lady smiled at the girl's fixed gaze,
cognizant of what was passing in her mind. She was too well bred to
betray the astonishment she felt at Adele's wondrous loveliness, and she
was filled with a great commiseration for Beatrice.

Adele was at her best. She knew that she was beautiful, and accepted
homage as her right. She had grown to expect admiration and devotion as
her due. So she chatted brightly, or listened with pretty deference
whenever one of her elders spoke.

She knew that her uncle admired her. That he did so beyond his own
daughter did not seem at all unusual or amiss. Bee had always been
second. It seemed but natural to Adele that she should be second with
her father also. Bee's feelings on the subject were not considered. They
never had been. Mrs. Medulla turned suddenly from her, and laid her hand
lightly upon Beatrice's arm.

"I could scarcely keep Percival at home today," she said. "He insisted
that it was his duty to call to see how you were."

"I should have been glad to see him," responded Bee. "Where is he?"

"I hear him coming," replied the mother.

"My daughter tells me that he is a violinist," remarked the scientist.

"Yes; Percival plays well," returned his mother simply. "He was worn out
with his recitals last season, and we came here that he might have the
benefit of outdoor air and exercise. He practices every day in the
garden, and I think him much improved."

"Percival," as the boy entered the room, "do you see who has come?
Doctor Raymond, this is my son. Miss Adele, this is Percival."

"Gee!" whispered the boy to Beatrice after he had made his devoirs.
"That cousin of yours is pretty, Beefly, but I don't like her as much as
I do you."

"You don't?" Beatrice was plainly amazed. "Why not, Percival?"

"Because a girl like that never thinks of anything but herself," he
announced. "She couldn't be chums with me like you. I know 'em,"
concluded this experienced young man.

"How do you know?" asked Bee so delightedly that Mrs. Medulla glanced at
her with a smile, well pleased to see her so bright.

"Would it be asking too much to desire your son to play for us?"
inquired Adele sweetly. "We would like to be favored as well as Bee.
Wouldn't we, Uncle William?"

"Certainly," answered the naturalist as in duty bound.

"I will play one piece, and no more," said the lad, taking his violin
from the case and adjusting his music. "I am not in the mood, but
because of Butterfly I will