"Well, this is a nice mess we're in!" said Tom, after a moment's pause,
during which we stared blankly at each other in front of the fire, which
we had approached as soon as our janitor had departed. My chum seated
himself comfortably in the Doctor's armchair, which he drew near the
hearth, putting his feet on the fender so as to warm his chilled toes;
but I remained standing beside him, leaning against the chimney-piece.
"Yes," I replied, disconsolately. "It's too bad though; I say, old
fellow, I'm awfully hungry!"
"So am I," said Tom, "but I don't suppose we'll be able to get anything
whatever to eat before morning--if the Doctor lets us have breakfast
then!"
"Oh, bother him!" I exclaimed; "I'm not going to starve."
"Why, what can we do, Martin? I don't think you'll find any grub here.
The old woman swept away every crumb, even from the floor, after tea; I
was watching her like a dog after a bone."
"What are we to do, eh?" I repeated, cheerfully, my spirits rising to
the occasion; "why, get away from this as soon as we can!"
"Run away?" ejaculated Tom in astonishment.