"I Shouldn't Want You To Be Anything But Pretty"
"Let each art
Assail a fault or help a merit grow;
Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads,
Let love through good deeds show."
—Edwin Arnold.
"Now how shall I get this to him?" pondered Bee the next morning as she stood before the study door with a bowl of pansies in her hand. Since old Rachel had told her that it had been a custom of her mother's she had not failed to put a flower of some sort on her father's table each morning. "Adele!"
"Yes?" answered Adele, coming to the hall. "What is it, Bee? Those pansies?"
"Yes; do you mind putting them on father's table for me? I don't know how to get them there this morning."
"Certainly I'll do it, Bee. But why don't you take them in yourself? He has not gone in yet, and I won't tell."
"Father told me not to," returned Bee. "I don't want to go in until I am worthy."
Adele laughed as she took the pansies.
"You know, Bee, if you were to go right in, and tease him a bit, he wouldn't think anything more about your staying out," she said. "You ought to take some lessons from me. I know just how to manage him."
"We are different, Adele," answered Bee. "What would be all right for you would not do at all for me. If you will just help me a little about this you don't know how much I will appreciate it. I have been wondering how it could be managed."
"What will you do when I am gone?" asked Adele.
"I don't know," answered Bee slowly. "Are you thinking of going soon?"
"I suppose that I'll have to go when school begins," said Adele. "I don't want to go a bit. It's poky at home without you. I'd rather stay here."
"You would?" questioned Bee wonderingly. "I should think that you would rather be with your father and mother. Now, why doesn't she go home now?" she asked herself as her cousin went into the study. "Uncle Henry is better, and I should think that she would want to see him. I would not want to be away from father if he were ill."
So it came about that each morning Beatrice carefully arranged the flowers, and Adele took them into the study from which Bee was barred. The girl's eyes always grew wistful whenever her father disappeared into the room, and she was obliged to busy herself about the house in order not to dwell too much upon the fact of her exclusion.
The summer was drawing to a close. There was a cool crispness in the air that heralded the approach of Autumn. To Bee it seemed at times as though a blight had fallen upon everything. There were no longer Percival and his mother to visit, and while Doctor Raymond continued to walk with her and Adele he seemed to withdraw more and more into his own pursuits. The evenings were still devoted to music, but here Adele was pre-eminent. Bee, however, retained her place in the management of the household, jealously guarding the privilege of looking after her father's comfort. Remembering that he had spoken of her attention to neatness she became punctilious in her dress, and about the appointments of the house. Her character was deepening and developing; and from a merry-hearted, careless maiden she was growing into a thoughtful and broad-minded girl.
"Adele," she said one morning rather sharply to her cousin who dawdled on the couch with a book and a box of chocolates, "have you been down to Rachel's today?"
"No," yawned Adele. "I haven't."
"Aren't you ready to go? The basket is fixed, and it is nearly eleven o'clock. If we go for a walk with father after lunch there will be no other time. You ought to go now."
"There's no hurry," protested Adele. "Do you know, Bee, I don't think it is necessary to go every day?"
"It does not matter what you think, Adele. Father said to do it." Bee's manner showed plainly that in her opinion that left nothing further to be said.
"I'll manage Uncle William," remarked Adele with a conscious little laugh, but nevertheless she rose from her reclining position. "It's a perfect nuisance."
"I'll go. It is my place to do it after all. I should have gone long ago, but I thought that you liked to do it."
"Well," hesitated Adele, "I promised Uncle William, you know, and the old woman likes me to come. You need not go, Bee. I'll do it myself."
She took the basket of food from Bee's hand, and left the room. Bee saw her go out the gate walking very slowly.
"She doesn't like to go for some reason," mused the girl. "I must take it upon myself to go down every morning. I must find the time somehow. Oh, dear!" She gave an impatient shake to her shoulders.
Just as the mid-day meal was placed upon the table Adele returned, looking cool and as daintily immaculate as though she had not been out of the house.
"How you must have hurried," cried Bee. "Did you run every step of the way?"
"Not every step, Bee. How warm you look!"
"It is more than you do," answered Bee looking at her with wonder. "You've been out in the hot sun yet you seem as cool as a cucumber."
"I don't show heat," replied Adele lightly. "Shall I tell Uncle William that lunch is ready?"
"If you please."
Dr. Raymond responded to the summons slowly. Bee knew from his grave manner that something was wrong, and all through the meal she cast apprehensive glances in his direction. Adele did not notice his preoccupation, and chatted gaily seemingly unaware that his replies were monosyllabic.
"Girls," said the scientist when the repast was finished, "come into the library with me. I wish to speak with you."
Bee followed him with uneasiness. What had gone amiss she wondered. She could not think of anything that she had done or left undone that could cause such gravity. Her cousin, oblivious to signs of storm, or secure, perhaps, in the knowledge of his affection, caught hold of his arm exclaiming merrily:
"'Come into the garden, Maude,
I am here at the gate alone.'"
"Only in this case the garden is the library. What are you going to say to us, Uncle William? Something nice?"
"I fear not, Adele. What I have to say, however, will not be more unpleasant for you to hear than it will be for me to say."
"Dear me!" cried she looking up at him with pretended dismay. "That sounds formidable, doesn't it, Bee?"
Dr. Raymond held the library door open for them to enter, then closed it, and faced them.
"When have either of you been to see old Rachel?" he asked abruptly.
"Adele went this morning," spoke Bee quickly, glad now that she had insisted upon the visit being made.
"Indeed? How was the old woman, Adele?"
"Why, why, all right! That is—about as she always is," stammered Adele changing color.
"Adele! Adele!" Her uncle spoke more in sorrow than in anger. "If you went to Rachel's, how came this to be hidden in the hedge?"
He crossed to his desk, and uncovered the identical basket that Bee had fixed for her cousin to take to Rachel. Adele gave an exclamation, but recovered herself almost instantly.
"You see, uncle," she said, trying to speak carelessly, "it was this way: It was so hot when I started and so near noon that I thought I would not have time to get back for lunch, so I put the basket there intending to run down with it when it was cooler."
"Were you there yesterday?" demanded her uncle receiving the explanation without comment.
Adele hesitated.
"I want the truth, Adele."
"No;" confessed she faintly. "But I'll go right now, Uncle William."
"Were you there the day before?"
Adele covered her face with her hands without replying.
"I want to know when you were there," said Dr. Raymond sternly.
"I—I don't remember," said the girl with a sob. "Oh, Uncle William, it was so hot, and I—I got tired of it; but I will go. I'll go right now."
She started for the basket as she spoke, but a gesture from her uncle arrested her.
"Wait," he said. "Beatrice, why did you not see that Rachel's needs were attended to?"
"I thought they were," answered Bee, growing pale. "Adele was to look after the matter."
"Adele has been careless and negligent," observed her father severely, "but that does not ease you of responsibility. It was your place to have seen that my wishes in the matter were carried out."
"But, father—"
"I will listen to no excuse, Beatrice," interrupted Doctor Raymond decidedly. "There can be none, and it is useless to try to shield yourself behind your cousin. Whatever excuse Adele may have for her neglect you have none. That old woman was your mother's faithful servant for many years. It was your duty, and should have been your pleasure, to have seen that she was taken care of. I thought," he continued with some emotion, "that every girl welcomed an opportunity to minister to those in need. I thought that every maiden gently reared was actuated by motives of honor and truth, and would sacredly discharge a duty intrusted to her. It seems that I was mistaken. I fear that I do not understand girls of the present age. If it were possible I would gladly take this matter into my own hands, but I cannot spare the time."
"Uncle, please, please try me again," pleaded Adele eagerly. "I really will be faithful this time. Bee and I both will be. Won't we, Bee?"
Bee was dumb. She was overwhelmed by her father's words, and her conscience reproached her. There had been several occasions when she suspected that Adele was not performing the duty. In view of the fact that she had failed before, she knew that she herself ought to have looked after the matter more carefully.
"I do not quite trust either of you," spoke Doctor Raymond thoughtfully, "but because I believe that it will be of benefit to your characters to insist upon this act of charity I shall try again. If it is a tax upon you, let one go one day, and the other the next. Rest assured, however, that I shall watch the matter closely to see that it is attended to. If there is any shirking I shall know it. Now take that basket and go! Do not let me see you again until you can inform me truthfully that Rachel has received it. Beatrice, I charge you particularly with the duty."
He turned from them so decidedly that they had no alternative but to leave the room, taking the basket with them.
"You needn't say a word, Bee," cried Adele avoiding her cousin's glance. "I'm not going to take another scolding."
"I'm not going to scold, Adele, but why did you not tell me that you did not want to go?"
"Oh, it's all my fault of course. Here! give me that basket. You needn't go!"
"But I will," said Beatrice with decision. "I am not going to give father a chance to say that I am to blame again. I am going to see that the thing is done. The basket will have to be fixed over anyway."
"We'll both go," said Adele. "If you won't scold, I'll carry it. I suppose that I ought to do something for getting us into the scrape. I didn't know that Uncle William would care so much. Oh, my! wasn't he mad?"
Bee made no reply. She rearranged the contents of the basket, added some fresh eggs and other things, and together they started for Rachel's cabin. It was very warm, but they toiled along the dusty road with the conviction that whatever of discomfort they experienced they merited it. They were grateful when they could leave the road and enter the shaded wood path that led to the cabin. Soon they could discern the chimney of the dwelling through the trees; then a turn in the path brought them into the cleared space where the hut stood. They were proceeding toward it when all at once Bee stood stock still.
"Look!" she cried.
Adele's glance followed her pointing finger, and every drop of blood left her face. There upon the closed door of the cabin was a big yellow sign "SMALL POX." For one long moment the two stood looking at the card; then Adele clutched her cousin's arm.
"Come," she whispered fearfully. "We must get away. We can't go there now."
"We've got to," answered Bee grimly, but her face grew white as she said it. "We've got to, Adele. If she's been sick long she wouldn't have anything to eat. Father would never get over it. Besides he told us he didn't want to see us again unless she got the basket."
"Oh, Bee! I can't! I can't go! Suppose I should get the small pox."
The tears streamed from Adele's eyes. Bee turned and looked at the girl earnestly. Her eyes shone through her tears like violets wet with dew. Her complexion had never seemed so fair, so flawless as now. How lovely she was! Looking at her Bee felt all the bitterness of her feeling toward her melt from her heart.
"No;" she said, leaning forward suddenly to kiss her. "You must not go, Adele. I shouldn't want you to be anything but pretty, but I haven't any beauty to lose. Father charged me particularly with the duty, so I'll do it, Adele. You can go back and tell him truly that she has the basket."
