The man of God applied himself to copying books either for his own use or for the church his cell adjoined. He once told his scribe to leave something out of a transcript because he had it elsewhere. The young man forgot all about it, but, when he got to the place, something prevented him from carrying on. The power of Wulfric’s command stood in the way of the pen and brought its advance to a sudden halt. But the scribe, unaware, and blaming it all on the pen, sharpened it over and over again, until, having reduced it by degrees to a stump, he threw it away in anger and disgust. Wulfric, meanwhile, knowing all this in spirit, returned from prayer and made a pretence of scolding the scribe: ‘Now, now, Richard,’ he said, ‘why did you want to disobey your instructions in this way?’ Recollecting too late, the scribe began to smile at his accuser and, not without cause or subsequent profit, enjoyed the joke at his own expense. I had this from Richard himself.