"Yes, he will. Everybody likes you best when they know us both for a time. Then your mind—"
"Bother the mind!" ejaculated the other girl fiercely. "Mind doesn't count. It's only being pretty that counts, and you know it, Adele Raymond. Doesn't everyone indulge you just because you are pretty? And now my father—and he's the only father I've got, too—now he's just like everybody else. Oh, I hate you!"
"I don't want you to hate me, Bee," cried Adele, her own tears beginning to flow. "You never cared before that I was pretty."
"I wouldn't care now if father didn't—didn't—" Bee broke down completely, unable to finish.
"Won't you be friends, Bee?" pleaded Adele.
"No; I won't," answered Bee with decision.
"And won't you let me stay with you this Summer? I don't like grandma's. It's poky there." Adele never once mentioned Bee's telling who had changed the pictures. She knew without asking that Bee would not.
"I don't want you here," replied Bee angrily. "You want to stay because father admires you, but you shan't do it. I want him to myself, and I've a right to have him. He's my father!"
"Please, Bee," coaxed Adele. Bee always gave in to her pleadings, and she could not believe that she would not do so now.
"I am going to my room," announced Beatrice, rising. "And I don't want to be followed there."