"You didn't think that I would ever come over to see you again, did you?" asked the Prodigy seating himself beside her with easy grace.
"I did not think anything about it," replied the girl shortly.
"You are cross," exclaimed Percival in aggrieved tones. "If you are not mad, I don't see why you should be cross to me. Aren't you mad?"
"No, no," returned Bee impatiently. "See here, Percival! I am in trouble. Won't you go away, and not bother me?"
The boy rose slowly.
"Of course, if I bother you, I'll go," he said with dignity. "If you are in trouble you ought not to be left alone. Thinking is bad, my mother says. Where is your father?"
"He has gone away," replied Bee briefly. "He won't be back until tonight."
"Then I am not going," declared Percival firmly. "That is, not unless you will go with me. Why can't you come over and stay with mamma and me, Beatrice?"
"I don't want to," said Bee miserably. "I just want to be left alone."
"That is what I'm not going to do," declared the boy obstinately. "You ought not to be, you know. I'll tell you what: come over, and let me play to you. That will drive all your troubles away."