“Now, don’t you worry your head about that,” he answered, sharply. “We were planning an expedition. But there’s a bell, and I know it means breakfast. Come on,” and he was off toward the house before I could say another word. I thought it cowardly in him to run away—I know I should have had his secret out of him, if he had only given me a fair show. Dick never was any hand at keeping secrets, especially from his sister.
“Dick,” said mother, when we were seated at the table, “there are a few more things we’ll need from home, if we’re going to stay here a month. If I gave you a list of them, and told you where to find them, do you suppose you could pack them in a trunk and bring them back with you?”
“Yes’m,” said Dick, promptly, for he never really doubted his ability to do things.
“There’s only one thing that worries me,” added mother, “that’s about your studies. Neither you nor Cecil ought to lose a whole month—you, especially, when you have so little—”
I couldn’t bear to hear her talk so, just as though it were certain that we should have to take up the old life again, with its manifold perplexities and narrow outlook.
“Oh, mother,” I cried, “we’re going to find the treasure, you know, and then Dick shall go to college!”
Mother smiled a wistful little smile.
“That would be fine, wouldn’t it?” she said.
“I hope it may come true, for both your sakes; but we mustn’t be too sure—we mustn’t set our hearts on it too much. Besides, whatever happens, I don’t think you ought to lose a whole month.”