"I Shouldn't Want You To Be Anything But Pretty"
"Let each art
Assail a fault or help a merit grow;
Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads,
Let love through good deeds show."
--_Edwin Arnold._
"Now how shall I get this to him?" pondered Bee the next morning as she
stood before the study door with a bowl of pansies in her hand. Since
old Rachel had told her that it had been a custom of her mother's she
had not failed to put a flower of some sort on her father's table each
morning. "Adele!"
"Yes?" answered Adele, coming to the hall. "What is it, Bee? Those
pansies?"
"Yes; do you mind putting them on father's table for me? I don't know
how to get them there this morning."
"Certainly I'll do it, Bee. But why don't you take them in yourself? He
has not gone in yet, and I won't tell."
"Father told me not to," returned Bee. "I don't want to go in until I am
worthy."
Adele laughed as she took the pansies.
"You know, Bee, if you were to go right in, and tease him a bit, he
wouldn't think anything more about your staying out," she said. "You
ought to take some lessons from me. I know just how to manage him."
"We are different, Adele," answered Bee. "What would be all right for
you would not do at all for me. If you will just help me a little about
this you don't know how much I will appreciate it. I have been wondering
how it could be managed."
"What will you do when I am gone?" asked Adele.
"I don't know," answered Bee slowly. "Are you thinking of going soon?"
"I suppose that I'll have to go when school begins," said Adele. "I
don't want to go a bit. It's poky at home without you. I'd rather stay
here."
"You would?" questioned Bee wonderingly. "I should think that you would
rather be with your father and mother. Now, why doesn't she go home
now?" she asked herself as her cousin went into the study. "Uncle Henry
is better, and I should think that she would want to see him. I would
not want to be away from father if he were ill."
So it came about that each morning Beatrice carefully arranged the
flowers, and Adele took them into the study from which Bee was barred.
The girl's eyes always grew wistful whenever her father disappeared into
the room, and she was obliged to busy herself about the house in order
not to dwell too much upon the fact of her exclusion.
The summer was drawing to a close. There was a cool crispness in the air
that heralded the approach of Autumn. To Bee it seemed at times as
though a blight had fallen upon everything. There were no longer
Percival and his mother to visit, and while Doctor Raymond continued to
walk with her and Adele he seemed to withdraw more and more into his own
pursuits. The evenings were still devoted to music, but here Adele was
pre-eminent. Bee, however, retained her place in the management of the
household, jealously guarding the privilege of looking after her
father's comfort. Remembering that he had spoken of her attention to
neatness she became punctilious in her dress, and about the appointments
of the house. Her character was deepening and developing; and from a
merry-hearted, careless maiden she was growing into a thoughtful and
broad-minded girl.
"Adele," she said one morning rather sharply to her cousin who dawdled
on the couch with a book and a box of chocolates, "have you been down to
Rachel's today?"
"No," yawned Adele. "I haven't."
"Aren't you ready to go? The basket is fixed, and it is nearly eleven
o'clock. If we go for a walk with father after lunch there will be no
other time. You ought to go now."
"There's no hurry," protested Adele. "Do you know, Bee, I don't think it
is necessary to go every day?"
"It does not matter what you think, Adele. Father said to do it." Bee's
manner showed plainly that in her opinion that left nothing further to
be said.
"I'll manage Uncle William," remarked Adele with a conscious little
laugh, but nevertheless she rose from her reclining position. "It's a
perfect nuisance."
"I'll go. It is my place to do it after all. I should have gone long
ago, but I thought that you liked to do it."
"Well," hesitated Adele, "I promised Uncle William, you know, and the
old woman likes me to come. You need not go, Bee. I'll do it myself."
She took the basket of food from Bee's hand, and left the room. Bee saw
her go out the gate walking very slowly.
"She doesn't like to go for some reason," mused the girl. "I must take
it upon myself to go down every morning. I must find the time somehow.
Oh, dear!" She gave an impatient shake to her shoulders.
Just as the mid-day meal was placed upon the table Adele returned,
looking cool and as daintily immaculate as though she had not been out
of the house.
"How you must have hurried," cried Bee. "Did you run every step of the
way?"
"Not every step, Bee. How warm you look!"
"It is more than you do," answered Bee looking at her with wonder.
"You've been out in the hot sun yet you seem as cool as a cucumber."
"I don't show heat," replied Adele lightly. "Shall I tell Uncle William
that lunch is ready?"
"If you please."
Dr. Raymond responded to the summons slowly. Bee knew from his grave
manner that something was wrong, and all through the meal she cast
apprehensive glances in his direction. Adele did not notice his
preoccupation, and chatted gaily seemingly unaware that his replies were
monosyllabic.
"Girls," said the scientist when the repast was finished, "come into the
library with me. I wish to speak with you."
Bee followed him with uneasiness. What had gone amiss she wondered. She
could not think of anything that she had done or left undone that could
cause such gravity. Her cousin, oblivious to signs of storm, or secure,
perhaps, in the knowledge of his affection, caught hold of his arm
exclaiming merrily:
"'Come into the garden, Maude,
I am here at the gate alone.'"
"Only in this case the garden is the library. What are you going to say
to us, Uncle William? Something nice?"
"I fear not, Adele. What I have to say, however, will not be more
unpleasant for you to hear than it will be for me to say."
"Dear me!" cried she looking up at him with pretended dismay. "That
sounds formidable, doesn't it, Bee?"
Dr. Raymond held the library door open for them to enter, then closed
it, and faced them.
"When have either of you been to see old Rachel?" he asked abruptly.
"Adele went this morning," spoke Bee quickly, glad now that she had
insisted upon the visit being made.
"Indeed? How was the old woman, Adele?"
"Why, why, all right! That is--about as she always is," stammered Adele
changing color.
"Adele! Adele!" Her uncle spoke more in sorrow than in anger. "If you
went to Rachel's, how came this to be hidden in the hedge?"
He crossed to his desk, and uncovered the identical basket that Bee had
fixed for her cousin to take to Rachel. Adele gave an exclamation, but
recovered herself almost instantly.
"You see, uncle," she said, trying to speak carelessly, "it was this
way: It was so hot when I started and so near noon that I thought I
would not have time to get back for lunch, so I put the basket there
intending to run down with it when it was cooler."
"Were you there yesterday?" demanded her uncle receiving the explanation
without comment.
Adele hesitated.
"I want the truth, Adele."
"No;" confessed she faintly. "But I'll go right now, Uncle William."
"Were you there the day before?"
Adele covered her face with her hands without replying.
"I want to know when you were there," said Dr. Raymond sternly.
"I--I don't remember," said the girl with a sob. "Oh, Uncle William, it
was so hot, and I--I got tired of it; but I will go. I'll go right now."
She started for the basket as she spoke, but a gesture from her uncle
arrested her.
"Wait," he said. "Beatrice, why did you not see that Rachel's needs were
attended to?"
"I thought they were," answered Bee, growing pale. "Adele was to look
after the matter."
"Adele has been careless and negligent," observed her father severely,
"but that does not ease you of responsibility. It was your place to have
seen that my wishes in the matter were carried out."
"But, father--"
"I will listen to no excuse, Beatrice," interrupted Doctor Raymond
decidedly. "There can be none, and it is useless to try to shield
yourself behind your cousin. Whatever excuse Adele may have for her
neglect you have none. That old woman was your mother's faithful servant
for many years. It was your duty, and should have been your pleasure, to
have seen that she was taken care of. I thought," he continued with some
emotion, "that every girl welcomed an opportunity to minister to those
in need. I thought that every maiden gently reared was actuated by
motives of honor and truth, and would sacredly discharge a duty
intrusted to her. It seems that I was mistaken. I fear that I do not
understand girls of the present age. If it were possible I would gladly
take this matter into my own hands, but I cannot spare the time."
"Uncle, please, please try me again," pleaded Adele eagerly. "I really
will be faithful this time. Bee and I both will be. Won't we, Bee?"
Bee was dumb. She was overwhelmed by her father's words, and her
conscience reproached her. There had been several occasions when she
suspected that Adele was not performing the duty. In view of the fact
that she had failed before, she knew that she herself ought to have
looked after the matter more carefully.
"I do not quite trust either of you," spoke Doctor Raymond thoughtfully,
"but because I believe that it will be of benefit to your characters to
insist upon this act of charity I shall try again. If it is a tax upon
you, let one go one day, and the other the next. Rest assured, however,
that I shall watch the matter closely to see that it is attended to. If
there is any shirking I shall know it. Now take that basket and go! Do
not let me see you again until you can inform me truthfully that Rachel
has received it. Beatrice, I charge you particularly with the duty."
He turned from them so decidedly that they had no alternative but to
leave the room, taking the basket with them.
"You needn't say a word, Bee," cried Adele avoiding her cousin's glance.
"I'm not going to take another scolding."
"I'm not going to scold, Adele, but why did you not tell me that you did
not want to go?"
"Oh, it's all my fault of course. Here! give me that basket. You needn't
go!"
"But I will," said Beatrice with decision. "I am not going to give
father a chance to say that I am to blame again. I am going to see that
the thing is done. The basket will have to be fixed over anyway."
"We'll both go," said Adele. "If you won't scold, I'll carry it. I
suppose that I ought to do something for getting us into the scrape. I
didn't know that Uncle William would care so much. Oh, my! wasn't he
mad?"
Bee made no reply. She rearranged the contents of the basket, added some
fresh eggs and other things, and together they started for Rachel's
cabin. It was very warm, but they toiled along the dusty road with the
conviction that whatever of discomfort they experienced they merited it.
They were grateful when they could leave the road and enter the shaded
wood path that led to the cabin. Soon they could discern the chimney of
the dwelling through the trees; then a turn in the path brought them
into the cleared space where the hut stood. They were proceeding toward
it when all at once Bee stood stock still.
"Look!" she cried.
Adele's glance followed her pointing finger, and every drop of blood
left her face. There upon the closed door of the cabin was a big yellow
sign "SMALL POX." For one long moment the two stood looking at the card;
then Adele clutched her cousin's arm.
"Come," she whispered fearfully. "We must get away. We can't go there
now."
"We've got to," answered Bee grimly, but her face grew white as she said
it. "We've got to, Adele. If she's been sick long she wouldn't have
anything to eat. Father would never get over it. Besides he told us he
didn't want to see us again unless she got the basket."
"Oh, Bee! I can't! I can't go! Suppose I should get the small pox."
The tears streamed from Adele's eyes. Bee turned and looked at the girl
earnestly. Her eyes shone through her tears like violets wet with dew.
Her complexion had never seemed so fair, so flawless as now. How lovely
she was! Looking at her Bee felt all the bitterness of her feeling
toward her melt from her heart.
"No;" she said, leaning forward suddenly to kiss her. "You must not go,
Adele. I shouldn't want you to be anything but pretty, but I haven't any
beauty to lose. Father charged me particularly with the duty, so I'll do
it, Adele. You can go back and tell him truly that she has the basket."
[Illustration: "I WOULD NOT HAVE YOU ANYTHING BUT PRETTY."]
"But what will you do after you give it to her?" cried Adele. "You
musn't come back to the house, Bee. You might bring the small pox to
me."
"And to father," spoke Bee perplexed. Then she brightened. "Adele, do
you know the old fishermen's hut near the river?"
"Yes."
"Go home; get a pillow and some covers; then fix up something for me to
eat as we did for Rachel. When I get through here I'll go there to stay.
If I have the small pox neither you nor father can take it then."
"But, but," protested Adele.
"Do just as I tell you, Adele. That's the only way to manage it. Hurry
up, so you will be away from the hut before I come. Will you be quick?"
"Yes;" promised Adele.
"Good-bye!" Bee kissed her again. "If, if I should take the small pox
you'll be good to father, Adele?"
"Yes, yes," sobbed Adele.
"Good-bye," said Bee again, and turning went quickly toward the cabin.
Adele watched her as if fascinated; and then, as Bee opened the door and
went in, she turned and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her.