Solita didn’t appear much interested. But Sue went on, “It was during the American Revolution that he and my great-great-grandmother lived. He fought in it—I mean his father, I guess,” rambled Sue. She hardly knew what she was saying but she was chiefly trying to keep Solita from deserting the quest. “We might find a treasure in one of these closets,” she suggested. “Wouldn’t that be fine?”
“Nobody goes off and leaves a treasure in an old house,” Solita snapped.
“But it might have been hidden here by somebody and left till we came—”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, yes, it might!”
“Where—not up here!”
“Oh, maybe down cellar,” replied Sue, who had about finished her explorations upstairs. She had been peeping out of the window of the wee little room at the back of the house and had opened its window wide to let in the sunlight and fresh air. It was only a little window.
“You’re not going to get me to go down cellar with you,” declared Solita. “I’m going home. There wouldn’t be any baskets or treasure there at all and there might be rats and mice or other things—and I won’t go!”
“Then the treasure would be all my own, if I found it,” returned Sue. “Suppose it was a thousand dollars tied up in a bag!”
“If you go a step down cellar, I’m going home,” said Solita stoutly. “I’m going this minute anyhow—good-bye!” She started toward the stairs.