"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?"