Raymond, Ernest, 1888-1974 / 2008-09-14 00:00:00

This inefficient master owed his
position to the great vogue enjoyed by his books: "Reinhardt's
German Conversation," "Reinhardt's French Pieces," and others. But
the boys, by common consent, decided not to identify this "Caesar
Reinhardt, Modern Language Master at Kensingtowe School" with their
own dear Mr. Caesar. Thus, you see, in their ignorance, they were
able to bring up the Reinhardt works to Mr. Caesar, and say with
worried brows: "Here, sir. This bally book's all wrong"; "I could
write a better book than this myself, sir"; "The Johnny who wrote
this book, sir--well, _st. st._" Pennybet, however, used to tremble
on the brink of identification, when he made the idiotic mistake of
saying: "Shall I bring up my Caesar, sir,--I mean, my Reinhardt?"
The jubilation of our class, as we lolled or clog-danced in the
corridor, had need to be organised into some systematic fooling; and
for once in a way, the boys accepted a suggestion of mine.
"Let's all hum 'God Save the King' exactly at twelve o'clock. Mr.
Caesar won't hear; he's too deaf."
Immediately several boys started to sing the popular air in
question, and others went for a slide along the corridor, both of
which performances are generally construed as meaning: "Right-ho!"
"It's crude," commented Penny, "but I'll not interfere.
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