the form of another animal to protect
itself from enemies," answered Bee. "I thought that if I could make
myself like Adele you would come to care for me."

"And was that what caused you to bleach your hair, and change your
complexion?"

"Yes, father. You would not notice me, so I just had to do something.
And now it's no use."

"I am not so sure about that." Doctor Raymond began to laugh. "You have
worked upon the principle held by some great men, Beatrice. Henry Ward
Beecher used to say: 'If you can't make people love you, make them hate
you. Anything is better than indifference.'"

"Oh, father!" cried the unhappy girl, bursting into tears. "Have I made
you hate me?"

"Nonsense! Of course not. I only meant--"

"A gen'man to see you, sah," announced Aunt Fanny at this inopportune
moment, and the entomologist was obliged to leave the room.

Chapter VIII

A Rift in the Clouds

"Through the open door
A drowsy smell of flowers--gray heliotrope,
And sweet white clover, and shy mignonette--Comes
faintly in, and the silent chorus lends
To the pervading symphony of peace."

--_Among the Hills. Whittier._

Doctor Raymond's visitor proved to be a fellow naturalist who became so
interested in his host's rare specimens that he spent the entire day
examining them. Beatrice passed the time in her own room, loath to
subject herself to curious eyes.

Aunt Fanny came up after a time with a second lot of jimpson leaves
which she proceeded to make into a poultice despite the girl's
protestations.

"Yer mus', honey," insisted the negress. "I'se done been down ter Miss
Browne's, an' she say hit air de onliest thing ter do. She say hats
turn yaller 'fore deys bleached, an' hit's de same wid yer skin. Dis'll
be de las' time."

"It doesn't matter now, Aunt Fanny," said Bee miserably. "I was silly to
do anything, but I thought, I thought!--"

"Nebber min' what yer thunk, chile," consoled the old woman. "Hit am
jest like a gal: allers a wantin' sumpin' like sum udder gal. Now jest
put on dis, an' you-all will kum out all right."

Beatrice was too tired to expostulate further, and submitted once more
to the martyrdom of the poultice with little care as to the result. Her
heart was too heavy to take any further interest in such efforts; for
she believed that she had completely alienated her father, and she cared
for nothing else. The day came to an end at last, and night b