―Who can answer a riddle? Stephen asked.
They bundled their books away, pencils clacking, pages rustling. Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels, all gabbling gaily:
―A riddle, sir. Ask me, sir.
―O, ask me, sir.
―A hard one, sir.
―This is the riddle, Stephen said:
The cock crew The sky was blue: The bells in heaven Were striking eleven. ’Tis time for this poor soul To go to heaven.
What is that?
―What, sir?
―Again, sir. We didn’t hear.
Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. After a silence Cochrane said:
―What is it, sir? We give it up.
Stephen, his throat itching, answered:
―The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.
He stood up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries echoed dismay.
A stick struck the door and a voice in the corridor called: