Riddle me, riddle me, randy ro.

My father gave me seeds to sow.

Riddle me, riddle me, randy ro. My father gave me seeds to sow.

Talbot slid his closed book into his satchel.

―Have I heard all? Stephen asked.

―Yes, sir. Hockey at ten, sir.

―Half day, sir. Thursday.

―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: