“Going to see,” said Ruth stoutly, dropping on her knees.
With a gasp Betty put out a hand to stop her. She was too late. Ruth had caught the ledge and swung down. Betty could but follow. The next instant they were looking upon a strange scene. This room, warmed by some mysterious power, as Betty had said, was piled high with bales and boxes of every description.
One of the boxes had slid from its place and burst open, revealing a half dozen silk dresses of bright and varied hues.
At once Ruth’s heart was in her throat. Here was treasure. Where was its keeper?
A rapid survey of the room revealed the surprising fact that there was no keeper, or at least, if there was one, he was away.
The thing that the two girls did after recovering from their astonishment might, by some cold and practical people, seem the height of folly. Certainly, under the circumstances, it could not be called wise. But who of us all behave wisely at all times?
Placing the flashlight carefully in the niche in the wall, Ruth picked up the top dress of the half dozen in the broken cardboard box.
It was a beautiful thing of purple, so thin and soft that it waved like a rippling sea.
“How strange!” she murmured. “Just my size.”
Before she knew what she was about, her khaki waist and knickers were off and the beautiful dress was on.