P. G. Wodehouse

“ When the bell rang for the quarter to eleven interval the ferrets were in their new home, happily discussing a piece of meat—­Renford’s contribution, held over from the morning’s meal,—­and O’Hara, looking as if he had never left the passage for an instant, was making his way through the departing mathematical class to apologise handsomely to Mr Banks—­as was his invariable custom—­for his disgraceful behaviour during the morning’s lesson. ”

“ O’Hara hated to be rude, but there seemed no help for it.
The striking of a quarter past ten improved his chances. It had been privily agreed upon beforehand amongst the members of the class that at a quarter past ten every one was to sneeze simultaneously. The noise startled Mr Banks considerably. The angelic mood began to wear off. A man may be long-suffering, but he likes to draw the line somewhere.
“Another exhibition like that,” he said, sharply, “and the class stays in after school, O’Hara!” ”

“ No, he must give it up, and the ferrets’ breakfast-hour must be postponed. Possibly Harvey might be able to think of something.
“Fed ’em?” inquired Harvey, when they met at breakfast.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Why on earth not? You didn’t oversleep yourself?”
Renford poured his tale into his friend’s shocked ears.
“My hat!” said Harvey, when he had finished, “what on earth are we to do? They’ll starve.” ”