"Heaven bless you, Ishmael! I know you will enjoy the trip."
But when he had ridden away and disappeared down the path leading through the pine woods, Bee turned into the house, ran into her mother's chamber, threw herself into her mother's arms, and burst into a flood of tears.
It is the mother that always comes in for this sort of thing. Women spare men—sometimes; but never spare each other.
"My poor child! but it isn't far, you know!"
"Oh, mamma, such a long way! I never expected to be separated so far from Ishmael."
"My dear, steam annihilates distance. Only think, it is a voyage of but ten days."
"I know. Oh, it was very foolish in me to cry. Thank Heaven, Ishmael didn't see me," said Bee, wiping her eyes, and smiling through her wet eyelashes, like a sunbeam through the rain-sprinkled foliage.
Bee would scarcely have been flesh and blood if she had not indulged in this one hearty cry; but it was the last.
She left her mother's side and went about her household duties cheerfully, and very soon she was as happy as if Ishmael had not come and gone; happier, for she followed him in imagination over the ocean and sympathized in his delight.