"There's no hurry," protested Adele. "Do you know, Bee, I don't think it is necessary to go every day?"
"It does not matter what you think, Adele. Father said to do it." Bee's manner showed plainly that in her opinion that left nothing further to be said.
"I'll manage Uncle William," remarked Adele with a conscious little laugh, but nevertheless she rose from her reclining position. "It's a perfect nuisance."
"I'll go. It is my place to do it after all. I should have gone long ago, but I thought that you liked to do it."
"Well," hesitated Adele, "I promised Uncle William, you know, and the old woman likes me to come. You need not go, Bee. I'll do it myself."
She took the basket of food from Bee's hand, and left the room. Bee saw her go out the gate walking very slowly.
"She doesn't like to go for some reason," mused the girl. "I must take it upon myself to go down every morning. I must find the time somehow. Oh, dear!" She gave an impatient shake to her shoulders.
Just as the mid-day meal was placed upon the table Adele returned, looking cool and as daintily immaculate as though she had not been out of the house.
"How you must have hurried," cried Bee. "Did you run every step of the way?"
"Not every step, Bee. How warm you look!"