"Well, you are a funny girl! If I had played like that before an audience, the women and girls would have smothered me with kisses."
"I shouldn't think you would like it," exclaimed Bee.
"I wouldn't mind you," spoke Percival. "I wonder if it is because of the butterflies that you are so different? Never mind! I'll fetch you yet. See if I don't."
"Good-bye," called Bee with a laugh, and darted through the opening in the hedge.
Chapter XII
The Arrival of Guests
"The thistles show beyond the brook
Dust on their down and bloom,
And out of many a weed-grown nook
The aster flowers look
With eyes of tender gloom."
—W. D. Howells.