Myself (austerely): T know there's a motor outside. Get on with
your work.'

Various voices: 'Sir, have you ever ridden in a motor?'

'Sir, my father let me help drive our motor last Easter, sir.'

'Sir, who do you think it is?'

An isolated genius (imitating the engine): 'Pr-prr! Pr-prr! Pr-prr!'

I was on the point of distributing bad marks (the schoolmaster's
stand-by) broadcast, when a curious sound checked me. It followed
directly upon the opening of the front door. I heard White's
footsteps crossing the hall, then the click of the latch, and
then--a sound that I could not define. The closed door of the
classroom deadened it, but for all that it was audible. It
resembled the thud of a falling body, but I knew it could not be
that, for in peaceful England butlers opening front doors did not
fall with thuds.

My class, eager listeners, found fresh material in the sound for
friendly conversation.

'Sir, what was that, sir?'

'Did you hear that, sir?'

'What do you think's happened, sir?'