"It Is So Hard To Do the Right Thing"
"Some of these days the skies will be brighter,
Some of these days the burdens be lighter;
Hearts will be happier, souls will be whiter,
Some of these days,
Some of these days."
--_Frank L. Stanton._
"There, Beatrice, that will do for today." Doctor Raymond laid aside his
manuscript with a sigh of satisfaction. "The Purple Emperor is a fitting
close for our day's work. I think there is no place in Natural History
where rank is of so much importance as among butterflies. His Majesty is
easily king of the lot."
He picked up the Denton frame in which the insect was mounted, and
looked at it smilingly.
"I never see the Emperor," he continued reflectively, "that I do not
think of Peter Pindar's Ode to The Emperor of Morocco and Sir Joseph
Banks. Of course it is a hit at scientists, but it is amusing for all
that. Have either of you read it?"
"Yes;" spoke Bee eagerly. "At least, I have heard it read, father.
Professor Lawrence read it to the class one day."
Doctor Raymond frowned. Bee had not yet learned that there are occasions
when ignorance is bliss. No one likes to have either his anecdotes or
witticisms anticipated. She might have said with perfect sincerity:
"Yes, father; but I should like to hear it again."
"Well, I haven't heard it at all," said Adele prettily. "I am not so
learned as Bee."
"You will doubtless appreciate it then," spoke the naturalist, turning
to her with pleasure apparent in both voice and manner. "Would you care
to hear the lines?"
"Nothing would delight me so much, Uncle William."
How beautiful Adele looked with her golden hair; how delicate and pearly
was her lovely neck; what sweet eyes were hers, blue as a sky full of
sunshine. Doctor Raymond's glance dwelt upon her with admiration.
"What a lovely girl you are!" he exclaimed voluntarily. Adele colored
with pleasure.
"I did not think that you saw beauty in anything but your butterflies,"
she said archly.
"Indeed I do. I am very susceptible to beauty in any form. But surely
you also see beauty in this?" He handed her a frame in which was mounted
a gorgeous Scarlet Admiral. "Is not this strikingly beautiful? Note with
what a brilliant red the secondaries are bordered, and the velvety
blackness of the fore wings. It is among the last of our hibernating
butterflies to seek its winter quarters, and is most interesting in many
ways."
"It is beautiful," cried Adele with enthusiasm. "Oh! it just makes me
want to study butterflies too when I see such pretty ones."
"I do not wonder that the old Greeks used the butterfly as an emblem of
the soul," commented the Lepidopterist, well pleased with her
appreciation of the insect. "Even as the imago bursts from its chrysalis
and, throwing aside the bonds that held it a lowly creeping thing to
earth, mounts upward on gauzy wings, so the soul casts off its
earth-bound body at length and also mounts upward on wings of hope. The
symbol of the butterfly is found on all their tombs and monuments."
"It is a pretty thought," commented his niece sweetly, "but you don't
know how anxious I am to hear about Sir Joseph Banks and The Emperor."
"To be sure," ejaculated Doctor Raymond hastily. "I had forgotten."
Then, in a rich voice of no little charm, he recited the ode. Adele
laughed merrily as he finished.
"How can you bear to repeat anything like that when it is a take-off on
scientists?" she asked.
"We can appreciate humor even when it is at our expense, child. Now
let's go to lunch. You girls may then visit Rachel while I go into the
town. I must look after some matters of Henry's. I will join you as you
leave the woods coming back from Rachel's. On our way home we will call
upon our new neighbors. I am curious about that prodigy of whom Beatrice
was speaking. Then, too, I wish to see if they will be pleasant
acquaintances for you. If they are it would not be so lonesome for you
girls should I be called from home, as it sometimes happens that I am."
Bee sighed as they went to the dining room. He spoke exactly as though
Adele was always to be with them. She had felt a little out of things
that morning, and perhaps her manner held the slightest tinge of
asperity. Adele ran at once to the head of the table.
"I want to pour the coffee today, Bee," she cried, her white hands
fluttering among the cups like flower petals.
"No;" spoke Bee emphatically, pushing her to one side. "That is _my_
duty, Adele."
"Beatrice," exclaimed her father, "I am surprised. What difference does
it make? If your cousin wishes to pour the coffee, let her do so.
Remember, she is your guest." So he spoke, for no man ever understands
all that serving at her own table means to a woman, or girl child.
"I do remember, father. She is the one who forgets. As hostess this is
my place, and I will not give it up to any one."
"'Will not' are strong words, my daughter. What if I were to command
you?"
"Then I should have to obey you, father." The girl found herself
trembling with anger. "But you, sir, would be forgetting what was due
to your daughter."
"You are impertinent, Beatrice," he remarked coldly. "There are times
when your manner leaves much to be desired."
"I would just as soon sit here, Uncle William," broke in Adele. "It was
just a notion of mine. I didn't dream that Bee would care. It does not
matter in the least."
"Thank you, my dear." The doctor's eyes softened. He was displeased that
his daughter should exhibit such outbursts of temper, as she
occasionally gave way to, and his formality toward her during the meal
made his disapprobation quite apparent.
Bee was aware that she had placed herself in the wrong by losing her
temper, and her hands shook so that she could scarcely hold the cups.
"Oh, I wish I didn't act this way," she thought remorsefully. "It is so
hard to do the right thing when he shows his preference so plainly. Why
couldn't I have been nicer about this? It really is my place to sit
here, but I might have said so without getting mad. Oh, dear, dear!"
The lunch ended, and the girls went upstairs to get ready for the
outing. When Bee was nearly dressed Adele came to her softly. She could
not bear that anyone should not be pleased with her, and she knew that
Bee was hurt and offended. Stepping behind her she put her arms around
her waist as Bee stood before the mirror, and bent her head over her
cousin's shoulder, partly that she might kiss her cheek, partly also
that she might see her face in the glass and contrast it with that of
Bee.
"Don't be cross with me," she said coaxingly. "I am sorry if I have done
anything that you did not like."
Beatrice sighed. Adele was irresistible in this mood.
"Perhaps you did not mean it, Adele," she said. "But, honestly! would
you like it if someone were to come to your house, and want to take your
place with your father and mother?"
"No, I would not," answered Adele candidly. "What's the use of supposing
anything of the sort? Nobody could, you know. Papa and mamma would not
let them."
"That is true," agreed Bee thoughtfully. "Nobody could take your place,
Adele. I wish that father were so fond of me that no one could take my
place with him."
"Maybe he will when he knows you better," remarked Adele consolingly.
"Only you must not blame me if he likes me best." She loosened her hold
on Bee and wandered about the room, looking first at one thing, and then
another. Presently she gave a little scream of delight. "What a pretty
hat!" she cried. "All white lace and pansies. Oh, Bee! Where did you get
it?"
"I got it when I bleached my hair," said Bee in a low tone. "It is a
pretty hat. Every one likes it."
"It's lovely," declared Adele, putting it on, and gazing rapturously at
her image in the glass. "Doesn't it become me?"
"Everything becomes you, Adele, but this doesn't look any better on you
than your own." Bee reached out her hand for the hat. "We must hurry.
Father doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"Do let me wear it, Bee." Adele danced out of her cousin's reach. "Just
see how nice it looks on me."
"I want to wear it myself, Adele. I want to look well when we go to
Mrs. Medulla's."
"Don't be so selfish, Bee. You used not to be. You used to let me wear
anything of yours that I wanted. What in the world has come to you? It
doesn't make any difference what you wear."
"I don't think it's selfish for me to want to wear my own things,"
answered Bee with tears in her eyes. "You are not contented to let me
keep anything. You have just as many pretty things as I have; yet you
always want mine too."
"You are so superior to such things," remarked Adele, her lip quivering,
her face wearing the tiniest aggrieved expression. "Nobody thinks of
what you have on, but a poor little goosey like me has to be so careful.
I won't wear the hat, if you don't want me to; but I think you might let
me. You are getting awfully selfish."
Bee turned from her quickly and looked out of the window. Was she
selfish? It was true that formerly she had not minded letting Adele wear
her things. Why should she care now? A remembrance of Mrs. Medulla's
words came to her: "A winsome and lovable personality is worth all the
beauty in the world." After all, why should she permit a mere hat to
upset her temper, and spoil her afternoon?
"You may wear it, Adele," she said. "It does become you."
"You're a dear!" Adele ran to the glass to pin on the hat securely.
"What does a clever thing like you care about what you wear? You have a
mind above clothes."
"Yes; I dare say," remarked Bee abstractedly. "Are you ready to go down
now?"
Doctor Raymond was waiting for them, and they set forth. The air under
the great trees that bordered the road was balmy. The hot July sun
brought out the cool sweet smell of the leaves. Gleams of fire fell
through the boughs and dappled the soil at intervals. On these sunflakes
numerous fritillary butterflies with silver under wings were fluttering,
and countless flies were humming. Presently Adele darted aside with an
exclamation.
"It's a dead butterfly," she cried, holding the insect up to view. "It
was sitting so still on the thistle that I thought it was asleep. And
the poor little thing was dead all the time."
"It's shamming," said Doctor Raymond with a laugh. "That is one of the
tricks of The Painted Beauty. If we leave it alone for a few seconds we
shall find that it will come to life again."
He took the creature from her and laid it gently on the grass. They
waited, watching it curiously. All at once the apparently lifeless
butterfly began a slight vibration of its wings. Suddenly it rose and
was gone; as strong and free as ever.
Adele clapped her hands in delight, and Bee smiled. She was acquainted
with the butterfly, and had seen the trick before.
"I never saw anything so cunning in all my life," cried Adele. "Are all
butterflies as cute, Uncle William?"
"Not all; but the most of them have marvelous life histories. Come,
girls! we must not loiter. We have two calls to make, you know."