small boys, who were evidently much excited. Two of them were about to
run a race, and one of them was his young lordship, and he was shouting
and making as much noise as the noisiest of his companions. He stood
side by side with another boy, one little red leg advanced a step.

"One, to make ready!" yelled the starter. "Two, to be steady. Three--and
away!"

Mr. Havisham found himself leaning out of the window of his coupe with
a curious feeling of interest. He really never remembered having seen
anything quite like the way in which his lordship's lordly little red
legs flew up behind his knickerbockers and tore over the ground as he
shot out in the race at the signal word. He shut his small hands and set
his face against the wind; his bright hair streamed out behind.

"Hooray, Ced Errol!" all the boys shouted, dancing and shrieking with
excitement. "Hooray, Billy Williams! Hooray, Ceddie! Hooray, Billy!
Hooray! 'Ray! 'Ray!"

"I really believe he is going to win," said Mr. Havisham. The way in
which the red legs flew and flashed up and down, the shrieks of the
boys, the wild efforts of Billy Williams, whose brown legs were not to
be despised, as they followed closely in the rear of the red legs, made
him feel some excitement. "I really--I really can't help hoping he will
win!" he said, with an apologetic sort of cough. At that moment, the
wildest yell of all went up from the dancing, hopping boys. With
one last frantic leap the future Earl of Dorincourt had reached the
lamp-post at the end of the block and touched it, just two seconds
before Billy Williams flung himself at it, panting.