His appearance, as he picked himself up, was ludicrous in the extreme.

His sable face was plentifully besprinkled with clotted milk, giving him the appearance of a negro who is coming out white in spots.

The floor was swimming in milk.

Luckily the dictionary had fallen clear of it, and so escaped.
"Is this the way you study ?" demanded Frank, as sternly as his sense of the ludicrous plight in which he found Pomp would permit.
For once Pomp's ready wit deserted him.

He had nothing to say.
"Go out and wash yourself." Pomp came back rather shamefaced, his face restored to its original color.
"Now, where is your book ?" Pomp looked about him, but, as he took good care not to look where he knew his book to be, of course he did not find it.
"I 'clare, Mass' Frank, it done lost," he at length asserted.
"How can it be lost when you had it only a few minutes ago ?" "I dunno," answered Pomp stolidly.
"Have you been out of the room ?" Pomp answered in the negative.
"Then it must be somewhere here." Frank went quietly to the corner of the room and took therefrom a stick.
"Now, Pomp," he said, "I will give you just two minutes to find the book in.