“I hope you are not going to have worries about the thing,” he said more decidedly, for none knew better than he that only worry could bring that blank look to his daughter’s face.
“Indeed I am not,” declared Barbara, now beginning to see what he meant. “We had a lot of fun. You should see some of the junk the ladies brought in and fought over.”
“Fought over?”
“Yes, where the stuff should be put, you know. Mrs. Brownell brought or had sent a really fine old table and it seemed as if everybody wanted her particular article put on that table.” This was quite a satisfactory speech for Babs under the circumstances.
“I can imagine what a fuss a lot of women would make over heirlooms,” the doctor commented. “What are we entering?”
“Why, what could we enter?” Babs repeated in surprise. “What heirlooms have we?”
“Take a look in the attic tomorrow,” her father replied laconically. “You may find something worth while.” Dr. Hale was being reflective. He seemed to know about the attic.
“All right Dads, I will,” Barbara agreed brightly. “It would be nice for us to have something to show. You have lived here longer than most of the new people,” she pointed out as they left the car in the garage and together walked up to their house.
“We have lived here for some time, Babs,” her father said rather solemnly. “But I just wonder if this place isn’t a little too big for just you and me?”
“Dads!”