"My dear," spoke the lady, drawing her back into her embrace, "suppose you tell me all about it."
Beatrice looked at her quickly, but seeing the sympathy in the older woman's eyes she broke out impulsively:
"I will. I will tell you the whole thing." Rapidly she poured forth all her grief. Told of Adele's changing the pictures, of her father's return and of his mistake in taking Adele for his daughter; of her cousin's beauty, and of her efforts to be like her; of her studies with her father; of the butterfly dinner, and of her belief that with time she could win his love; and finally of Adele's coming; ending with, "If only I were pretty my father would love me, I know. If only I were pretty!"
"That is a woman's cry, child," observed the lady thoughtfully. "The desire for beauty is in every feminine heart. A pretty complexion, a captivating dimple, bright eyes and flowing tresses are desired more than all knowledge of books, or graces of the mind."
"Now, dear, you and I are going to have a little talk."
"Dear lady," spoke Bee in pleading tones, "don't, don't tell me that 'Handsome is that handsome does,' or that beauty of mind and soul will cause others to forget that one is homely. Father says that too, but he would not have come had he not thought that his daughter was a beautiful girl."
"I am not going to say those things, child." Mrs. Medulla laughed. "I am not fond of platitudes myself, although there is much truth in them. Now, child, you feel hard toward your cousin for changing those pictures, don't you?"
Bee compressed her lips, and her eyes flashed.
"Yes," she said in a low tone, "and I'll never forgive her. Never!"
"Wait a minute, dear. It was not a nice thing, nor a kind thing for her to do, though I think it must have been pure girlish mischief. However, we are not concerned with that part of it. Beatrice, when would your father have come home had he not received the picture?"
"Why! not for two more years," cried Bee, a startled look flashing across her face.
"Exactly. Then if the exchange had not been made you would not have had the pleasure of your father's company at all this summer, would you?"
"Would you rather have him here now, even though such a mistake has been made, than to wait two years longer to see him?"