"I will." Beatrice tripped lightly away; no longer troubled and unhappy, but full of the buoyancy of hope.
"If any loss thou hast to rue, Act as though thou wert born anew; Inquire the meaning of each day, What each day means, itself will say; Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied, And to God the future confide."
There was a look of anxiety on Doctor Raymond's face as he drove up to the house that evening. Adele's countenance, too, clouded as she glanced about for her cousin, but no Bee was to be seen. The scientist assisted his niece from the carriage, turned the vehicle over to Joel, and started up the steps. All men dread scenes with their women folk, and he was no exception to the rule.
"Tired, Adele?" he asked. "I dare say we will run across Beatrice in the hall."
At this moment Bee came flying out. There was a flower in her hair, and another at her belt. She looked cool and sweet as only a girl can when she is exquisitely neat in every detail.
"I just heard you," she said brightly, giving Adele a kiss. "I was helping Aunt Fanny with the table when I heard your voices. How is Uncle Henry?"
"Better, Bee. Is dinner ready? I am so hungry."
"All ready," responded Bee. "Come right in. Leave your hat in the hall, and we will go to the table at once. Are you hungry, too, father?"
"I believe that I am," rejoined Doctor Raymond, whose face had cleared wonderfully during this conversation. "Have you repeated your success of yesterday, Beatrice?"
"Adele is not a Lepidopterist, so I did not serve butterflies," laughed Bee. "I am giving her chocolate ice cream, which is her favorite. Do you like it too?"
"Yes, indeed. I have not had any in years. Are you a housekeeper also, Adele?"
"No;" smiled Adele as they sat down to the table. "Mamma and Bee wouldn't let me muss round. To tell the truth, I don't care much about such things. My tastes are not all domestic. Bee was always crazy on the subject. At least when she could spare time from her butterflies."
"Yet she does not strike me as being particularly on that order," remarked the scientist musingly. "How came you to take it up, Beatrice?"
"Why, you wrote Aunt Annie that you wished me to," answered Bee as though that were sufficient reason.