icks--"

"Thank you," answered Bee with dignity. "I don't want any more of your
tricks, Adele. One of them has caused quite enough mischief."

"But you have forgiven me that, Bee; haven't you? I saw that you had
just as soon as you kissed me."

"Adele," spoke Bee earnestly, "I am trying to do it. It brought father
back to me sooner than he would have come. For that reason I am going to
be toward you as I used to be, but I don't want to talk about it too
much. And I don't want any more of your tricks. That is, if you care to
have me like you."

"Beatrice Raymond, what has come to you?" asked Adele, her eyes opening
wide at her cousin's seriousness. "I never saw such a difference in any
one as there is in you since your father's return. Of course you are
going to be toward me just as you used to be. You always were fond of
me, and you are going to love me just as much as ever. What in the world
are you doing?"

Beatrice made no reply. They were in her room by this time, and Adele
was taking down her hair to brush it. Bee was leaning far out of a
window, looking toward the garden where the dim outline of the moss rose
bush, the rose her mother had planted, could be seen. There were no
roses now, but the bush stood shapely and symmetrical in the moonlight.

"He said that I looked like her," she mused thoughtfully, her heart
going out with yearning toward that mother who was scarcely more than a
memory to her. "And he loved her dearly, dearly!"

Chapter XVI

"It Is So Hard To Do the Right Thing"

"Some of these days the skies will be brighter,
Some of these days the burdens be lighter;
Hearts will be happier, souls will be whiter,
Some of these days,
Some of these days."

--_Frank L. Stanton._

"There, Beatrice, that will do for today." Doctor Raymond laid aside his
manuscript with a sigh of satisfaction. "The Purple Emperor is a fitting
close for our day's work. I think there is no place in Natural History
where rank is of so much importance as among butterflies. His Majesty is
easily king of the lot."

He picked up the Denton frame in which the insect was mounted, and
looked at it smilingly.

"I never see the Emperor," he continued reflectively, "that I do not
think of Peter Pindar's Ode to The Emperor of Morocco and Sir Joseph
Banks. Of course it is a hit at scientists, but it is amusing for all
that. Have either of you read it?"

"Yes;" spoke Bee eagerly