'I thought you might like to walk me over the show. But pr'aps
you're in a 'urry?'

'No, no. But there's nothing particular to see. I think the
lecture-rooms are closed by now.'

'Oo's the gent as stands there?--the figger, I mean.'

'Sir Job Whitelaw, founder of the College.'

'Job, eh? And was you a-goin' 'ome to yer tea, Godwin?'

'Yes.'

'Well, then, look 'ere, 'spose we go to the little shop opposyte--
nice little plyce it looks. I could do a cup o' tea myself, and we
can 'ev a quite confab. It's a long time since we'ed a talk
together. I come over from Twybridge this mornin'; slep' there last
night, and saw yer mother an' Oliver. They couldn't give me a bed,
but that didn't mike no matter; I put up at the Norfolk Harms--
five-an-six for bed an' breakfast. Come along, my bo-oy; I stand
treat.'

Godwin glanced about him. From the College was approaching what
seemed to be a formal procession; it consisted of Bruno Chilvers,
supported on either hand by ladies and followed by an admiring
train.

'You had better come to my lodgings with me, uncle,' said the young