Mr.Cantwell could have called any or all of his submasters and teachers to his aid.
He thought of it presently, as his fingers ached from handling all the pennies.
"Mr.Drake, will you come to the desk ?" he called.
So Submaster Drake came to the platform, drawing a chair up beside the principal's.

But Mr.Cantwell still felt obliged to do the counting, as he was responsible for the correctness of the sums.
So all Mr.Drake could do was check off the names as the principal called them.
Faster and faster poured the copper stream now.

Mr.Cantwell, the cords sticking out on his forehead, and a clammy dew bespangling his white face, counted on in consuming anger.

Every now and then he turned to dump two or three handfuls of counted pennies into his open satchel.
Gathered all around the desk was a throng of students, waiting to pay.

Beyond this throng, safely out of range of vision, other students gathered in groups and chuckled almost silently.
Clatter! By an unintentional move of one arm Mr.Cantwell swept fully a hundred pennies off on to the floor.