"Yes, if you will behave yourself," replied Olive, giving him a severe look.
"I can carry out the stuff that you want burned," he suggested.
Such willingness on the part of Tommy was unusual. Olive gave him a smile of approval.
"You shall have some more marshmallows for that," declared Ruth.
A pained look appeared on the boy's face.
"I don't want any marshmallows," he growled. "No more girls' food for me."
The "Automobile Girls" giggled. Mr. and Mrs. Presby paid no attention to this conversation. They were not in possession of the secret. The girls were eager for the attic party. There is always an element of mystery in an old family garret. This was especially so at Treasureholme. Everything about the old place savored of mystery. Then there was the buried treasure, which, even though it might be a myth, lent an atmosphere of greater mystery than all the rest.
Little time was lost in getting to the garret, the girls first, however, putting on the oldest skirts they possessed. Olive explained that the place was full of dust and cobwebs.
Tom hurried upstairs ahead of them. They followed a winding, narrow stairway to the upper floor. To their surprise, the ceiling was high, the side walls were heavily wainscoted, an unusual condition for a garret. A broad chimney passing up through the centre of the big room took the edge off the chill atmosphere of the morning, although they could hear the wind whistle and wail about the gables. There were shadowy corners holding old-fashioned trunks. Here and there were old family pictures in faded, chipped frames, old clothes, curtains, books, broken and old-fashioned furniture, in short, a varied and ancient collection of odds and ends that almost filled the place.
"Oh, girls, isn't this jolly!" exclaimed Bab, halting at the head of the stairs, taking in the scene eagerly. "I know we shall have a perfectly splendid time up here, and who knows but that we may unearth some of your ancestors' family skeletons, Olive?"