Crow," he broke off, in a rage, pointing to one of the ink puddles which that hero had made, "here's the same beastly mess again! Every Monday it's the same--ink all over the place! Why on earth don't you keep your messes to yourself ?" "That young 'un filled up to-day," said Crow, coolly pointing to me.
I was so astounded by this false charge that I could hardly speak.

At last I retorted, "I didn't; you know I didn't!" "Yes, you did!" said Crow.
"I didn't fill up that pot; it was done before I got here." "Don't tell lies!" said Crow.
"I'm not telling lies!" cried I.
"Yes, you are!" said Crow.

"I'm ashamed of you!" "Oh, it was you, was it ?" demanded Mr Doubleday, turning to me; "then just come and wipe it up.

Look sharp!" I was disposed to resist this piece of injustice to the utmost, but somehow the morning of my arrival it would hardly look well to figure in a row.
"I didn't do it," said I, in an agitated voice, "but I'll wipe it up." "Look sharp about it, then!" said Doubleday, grinning at Wallop.
It is one thing to offer to wipe up an ink puddle, and quite another to do it.
"Now then!" said Doubleday, as I stood doubtfully in front of the scene of operation.
"I don't know," I faltered,--"I, that is--I haven't got anything I can do it with." "What! not got a handkerchief!" exclaimed the head clerk, in apparent consternation.
"Yes; but I can't do it with that.

Wouldn't some blotting--" "Blotting-paper!--the firm's blotting-paper to wipe up his messes! What do you think of that, all of you?
Come, out with your handkerchief!" Things looked threatening.