every time he puts coins into it.

He reaches home and sets out his books and pencils to write his lessons. Ah — he remembers that he found the arithmetic book at last, by chance, this morning; that is a heavy burden lifted from him. So he goes to the bookcase and searches through it, but he does not find the book. Where has it disappeared to? He tries to remember exactly where he found it in the morning...

He searched the bookcase, and the table, and the drawer, but found nothing! He was pained, and bewilderment came over him again... Where, where had he put it? Why had he paid it no attention when he found it, and not put it in some definite place?

Samir went back and looked over the books a fourth time and a fifth, one by one. Now he feels dizzy from so much searching in the very same places — where on earth is this book? What is to be done now? He will go, as he used to do before, to his friend Tawfiq's, and study from his book.

For some while Samir went on studying from Tawfiq's book, searching afresh for his own every day, until he grew weary of it and made up his mind to ask his father for money to buy a second book. Of course he would have to bear his father's bitter scolding and hear a thousand gibes from his brother, but there was nothing else for it: he could not possibly finish the year studying from Tawfiq's book, or he would fail the examination. And when Samir came up to his father, shy and afraid, and told him what had happened, what he had expected came to pass; and when his father had finished scolding him, he said:

— You will buy your book with the coins you are collecting in your money box. Perhaps that method will do some good with you, and you will become orderly.

Samir left the room shaken by this blow, his brother Asaad pursuing him with his jokes and his mockery. And he wept a long while in his room: he would buy the book with the money-box coins — that in itself did not matter much to him — but how would it then be possible for him

to buy the shawl? How? And the arithmetic book was no small price. His mother's feast day fell the day after tomorrow, and he had been determined to break open the money box today to buy the shawl!

Mama's feast day came, and every member of the family gave her a little present, as they do each year. She was delighted and thanked each one by himself — even Adiba the maid gave her a pretty glass vase. As for Samir, all that time he stood at a distance watching them, his heart full of sadness and the bitterness of regret, until his mother said to him:

— Samir, what is the matter with you? Won't you wish me a happy feast?

Samir could bear no more; the tears overflowed from his eyes and he burst out sobbing, and said, weeping:

— I bought... the arithmetic book with the coins... of the money box that was for the shawl...

His mother understood nothing of what he said — she had not known what had become of the money-box coins — but she gathered Samir to her breast and kissed him until his sobbing quieted. Then his father explained to her what had happened, and finished by saying:

— This was a lesson he needed, and he deserved it.

And his brother Asaad said:

— You should have said the

"'addiyeh" — you'd have found the book at once.

But his mother looked at him with an encouraging smile:

— Would you like to give me a present for my feast day? A present more precious than all they have given me today?

Samir looked at her through his tears:

— What is it?

— Go now to all the places where you keep your books, and tidy them all. Make a place for every-thing, and put everything in its place — so that if you are asked where such-and-such a book is, you can say exactly where it is to be found. And don't forget that drawer and what is in it.

Samir blushed at the mention of that drawer and set about his new task with all eagerness; but his tender mother came to help him.

When he had finished the tidying, his mother asked him:

— Isn't there any place besides these where you have books?

— I think... there are old papers and copybooks on top of the wardrobe.

Adiba brought a little ladder, and Samir climbed up to the top of the wardrobe and began handing the books down; but suddenly he stopped and gasped in astonishment:

— Here it is — here!

— What?

— The arithmetic book! How — by what mystery did it get up here?

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