.

The arrival of one's sister need not necessarily mean anything as
alarming as a smallpox scare, but if you knew the somewhat
revolutionary methods, adopted with a ladylike quiet and a well-bred
calm, which characterize Bee's visits to her relatives, you would
excuse our somewhat flurried preparations to entertain her. In
addition to our natural desire to do our best for her, Bee had sent a
letter clearly setting forth the style of entertainment she expected of
us, and indicating that no paltry excuses would be taken for our not
coming up to her wishes.

Aubrey was at first for open rebellion.

"If she will take us as she finds us, Bee will be welcome to come and
stay as long as she likes," he said, while her letter was still fresh
in our minds.

"She won't," I said, with conviction. Bee is my sister, or to speak
more accurately, I am Bee's sister. "She will come prepared to make
radical changes in our mode of living, in everything from our religion
to the way we have hung the pictures."

Aubrey used one small unprintable word.

"Furthermore," I added, "she will be so smooth and plausible about it,
that you will not object to carrying out her wishes."

The Angel gave me a look.

"If we carry out her wishes, do you think that will be the reason?" he
asked, quietly.

"No," I cried, impulsively. "It will be because as a host or as
anything else you are an Angel."

But he is also a diplomat, as his next remark will show.

"As we are incapable with such generic instructions," he said, tapping
Bee's letter with his pipe, "of knowing just how we must make ourselves
over to suit her, and as Bee is never quite happy unless she is
managing other people's affairs, suppose we wait until she comes and
gives us specific orders?"

This was what I considered the height, climax, and acme of hospitality.

"Only," he warned me as we drove to the station to meet her, "try to
remain, within bounds. The only thing I ha--criticize about Bee is
that she makes such a coward of you. Remember when she tries to
browbeat you, that _I_ consider your taste and common sense better than
hers, and that in any stand you take I am back of you, no matter what
it is."

I pressed the Angel's hand gratefully. Bee's train was appallingly
near, and my blissful married independence was rapidly degenerating
into my former state of jelly-like sisterly dependence.

Bee is one of those persons who, consciously or unconsciously, make you