"But of course he would know me," she told herself at length, reassuringly. "Why, I should know him, and I was only five years old when he went away."
And with this she laughed aloud that she should have been so foolish as to consider for even a moment the absurd possibility of her father's not knowing her, and with her customary brightness of spirit restored she quickened her steps, and soon reached her uncle's place.
There were many acres in the estate. Henry Raymond was a well to do lawyer, and the walk to the dwelling lay through a large orchard. As Bee came in sight of the house the door opened, and a girl, about her own age, came out on the piazza, and ran down the steps to meet her. She was an extremely pretty girl. A slim graceful figure was hers, with a proud little head and sunny, shining hair that hung about her face with its beautiful blue eyes like a halo. She seemed rather the personification of loveliness than a flesh and blood maiden.
"What made you so late, Bee?" she cried. "I have been watching for you fully an hour."
"I staid to help Professor Lawrence for one thing; then the girls stopped me to talk with them. They want us to go to Edna's tomorrow afternoon. Will you be well enough to go, Adele?"
"Oh, I'm all right now, Bee. Papa came home early with a box of chocolates, and that seemed to be just what I needed."
Bee laughed.
"You butterfly," she said. "Always feeding on sweets. Did you leave me any?"
"Well—" Adele Raymond hesitated. "Not many, and that's a fact, Bee. You shouldn't have kept me waiting so long. And you haven't even noticed that I have on a new hat."
"But I thought that yours had violets on it," remarked Bee as she glanced at the hat. "That has red roses."