down it, not cheered by the old verger's muttered remark, "What a pickle they boys be in!" Thomas referred to their faces and habiliments, but they construed it as indicating the Doctor's state of mind. Upon the short flight of stairs they paused to hold counsel.
"Who'll go in first?" inquires Tadpole.
"You—you're the senior," answered East.
"Catch me—look at the state I'm in," rejoined Hall, showing the arms of his jacket. "I must get behind you two."
"Well, but look at me," said East, indicating the mass of clay behind which he was standing; "I'm worse than you, two to one; you might grow cabbages on my trousers."
"That's all down below, and you can keep your legs behind the sofa," said Hall.
"Here, Brown, you're the show-figure—you must lead."
"But my face is all muddy," argued Tom.
"Oh, we're all in one boat for that matter; but come on. We're only making it worse, dawdling here."
"Well, just give us a brush then," said Tom; and they began trying to rub off the superfluous dirt from each other's jackets, but it was not dry enough, and the rubbing made it worse; so in despair they pushed through the swing-door at the head of the stains, and found themselves in the Doctor's hall.
"That's the library door," said East in a whisper, pushing Tom forwards. The sound of merry voices and laughter came from within, and his first hesitating knock was unanswered. But at the second, the Doctor's voice said "Come in," and Tom turned the handle, and he, with the others behind him, sidled into the room.
