"What have you been doing to your hair, Bee?" broke in Adele, suddenly. "I knew there was something odd about you, but I couldn't tell what it was until this minute."
Bee's face flushed, but she answered good-naturedly:
"I struck for gold, Adele, but it didn't pan out the pure article."
"I didn't know that you cared about such things," observed Adele with an involuntary touch to her own golden locks. "You always seemed superior to such things. It would not look so bad if you would keep it touched up. It's being so dark at the roots and yellow the rest of the way is what makes it look queer. Why don't you have it bleached again?"
"Because it's silly," answered Beatrice tersely. "I was foolish to do it in the first place, and now I shall wear it just as it is until it is long enough to cut off all that horrid bleached part. It is a good punishment for me."
"Several of the girls do it, but it does seem strange for you to do such a thing. Aren't you most finished? I am dying to get to that piano. I want to play for Uncle William."
"I am quite through," said Bee with a quick glance in her father's direction, "and so is father. We will go into the parlor now."
With stately, old-fashioned courtesy Doctor Raymond rose and opened the door for them. Engrossed in his own meditations the scientist had not paid much attention to the chatter of the girls. Had it been otherwise he might have absorbed a few facts concerning the species girl that would have enlightened his understanding considerably.
"I am dreadfully out of practice," commented Adele, seating herself at the instrument, and letting her hands flutter over the keys dreamily. "Since papa has been so ill I have not touched the piano. What do you like, Uncle William?"
"Anything, child," replied Doctor Raymond, seating himself in a large arm chair and preparing to be comfortable. "I am fond of music of all kinds. So let it be 'grave or gay, lively or severe,' it will please me. Beatrice has not favored me with any music yet."