"Let each art
Assail a fault or help a merit grow;
Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads,
Let love through good deeds show."
—Edwin Arnold.
"Now how shall I get this to him?" pondered Bee the next morning as she stood before the study door with a bowl of pansies in her hand. Since old Rachel had told her that it had been a custom of her mother's she had not failed to put a flower of some sort on her father's table each morning. "Adele!"
"Yes?" answered Adele, coming to the hall. "What is it, Bee? Those pansies?"
"Yes; do you mind putting them on father's table for me? I don't know how to get them there this morning."
"Certainly I'll do it, Bee. But why don't you take them in yourself? He has not gone in yet, and I won't tell."
"Father told me not to," returned Bee. "I don't want to go in until I am worthy."
Adele laughed as she took the pansies.
"You know, Bee, if you were to go right in, and tease him a bit, he wouldn't think anything more about your staying out," she said. "You ought to take some lessons from me. I know just how to manage him."