"What are you talking about?" Edna asked impatiently.
"Mr. Allen," Pauline told her.
"I saw him and Tom walking down the back lane the other night,"
Patience explained. Patience felt that she had won her right to belong
to the club now—they'd see she wasn't just a silly little girl.
"Father says he—I don't mean Tom—"
"We didn't suppose you did," Tracy laughed.
"Knows more history than any other man in the state; especially, the history of the state."
"Mr. Allen!" Shirley exclaimed. "T. C. Allen! Why, father and I read one of his books just the other week. It's mighty interesting. Does he live in Winton?"
"He surely does," Bob grinned, "and every little while he comes up to school and puts us through our paces. It's his boast that he was born, bred and educated right in Vermont. He isn't a bad old buck—if he wouldn't pester a fellow with too many questions."
"He lives out beyond us," Hilary told Shirley. "There's a great apple tree right in front of the gate. He has an old house-keeper to look after him. I wish you could see his books—he's literally surrounded with them."
"Not storybooks," Patience added. "He says, they're books full of stories, if one's a mind to look for them."
"Please," Edna protested, "let's change the subject. Are we to have badges, or not?"