It oppressed me worse than any, for since the discovery of my sleep-walking habit my supper (of plain bread and water) had been docked, so that I came ravenous to breakfast and yet could not eat.
Nevertheless, I do not think we were unhappy.

Perhaps we were too young, and at any rate we had nothing with which to contrast our lot.
Across the roadway outside lay blue water, and of this and of roving ships and boats and free passers-by glimpses came to us through the wicket when Mr.George, the porter (we always addressed him as "Mr." and supposed him to resemble the King in features), admitted a visitor, or the laundress, or the butcher's boy.

And sometimes we broke off a game to watch the topmasts of a vessel gliding by silently, above the wall's coping.

But if at any time the world called to us, we took second thoughts, remembering our clothes.
We wore, I dare say, the most infernal costume ever devised by man--a tightish snuff-coloured jacket with diminutive tails, an orange waistcoat, snuff-coloured breeches, grey-blue worsted stockings, and square-toed shoes with iron toe-plates.

Add a flat-topped cap with an immense leathern brim; add Genevan neck-bands; add, last of all, a leathern badge with "G.F.H." (Genevan Foundling Hospital) depending from the left breast-button; and you may imagine with what diffidence we took our rare walks abroad.