CHAPTER VI
THE WRECK OF MR. A. BUBBLE
"BURIED treasures are such ravishing mysteries," observed Mollie, while Olive was mentally arranging her facts. "I never thought I should actually be face to face with one."
"I am sure it must be a grand old place," volunteered Barbara.
"In reality, it is very big and bare," smiled Olive. "But I love every foot of the old place where I have lived all my life except when I have been away to school and where my ancestors have lived for oh, ever so many years."
Olive's eyes filled with tears. Barbara stole a groping hand under the robe and clasped one of Olive's. The latter pulled herself sharply together. She gave Bab a grateful look. The sympathy in that gentle hand clasp had meant more than words to her. Perhaps in that one brief moment the two girls came to understand each other better than in all the days that had passed since their first meeting at the opera.
"You know we fully expect to be obliged to give up the place at an early day. Father's business affairs have been going from bad to worse, until now there seems to be no hope of our keeping Treasureholme."
"Perhaps it may not be so bad as you imagine," suggested Bab softly. "'Never give up until you have to.' That is my motto."
"You wouldn't be the Barbara I have heard so much about if it weren't. But to come to the story. Treasureholme has been in our family, as I have already said, for many generations. My ancestor who founded the old place was one of the pioneers here. He was rich when he came here, but he foresaw a great future for what is now Chicago, so he brought his family and all his worldly goods here. He said confidently that a great city was certain to spring up here some day. You see how true was his prophecy. It was almost uncanny as I look at it now."