Inasmuch as I occupied a very favourable position, I got up to conduct proceedings.  I faced the class, stretched out my right hand, which held a pen by way of a baton, and whispered:  “One.  Two. Three.”

It began.  I have often wondered since how I could have been so wrong in my calculations.  I had estimated that, if we all hummed, there would result a gentle murmur.  I never dreamt that each of the twenty boys would respond so splendidly to my appeal.  Instead of a gentle murmur, the National Hymn was opened with extraordinary volume and spirit.

My first instinct was the low one of self-preservation.  Feeling no desire to play a leading part in this terrible outbreak, I hastily sat down with a view to resuming my studies.  Unfortunately I sat down too heavily, and there was the noise of a bump, which served to bring the performance to an effective conclusion.  My books clattered to the floor, and Mr. Caesar turned on me with a cry of wrath.

“Ray, what are you doing?”

It was a sudden and awkward question; and, for a second, I was at a loss for words to express to my satisfaction what I was doing.  Penny seemed disappointed at my declension into disgrace, and murmured reproachfully:  “O Rupert, my little Rupert, st. st.” I saw that the game was up.  Mr. Caesar had inquired what I was doing; and a survey of what I was doing showed me that, between some antecedent movements and some subsequent effects, my central procedure was a conducting of the class.  So, very red but trying to be impudent, I said as much, after first turning round and making an unpleasant face at Penny.

“Conducting, sir,” I explained, as though nothing could be more natural at twelve o’clock.

“Conducting!” said Mr. Caesar.  “Well, you may be able to conduct the class, but you certainly cannot conduct yourself.”

This resembling a joke, the class expressed its appreciation in a prolonged and uproarious laugh.  It was a stupendous laugh.  It had fine crescendo and diminuendo passages, and only died hard, after a chain of intermittent “Ha-ha’s.”  Then it had a glorious resurrection, but faded at last into the distance, a few stray “Ha-ha’s” from Pennybet bringing up the rear.

Mr. Caesar trembled with impotent passion, his weak eyes eloquent with anger and suffering.

“Are you responsible for this outrage, Ray?”

I looked down and muttered:  “It was my suggestion, sir.”

“Then you shall suffer for it.  Who has tampered with the clock?”

There was no answer, and every boy looked at the remainder of the class to show his ignorance of the whole matter.  Doe glanced from one to another for instructions.  Some by facial movements suggested an avowal of his part, but he whispered:  “Not yet,” and waited, blushing.

“Then the whole class shall do two hours’ extra work.”