Chapter Five.
Buying a new Water-Bottle.
And now one morning, as soon as it was daylight, Harry jumped out of bed and ran to his brother’s, and with one whisk dragged everything off—sheet, blankets, counterpane, and almost Philip, and then the young ruffian rushed into Fred’s room, served him in the same way, and narrowly escaped a crack on the head from his cousin’s boot, which was sent flying after him as he ran, but hit the wall instead, and then fell toe foremost into the big wash hand jug, that seemed as if it stood there on purpose to catch it.
“Jump up, boys; why it’s ever so late, I believe,” said Harry. “I’ll go and see what time it is. Shrimping day!”
Directly after Harry reappeared in Fred’s room, and found Philip there.
“I say, the clock’s stopped in the night; it wants a quarter to four by that old stupid thing on the staircase. I’ll go down to the dining-room and see there; I know it’s half-past seven, and everybody is lying in bed because Papa said we should all start in good time for the sands. Don’t I wish I was behind old Sam! Shouldn’t I like to put a wasp in his bed!”
He then slipped quietly down to the dining-room. All was still; the blinds drawn down, but the room was light enough for him to see the hands upon the face of the little timepiece over the fireplace.
“Ten minutes to four,” said the clock.
“All the clocks are wrong,” said Harry, pettishly. “It must be late. I know it is. I’ll go in the kitchen.”