"You, Barbara! How can you know this? It would have helped a month ago,
my girl; I fear it is too late now."

Bab's heart sank. Was what she had done--and it had been hard for a girl
to do--in vain?

"Why does Mr. Nathan Bonner hate you?"

"Nathan Bonner started, a green boy, as a clerk in my office. I thought
him worthy and helped him, but finally found it necessary to dismiss
him."

"Yes, he's crooked," said Barbara. Mr. Stuart started and looked at the
girl in amazement; so she settled back and told him the story of the
trip to Chicago in detail. "He mentioned your name, Mr. Stuart. He also
said that because I had saved his life, he would assist me if I ever
needed aid. To-day he refused."

"To-day! Where did you see Bonner?"

"Oh!" Only then did Barbara tell her host how she had spent the
afternoon.

"My dear, you're a very imprudent girl. Nevertheless, you have done me a
service for which I can never give you adequate thanks," said Mr.
Stuart, his voice husky with emotion.

CHAPTER XX

CONCLUSION

THE next morning after breakfast, the girls, bundled in furs, left the
house for their ride to Treasureholme. Mr. Stuart had done what he could
by telephone, but had not yet gone downtown, for there was nothing
further to be accomplished until the opening of the market. Just before
he helped the girls into the car he thrust a finger into his vest pocket
and said:

"I almost forgot. The men at the garage found this in the bottom of the
car. I think it's your lost memorandum, Barbara."

"Oh, thank you! I'm so glad!" cried Bab.

"Ruth," said Barbara, after the girls had reached the outskirts of the
city, "do you think there really is a hidden treasure and if we could
find it your father----"

"I haven't much faith in the treasure, and if one should come to light,
it would be Mr. Presby's and not father's."

"Mr. Presby would use it to help himself, and that would draw your
father out, too."

"Bab, you ought to be on the Exchange; you'd make a good trader,"
laughed Ruth. Then she went on: "No, Bab, I'm afraid we'll lose all we
have. I don't care for myself. I can be poor, just as daddy and my
mother were once. But I grieve for father."

"Ruth, darling," whispered Bab.

On their arrival at Treasureholme the girls found that Mr. Stuart had
telephoned to Miss Sallie about what Bab had tried to do for her two
hosts. The girls tried to make a heroine of her, but she steadfastly
refused to think s