Bee and Butterfly Part 27

Wondering where Mrs. Medulla was Bee sat down. She knew the iron of ridicule had sunk deep into Percival's soul, and she feared for the result. If his mother would but enter soon, the girl reflected, she need not feel any responsibility in the matter. As the moments glided by, however, and no Mrs. Medulla appeared, she was a.s.sailed by a sense of uneasiness.

"What do you think of these?" exclaimed Percival, bounding into the room presently. "Look, Beefly! Aren't they great?"

Somewhere the boy had unearthed a pair of long trousers, a coat, and a real shirt with collar and tie. He whirled about for her inspection delightedly.

"Not much Fauntleroy about these, eh?" he said complacently. "What do you think of them?"

Bee was so relieved that she laughed outright.

"You don't look like the same boy, Percival. Do you think you could play your violin in those clothes?"

"Why of course I can," he declared. "I'll show you; but first--"

He ran to his mother's machine, and opening a drawer took out a pair of large shears. Bee ran toward him quickly.

"You must not do that, Percival," she cried. "Oh, where is your mother?"

"My mother has gone into town," answered Percival with a swagger. "I'll settle with her. Now, Beefly, you cut off that hair."

"I will not, Percival," answered Bee emphatically. "Do wait until your mother comes back. Do, Percival; like a dear fellow."

But Master Percival raised the shears, and--snip! Off went a curl.

Another and another followed; the lad watching the result of the snipping in the mirror. As the last clip sounded Bee gave a gasp at the result.

"What will your mother say?" she cried, wishing herself anywhere but in the Medulla sitting room. "Oh! what will she say?"

"It's all right," declared Percival st.u.r.dily, though it must be confessed that he was slightly dismayed himself. "At least it would be if it were even. Do cut it straight for me, Beefly."

He thrust the shears into her hand as he spoke, and turned his back to her. "Now hurry, and cut it even," he said.

"Percival, are you here?" Mrs. Medulla opened the door at this unfortunate moment, and walked in. "I have brought you something nice from town. Guess--Why!"

She stopped short at sight of the pair. Like a culprit Beatrice stood with the shears in her hand, while Percival seemed stricken dumb. The lady's gaze concentrated upon her son's clipped head. For a long instant the three stood as though incapable of speech; then the mother spoke, and Bee shivered at the severity of her tones:

"Beatrice, what are you doing with those shears? Surely you did not cut Percival's hair?"

Chapter XX

Bee Is Disappointed in Percival

"If lives were always merry, Our souls would seek relief, And rest from weary laughter In the quiet arms of grief."

--_Henry Van d.y.k.e._

"Why, why," stammered Bee, so astonished by the lady's words that she could scarcely speak. She glanced down at the incriminating shears which she held in her hand, then at Percival, expecting that the lad would instantly tell how the affair had occurred, and so absolve her from blame. To her amazement the boy did not utter a word, but stood gazing at his mother as though fascinated. It came to Beatrice with something of a shock that he was frightened.

"Which one of you did it?" demanded Mrs. Medulla, turning first to the boy and then to the girl. "Why, oh why, was it done? Don't you know, Beatrice, that this will end all engagements for the winter? Percival knew it. He would not have the hardihood to do such a thing by himself.

It must have been you. You should not have done it. No manager wants a boy without curls."

"Oh," murmured Bee. She looked at Percival beseechingly, but the boy, usually so ready with excuses still stood mute.

"Have I been mistaken in you after all, Beatrice," went on the lady, surprised at the girl's continued silence. "You seemed to have such an excellent influence upon Percival heretofore that it grieves me to find that my estimate of your character is wrong. I did not dream that you would incite him to mischief of any sort. I can not understand it. A thing of this nature, upon which so much depended, should not have been done without consulting me. Percival has not been kept in curls and knickerbockers without a reason. I know he has rebelled at times, but he knew the necessity. Didn't you know this, Beatrice?"

"No;" uttered Bee helplessly. "I didn't know. I--"

"You did know, however, that you should have kept him from such an act until my return," said the mother, who was very near tears. "Why did you not?"

It has been said that Beatrice was possessed of that peculiar sense of honor that is common among boys, where one will suffer an unjust accusation rather than tell upon another. She was like a boy in many ways: frank, direct, and scornful of tattling; so now she stood silent while the lady waited, perplexed by what seemed to be an obstinate refusal to answer.

"I shall have to report this to your father, Beatrice," she said presently, with sorrow. "Perhaps he will be more successful in obtaining an explanation from you than I have been. We will go to him. Percival, do you remain where you are. I will deal with you upon my return."

She caught Beatrice by the arm and hurried her out of the house, through the fields to her own home. Doctor Raymond sat with Adele in the library. He glanced up in some astonishment at their abrupt entrance.

"Doctor Raymond," began Mrs. Medulla at once, her usually even tones tense with excitement, "do you know what your daughter has done?"

"Nothing serious, I hope, madam," he replied with a quick glance at Beatrice.

"It is serious, doctor. Very serious for us. She has cut off Percival's curls. Do you realize the meaning of such an act? It means that no manager will book him for an engagement. People don't care for a boy musician without curls."

Involuntarily Doctor Raymond's eyes wandered to Adele, who sat watching the scene with troubled countenance. She was daintily arrayed as was her custom, and looked sweet, charming, and ladylike. All that a girl should be she appeared to be. A slight, a very slight sigh escaped him. Slight as it was, however, his daughter heard it. She saw plainly what was pa.s.sing in his mind, and it was all that she could do to restrain control of herself.

"If Beatrice did this I can not believe that she realized the full import of the action," he said gravely. "And while I do not wish to palliate the offense, I fear that you exaggerate the effect upon your engagements. Your son plays wonderfully well, Mrs. Medulla, and should not be dependent upon the mere adjunct of curls for an audience."

"Doctor Raymond," spoke the lady earnestly, "I know whereof I speak when I say that it will be years before Percival can appear before an audience again. As an Infant Prodigy he was remarkable. As a boy no manager will take him. There is no between-period with performers. One must be a prodigy, or a man genius, to command attention. I can not understand why Beatrice should do it, and I can get no explanation from either her or Percival."

"Why did you do it, my daughter?" asked the scientist.

But Beatrice was past speaking. Something in her throat choked her. She looked down suddenly to find that she still held the shears in her hand.

How could any one believe otherwise than that she had cut the boy's curls when she held the telltale scissors in her hand?

"Why?" asked her father again, but still she did not answer. "Do you remember what I said about my forgiveness of your carelessness depending upon your future conduct, Beatrice?"

Bee nodded, battling hard to keep back the tears. She did not wish to get Percival into trouble, yet she was not willing that her father should think that she would be capable of doing anything that would bring harm to Mrs. Medulla. Presently, obtaining the mastery of her emotion, she crossed swiftly to his side and laid her hand timidly upon his arm.

"Father," she cried pleadingly, "please don't ask me to tell you anything about the matter. I--I can't."

"Why, Beatrice?"

The girl did not reply. She only gazed at him with mutely appealing eyes.

"Is it because it would involve another in the telling?" he asked abruptly, stirred, perhaps, by a remembrance of his own youth.

"Yes," whispered Bee. "Please, please, father, don't ask anything more."

"Suppose we let the affair rest until tomorrow, Mrs. Medulla," suggested he, turning to the lady. "It is my opinion that neither Beatrice nor Percival realized what they were doing. Perhaps both are laboring under some natural agitation in consequence as the matter seems to be fraught with more serious results than they thought. You would better go to your room, my daughter."