“For fifteen years,” put in a deep but very harsh voice, “my husband has been acting as Sub-Warden. It is too long! It is much too long!” My Lady was a vast creature at all times: but, when she frowned and folded her arms, as now, she looked more gigantic than ever, and made one try to fancy what a haystack would look like, if out of temper.
“He would distinguish himself as a Vice!” my Lady proceeded, being far too stupid to see the double meaning of her words. “There has been no such Vice in Outland for many a long year, as he would be!”
“What course would you suggest, Sister?” the Warden mildly enquired.
My Lady stamped, which was undignified: and snorted, which was ungraceful. “This is no jesting matter!” she bellowed.
“I will consult my brother,” said the Warden. “Brother!”
“—and seven makes a hundred and ninety-four, which is sixteen and two-pence,” the Sub-Warden replied. “Put down two and carry sixteen.”
The Chancellor raised his hands and eyebrows, lost in admiration. “Such a man of business!” he murmured.
“Brother, could I have a word with you in my Study?” the Warden said in a louder tone. The Sub-Warden rose with alacrity, and the two left the room together.
My Lady turned to the Professor, who had uncovered the urn, and was taking its temperature with his pocket-thermometer. “Professor!” she began, so loudly and suddenly that even Uggug, who had gone to sleep in his chair, left off snoring and opened one eye. The Professor pocketed his thermometer in a moment, clasped his hands, and put his head on one side with a meek smile.
“You were teaching my son before breakfast, I believe?” my Lady loftily remarked. “I hope he strikes you as having talent?”