"Well," he asked impatiently, "is there anything about me that's particularly astonishing?"
"Not particularly," replied Aleck. "You seem to be winded, that's all."
"You'd be winded too, if you'd run all the way from Drake's Hill."
"Too bad you missed your grandfather. He was looking for you."
"How do you know?"
"He told me so. He wanted to know if I'd seen you."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him you'd gone to Drake's Hill, coasting."
Pen rose slowly to his feet. What right, he asked himself, had this fellow to be telling tales about him? What right had he to be talking to Colonel Butler, anyway? However, he did not choose to lower his dignity further by inquiry. He turned as if to leave the station. But Aleck, who had been turning the matter over carefully in his mind, had decided that Pen ought to know about the proposed gift of the flag. He ought not to be permitted, unwittingly, to go on securing subscriptions to a fund which, by reason of Colonel Butler's proposed gift, had been made unnecessary. That would be cruel and humiliating. So, as Pen turned away, he said to him:
"I've put in some work for the flag this afternoon."