So, to save him trouble, I trotted up to meet him.
At first he didn't notice me.

Then when I said, "Did you want me ?" he stared me over from head to foot as a Newfoundland dog would inspect a pug.

It was on the whole a benevolent stare, not unmingled with humour; especially when the cheers of my late comrades called his attention to my ingenuous blushes.
"I didn't," said he; "but you'll do, if you don't mind.

Cut home to my house.

Number 3, Bridge Street, and ask them to send my leather belt.
Look alive, there's a good chap." This speech, the first really polite speech I had heard since I entered Low Heath, took me by storm, and captivated me at once to the service of the captain of the school.