the large one? I have often observed that a door unlocks much more

nicely with its own key."
The very first trial of the large key proved a success: the Gardener

opened the door, and held out his hand for the money.
The Professor shook his head. "You are acting by Rule," he explained,

"in opening the door for me. And now it's open, we are going out by
Rule--the Rule of Three."

The Gardener looked puzzled, and let us go out; but, as he locked the
door behind us, we heard him singing thoughtfully to himself

"He thought he saw a Garden-Door
That opened with a key:

He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:

'And all its mystery,' he said,
'Is clear as day to me!'"

"I shall now return," said the Professor, when we had walked a few
yards: "you see, it's impossible to read here, for all my books are in

the house."
But the children still kept fast hold of his hands. "Do come with us!"

Sylvie entreated with tears in her eyes.
"Well, well!" said the good-natured old man. "Perhaps I'll come after

you, some day soon. But I must go back now. You see I left off at a
comma, and it's so awkward not knowing how the sentence finishes!

Besides, you've got to go through Dogland first, and I'm always a
little nervous about dogs. But it'll be quite easy to come, as soon as

I've completed my new invention--for carrying one's-self, you know.
It wants just a little more working out."

"Won't that be very tiring, to carry yourself?" Sylvie enquired.
"Well, no, my child. You see, whateverfatigue one incurs by carrying,

one saves by being carried! Good-bye, dears! Good-bye, Sir!" he added
to my intense surprise, giving my hand an affectionate squeeze.

"Good-bye, Professor!" I replied: but my voice sounded strange and far
away, and the children took not the slightest notice of our farewell.

Evidently they neither saw me nor heard me, as, with their arms
lovingly twined round each other, they marched boldly on.

CHAPTER 13.
A VISIT TO DOGLAND.

"There's a house, away there to the left," said Sylvie, after we had
walked what seemed to me about fifty miles. "Let's go and ask for a

night's lodging."
"It looks a very comfable house," Bruno said, as we turned into the

road leading up to it. "I doos hope the Dogs will be kind to us,
I is so tired and hungry!"

A Mastiff, dressed in a scarletcollar, and carrying a musket,
was pacing up and down, like a sentinel, in front of the entrance.

He started, on catching sight of the children, and came forwards to meet
them, keeping his musketpointed straight at Bruno, who stood quite

still, though he turned pale and kept tight hold of Sylvie's hand,
while the Sentinel walked solemnly" target="_blank" title="ad.严肃地，庄严地">solemnly round and round them, and looked at

them from all points of view.
[Image...The mastiff-sentinel]

"Oobooh, hooh boohooyah!" He growled at last. "Woobah yahwah oobooh!
Bow wahbah woobooyah? Bow wow?" he asked Bruno, severely.

Of course Bruno understood all this, easily enough. All Fairies
understand Doggee---that is, Dog-language. But, as you may find it a

little difficult, just at first, I had better put it into English for
you. "Humans, I verily believe! A couple of stray Humans!

What Dog do you belong to? What do you want?"
"We don't belong to a Dog!" Bruno began, in Doggee.

("Peoples never belongs to Dogs!" he whispered to Sylvie.)
But Sylvie hastily checked him, for fear of hurting the Mastiff's

feelings. "Please, we want a little food, and a night's lodging--if
there's room in the house," she added timidly. Sylvie spoke Doggee

very prettily: but I think it's almost better, for you, to give the
conversation in English.

"The house, indeed!" growled the Sentinel. "Have you never seen a
Palace in your life?

Come along with me! His Majesty must settle what's to be done with you."
They followed him through the entrance-hall, down a long passage, and

into a magnificent Saloon, around which were grouped dogs of all sorts
and sizes. Two splendid Blood-hounds were solemnly" target="_blank" title="ad.严肃地，庄严地">solemnly sitting up, one on

each side of the crown-bearer. Two or three Bull-dogs---whom I guessed
to be the Body-Guard of the King--were waiting in grim silence: in fact

the only voices at all plainlyaudible were those of two little dogs,
who had mounted a settee, and were holding a livelydiscussion that

looked very like a quarrel.
"Lords and Ladies in Waiting, and various Court Officials," our guide

gruffly remarked, as he led us in. Of me the Courtiers took no notice
whatever: but Sylvie and Bruno were the subject of many inquisitive

looks, and many whispered remarks, of which I only distinctly caught
one--made by a sly-looking Dachshund to his friend "Bah wooh wahyah

hoobah Oobooh, hah bah?" ("She's not such a bad-looking Human, is she?")
Leaving the new arrivals in the centre of the Saloon, the Sentinel

advanced to a door, at the further end of it, which bore an inscription,
painted on it in Doggee, "Royal Kennel--scratch and Yell."

Before doing this, the Sentinel turned to the children, and said
"Give me your names."

"We'd rather not!" Bruno exclaimed, pulling' Sylvie away from the door.
"We want them ourselves. Come back, Sylvie! Come quick!"

"Nonsense!', said Sylvie very decidedly: and gave their names in Doggee.
Then the Sentinel scratched violently at the door, and gave a yell that

made Bruno shiver from head to foot.
"Hooyah wah!" said a deep voice inside. (That's Doggee for "Come in!")

"It's the King himself!" the Mastiff whispered in an awestruck tone.
"Take off your wigs, and lay them humbly at his paws." (What we should

call "at his feet.")
Sylvie was just going to explain, very politely, that really they

couldn't perform that ceremony, because their wigs wouldn't come off,
when the door of the Royal Kennel opened, and an enormous Newfoundland

Dog put his head out. "Bow wow?" was his first question.
"When His Majesty speaks to you," the Sentinel hastily whispered to Bruno,

"you should prick up your ears!"
Bruno looked doubtfully at Sylvie. "I'd rather not, please," he said.

"It would hurt."
[Image...The dog-king]

"It doesn't hurt a bit!" the Sentinel said with some indignation. "Look!
It's like this!" And he pricked up his ears like two railway signals.

Sylvie gently explained matters. "I'm afraid we ca'n't manage it,"
she said in a low voice. "I'm very sorry: but our ears haven't got the

right--" she wanted to say "machinery" in Doggee: but she had forgotten
the word, and could only think of "steam-engine."

The Sentinel repeated Sylvie's explanation to the King.
"Can't prick up their ears without a steam-engine!" His Majesty exclaimed.

"They must be curious creatures! I must have a look at them!"
And he came out of his Kennel, and walked solemnly" target="_blank" title="ad.严肃地，庄严地">solemnly up to the children.

What was the amazement--nor to say the horror of the whole assembly,
when Sylvie actually patted His Majesty on the head, while Bruno seized

his long ears and pretended to tie them together under his chin!
The Sentinel groaned aloud: a beautiful Greyhound who appeared to be

one of the Ladies in Waiting--fainted away: and all the other Courtiers
hastily drew back, and left plenty of room for the huge Newfoundland to

spring upon the audacious strangers, and tear them limb from limb.
Only--he didn't. On the contrary his Majesty actually smiled so far as

a Dog can smile--and (the other Dogs couldn't believe their eyes,
but it was true, all the same) his Majesty wagged his tail!

"Yah! Hooh hahwooh!" (that is "Well! I never!") was the universal cry.
His Majesty looked round him severely, and gave a slight growl, which

produced instant silence. "Conduct my friends to the banqueting-hall!"
he said, laying such an emphasis on "my friends" that several of the