"Come on, come on," cried Billy. "Oh, hurry up, Aunt Florence, I'm finding beads by the bushel."
"Where is the child? can you see him, Betty?"
"'Way over there, auntie, in that cellar-hole near the old apple-tree. We think that is where one of the storehouses used to be, because all around it is where most of the beads have been found."
For awhile Aunt Florence forgot the surrounding woods, in her eager search for beads. Had she known Betty and Billy as their mother knew them, she might have understood that there was more of mischief than pure joy in their smiles.
"Never found so many beads in one place in my life," declared Billy.
"Nor anybody else in the last hundred years," added Betty. "Fun, isn't it?"
"Fun!" echoed Aunt Florence, "why, children, I won't want to go home until dark."
Betty stared, and Billy made faces. This was an unexpected blow. At last the beads that Betty had collected, after working hours and hours through many a day, were all found.
"Now we'll look for another place," announced Aunt Florence.