Chapter 3

BIRTHDAY-PRESENTS.

"It's my brother!" the Sub-warden exclaimed, in a warning whisper.
"Speak out, and be quick about it!"

The appeal was evidently addressed to the Lord Chancellor, who
instantly replied, in a shrill monotone, like a little boy repeating
the alphabet, "As I was remarking, your Sub-Excellency, this portentous
movement--"

"You began too soon!" the other interrupted, scarcely able to restrain
himself to a whisper, so great was his excitement. "He couldn't have
heard you. Begin again!" "As I was remarking," chanted the obedient
Lord Chancellor, "this portentous movement has already assumed the
dimensions of a Revolution!"

"And what are the dimensions of a Revolution?" The voice was genial and
mellow, and the face of the tall dignified old man, who had just
entered the room, leading Sylvie by the hand, and with Bruno riding
triumphantly on his shoulder, was too noble and gentle to have scared a
less guilty man: but the Lord Chancellor turned pale instantly,
and could hardly articulate the words "The dimensions your--
your High Excellency? I--I--scarcely comprehend!"

"Well, the length, breadth, and thickness, if you like it better!"
And the old man smiled, half-contemptuously.

The Lord Chancellor recovered himself with a great effort, and pointed
to the open window. "If your High Excellency will listen for a moment
to the shouts of the exasperated populace--" ("of the exasperated
populace!" the Sub-Warden repeated in a louder tone, as the Lord
Chancellor, being in a state of abject terror, had dropped almost into
a whisper) "--you will understand what it is they want. "

And at that moment there surged into the room a hoarse confused cry, in
which the only clearly audible words were "Less--bread--More--taxes!"
The old man laughed heartily. "What in the world--" he was beginning:
but the Chancellor heard him not. "Some mistake!" he muttered,
hurrying to the window, from which he shortly returned with an air of
relief. "Now listen!" he exclaimed, holding up his hand impressively.
And now the words came quite distinctly, and with the regularity of the
ticking of a clock, "More--bread--Less taxes!'"

"More bread!" the Warden repeated in astonishment. "Why, the new
Government Bakery was opened only last week, and I gave orders to sell
the bread at cost-price during the present scarcity! What can they
expect more?"

"The Bakery's closed, y'reince!" the Chancellor said, more loudly and
clearly than he had spoken yet. He was emboldened by the consciousness