Nineteen

            “I vow,” Gilraen grumbled, “that there is some spell set upon those who do the laundry!”

            Estel looked up from his book, distracted by his mother’s statement.  He saw that she had carried into his room his clean clothing and was carefully placing it within the chests and on the shelves where such things were kept.  “A spell?  What kind of spell?”

            “When I sent out our clothing to be washed I know I gave them a full score and four stockings, but only nineteen were sent back, and of those five are without matches.  Where do they disappear to?”