Mr Temple left the room, and Dick went on hurriedly dressing, while Arthur, flushed and uncomfortable, sat in his trousers on the edge of the bed, his hair touzled and the pillow creases marked like a map on his right cheek.
“Here, I say, get dressed, Taff,” cried Dick, “and let’s go down and collect some sea-anemones before breakfast.”
“I don’t want to dress,” said Arthur. “I’m always wrong. I’m a miserable wretch, and nobody understands me. I sha’n’t go to the seal-cave to-day.”
“Yes, you will,” cried Dick, who was very sympathetic but very busy, for he had suddenly awakened to the fact that he had put too much pomatum on his hair. The result was that it looked shiny and greasy, and there was nothing for it but to give it a good rub over with the sponge and then towel it, which he was doing by holding the cloth over his head, and sawing it vigorously to and fro.
“No, I shall not go,” said Arthur despondently. “I shall stop at home.”
“So shall I then,” said Dick panting, and out of breath from his exertions. “It’s all right, Taff, I tell you. Get dressed. You’ll feel as different as can be when you’ve had your breakfast. That’s what’s the matter with you. It makes you feel cross sometimes when you are so precious hungry.”
Arthur sat unmoved, making no effort to dress, and Dick, who was nearly complete, wanting only his jacket, turned to him once more.
“Come on, Taff,” he cried. “Get dressed, and let’s find some anemones, and put in a tub of salt-water. We can feed ’em on shrimps.”
“I wish we were back in london,” said Arthur bitterly.
“What! to have the fellows shouting ‘sweep!’ and the girls beating the mats and knocking their brooms against the area railings as you’re dressing. No, thank you. I like being here. Oh, I say, how lovely old Mr Marion’s flowers smell! Here’s a lugger! Hi, Will, what boat’s that?”