re frock
with a broad velvet belt and a lace cap with lavender ribbons. But the
cap was much awry, so that her hair was tumbled carelessly over her
forehead, even showing the slight scar underneath, which usually she
was so careful to hide, and her cheeks were a good deal flushed. There
was no doubt that she was greatly interested or excited over something.

"Mollie and Polly, I am glad," she avowed. "I was just needing some
one to talk to and to ask questions of most dreadfully. Mother has
gone out driving this afternoon, and as I was alone it occurred to me
it might be fun to rummage about in this old closet and see whether it
really concealed any treasures. After our belief that a burglar was
trying to enter it, I thought it might be just as well for me to find
out what it contained."

"Does your mother know?" Polly inquired, and could hardly have
explained to herself just why she asked the question.

"No. I did not think of investigating it before she left. But of
course she won't care. Why should she? The boxes have nothing in them
but old books and rubbish. But this trunk--I can't quite understand
about some of the things I have found in it. Maybe you can help me
guess."

And before either of the other girls knew what she intended doing,
Betty was dragging the shaky trunk out of the closet into the greater
brightness of the room, Mollie rushing to her assistance as soon as
possible. Yet for some reason unknown to herself, Polly hesitated.
She did not even move forward when Betty and Mollie dropped down on
their knees before it, although she did observe that the trunk was
locked, but that the hinges at the back had rusted and fallen off, so
that Betty had gotten into it in that way.

Evidently the things at the top had already been taken out inside the
closet, for Betty was now reaching down toward the bottom and bringing
out what looked like a trousseau of baby clothes--her own or Dick's,
they could not yet tell which.

The little dresses were yellow and fragile with age; the long blue coat
had faded; most of the little shoes and flannels had been worn.

"I wish you would not look through those things until your mother gets
back, Betty," Polly said rather irritably.

But both her sister and friend glanced up at her in surprise.

"What is the possible harm? Mother couldn't mind. There is certainly
no reason why I should not look at my own clothes or at Dick's. It's
queer I never happen to