d be unknown, and curious as to the
identity of the musician, she drew aside some branches of the arbor vitae
hedge, and looked through.

The boy of the knickerbockers and long curls stood under a large tree,
his chin resting upon a violin which he held in his left hand, while
with his right he tapped restlessly upon his shoe with the bow. A rack
upon which were some sheets of music stood before him.

"Oh!" exclaimed Bee in surprise as she saw who the musician was.

The lad heard her and ran to the opening eagerly.

"It's the funny girl!" he called joyfully. "Mamma, see! It's the
butterfly girl. Come on, Butterfly; come on over."

"May I?" asked Beatrice, turning to his mother. "I would like to hear
the little boy play."

"By all means," said the lady graciously. "Percival does better when he
has an audience. Are you Doctor Raymond's daughter?"

"Yes;" answered Beatrice, availing herself of the permission to enter
the garden. "I am Beatrice Raymond."

"Percival said that he had met you," continued the lady. "He has been
watching you for some weeks, and wishing that he could make your
acquaintance."

"Why don't you tell her our names?" broke in the boy excitedly. "That's
what she has come for. I told her yesterday that she would have to come
over to find out, and she can't know us unless we tell her what to call
us. I am Percival Medulla, and this is Mrs. Medulla. 'Course that isn't
our real name, but when you're before the public you have to be called
something high sounding."

"Percival!" cried his mother, provoked.

"Isn't it true?" demanded Percival in matter of fact tones.

"The truth when it refers to private matters is not always to be
spoken," reproved Mrs. Medulla. "Miss Beatrice, (she pronounced Bee's
name after the Italian manner), he is to play one hour longer. I know
that I can depend upon you to keep him at his task. You show that you
are trustworthy. Percival, be very nice to your friend," and she swept
into the house.

So, much to the girl's wonder, she was left as mentor to the boy
musician. He looked at her quizzically as he saw her dismay, and began
to laugh.

"I am glad that she is gone," he remarked. "I want to have you all to
myself."

"Hush, hush!" implored Beatrice, shocked. "You must not speak of your
mother that way."

"Mustn't one? Not even when she bores one?"

"No; no, indeed!" replied the girl earnestly. "Now do practice. There's
a good little boy!"

"How old are you