The poor Bristol lad hastened to Mr. Gresham’s for clean stockings and shoes for Hal. He was unwilling to give up his uniform: it was rubbed and rubbed, and a spot here and there was washed out; and he kept continually repeating,—“When it’s dry it will all brush off—when it’s dry it will all brush off, won’t it?” But soon the fear of being too late at the archery meeting began to balance the dread of appearing in his stained habiliments; and he now as anxiously repeated, whilst the woman held the wet coat to the fire, “Oh, I shall be too late; indeed, I shall be too late; make haste; it will never dry; hold it nearer—nearer to the fire. I shall lose my turn to shoot; oh, give me the coat; I don’t mind how it is, if I can but get it on.” Holding it nearer and nearer to the fire dried it quickly, to be sure; but it shrunk it also, so that it was no easy matter to get the coat on again. However, Hal, who did not see the red splashes, which, in spite of all these operations, were too visible upon his shoulders, and upon the skirts of his white coat behind, was pretty well satisfied to observe that there was not one spot upon the facings. “Nobody,” said he, “will take notice of my coat behind, I daresay. I think it looks as smart almost as ever!”—and under this persuasion our young archer resumed his bow—his bow with green ribands, now no more!—and he pursued his way to the Downs. All his companions were far out of sight. “I suppose,” said he to his friend with the black patch—“I suppose my uncle and Ben had left home before you went for the shoes and stockings for me?” “Oh, yes, sir; the butler said they had been gone to the Downs a matter of a good half-hour or more.” Hal trudged on as fast as he possibly could. When he got upon the Downs, he saw numbers of carriages, and crowds of people, all going towards the place of meeting at the Ostrich. He pressed forwards. He was at first so much afraid of being late, that he did not take notice of the mirth his motley appearance excited in all beholders. At length he reached the appointed spot. There was a great crowd of people. In the midst he heard Lady Diana’s loud voice betting upon someone who was just going to shoot at the mark. “So then the shooting is begun, is it?” said Hal. “Oh, let me in! pray let me into the circle! I’m one of the archers—I am, indeed; don’t you see my green and white uniform?” “Your red and white uniform, you mean,” said the man to whom he addressed himself; and the people, as they opened a passage for him, could not refrain laughing at the mixture of dirt and finery which it exhibited. In vain, when he got into the midst of the formidable circle, he looked to his friends, the young Sweepstakes, for their countenance and support. They were amongst the most unmerciful of the laughers. Lady Diana also seemed more to enjoy than to pity his confusion.