“Forty-eight from sixty is twelve: so there are twelve pens to account for. Have you looked for them, Staples?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then look again.”

The scene dragged on. Two pens were found: ten were missing. Then the storm burSt. “Am I to have you thieving, besides your dirt and bad work and bad behaviour?” the headmaster began. “Not content with being the worst-behaved and dirtiest class in the school, you are thieves into the bargain, are you? It is a very funny thing! Pens don't melt into the air: pens are not in the habit of mizzling away into nothing.

What has become of them then? They must be somewhere. What has become of them? For they must be found, and found by Standard Five. They were lost by Standard Five, and they must be found.”