"They are probably where they ought to be, young man, in your desk."

Each boy then proceeded to take an imaginary reader out of an imaginary
desk. Wort, though, had a book.

"All properly supplied with readers? Open them. Read, 'Merry Gentlemen,'
read. Wort may begin."

There was no response.

"Read, I say."

There was silence still.

"Do you mean to disobey me?"

"You haven't told us what to read," replied Wort.

"Yes, I have."

"You haven't," stoutly reaffirmed Wort. "You said, 'Merry gentlemen,
read.'"

"I mean the piece called 'Merry Gentlemen,' on page--well, you know. We
have read it in school enough times to know it, and then scholars ought to
know their readers well enough to be able to turn to any place and read
without a book even. Who is that speaking? Tell me. Haven't I told you a
thousand times that there must be no speaking in this school? I see the
guilty scholar. Richard Grimes, come this way!"