"It is more than you do," answered Bee looking at her with wonder. "You've been out in the hot sun yet you seem as cool as a cucumber."
"I don't show heat," replied Adele lightly. "Shall I tell Uncle William that lunch is ready?"
"If you please."
Dr. Raymond responded to the summons slowly. Bee knew from his grave manner that something was wrong, and all through the meal she cast apprehensive glances in his direction. Adele did not notice his preoccupation, and chatted gaily seemingly unaware that his replies were monosyllabic.
"Girls," said the scientist when the repast was finished, "come into the library with me. I wish to speak with you."
Bee followed him with uneasiness. What had gone amiss she wondered. She could not think of anything that she had done or left undone that could cause such gravity. Her cousin, oblivious to signs of storm, or secure, perhaps, in the knowledge of his affection, caught hold of his arm exclaiming merrily:
"'Come into the garden, Maude,
I am here at the gate alone.'"
"Only in this case the garden is the library. What are you going to say to us, Uncle William? Something nice?"
"I fear not, Adele. What I have to say, however, will not be more unpleasant for you to hear than it will be for me to say."
"Dear me!" cried she looking up at him with pretended dismay. "That sounds formidable, doesn't it, Bee?"