SISTER BEE
One afternoon Patty and Marie Homer were coming home from a concert.
Patty had grown very fond of Marie. They were congenial in many ways,
and especially so in their love of music, and often went together to
concerts or recitals.
It was late in March, but as spring had come early the afternoon was
warm and Marie proposed, as the two girls got into the Homer limousine,
that they go for a ride through the park.
"A short one, then," said Patty, "for I must be home fairly early!"
"Then don't let's go in the park," said Marie, "let's go to my house,
instead. For I want you to meet Bee. She's just home for her Easter
vacation."
"I can only stay a minute; but I will go. I do want to see Bee. How
long will she be at home?"
"More than a fortnight. She has quite a holiday. Oh, there'll be gay
doings while Bee's at home. She keeps the house lively with her pranks,
and if she and Kit get started they're sure to raise mischief."
"How old is Beatrice?"
"She's just seventeen, but sometimes she acts like a kiddy of twelve.
Mother says she doesn't know what to do with her, the child is so full
of capers."
As the two girls entered the Homer apartment, Beatrice Homer ran to
meet them.
"Oh, you're Patty Fairfield! I KNOW you are! Aren't you the loveliest
thing ever! You look like a bisque ornament to set on a mantel-piece.
Are you real?"
She poked her finger in Patty's dimpled cheek, but she was so roguish
and playful, that Patty could not feel annoyed with her.
"Let me look at you," Patty said, holding her off, "and see what YOU'RE
like. Why, you're a gipsy, an elfin sprite, a witch of the woods! You
have no business to be named Beatrice."
"I know it," said Bee, dancing around on her toes. "But my nickname
isn't so bad for me, is it?" And she waved her arms and hovered around
Patty, making a buzzing noise like a real bee.
"Don't sting me!" cried Patty.
"Oh, I don't sting my friends! I'm a honey-bee. A dear, little, busy,
buzzy honey-bee!" And she kept on dancing around and buzzing till Patty
put out her hand as if to brush her away.
"Buzz away, Bee, but get a little farther off,--you drive me
distracted."
"That's the way she always acts," said Marie, with a sigh; "we can't do
anything with her! It's a pity she was ever nicknamed Bee, for, when
she begins buzzing, she's a regular nuisance."
"Sometimes I'm a drone," Bee announced, and with that she began a
droning sound that was worse than the buzzing, and kept it up till it
set their nerves on edge.
"Oh, Bee, dear!" Marie begged of her, "WON'T you stop that and be nice?"
Bee's only answer was a long humming drone.
Patty looked at the girl kindly. "I want to like you," she said, "and I
think it's unkind of you not to let me do it."
Bee stopped her droning and considered a moment. Then she smiled, and
when her elfin face broke into laughter, she was a pretty picture,
indeed.
"I DO want you to like me," she said, impulsively, grasping Patty's
hands; "and I will be good. You know I'm like the little girl,--the
curly girlie, you know,--when she was good she was awful drefful good,
and when she was bad she was horrid."
"I'm sure you couldn't be horrid," and Patty smiled at her, "but all
the same I don't believe you can be very, VERY good."
"Oh, yes, I can; the goodest thing you ever saw! Now watch me," and
sure enough during the rest of Patty's stay, Beatrice was as charming
and delightful a companion as any one you'd wish to see. She was
bubbling over with fun and merriment, but she refrained from teasing,
and Patty took a decided liking to her.
"I'll make a party for you, Bee," she said. "What kind would you like?"
"Not a stiff, stuck-up party. I hate 'em. Can't it be a woodsy kind of
a thing?"
"A ramble through the park?"
"More woodsy than that. The park is almost like the city."
"Well, a picnic to Bronx Park, then, or Van Cortlandt."
"That sounds better. But I'll come to any party you make,--I know it
will be lovely. Oh, I'll tell you, Patty, what I'd like best. To go on
one of your Saturday afternoon jinks; with the queer, poor people, you
know."
"They're not queer and they're not always very poor," returned Patty,
seriously; "I'm afraid you'd tease them or make fun of them."
"Honest Injun, I wouldn't! Please let me go, and I'll be heavenly nice
to them. They'll simply adore me! Please, pretty Patty!"
"Of course I will, since you've promised to be nice to them."
"Oh, you lovely Patty! Don't you sometimes get tired of being so pink
and white?"
"Of course I do. I wish I could be brown and dark-eyed like you."
"You'd soon wish yourself back again. Can't you combine the woodsy
party and the Happy Chaps, or whatever you call them?"
"I think we can," smiled Patty, who had already planned a Saturday
afternoon picnic, and would be glad to include Bee.
"But Bee has to learn to behave properly at formal parties," said
Marie. "I'm going to give a luncheon for her, while she's at home, and
it's going to be entirely grown-up and conventional."
"Don't want it!" and Bee scowled darkly.
"That doesn't matter. Mother says we must have it, and that you must
behave properly. You have to learn these things, you know."
"Oh, Bee will do just exactly right, I know," said Patty, as she rose
to go. "If she doesn't, we can't let her come to the picnic. When is
the luncheon, Marie?"
"We haven't quite decided yet, but I must send out the invitations in a
day or two."
Patty went home, thinking about this sister of Marie's.
"She's an awfully attractive little piece," she said to Nan, later,
"but you never can tell what she's going to do next. I think if she had
the right training, she'd be a lovely girl, but Mrs. Homer and Marie
spoil her with indulgence and then suddenly scold her for her
unconventionality. Perhaps the school she's attending will bring her
out all right, but she's a funny combination of naughty child and
charming girl. She would stop at nothing, and I don't wonder that they
say when she and Kit Cameron get together, look out for breakers."
A few days later, Patty received an invitation to Marie's luncheon for
her sister.
It was formally written, and the date set was Tuesday, April the
eighth, at half-past one. Patty noted the day on her engagement
calendar, and thought no more about it at the time. But a day or two
later it suddenly occurred to her that she had heard that Beatrice was
to return to school on the seventh of April.
"I must be mistaken about her going back," Patty thought, remembering
the luncheon on the eighth, and then, lest she herself might be
mistaken in the date, she looked at the invitation again. It read "the
eighth," and though Marie's handwriting was scrawly and not very
legible, the figure eight was large and plain.
"She ought to have spelled it out," said Patty, who was punctilious in
such matters.
"Yes," agreed Nan, "it's those little details that count so much among
society people."
"Well, the Homers are dears, but they lack just that little something
that makes people know when to spell their figures and when not to. I
think it's horrid when people spell a date in ordinary correspondence.
But an invitation is another thing. But I say, Nan,--Jiminetty
crickets!"
"I'm not sure that date-spelling people ought to refer to those
crickets," said Nan, lifting her eyebrows.
"Well, Jerusalem crickets, then! and every kind of crickets in the
ornithology or whatever they belong in. But, Nan, I've discovered
something!"
"What, Miss Columbus?"
"Oh, I'm a Sherlock Holmes! I'm Mr. D. Tective! What DO you think?"
"If you really want to know, I think you're crazy! jumping around like
a wild Indian, and you a this season's debutante!"
"Rubbish! most debutantes are wild Indians at times. But, Nan, I've
discovered their secret! Hah! the vilyuns! but they shall be foiled!
foiled!! FOILED!!!"
Patty raged up and down the room, melodramatically clutching at her
hair and staring at Nan with her blue eyes. "It is a deep-laid plot,
but it shall be foiled by Patricia Sherlock,--the only lady detective
in captivity!"
"Patty, do behave yourself! What is the matter with you? You act like a
lunatic!"
"I'll tell you, Nan, honey," and Patty suddenly sat down on the couch,
among a pile of pillows. "But first read that invitation and see if you
see anything unusual or suspicious about it."
"I can hardly read it; for this writing looks like that on the
obelisk,--or at least it's nearly as unintelligible. But it seems to
say that Mrs. Robert Homer requests the pleasure of your company at
luncheon on Tuesday, April the eighth, at half-past one o'clock.
Nothing criminal about that, is there?"
"Is there! There is, indeed! Nan, you're the dearest, sweetest,
loveliest lady in the whole world, but you can't see a hole through a
ladder. So I'll tell you. The date of that party is really April the
FIRST. I mean, Marie wrote April the first! And if you'll observe,
somebody else has put a twisty line around that ONE and made it into an
EIGHT! Why, it's as plain as day!"
"It certainly is, Patty," and Nan looked at the girl in astonishment
and admiration. "How did you ever happen to notice it?"
"Why, it just jumped out at me. See, a different pen was used. The line
is thicker. And nobody would make an EIGHT that way. They'd make it all
with one pen mark. And this is a straight up-and-down ONE, and that
rest of it was put on later. And, anyway, Nan, if there were any doubt,
don't you see it isn't TH after it as it ought to be for the eight,
it's ST?"
"You can't tell which it is in this crazy handwriting," and Nan
scrutinised the page.
"Yes, you can," and Patty stared at it. "You wouldn't notice the
difference, if you weren't looking for it, but it IS ST. I see it all,
Nan! You know Bee didn't want this luncheon, and to get out of it, she
changed that date before the invitations were sent! And you see, by the
eighth, she'll be back in school!"
"Are both dates Tuesday?" said Nan, thinking.
"Yes, of course, they are. Isn't it clever? Oh, Bee never got this up
all by herself,--that Kit helped her."
"But, Patty, then nobody will go on the first, and the Homers will be
all prepared--"
"That's just what Bee wants! One of her practical jokes! Oh, Nan, I do
detest practical jokes."
"So do I! I think they're ill-bred."
"But the Homers don't think that, and Kit Cameron doesn't, either.
We've discussed that matter lots of times, and we never agree. And,
besides, Nan," and Patty had a new inspiration, "don't you see, this
party was planned for the first of April, and Bee and Kit will call
this thing an April Fool joke, and therefore entirely permissible.
April Fool's Day is their Happy Hunting Ground. But I'm going to foil
this thing, and don't you forget it! Seems to me it would be a pretty
good joke if I'd turn the tables on those two smarties."
"How can you, Patty?"
"I haven't quite thought it out yet, but I have an idea."
"But, Patty, wait a minute. Perhaps they only changed the date on
yours,--just to fool you, you know."
"Good gracious, Nan! perhaps that's so! How did you come to think of
it? But I'll soon find out."
Patty flew to the telephone, and in a short time learned that both Mona
and Elise were invited for the eighth, and she concluded that the
plotters had changed the date on all the invitations.
Next she called up Marie, and without letting her know why, asked for a
list of the luncheon guests.
Marie told her at once, without asking why she wanted to know.
There were nine beside the Homers, and Patty was acquainted with them
all.
She called them up each in turn on the telephone, and explained
carefully that a mistake had been made in the invitations, and she
hoped they would come on the first instead of the eighth.
Fortunately, all of them were able to do this, and Patty enjoined each
one to say nothing about this change of date, until they should arrive
at the party.
To a few of her more intimate friends,--Mona, Elise, and
Christine,--she told the whole story, and they fell in with her plans.
And so it came about, that on the first of April preparations were
going blithely forward in the Homer apartment, for Bee's elaborate
luncheon.
It was all true, exactly as Patty had figured it out; and Kit and
Beatrice had planned what they considered a first-class and entirely
permissible practical joke.
They knew that Mrs. Homer would make elaborate preparations for the
luncheon, but they agreed that there would be no other harm done. And
to them, the fun of seeing the perplexity of Marie and her mother at
the non-appearance of their guests, was sufficient reason for their
scheme. Moreover, they fell back on the time-honoured tradition that
any joke was justifiable on April Fools' Day.
In addition to all this, Beatrice did not want to attend the luncheon
party, and as by chance it had been left to her to seal up and address
the invitations that Marie had written, and as Kit came in while she
was doing it, their fertile brains had discovered that, as the dates
fell on the same day of the week, the first could easily be changed to
the eighth! And the two sinners chuckled with glee over the fact that
another luncheon would have to be prepared the week following.
As it neared one o'clock on the first of April, Kit strolled into the
Homers' apartment.
"Run away, little boy," said his aunt, gaily; "we're having a young
ladies' party here to-day, and you're not invited."
"Please let me stay a little while, auntie; I'll run away before your
guests arrive. Mayn't I help you fix flowers or something?"
"No, you're more bother than help; now be good, Kit boy, and run away."
"Auntie," and Kit put on his most wheedlesome smile, which was always
compelling, "if you'll just let me stay till the first guest comes,
I'll scoot out at once."
Bee nearly choked at this, for did she not know that the guests
wouldn't arrive for a week yet!
Mrs. Homer was called away to the dining-room then, and the two
conspirators indulged in a silent dance of triumph over the success of
their scheme. Not for a moment did it strike them as unkind or mean,
because they had been used to practical jokes all their life, and this
seemed to them the biggest and best they had ever carried off.
At half-past one Patty appeared.
She had laid her plans most carefully, and everything was going
smoothly.
Mrs. Homer and Marie greeted her warmly, and Beatrice and Kit were not
much surprised to see her, because she was liable to come any day.
Beatrice looked a little surprised at Patty's dressed-up appearance,
but as no one else appeared, she had no suspicion of what Patty had
done.
They all sat in the drawing-room, and the clock ticked away until
twenty-five minutes of two, but nobody else arrived.
Mrs. Homer grew restless. She looked at the clock, and turning to Kit,
asked him if the time was right by his watch.
"Yes, auntie," replied that scapegrace. "It's almost twenty minutes of
two. I thought you invited your friends for one-thirty."
"I did," and Mrs. Homer looked anxious. "How strange that no one is
here, except Patty!"
Patty said nothing, but the enigmatic smile which she cast on Kit made
him feel that perhaps she knew more than she was telling.
"Do run away, Kit," urged his aunt. "I should think you'd be ashamed to
come to a party where you're not invited."
"Perhaps I shall be invited if I wait long enough," and Kit threw a
meaning glance at Beatrice. "If your guests don't come, auntie, you'll
be glad to have me to help eat up your goodies."
"Not come! Of course they'll come!" cried Mrs. Homer, and Marie turned
pale with dismay.
"Well, it seems to me," went on Kit, "that it would be a jolly good
April Fool joke on you all, if they didn't come. And"--he rolled his
eyes toward the ceiling,--"something tells me that they won't."
"What!" And Marie jumped up, her eyes blazing. Kit's roguish chuckle
and Bee's elfin grin made Marie suddenly realise there was something in
the air.
But before Kit could reply, Patty rose, and said directly to him, "How
strange! I wonder what it is that tells you the luncheon guests won't
come. How do you know?"--and she smiled straight at him. "Something
tells ME that they WILL come!"
Then Patty herself stepped into the hall, threw open the door, and in
came eight merry, laughing girls!
Patty had arranged that Elise should stay downstairs and receive each
guest, and keep them there until all had arrived. Then they were to
come upstairs, and wait outside the Homers' door, until the dramatic
moment.
Although not in favour of practical jokes, Patty couldn't help enjoying
Kit's absolutely paralysed face. He looked crestfallen,--but more than
that, he looked so bewildered and utterly taken back, that Patty burst
into laughter.