"Sometimes I'm a drone," Bee announced, and with that she began a droning sound that was worse than the buzzing, and kept it up till it set their nerves on edge.
"Oh, Bee, dear!" Marie begged of her, "WON'T you stop that and be nice?"
Bee's only answer was a long humming drone.
Patty looked at the girl kindly. "I want to like you," she said, "and I think it's unkind of you not to let me do it."
Bee stopped her droning and considered a moment. Then she smiled, and when her elfin face broke into laughter, she was a pretty picture, indeed.
"I DO want you to like me," she said, impulsively, grasping Patty's hands; "and I will be good. You know I'm like the little girl,—the curly girlie, you know,—when she was good she was awful drefful good, and when she was bad she was horrid."
"I'm sure you couldn't be horrid," and Patty smiled at her, "but all the same I don't believe you can be very, VERY good."
"Oh, yes, I can; the goodest thing you ever saw! Now watch me," and sure enough during the rest of Patty's stay, Beatrice was as charming and delightful a companion as any one you'd wish to see. She was bubbling over with fun and merriment, but she refrained from teasing, and Patty took a decided liking to her.
"I'll make a party for you, Bee," she said. "What kind would you like?"
"Not a stiff, stuck-up party. I hate 'em. Can't it be a woodsy kind of a thing?"