The fact was that, in the exhilaration of putting the hands on, he had
forgotten that other and even more important operation, winding up.
The watch had stopped.

There are few more disturbing sensations than that of suddenly
discovering that one has no means of telling the time. This is
especially so when one has to be in a certain place by a certain hour.
It gives the discoverer a weird, lost feeling, as if he had stopped
dead while all the rest of the world had moved on at the usual rate.
It is a sensation not unlike that of the man who arrives on the
platform of a railway station just in time to see the tail-end of his
train disappear.

Until that morning the world's record for dressing (set up the day
before) had been five minutes, twenty-three and a fifth seconds. He
lowered this by two seconds, and went downstairs.

The house was empty. In the passage that led to the dining-room he
looked at the clock, and his heart turned a somersault. _It was five
minutes past nine._ Not only was he late for breakfast, but late
for school, too. Never before had he brought off the double event.

There was a little unpleasantness in his form room when he stole in at
seven minutes past the hour. Mr. Dexter, his form-master, never a
jolly sort of man to have dealings with, was rather bitter on the
subject.

"You are incorrigibly lazy and unpunctual," said Mr. Dexter, towards
the end of the address. "You will do me a hundred lines."