Читать книгу Bee and Butterfly: A Tale of Two Cousins - Lucy Foster Madison - Страница 10

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"As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country."

—Proverbs.

"Suppose there shouldn't be a letter," remarked Adele suggestively as the cousins entered the postoffice. "What would you do?"

"But there will be," answered Bee confidently. "In all the years that he has been away father has not failed to send me a letter once a month. Even though it may not be an answer to my last, I'll get a letter."

She was not disappointed. There was a letter for her, and Adele received one also.

"Let's hurry to the old elm tree so that we can read them," cried Adele. "I wonder who mine's from? I didn't expect a letter."

Beatrice assented readily. The old elm tree stood by the side of the road just outside the town and was a favorite resting place for pedestrians. It did not take the girls long to reach the spot, so eager were they to read their letters. Beatrice threw herself down on the grass without ceremony, and tore open her epistle. Adele sank down with a graceful and effective arrangement of her draperies. Before she had quite completed the adjustment she was startled by an exclamation from her cousin.

"What is it, Bee?" she asked, looking up curiously.

"He is coming home," cried Bee jumping up and dancing about wildly. "Oh, my father is coming home!"

"Is he?" ejaculated Adele excitedly. "What does he say? Do be quiet, Bee? Sit down and read me the letter, or let me read it."

"I'll read it to you," answered Bee, kissing the missive rapturously. "I'll read it in a minute. Oh, oh, oh! I'm so happy I could fly."

She grew quiet presently, however, and seating herself again, began to read:

"Cairo, Egypt,

May 16th, 19—.

"My dear Little Daughter:—

"When you receive this letter your father will be nearer to you than he has been for many a day. Child, I am coming home. Yes; after all these years I am returning to you. How long I shall remain is problematical, as I have not yet completed my investigation of the Lepidoptera of tropical countries. However, that is a matter that may be left to the future.

"Another two years would have terminated my task, but such a longing has come to me to behold my little daughter who must now be almost a woman that I have dropped everything, and am coming to her as swiftly as steam can carry me.

"No doubt you have often wondered that I should have left you, and the subject has been too painful to me to discuss; but now, you are old enough to understand my reasons. When your mother died she left a void in my life that nothing but the most engrossing occupation could make me forget. Change of scene was an absolute necessity for me; and so, when Union University wished to send an entomologist to study the habits of Moths and Butterflies of other countries, I was glad indeed when it was proposed that I should be the one to go. You were but five years old, and needed a woman's care more than mine, so I left you with your uncle's family. I still think it was the best thing I could have done.

"I thought that it would be an easy matter to stay away for twelve, or even more years, but lately there have come to me sweet visions of a daughter's companionship, and Nature will no longer be denied. It is partly your letters which have wrought this change. They have been so bright, so clever, so amusing, that you must have a mind of unusual intelligence. I said 'partly your letters'; for the receipt of your photograph completed what the letters had begun.

"I can not resist the winsomeness of your picture, so I am coming back to get acquainted with you, and perhaps we shall discover a mutual companionship and affection.

"Are you like your mother, I wonder, or do you take after me? I can not tell by your picture, but I think—No; I shall not tell you what I think until I see you.

"So, little girl, get your aunt and uncle to go over to our house to open it up, and to make it habitable for living. If nothing happens I shall be with you on the evening of the Fifteenth of June. I am writing Henry, also, by this mail.

"Hoping to see you soon, I am

"Your most loving father,

"William Raymond."

"He is coming," ended Bee with a little sob. "My own, own father."

"I am glad," spoke Adele, but her voice was weak as she said it. Into her face had come a look of dismay as Bee read what her father had said of the "winsomeness of the picture." An impulse came to her to confess to her cousin what she had done, but she was fearful of what Bee might say. She had not thought that it would have this effect. And so she sat quieter than her wont while Bee gave vent to her delight.

"You don't know how I've felt at times, Adele," said Bee. "I've almost envied you your father. When Uncle Henry has kissed you, and petted and indulged you it hasn't seemed fair that I couldn't have my father. But I never told you before, and I didn't tell any one. I knew father wouldn't stay away unless he thought it was right, and I see now just why he did it. I'll tell him that I don't blame him a bit. And we'll just love each other all the more for being apart so long."

And so, with tears and laughter mingling together, Bee rejoiced. A meadow lark flew, across the road, alighted on a twig and sang to them. An oriole peeped at them saucily from his perch on a near-by tree, then whistled playfully, "Sweet, do you hear? Sweet, sweet, do you hear?" And Bee threw back her head caught his note, and answered joyfully, "I hear. I hear. Sweet, sweet."

"How much Uncle William thinks of you, Bee," observed Adele presently. "And he seems to be so pleased with your mind. Scientific people think so much of intellect, don't they?"

"I wonder if they do?" mused Bee. "I don't believe that they are much different from other people. And after all it is not my mind that is bringing him home, but my picture. Oh, I wish that I had sent it long ago."

Adele winced. "He'll find you awfully clever, Bee."

"You dear!" exclaimed Bee leaning forward to kiss her. "You are just as sweet as you are pretty."

"Sue Ford said the other day that I was sweet because I did not have sense enough to be anything else," observed Adele.

"The mean thing!" cried Bee. "Sue says lots of things, although I am glad that she said what she did about father's not knowing me. If she had not said that I would have thought that my picture was not good enough to send, and father wouldn't be coming home. Still, I don't like her saying that you have no sense."

"Oh, I don't mind," said Adele, biting a blade of grass meditatively. After all, it did not matter so much about the picture. When her Uncle William came she would tell them that she did it for fun, and they would have a good laugh. Bee wouldn't mind at all when her father was really with her. So, quite restored to her usual complacency, she continued; "I know that I am not clever like you, or Sue, or some of the other girls; and when I see how worried you get over your examinations I am glad that I'm not. Bee, does Uncle William know that you have studied up butterflies?"

"No; I was going to tell him when I answered this letter. I expect that he will laugh at my specimens. Dear father!"

She lingered over the word as though she liked to say it. All at once she rose with a little cry. "We must go home, Adele. Aunt Annie ought to know about father at once, so that she can make the necessary arrangements about going to Walnut Grove. To think of being in my own home with my own father so soon!"

"Bee," said Adele slipping her arm through her cousin's as they walked homeward, "will you let me wear your new hat Sunday?"

"Yes;" assented Bee abstractedly. She was accustomed to having Adele wear her new things, though Adele did not wish to lend her own.

"And your bracelet?" went on Adele, seeing that Bee was too absorbed to care what she promised.

"Anything you wish, Adele," answered Beatrice impatiently. "Only let's hurry. Aunt Annie won't like it if we loiter too long after knowing about father."

Adele complied willingly, and the rest of the distance was accomplished quickly. Bee paused at the orchard gate.

"Listen how the birds are singing," she cried. "Do you suppose that they know that father is coming?"

"You goosey!" laughed her cousin. "They were singing when we went out."

"Not like this, Adele. Just listen!"

A riot of happiness in quivering bursts of song came from the leafy boughs of the trees. Cardinal, oriole, tawny thrush and gold-finch seemed to vie with each other in pouring forth the sweetest melody.

"How happy they are," cried Bee. "Almost as happy as I am. And it was just here that the butterfly lighted on my head. I'll always believe that omen after this because I did have good news. Why, there is auntie!"

"What news, children?" called Mrs. Raymond as she came through the trees toward them.

"The best in the world," answered Beatrice waving her letter excitedly. "Father is coming home! He will be here by the Fifteenth of June, and we are to go over to our house to get things ready for him. Will you go? Will Uncle Henry be able to leave court, and come too?"

"William coming home?" Mrs. Raymond stopped in her surprise. "Is it possible? What does he say? Let me read the letter."

"Here it is," cried Bee handing it to her. "He is really coming. Oh, aren't you glad, glad?"

"Indeed I am. For all our sakes, but most of all for yours. I have thought for some time that it was his duty, and I am glad that he sees it at last."

"Bee is awfully keen to leave us," spoke Adele reproachfully. "You will have to live with your father now, Bee, and you won't be with me at all."

"You won't lose me quite, Adele." Bee was surprised and touched by the speech. It was not often that her cousin showed so much affection for her as she had done that day. "The only difference will be that we won't be in the same house. Walnut Grove is near enough to see each other often. Won't we have good times together? I am so happy!"

"Henry will be pleased too," smiled her aunt. "I presume he has his letter already. Bee, you will tire yourself if you keep capering about so. You don't remember your father at all, do you?"

"Yes;" answered Bee with passionate intentness. "Of course, I know him from his letters, and then I remember how he used to carry me. His eyes are dark, but he doesn't look a bit like me. I know that he is handsome, and distinguished, and oh, I'd know him anywhere!"

"Well, he is all that, but you must have heard us speak of it. You were but five when he left, and could not possibly remember all those things. We must go over to the Grove tomorrow, I think, to see what is to be done. Henry can come when court adjourns. There won't be any too much time to get everything in readiness. The house has been closed for so long that there will be a great deal to do. Servants must be hired for both house and grounds."

"I don't want any servants, auntie," protested her niece. "I want to keep house for father myself. You know that he wanted me to learn, and I want him to see how well I can do it."

"That is all very well, Beatrice, but you must have a strong capable woman to help you," said Mrs. Raymond decidedly. "William Raymond is a fastidious man, and there must be an experienced cook in the kitchen."

"How much you know about him," murmured Bee half enviously. "Tell me everything you can, auntie."

"Come into the house then. We will have lunch, and devote the whole afternoon to William. We could have no more delightful subject," declared the lady, willing for once to indulge Bee's insatiable desire to hear all she could about her father. "I am quite sure that it will be but a repetition of what I have already told you many times, but you will listen with new interest today."