"And did you ever get a reform in the hours of washing the floor?"
"Ha! ha! ha! No, they always waited till I was going to bed. I suppose they thought I liked damp. They never got over my morning tub, you know. And that, too, sprang a leak after you left, and helped spontaneously to wash the floor."
"Shows the fallacy of cleanliness," said Peter, "and the inferiority of British ideals. They never bathed in their lives, yet they looked the pink of health."
"Yes,—their complexion was high,—like the fish."
"Ha! ha! Yes, the fish! That was a great luxury, I remember. About once a month."
"Of course, the town is so inland," said Lancelot.
"I see—it took such a long time coming. Ha! ha! ha! And the Herr Professor—is he still a bachelor?"
As the Herr Professor was a septuagenarian and a misogamist, even in Peter's time, his question tickled Lancelot. Altogether the two young men grew quite jolly, recalling a hundred oddities, and reknitting their friendship at the expense of the Fatherland.
"But was there ever a more madcap expedition than ours?" exclaimed Peter. "Most boys start out to be pirates—"
"And some do become music-publishers," Lancelot finished grimly, suddenly reminded of a grievance.