"How can you bear to repeat anything like that when it is a take-off on scientists?" she asked.
"We can appreciate humor even when it is at our expense, child. Now let's go to lunch. You girls may then visit Rachel while I go into the town. I must look after some matters of Henry's. I will join you as you leave the woods coming back from Rachel's. On our way home we will call upon our new neighbors. I am curious about that prodigy of whom Beatrice was speaking. Then, too, I wish to see if they will be pleasant acquaintances for you. If they are it would not be so lonesome for you girls should I be called from home, as it sometimes happens that I am."
Bee sighed as they went to the dining room. He spoke exactly as though Adele was always to be with them. She had felt a little out of things that morning, and perhaps her manner held the slightest tinge of asperity. Adele ran at once to the head of the table.
"I want to pour the coffee today, Bee," she cried, her white hands fluttering among the cups like flower petals.
"No;" spoke Bee emphatically, pushing her to one side. "That is my duty, Adele."
"Beatrice," exclaimed her father, "I am surprised. What difference does it make? If your cousin wishes to pour the coffee, let her do so. Remember, she is your guest." So he spoke, for no man ever understands all that serving at her own table means to a woman, or girl child.
"I do remember, father. She is the one who forgets. As hostess this is my place, and I will not give it up to any one."
"'Will not' are strong words, my daughter. What if I were to command you?"
"Then I should have to obey you, father." The girl found herself trembling with anger. "But you, sir, would be forgetting what was due to your daughter."
"You are impertinent, Beatrice," he remarked coldly. "There are times when your manner leaves much to be desired."