“Now!” said he.
“Now,” I replied, “where shall we go?”
“London, I think,” said he, solemnly as ever, “All right—how many miles?”
“Eighty or ninety, I fancy—but where’s your coat?”
“In the dormitory. I was too much flurried to put it on.”
“Never mind, we can use mine turn about. But I wish we’d got boots instead of slippers.”
“So do I,” replied I, who even as I stood felt the sharp gravel cutting my feet; “ninety miles in slippers will be rather rough.”
“Never mind,” said Jack, “come on.”
“Come on,” said I.
At that moment, to our dismay and misery, we heard a window above us stealthily opened, close to the water-pipe, and looking up beheld the Henniker’s head and yellow-and-black body suddenly thrust out.