"To read 'bout the kitten that went walking all by himself, waving his wild tail!" cried Penny, interrupting joyfully.
The two younger children went away, Polly carrying under her arm a very shabby copy of "The Just So Stories." The four elder ones, with Gretta, climbed the attic stairs, the chill of the snowy air striking sharp upon their faces as they ascended.
"I wish I had had this place while I was still young enough to play Robber Baron! We never had such a dandy lair as this would have made, did we, Happie?" said Bob looking about him with an interest that suggested that he might still have enjoyed childish things if the dignity of sixteen years had not forbidden them.
"We never had anything that was a patch on this attic," said Happie sympathetically. "The only mystery we could get into our lairs was imaginary. Do you remember how we used to pretend that the playroom was so dark we couldn't see to walk in it, Bob?"
"Yes, and how we used to hold up the yardstick and father's cane for torches when our men came back from their raids?" added Bob.
"Of course, and how much we used to wish that we could get Margery to be the men, but she never would be, and we had to get on with imaginary followers. Though Margery could pretend she was the old witch woman that stayed in the cave and got the dinner, but Laura couldn't help one bit. She had to stop and argue that a chair was a chair, when we were pretending it was a turret of a castle," said Happie, brightening very much under these reminiscences.
"It was so stupid," said Laura decidedly. "I never could see anything in playing Robber Baron."
"Well, we did," sighed Happie. "This certainly would have made a perfectly lovely lair, Bob. It is too bad we didn't get it in time. No city child has an attic, and attics are made for children. In town houses there is nothing but an upper floor, with one room kept for a storeroom; in Patty-Pans flats there isn't so much as that!"
"We might turn the attic to another use to-day," said Margery. "We might each tell a story about it, and what we think may have happened in it during all the years that the house has stood. There is that Bittenbender trunk under the eaves; that would be a good subject for a story."
"Oh, that Bittenbender trunk!" cried Happie, starting into sudden animation. "I had forgotten all about it. We never have opened it. To-day would be the very day to see what is in it. Here is Gretta, living with us, and she is as near to being a representative of the Bittenbenders as Crestville boasts. Let's open it, now, this minute, and solve the mystery, instead of weaving yarns about it. Maybe we'll find some dark secrets hidden in its depths."