Nobody seemed to know.
"I don't see how we can have it, if you don't know it," said Desire mildly.
Another hand shot up. "Please teacher, you say it first."
There was also, then, an established order of precedence.
"I don't know it, either," said Desire.
This might have precipitated a deadlock. But, fortunately, the row did not believe her. They smiled stiffly. Their smile revealed more clearly than anything else how unthinkable it was for a teacher not to know the Golden Text. Desire, in desperation, remembered the paper-covered "Quarterly" which the assistant had put into her hands and, with a flash of inspiration, decided that what the children wanted was probably there. She opened it feverishly and was delighted to discover "Golden Text" in large letters on the first page she looked at. She read hastily.
"And thou Bethlehem in the land of Juda—"
A whole row of hands shot up. "Please teacher, that was last Christmas!" announced the class reproachfully.
With shame Desire noticed that the lessons in the Quarterly were dated. But she was regaining something of her ordinary poise.
"You ought to know it, even if it is," she remarked firmly. This was more according to Hoyle. The little boy's hand answered it.