Bee and Butterfly Part 17

It was an exceedingly warm July day, and the old vine-covered house presented an inviting appearance. The walnut trees cast a grateful shade over the wide veranda, and along the broad drive that ran down to the gate on either side of which were shrubs and plants. The windows were open to the breeze and all the rooms were gay with flowers.

Beatrice herself was not the least charming part of the picture as she stood waiting with a pretty air of dignity to receive her father's guests. Doctor Raymond's eyes lighted up with pride as he noted the ease with which she greeted them, and his tone held a caressing inflection as he said:

"It is good to be home, Beatrice. I think the house never looked so restful as it does today."

"And I am glad that you are back father," said Bee with some shyness, for he had not kissed her. She did not think that this might be on account of the presence of guests. "You must be very warm after being in the sun. Will you take your friends to the library? It is cooler there, and Aunt f.a.n.n.y will serve lemonade immediately."

"That is the right kind of a daughter to have, doctor," exclaimed one of the scientists with appreciation. "If going to the library means lemonade, let us adjourn there instantly. I am as dry as a desert."

Chapter XIII

The b.u.t.terfly Dinner

"All human history attests That happiness for man--the hungry sinner-- Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner."

--_Byron._

The dining room at Walnut Grove was a place furnished with more regard for comfort than for show. There was an air about the apartment that seemed to say that eating here was not a busy matter but one to be observed in peace and leisure. The furniture was solid, substantial, comfortable; mellowed by time and use. Had Beatrice but known it she had a charming setting for her dinner.

"It's only a bit of fun," she said to herself as she put the finishing touches to the decorations. "If they are not old fogies they will enjoy it. I don't see how anything can go wrong. Everything is planned so carefully, and the table does look nice."

Nevertheless her heart beat somewhat faster as her father ushered in his guests, giving a hasty glance at the table as they took their places.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BEE ENTERTAINS HER FATHER'S FRIENDS.]

"This seems to be a b.u.t.terfly dinner to judge from the decorations," he observed with some anxiety in his manner. "I don't know exactly what that portends, but perhaps there will be something to satisfy us."

"Our young hostess has evidently studied her subject," remarked one of the scientists with an admiring glance at the table. "Do you know, Miss Raymond, that when I was a lad sweet peas were always a.s.sociated in my mind with b.u.t.terflies? To me they look just like the insect at rest."

"So they do to me," answered Bee. "That is the reason I chose them for the flowers." She had filled a vase with the blossoms upon which two large artificial b.u.t.terflies rested, apparently partaking of the sweets of the flowers.

"'The Sulphurs,'" read a second, picking up the menu card which Bee had carefully written for each plate. "Gentlemen, I am afraid that we are in for it."

"Miss Raymond intends for us to eat our own words--no; that is not exactly what I mean, although some of us have written upon the subject of Lepidoptera," said the third one, a small man in spectacles.

Beatrice could not repress a little laugh at the look of relief that flashed across each man's face as Tillie, the "likely gal" of whom Aunt f.a.n.n.y had spoken, appeared with "The Sulphurs" which proved to be yellow cantaloupes, ice cold.

"After all you are not the first martyrs to science," she told them merrily. "Luther had to partake of a diet of worms, I believe."

"So he did," observed the scientist on her right. "Let me see. How does the rhyme go?

"'Instead of b.u.t.ter on his bread A sauce of b.u.t.terflies was spread.'

"Are we to have that next? I see what is in store for us. 'All life is from an egg,'" reading aloud from the menu. "That sounds interesting."

With an eagerness that was almost boyish they awaited Tillie's coming with the next course which developed into egg soup accompanied by hot wafers. A laugh of pure enjoyment went up as Scale insects with chrysalids and some green hair streaks was seen to be baked fish with shrimp salad, dressed with cuc.u.mbers.

An entree--"Scarce clouded yellows," mushrooms on toast--was provocative of so much merriment that Bee gave herself up to the fun, a.s.sured that the dinner was a success. Stiffness could not exist under such conditions, and the grave scientists unbent from their dignity, and jested and made merry like a lot of school-boys. There was admiration in the look that Doctor Raymond bestowed upon his daughter as course followed course, each bearing the name of a certain species of b.u.t.terfly, evolved from a resemblance of color or form to the viands.

The dessert, "The Arctics with Boisduval Marble," was ice cream frozen in b.u.t.terfly moulds and marble cake; while "Wooded Nymphs" were salted almonds.

"Gentlemen," said one, rising as the last course--'The Mourning Cloak'

which meant black coffee--was served, "let us toast our hostess. This has been one of the most ingenious as well as one of the most enjoyable dinners I ever attended. It has the merit of originality, and puts to blush the efforts of older but not wiser ladies. Doctor Raymond, I congratulate you upon your daughter. You should be proud of her, sir."

Doctor Raymond bowed his acknowledgments, while Bee sat, so proud and happy that she was almost overcome.

"I confess that I was a little dubious when I first saw that menu card,"

confessed her father with a smile as he finished his coffee.

"Do you mean that you did not aid her? That she did in truth plan this alone?" exclaimed the shy gentleman in surprise. "Where then did she get her knowledge of the subject?"

"Beatrice studied it while I was away," explained Doctor Raymond. "It was done in order to help me in my work, I believe; and she has certainly proved to be a very enthusiastic a.s.sistant. She is helping me in my cataloguing this summer. Shall we go to the piazza, gentlemen?

There is just time for a cigar before your train."

They pa.s.sed from the dining room, leaving Bee flushed and happy to report their success to Aunt f.a.n.n.y. Presently Joel came with the carriage and the Lepidopterists took their departure. Doctor Raymond laid his hand lightly upon his daughter's arm, and turned her toward him.

"Was that entirely your own idea about the dinner?" he asked.

"Yes, father. Did you like it?"

"Very much indeed. It was admirably conceived, and most admirably executed. Did you have no a.s.sistance beside Aunt f.a.n.n.y?"

"Only Tillie," responded Bee. "Aunt f.a.n.n.y didn't want any 'udder worman traipesing erbout her kitchen.'" Bee laughed a little at the remembrance of the negress' indignation. "She said that she could cook for men even though they were 'satanic;' so I did the planning, and she did the cooking. You must praise her too, father. I never could have done it without her."

"I am glad to hear you say that, Beatrice. I was afraid that you might take all the credit to yourself, but I see that you are willing to share honors."

Beatrice drew closer to him. There were times when she would have dearly loved to have thrown her arms about his neck as she had seen Adele do with her father, but Doctor Raymond was not a demonstrative man, and she stood too much in awe of him to take the initiative. Just at the present she felt closer to him than she had done since his return. He was proud of her and showed it plainly. He was coming to care for her, even though she was not pretty. He had been right. Beauty did not matter after all.

Oh, she would be so good, so good, and study so hard that he could not help but love her. She was so happy. His hand still lay on her arm as if he liked it to be there. A mist came into her eyes, and a lump into her throat that caused her to breathe quickly.

"Beatrice!"

"Yes, father?"

"Did you know that your Uncle Henry was very ill?"

"No; I am sorry to hear it. Are they at home?"

"Yes; they returned from Annie's mother's just as soon as Henry began to feel bad. He must have the utmost quiet. Even I am not allowed to see him. And, Beatrice--"

"Yes, father?" spoke Bee again.

"Adele must go away while he is so ill." Doctor Raymond spoke with some hesitation. "Her mother wished her to stay with her grandmother, but she is very unhappy at her separation from you, and she wishes to come here.

I wished to bring her with me today, but Annie insisted that you should be consulted upon the matter first. You can have no objection, surely."

"Father!" Anguish and appeal were in Bee's voice. She turned from him and covered her face with her hands.