"It's shamming," said Doctor Raymond with a laugh. "That is one of the tricks of The Painted Beauty. If we leave it alone for a few seconds we shall find that it will come to life again."
He took the creature from her and laid it gently on the grass. They waited, watching it curiously. All at once the apparently lifeless butterfly began a slight vibration of its wings. Suddenly it rose and was gone; as strong and free as ever.
Adele clapped her hands in delight, and Bee smiled. She was acquainted with the butterfly, and had seen the trick before.
"I never saw anything so cunning in all my life," cried Adele. "Are all butterflies as cute, Uncle William?"
"Not all; but the most of them have marvelous life histories. Come, girls! we must not loiter. We have two calls to make, you know."
"A thousand flowers, By the road-side and the borders of the brook, Nod gayly to each other; glossy leaves Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew Were on them yet, and silver waters break Into small waves and sparkle as he comes."
"Thanky, honies, yer moughty good ter an ole worman. Thanky kindly." Old Rachel beamed upon the two girls from the depths of a rocker, her black face shining with delight at sight of all the good things they had brought.
"Have you been sick long, Aunt Rachel?" asked Bee, putting jelly, chicken, and other delicacies upon the only table the cabin afforded.
"Bress ye, chile! I ain't what yer call sick. Jest a-ailin' like. Dat's all. I went ter my son's in Possum Holler fer a spell, an' I ain't been right peart sence. But I'll be as spry as eber purty soon."
"Well, we will look after you until you are," spoke the girl gently.
"Yes, honey. I'll 'pend on you all ter look aftha me. I was moughty good ter yer ma. She'd 'prove of yer lookin' aftah ole Rachel. 'Deed she would." The old woman kept her eyes fixed on Adele as she talked. "Is yer a fairy, er an angel, honey?" she asked.
"Neither," Adele laughed gaily. "I am just a common, everyday girl, Aunt Rachel."
"No, honey. 'Scuse me. No common ebbery day ga lain't a-gwinge ter look like yer. Does dey, Miss Bee?"
"No, indeed," answered Beatrice. "Now Aunt Rachel, I'll bring or send you something every day, and father said to tell you that he was going to have the doctor look in on you."