"Miss Raymond," spoke one of the naturalists, "we have sent for you—that is—we have never forgotten that dinner, and as a token of our appreciation—"
"You are all wrong, Davis," broke in another. "It isn't a token at all. It is her natural right."
"You see," exclaimed the shy man whom Bee remembered so well, "that we were astonished when we learned how you had helped to catalogue the specimens which your father brought back, and we realize how much help you can be to him; so we think—"
"In short," announced the first speaker, "we wish you to accompany your father as his secretary; all expenses to be borne by the University. Will you accept?"
"I—What do you mean?" gasped Bee, clasping her hands and breathing quickly.
"Just what we say, Miss Beatrice. You have done a good work this summer, and we believe that with your leaning toward science it would be of great benefit to you and to ourselves also to send you with Doctor Raymond to help him in his work. The faculty decided upon this move unknown to your father, and have sent us as a committee to ask your acceptance."
"My acceptance?" came from Bee in a sob as she turned blindly toward her father. "Oh, father, father! you tell them."
"Gentlemen," said Doctor Raymond unsteadily, "in my daughter's name I thank you. She accepts with pleasure, and will endeavor to discharge the duties entrusted to her with faithfulness. As for myself—" He paused, unable to finish.
"Nonsense, Raymond! you needed some one to look after you. We shall expect the finest collection that is on this continent with her to help you. It is for our benefit that we are doing this. Now let's settle some of the details, if Miss Raymond is able to attend to them."
"Oh, yes;" laughed Bee through her tears. "I can do anything now."