“I know! But you’re not to bother your head about that for a second. I was young once myself, thank Heaven!”
“Well, I appreciate it now,” said Sam simply. “And I’m mighty glad I’ve learned how to appreciate it. This whole business—from first to last, with the flood thrown in—I—I guess I know more than I did,” he concluded with an effort.
“I’m surely glad all of you know about Sugar Valley and its legends,” Mrs. Grant put in quickly, to cover his confusion. “I’ve told you one story about Dominie Pike. There are a lot of other stories.”
Tom Orkney spoke from his end of the table.
“I wonder if some of them are not here, Mrs. Grant,” he said, and took from his pocket a little book, stained, frayed, dog-eared at the corners, lacking covers, and with some of the outer pages sadly mutilated.
From hand to hand it was passed to Mrs. Grant. The boys could see that the pages were filled with writing, small, closely lined, in ink which had faded with the passage of years.
Mrs. Grant glanced curiously at the little book. She turned the pages, her interest evidently increasing as she proceeded.
“Why—why, if this isn’t the real thing—the original diary of Dominie Pike—but how did you come by it?”
“I found it in an old house we stayed in till the flood drove us out.”
The lady nodded. “Yes, that would fit—it must have been the old Dominie’s house. But this book, now! You know, I told you I never saw the original, and never knew anybody who had seen it, but this—well, it certainly fits the description of the diary that’s been handed down. And the penmanship is just like the Dominie’s—there are some other specimens in old documents that have been preserved—bills, receipts, agreements, and so on. And as nearly as I can make out what it says—yes, it reads as if it was genuine. And I think it’s one of the first of the set the Dominie is known to have kept. But you found it, you say?”