“I intend to, Mat,” replies the other. “I would sooner take her opinion than that of a college.”

“College,” returns Mr. Bagnet in short sentences, bassoon-like. “What college could you leave⁠—in another quarter of the world⁠—with nothing but a grey cloak and an umbrella⁠—to make its way home to Europe? The old girl would do it tomorrow. Did it once!”

“You are right,” says Mr. George.

“What college,” pursues Bagnet, “could you set up in life⁠—with two penn’orth of white lime⁠—a penn’orth of fuller’s earth⁠—a ha’porth of sand⁠—and the rest of the change out of sixpence in money? That’s what the old girl started on. In the present business.”

“I am rejoiced to hear it’s thriving, Mat.”