she could reply.

"I have been trying to make myself beautiful, but it did not work well,"
she said at last in a low tone.

"Beautiful!" exclaimed Doctor Raymond in disgust. "Is vanity also one of
your weaknesses? I begin to believe that you are a bundle of them. Only
a silly, vain girl would be guilty of such folly. I am sorely
disappointed in you, Beatrice."

Again Bee choked so that she could not speak, and her eyes swam with
tears. Had she so many follies? People used not to think she was such a
dreadful girl. They used to be fond of her, but everything was going
wrong lately. With hands that shook she silently poured her father's
coffee and handed it to him.

"How any girl," went on her father, seeing that she did not speak, "how
any girl should go deliberately to work to make such a fright of herself
as you have done is beyond my comprehension. I suppose that all girls
are more or less foolish about their complexions; but no girl of
refinement should bleach her hair. It is an abomination to every
self-respecting person. What caused you to do it?"

Beatrice's heart was very full. She had done it for his sake, but she
found it impossible to tell him. She had been content enough until he
had come, and was dissatisfied with her. His words hurt her cruelly.
Presently she found her voice:

"I was trying to look like Adele," she told him tearfully.

"You were?" Struck by something in her tone the scientist glanced at her
more closely. He saw that she was not eating anything, and that she was
trembling. His manner softened. Bee was aware of the change instantly,
and attributed it to the mention of her cousin. Her tears dried, and she
was shaken with sudden anger.

"Your cousin is a beautiful girl, Beatrice. She seems to be as lovely in
disposition as in person. I do not at all wonder that you desire to be
like her, but your manner of emulation has not been the most happy.
Perhaps I spoke too severely. We are all prone to error, and I should
not judge too harshly what, it seems, has been done from a worthy
motive. If you wish to be like Adele, strive to copy her character
rather than to imitate her outward appearance. Beauty of soul is the
thing that counts. Before a sweet disposition and a well informed mind
mere physical beauty palls."

"That is not true," burst from Beatrice; "and you know it."

"Beatrice Raymond, do you know to whom you are speaking?" The naturalist
dropped his knife and fork, and stared at