“I know you weren’t,” said Philip.
“How do you know that?” said Harry.
“How do you know that you were?” said Philip.
“Because I felt so,” said Harry.
“Well, so did I,” said Philip.
“Oh! bother,” said Harry, finding no bottom to the argument. “I know who was most tired; it was Fred, for he went to sleep first with a bit of bread and butter in his mouth.”
“I didn’t,” said Fred, indignantly.
“That you did; didn’t he, Philip? and Pa and Ma both laughed at him; and I wasn’t so sleepy but that I saw Pa get Kirby and Spence’s ‘Tomology’ down to read, and lean back in his chair himself—now then!”
During this dispute no progress was made in the dressing; but, upon Harry suggesting that they should go and peep at the specimens they obtained on the previous evening, they all scrambled through the rest of their dressing, and hurried down to the Study, where all the boxes had been placed overnight.
Harry finished dressing first, and would have run down stairs, but was prevented by Philip, who locked the door, and then passed the key to Fred, so that Master Harry was compelled to wait until the others were ready. At last they descended by sliding down the banisters, Philip leading off, and Harry nearly upsetting him at the bottom by sliding down too quickly and coming into sharp contact. At last they burst, pell-mell, into the study, as if they were soldiers about to sack a town, and perhaps, too, a little more impetuously.