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"What is this great building?" questioned Mollie.
"This is where we live, dear," answered Ruth. "This is my home."
"Oh, dear me, I thought it was the Chicago public library," retorted Mollie.
"Molliekins, what are we going to do with you?" chided Ruth, laughing.
The other girls were already running up the broad stone steps. The doors swung open and the next second Barbara, Mollie and Grace threw themselves into the arms of Miss Sallie Stuart. There was a volley of little screams of delight and any number of resounding smacks. Mr. Stuart had followed them in. He stood with his back to the door, smiling contentedly on the joyous scene. He had come to love the three girls with a love that was not far behind his affection for his own daughter Ruth.
The girls having released Miss Sallie from their embrace, Ruth dragged her friends upstairs. They were first shown to their own rooms, and wonderful rooms they were. None of the three girls from Kingsbridge ever had seen anything to compare with the beauty of these handsome apartments. A few minutes later they were in Ruth's private sitting room, the walls of which were done in pale blue silk. The furniture was of old mahogany and on a dainty writing desk the girls found paper and envelopes bearing the monogram "A. G." Ruth had had these prepared for the girls' use.
"Now, girls," she said, "are you too fatigued after your exciting experiences to go out this evening?"
"No, indeed," cried the three girls in chorus.
"Then listen! Father has taken a box at the opera for this evening. We are to hear Romeo and Juliet "
"Oh, how perfectly lovely," bubbled Mollie.
"That reminds me, Molliekins, that I received a note from your 'lovely lady,' Mrs. Cartwright, yesterday. She asked me to tell you to look for a diamond butterfly at the opera to-night. She thought that might help you to locate an old friend."
Mollie smiled happily. At this juncture there came a light tap at the door and a well-known gentle voice asked, "may I come in?"
Miss Sallie was assisted into the room somewhat faster than she considered dignified, but there was no resisting her "Automobile Girls." After getting her breath she sank into an easy chair, the girls surrounding her.
"I want to consult with you about our plans," she said. "We wish to make this reunion one that you will remember all the rest of your lives. Our cousins, the Presbys, wish you to spend some time with them. Olive Presby, their daughter, is especially desirous of having you there. You will find her a charming girl and I am sure you will all fall in love with her at sight. What do you say?"
"About the falling in love?" questioned Mollie innocently.
"No, no, Molliekins," rebuked Ruth. "About the invitation, of course."
"I am sure we shall be well pleased with whatever arrangements have been made for us," said Grace.
"Yes, indeed," added Barbara.
"I am between fire and water," declared Ruth laughingly, as she dropped into a chair before the fireplace. "I want you to stay and I want you to go to the Presbys. I have decided, with your approval, that we shall divide your time between our home and the Presbys' place. First, we will do Chicago, after which we will go to Cousin Jane and Cousin Richard Presby. They have a grand old home and hundreds of acres of grounds surrounding it."
"Are they so very rich?" questioned Mollie.
"On the contrary, they are extremely poor," answered Aunt Sallie, whereat Mollie puckered her brow in perplexity. "Their property is heavily mortgaged. They are in a fair way to lose it unless "
"Unless what, Aunt Sallie?" asked Bab gently.
"Unless perhaps they may in the meantime find the buried treasure."
The effect of this announcement on Mollie, Barbara and Grace made Miss Sallie smile.
"Buried treasure? Buried treasure! Oh, oh, oh!" they cried in chorus.
"Don't get excited, dears. There is no chance for the 'Automobile Girls,'" interjected Ruth. "I've stirred myself up so many times over that old treasure that I have lost ever and ever so many nights' sleep. Take my advice and forget all about it," she admonished.
"Oh, please tell us about it," urged Mollie.
"A buried treasure? How perfectly delightful!" sparkled Barbara.
"I haven't time to tell you now. It is a long story. This treasure was buried many years ago by one of the Presbys' ancestors. They will tell you all about it when you go out there, and I am sure Cousin Richard can make the story much more interesting than I could."
This had to suffice for the present, though the girls were burning to hear the story. Anything that savored of adventure appealed to these healthy, outdoor girls, and what could be more adventurous than hunting for a treasure that had been buried for years and years?
The girls' trunks had been brought up, and while they were dressing for the evening, Bab took advantage of the occasion to consult with Ruth about her gown.
Ruth ran forward, flinging her arms about Barbara's neck the instant Bab came into her room.
"Dear, dear old Bab," she breathed, running tender fingers over the shining brown hair of her companion. "You can't know how I have wanted you. It seems years since last I saw you. Answer me truly, dear. How do you think father is looking?"
Barbara's face sobered instantly. Ruth noted the quick change of expression.
"You needn't tell me. I see by your expression what you think," added Ruth quickly, brushing a stray wisp of hair from her face.
"That was what I wished to ask you about, dear," said Barbara. "He looks so worn. What is the trouble? Has your father been ill?"
"No. Not in the sense you mean. Nevertheless, we are greatly worried about him. He has been speculating. We think he has lost a lot of money. He does not speak of his business affairs as he used to do, and that makes us all the more certain that things are not going as they should with him. However, I mustn't speak of these matters now, as I wish you to have the happiest time of your life while you are with us. Why, Barbara Thurston, what a lovely frock!" exclaimed Ruth impulsively.
Barbara flushed with pleasure at the compliment. Her gown was of dark red crepe-de-chine, trimmed in soft folds of liberty velvet. Bab had tucked a single red rose in her hair. Ruth never had seen Bab look more charming.
"It is mother's Christmas present to me," explained Bab, referring to the frock. "I think it very pretty."
"I wish I could look half so well in anything," answered Ruth, but without a trace of envy in her tone. "But I must hurry. If I run on like this we'll never get to the opera."
"I was just about to ask if you mind my running down to chat with your father a few moments before we go?"
"Do, dear. It will do him good. You always act like a tonic on father," smiled Ruth. "He's in the library."
Bab tripped away, holding up her skirts, followed by the admiring eyes of her friend.
"She's such a dear," mused Ruth, beginning the finishing touches of her dressing.
Bab was especially anxious to see Mr. Stuart alone. She wanted to see if she could fathom the cause of his distress. He looked even more tired and careworn than when she had first seen him. She entered the library rather diffidently pausing before Mr. Stuart, who stood near the fireplace.
"Am I intruding?" asked Bab.
"Intruding, my dear? You could not do that. But how beautiful you are to-night."
"Don't. Please don't," protested Bab with well-feigned displeasure. "You will make me a vain little creature. Ruth has just said the same thing to me. At this rate I fear I shall begin to believe something of the sort myself very soon."
"No," answered Mr. Stuart, gazing at her approvingly. "You are far too sensible a young woman to have your head turned so easily as that. Tell me about your good mother. How is she?"