"Of course, if you do not choose, I will not," she said, retiring gracefully from her defeat. "I merely wished to show how much I appreciated your playing."
"I don't care much for such appreciation," remarked the boy scornfully. "I get enough of it in the cities. Beatrice isn't a bit like you."
"No?" Adele's lip curled ever so slightly. "Bee is so sensible."
"Yes; she is," cried the lad, glaring at the other spoiled child fiercely. "I'd rather play to her than to a dozen like you. She knows how to appreciate music. Her eyes are full of tears now, and she scarcely breathed all the time I played, but she doesn't want to kiss me. Phew! it's silly!"
"Percival," interposed his mother quickly, "wouldn't you like to show Beatrice and her cousin your new pony?"
"Gee! I had forgotten it," cried the boy, restored to good humor instantly. "Come on, Beefly! You may come, too," he added to Adele.
For the merest second Adele hesitated. Then, as she saw that both Bee and Percival were waiting, and that the lady and her uncle looked at her expectantly, she arose and accompanied the two from the room.
"What a warm-hearted child she is," observed the lady to the doctor.
"She is indeed," agreed he. "And as beautiful as warm-hearted. Would that Beatrice were more like her."
"Pardon me, Doctor Raymond; I was not speaking of your niece, but of your daughter." The lady's surprise was obvious. "Your niece is an exceedingly beautiful girl, but she has not the depth of character that your daughter has. What Percival said of her appreciation of music was true, although the boy should not have uttered it. Beatrice's judgment is much better in such things than her cousin's."