"I would rather stay here, father," she answered promptly. "There is so much to do."
"Just as you wish, my child. I'll ask Mrs. Jenkins to come over to be with you nights. Then with the servants here I shall not be uneasy. Don't do any cataloguing while I am away. A few days rest will do you good. Now I must throw a few things into my grip if I expect to catch the afternoon train. It is fortunate that you went for the mail."
"Let me pack your things for you, father," pleaded Bee. "I know exactly what you will need. Aunt Annie says that I do nicely. I always did it for her, and for Uncle Henry, too, sometimes."
"Very well, Beatrice. I have done those things so long for myself that it will seem strange to have it done for me; but it will be none the less pleasant for all that." And there was a very kindly light in the look which he gave his daughter as she left the room.
"By the sweet power of music: therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods: Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature."
Lonely and distrait Bee wandered about the house the next day unable to settle down to anything.
"What if father should go away again for ten years," she thought with sudden dismay. "I don't believe that I could live. I could not stand it without him now. What if he should!"
Troubled by this thought she sat down on the veranda steps, and leaned listlessly against a post. For some time she sat there musing, but presently was aroused from her meditations by the sound of music. Bee raised her head and listened intently.
"I have heard that several times of late," she said, glad of the diversion. "I wonder where it comes from? I am going to find out."
She rose, listened again to catch the strain, then began to walk in the direction from whence it came. Through the garden and orchard, across the fields to the arbor vitæ hedge which separated their land from their neighbor's she went, the music becoming more and more distinct. Beethoven's Romance in G was being played, although Bee did not know what it was, and the musician was executing it with wonderful technique.
Always susceptible to the influence of music the girl stood spellbound. Presently the performance stopped abruptly, and a sweet voice--sweet despite a certain querulous note in it--said sharply: