t get in through there!” Bruno exclaimed.
Sylvie said nothing, till she had carefully examined whether the wall opened anywhere. Then she laughed merrily: “You’re playing us a trick, you dear old thing!” she said. “There’s no door here!”
“There isn’t any door to the room,” said the Professor. “We shall have to climb in at the window.”
THE OTHER PROFESSOR
So we went into the garden, and soon found the window of the Other Professor’s room. It was a ground-floor window, and stood invitingly open: the Professor first lifted the two children in, and then he and I climbed in after them.
The Other Professor was seated at a table, with a large book open before him, on which his forehead was resting: he had clasped his arms round the book, and was snoring heavily. “He usually reads like that,” the Professor remarked, “when the book’s very interesting: and then sometimes it’s very difficult to get him to attend!”
This seemed to be one of the difficult times: the Professor lifted him up, once or twice, and shook him violently: but he always returned to his book the moment he was let go of, and showed by his heavy breathing that the book was as interesting as ever.
“How dreamy he is!” the Professor exclaimed. “He must have got to a very interesting part of the book!” And he rained quite a shower of thumps on the Other Professor’s back, shouting “Hoy! Hoy!” all the time. “Isn’t it wonderful that he should be so dreamy?” he said to Bruno.
“If he’s always as sleepy as that,” Bruno remarked, “a course he’s dreamy!”