Doctor Raymond. "Beatrice has left us very much in
the dark concerning it."

"I don't mind in the least," answered Percival who seemed eager now to
explain everything. "Beatrice was not to blame at all. You see--"

"Permit me to say a word first, Percival," interrupted his mother, who
had stood quietly by while he made his apologies. "Beatrice, you must
pardon me, also, as well as Percival. I did not understand things until
he explained them on my return home. I am truly sorry that I spoke so
hastily as I did before learning all the circumstances. It seems, from
what Percival tells me, that you did all that you could to keep him from
cutting his hair, and then shouldered the blame rather than tell on him.
My dear, I am very sorry for what I said. Can you forgive me?"

"Don't speak of it, Mrs. Medulla," cried Bee warmly. "I was to blame
after all, because I ought to have held his hands, or kept him in some
way from those shears. And oh! where are they? I brought them home with
me."

"Then we are friends again, dear," said the lady kissing her. "Never
mind the shears. I don't mind if I never see them again. I--"

"Mamma, Doctor Raymond is waiting to hear the particulars," broke in
Percival, anxious to be heard. "You see, sir," turning to the scientist
who was listening amusedly, "ever since I came here the boys have been
making life miserable for me about the way I dressed and wore my hair.
Yesterday that big Jack Brown was having sport with me, teasing for a
curl, and, and all that sort of thing. When I tried to fight him I could
not do anything because he grabbed my hands. Beatrice came to my rescue,
and maybe she didn't put him to flight. You should have seen her." He
chuckled at the remembrance, then continued: "I told her that the baby
business ended then and there. That I wasn't going to be made fun of any
longer. I asked her to cut off my hair, but she wouldn't; so I did it. I
didn't think about the money part of it, or I would not have done it. I
can play just as well with trousers and short hair as I can with curls
and knickerbockers, and I told mamma so after she came back from here.
Wasn't Beatrice a trump, though, not to tell on me, and to take the
blame? Why didn't you tell, Beefly? I thought girls always did."

"Of course I wasn't going to tell if you wouldn't own up," returned Bee.
"That would be tattling."

"Any other girl would have done it," cried Percival. "I hate awfully to
go away and leave yo