“Where young folks learns wot’s right?” said Riderhood, gravely nodding. “Beg your pardon, governor! By your leave! But who teaches this school?”

“I do.”

“You’re the master, are you, learned governor?”

“Yes. I am the master.”

“And a lovely thing it must be,” said Riderhood, “fur to learn young folks wot’s right, and fur to know wot they know wot you do it. Beg your pardon, learned governor! By your leave!⁠—That there blackboard; wot’s it for?”

“It is for drawing on, or writing on.”

“Is it though!” said Riderhood. “Who’d have thought it, from the looks on it! would you be so kind as write your name upon it, learned governor?” (In a wheedling tone.)