“You seem to be fonder of him than he is of you,” remarked the Judge. “Pray, why do you follow him so closely?”
“I like to hear what he says, and to point out to others how exceedingly well he speaks,” answered Adverb.
“He is always exaggerating my words,” grumbled Dr. Verb. “If I say I like anything, Adverb puts in very much indeed or extremely well, or some such silly words; or, if he is in a bad temper, then he flatly contradicts me, and says, no, or not, or never. If I say will, he adds not, and makes it will not; if I say can, he makes it cannot, even sticking his word on to mine as if it were part of it. Sometimes he does worse. He actually dares to alter my word after he has stuck his tail on to it, and so he makes will not into won’t, cannot into can’t, shall not into sha’n’t, and so on. The wo’, and ca’, and sha’, is all he has left me, and the n’t is his.”
“Has he always treated you in this way?” asked the Judge.
“As long as I can remember, my lord,” answered Dr. Verb. “That is why, when we were at school together, the boys called him Adverb, because he was always adding his words on to mine. And he has kept the name ever since.”
“Your lordship must remember,” remarked Adverb, in a mild tone, still rubbing his hands very smoothly together, “that Dr. Verb is rather out of temper this morning, and is, perhaps, not quite just. For indeed it is a fact that I make his words much more useful than they otherwise would be. Besides, I treat Mr. Adjective in much the same way, and he does not complain.”
“It is quite true,” remarked Adjective, coming forward, delighted to get a chance of using his tongue; “it is quite true that Adverb has his word to say about me, just as much as about Dr. Verb. He is always putting very, quite, more, most, and words of that sort, before my adjectives, and exaggerating them: as, very beautiful, quite charming, more obstinate, most provoking, and I do not complain of him for that. But one thing I do complain of, my lord, and that is, that Adverb will take my words, right good adjectives, stick a ly on to them, and call them his adverbs. For instance, he takes bright, puts ly to it, and makes it brightly; he takes bad, and makes it badly; nice, and makes it nicely; beautiful, and makes it beautifully.”
Judge Grammar at this held up his forefinger, and solemnly shook his head, till he nearly shook his wig off.
“Mr. Adjective, Mr. Adjective!” he said, “I am surprised at you. You complain of Adverb for doing the very thing that you do yourself. We all know that you keep your pockets full of tails ready to stick on to your neighbours’ words—ful, ous, able, like, ly, and plenty more, and you use them as often as you can with other people’s words. But when Adverb uses his one little ly with your words, then you are up in arms directly. And yet you know very well that according to the laws of Grammar-land every Part-of-Speech may make as many new words out of old ones as he likes, and is to be praised, not blamed, for it. Adverb may put his ly on to as many of your words as he can, and you have no right to find fault. I wonder at both you and Dr. Verb. You ought to agree with Adverb better.”
“We none of us agree with him,” remarked Pronoun, “nor he with us.”