Cæsar. But the next minute he looked up at the still open window;
shivered, and shuddered; rubbed his cold hands (this beautiful
summer morning); buttoned himself up warmly; went to the master's
desk for his books; dropped them one after another; blew on his
numbed fingers to infuse a little warmth into them, contriving a
whistle, and all the time looking most rebukingly at his tyrannical
master; picked up four books and dropped two of them; picked up
those and dropped one more; walked to his seat in high sorrow, and
banged the whole lot of the books down upon the desk and floor in an
appalling cataract, as the full cruelty of Mr. Cæsar's treatment
came suddenly home to him.

When we recovered from this shattering explosion of Penny's books, a
little quiet work would have begun, had not Doe, with his romantic
imagination lit by the glow of Penny's audacity, started to crave
the notoriety of being likewise a leader of men. He rose from his
desk, approached Mr. Cæsar, and extended his hand with a belated
"Good morning, sir."

Poor Mr. Cæsar, in the kindliness of his heart, was touched by Doe's
graceful action, and grasped the proffered hand, saying: "Good
morning, Doe." By this time the whole class was arranged in a
tolerably straight line behind Doe, and waiting to go through the
ceremony of shaking hands.

Work commenced at about twenty minutes to twelve, and, when twelve
should come, we were to render, according to programme, "God Save
the King," with some delicate humming. For want of something better
to do, I wrote a clause of the exercise set. Mr. Cæsar's back was
now turned and he was studying a wall-map.