It was our custom to race in a body along the corridor to meet Mr. Caesar, 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. Caesar 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 eyes:  “No, it’s all right, sir.  You leave it to me, sir.”

In due course I threw open the door with a triumphant “There!” The door hit the side-wall with a bang that upset the nervous systems of neighbouring boys, who felt a little faint, had hysterics, and recovered.  Mr. Caesar, feeling that the class was a trifle unpunctual in starting, hurriedly entered.

Then Pennybet distinguished himself.  He laid his books unconcernedly on the master’s desk, and walked with a dandy’s dignity to the window.  Having surveyed the view with a critical air, he faced round and addressed Mr. Caesar courteously:  “May I shut the window for you, sir?” adding in a lower tone that he was always willing to oblige.  Without waiting for the permission to be granted, he turned round again and, pulling up each sleeve that his cuffs might not be soiled in the operation, proceeded to turn the handle, by means of which the lofty window was closed.

Now there were four long windows in a row, and they all needed shutting—­this beautiful summer morning.  None of us was to be outdone in politeness by Penny; and all rushed to the coveted handles so as to be first in shutting the remaining windows.  The element of competition and the steeplechasing methods necessary, if we were to surmount the intervening desks, made it all rather exciting.  Several boys, converging from different directions, arrived at the handles at the same time.  It was natural, then, that a certain amount of discussion should follow as to whose right it was to shut the windows, and that the various little assemblies debating the point should go and refer the question simultaneously to Mr. Caesar.