even help you--who knows? And here comes Mr. Cæsar. Ah, wee, wee."

It was our custom to race in a body along the corridor to meet Mr.
Cæsar, and to arrive breathless at his side, where we would fight to
walk, one on his right hand, and another on his left. In the course
of a brilliant struggle several boys would be prostrated, not
unwillingly. We would then escort him in triumph to his door, and
all offer to turn the lock, crying: "Let _me_ have the key, sir."
"Do let _me_, sir." "You never let _me_, sir--dashed unfair." When
someone had secured the key, he would fling wide the door, as though
to usher in all the kings of Asia, but promptly spoil this courtly
action by racing after the door ere it banged against the wall,
holding it in an iron grip like a runaway horse, and panting
horribly at the strain. This morning I was honoured with the key. I
examined it and saw that it was stuffed up with dirt and there would
be some delay outside the class-room door while the key underwent
alterations and repairs.

"Has any boy," I asked, "a pin?"

None had; but Pennybet offered to go to Bramhall House in search of
one. He could do it in twenty minutes, he said.

"Dear me, how annoying!" I shook the key, I hammered it, I blew down
it till it gave forth a shrill whistle, and Penny said: "Off side."
And then I giggled into the key.

Don't think Mr. Cæsar tolerated all this without a mild protest. I
distinctly remember his saying in his silvery voice: "Give it to me,
Ray. I'll do it," and my replying, as I looked up into his delicate