“We looked it up,” said Dorothy.
“Oh, and there’s Miss Olaine!” interposed the deeply interested Tavia. “Did you know Miss Rebecca Olaine?”
“Hush, Tavia!” admonished Dorothy.
But Tom Moran flushed up to the very roots of his red hair, and his blue eyes opened wide.
“Guess I do know her,” he said. “Why—why, we boarded at the same house together, for a while. On Morrell Street. Of course—of course, Miss Olaine was too high-toned a lady for me——”
Tavia sniffed. “I don’t know, Mr. Moran. She’s one of our teachers now at Glenwood. Aren’t you just as good as anybody else?”
“Well! I dunno. I ain’t eddicated, as ye might say. When I get re’l excited I drop inter the brogue, too,” and he shook his head with a grin.
“Howsomever, no need to speak of that fire—or Miss Olaine——”
“But we want to know,” began the eager and curious Tavia.
“Hold on, now!” cried Ned White. “Let’s have things on order. All this search of Dorothy’s was taken on because of the little girl, I understand?”