Sure enough, the road was fairly strewn with the sixth consonant!—both in small letters and capitals.
"Been dropped," went on the Officer.
She had heard the expression "dropping his h's." Now she understood it. "Oh, but how'll these help?"
"Show 'em to Thomas!"
She approached the barrel—and pointed down.
Thomas followed her pointing. Instantly his expression became furious. And one by one his ears stood up alertly. "It's him!" he shouted. "Oh, wait till I get my hands on him!" Then heaving hard at the barrel, he raced off along the alphabetical trail.
Gwendolyn was compelled to run to keep up with him. "What's the trouble?" she asked the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.
"A Dictionarial difference," he answered, his dark-skinned face very grave.
"Oh!" (She resolved to hunt Dictionarial up the moment she was back in the school-room.)
Thomas was shouting once more from where he labored in the lead. "I'll murder him!" he threatened. "This time I'll mur-r-der him!"