Oh fie, you have not left, Barnaby! Yes, I do quite understand you have arranged a nice ball and stick match for us outside, but I have more pressing matters to attend to. Specifically, my times tables. Professor says they are of utmost importance to dispatch of in a timely manner, times-tables being the premiere focus of collegiate-level mathematics. Take a gander at the progress I have been making! I aim one day to have full mastery of numerals, no thanks to your pestering!

Yes, it’s true that I once enjoyed simple pleasures such as gallivanting across the field in pursuit of the balls of sport. But I am soon to be a gentleman! Would the great Mr. Newton have blazed any trails without his daily tables? I think not! Oh, dearest Barnaby, I hate to belabor my aptitude for advanced mathematics such as times tables, but you’ve given me no choice. You must take your leave posthaste.

No, Barnaby, the door is that way. Please encroach no further upon me and my times tables. The combinations of such high integers as seven and five are too formidable for an untrained mind such as yours. If you would like to study maths, you must begin with the counting numbers at the academy and work your way up to times tables.

Thank goodness you are departing, Barnaby. Enjoy your exploits while I lock horns with the intellectual beast that is this times table in front of me. Perhaps I may come out to the yard if I complete a row — do not count on it, though, dear friend, as I cannot work out how this dreadful eight crosses with the four. I just do not see how they fit in this times table. Fetch the professor if you see him. Good day!