He went away with his purchase in his hand. Quinney came back, not too well pleased. "He’d have given a fiver for it. Why didn’t you ask more than we was prepared to take?" Susan, knowing her own strength, answered decisively: "His lordship confirmed me, Joe." "What’s that got to do with it?" "He knows about china. He passed by the inferior stuff. I wanted him to tell his friends that our prices were very reasonable; and I wanted him to come again. He promised that he would. And I think the clergy, our own clergy, ought to be treated—generously." "By Gum, you’re right!" said Quinney. "They’ll tell the old women that our prices touch bottom, reg’lar bargains." She was equally successful with Mrs. Nish, a widow of ample means and an ardent collector. Mrs. Nish may have seen the Bishop’s jar and have learned from him that it had been bought at a modest figure. She came in next day, richly rustling in black silk, a large, imposing woman, with a deportment that indicated opulence and a complexion heightened by good living. Mr. Nish had accumulated a fortune in Australia, sheep-farming, and had died—as so many such men do—when he retired from active business. His widow bought a large house standing in a small garden, just outside Melchester. The Close called upon her (not the County), because she subscribed generously to local charities. Her taste, however, was flamboyantly rococo; and on that account Quinney despised her, although he admitted to Susan that she might be educated. When he beheld her pair of prancing bays, he whispered to Susan, "Have a go at the old girl!" Then he retreated discreetly to his inner room. Mrs. Nish greeted Susan with much affability, and immediately mentioned the Bishop, "my lording" him with unction. The jar with _prunus_ decoration was spoken of as a little prune pot. "I want one just like it." "I’m afraid," said Susan, "that you will not find another just like it." "As near as may be," said Mrs. Nish. "The only other jar with similar decoration, and of the same period, is this." She displayed the finest jar in their possession, adding, "The price is fifty pounds." Mrs. Nish was tremendously impressed. "It can’t be worth all that," she protested. "I think his lordship would tell you that it was. We don’t expect to sell it. In fact it belongs to somebody else. We get a small commission if it is sold." Susan carefully replaced the jar, and picked up its counterfeit. "This is modern, madam, a very clever production, made by the same factory in China. We ask five pounds for this." "I don’t buy fakes." "Of course not, madam. My husband says Lord Mel has not a finer piece of blue and white than that." Mrs. Nish turned aside to examine the oak, but her eyes wandered now and again to the big jar. Susan knew that she was thinking how pleasant it would be to say carelessly, "Oh, yes; I paid fifty pounds for that."