I was awakened from my reveries by hearing a voice snap, "Next!" and feeling the Professor grab my sleeve and thrust me forward. To my surprise, I saw that I was now first in line.
Before me sat a scowling little individual at a stone table, with a cash register as tall as a grandmother's clock towering above him.
"Well? What is it?" he barked.
"This is my protégé," explained the Professor, coming forward. "Being a barbarian, he knows little of our laws, and I therefore thought it best to give him the Oath of Fidelity before it is too late."
"That's all very well," snarled the official, "but who's going to pay?"
"I'll attend to that," agreed Tan Trum. "As a member of the teaching profession, I'm allowed a ten per cent discount."
"Very well!" the other consented. "All accounts strictly cash!" And then, while the Professor muttered something about "Fidelity oaths come high this year," the official reached for a long roll of paper printed with minute characters, which he read aloud from across the room by means of binoculars, proceeding at such speed and in such mumbling tones that I could not distinguish a word he said!
Having finished, he thrust the paper forward, pushed a pen into my hand, and directed, "Sign here!"
Although not well versed in the native handwriting, I was able to make a mark that passed as my signature.