He did not wear his blue painting-smock, but was in a comparatively clean black suit, and on the back of his head was a squashy brown hat.
"Come on," he said, "or we shall be too late." Jeremy choked.

"Too late ?" he repeated.
"You're coming, aren't you--to the Pantomime?
They sent me back for you." The room suddenly got on to its legs, like the food and the families during Alice's feast in the "Looking Glass," and swung round, lurching from side to side, and causing the fire to run into the gas and the gas to fly out of the window.
"I--don't--understand," Jeremy stammered.
"Well, if you don't understand in half a shake," said Uncle Samuel, "you won't see any of the show at all.

Go on.

Wash your face.

There are streaks of dirt all down it as though you were a painted Indian; stick on your cap and coat and boots and come along." Exactly as one moves in sleep so Jeremy now moved.