"What's the matter?" asked Bee, surprised.
"No wonder you could be dressed before I was," exclaimed Adele in shocked tones. "There are three buttons of your dress unfastened."
"Are there?" Bee backed up to her unconcernedly. "Do button them, like a dear. I never was good at closing exercises."
Adele giggled appreciatively.
"Professor Lawrence says that closing exercises should be marked by decorum as well as dispatch," she remarked in didatic accents. "I observe the dispatch, Miss Raymond, but I must say—"
"Oh, hurry up," interrupted Bee impatiently. "What's a button more or less on such a glorious day as this? Come on, or I shall run a race with my shadow."
"Catch me then." Adele darted away quickly. "If I beat I shall read your letter first."
"Good-bye, dears," called Mrs. Raymond after them. "Don't let her beat you, Bee."
"I won't, auntie," Beatrice paused long enough to say, and then sped after her cousin.
There were ripples of sunshine all tangled over the bowers of apple blooms, and dancing blithely over the mats of blue violets in the grass. Gold belted honeybees hummed a song of contentment in every flowery cluster. Gauze-winged dragon flies darted hither and thither, while butterflies sailed by on new born wings of bronze, and scarlet and gold. The wind laughed a gleeful accompaniment to the merry maidens who ran gaily down the path o'ershadowed by the trees. Adele's graceful form was in the lead, but Beatrice was gradually gaining upon her. At length, as they were nearing the edge of the orchard, Bee gave an exultant shout and passed her cousin, reaching the gate just ahead of her.