"Huh!" snorted the negress scornfully. "I'se cooked for more'n dat many. Dey's nuffin but mens what ebber elsen dey is. I reckon dey feeds like udder gem'mens if dey is satanic."
"Scientific, Aunt Fanny," corrected the girl with a quick transition from melancholy to mirth. "Satanic means—"
"Nebber you min' what hit means, chile. I doesn't want no udder worman a-trapesin' erbout my kitchen. You heah me? No'm; we'll manage, Miss Bee. Jes' yer think what ter hab, an' I'll cook hit. We'll git ole Rachel's Tillie ter wait on de table, an' dat's all de help we'll need. She's a likely gal!"
"All right, Aunt Fanny. We will try it, and if we find that we are not going to succeed we will get help. I'll think what to have, and we will surprise father by giving a nice dinner."
Resolutely putting from her all thought of her father's coldness Bee bent her whole energy to a study of a tempting menu for the dinner.
"When Aunt Annie was going to have company she always studied to please them," she mused. "Some way her dinners always just suited the guests. If I could have this dinner not only nice but distinctive, I should be pleased. Father is susceptible to the influence of a good dinner. I guess that all men are even if they are satanic." She laughed at the recollection of Aunt Fanny's mistake, then concentrated her mind anew upon the problem. Presently she jumped up, clapping her hands in glee.
"I have it! I have it!" she exclaimed joyfully. "They are Lepidopterists. I'll give them a Butterfly dinner."
With a definite purpose in view she could proceed to better advantage. Still, it took hours and a great deal of anxious thought to perfect her plan. The next few days were busy ones, but when at length Saturday came, everything was in readiness for the guests.
It was an exceedingly warm July day, and the old vine-covered house presented an inviting appearance. The walnut trees cast a grateful shade over the wide veranda, and along the broad drive that ran down to the gate on either side of which were shrubs and plants. The windows were open to the breeze and all the rooms were gay with flowers.
Beatrice herself was not the least charming part of the picture as she stood waiting with a pretty air of dignity to receive her father's guests. Doctor Raymond's eyes lighted up with pride as he noted the ease with which she greeted them, and his tone held a caressing inflection as he said: