"Yes, I see, father," she said wearily. She was beginning to feel very tired. The reaction of the unusual emotion was having its effect. "You are just like everybody else. You talk of mind and disposition easily enough, but you succumb to beauty at first sight. At school it was the same. All of us were made to toe the mark except Adele. Nothing was ever expected of her but to be beautiful. I did not care until you came, and were disappointed in me. Then I tried protective mimicry, but it wasn't successful."
"What do you know about protective mimicry?" he asked.
"It's where one animal puts on the form of another animal to protect itself from enemies," answered Bee. "I thought that if I could make myself like Adele you would come to care for me."
"And was that what caused you to bleach your hair, and change your complexion?"
"Yes, father. You would not notice me, so I just had to do something. And now it's no use."
"I am not so sure about that." Doctor Raymond began to laugh. "You have worked upon the principle held by some great men, Beatrice. Henry Ward Beecher used to say: 'If you can't make people love you, make them hate you. Anything is better than indifference.'"
"Oh, father!" cried the unhappy girl, bursting into tears. "Have I made you hate me?"
"Nonsense! Of course not. I only meant--"
"A gen'man to see you, sah," announced Aunt Fanny at this inopportune moment, and the entomologist was obliged to leave the room.
"Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers--gray heliotrope, And sweet white clover, and shy mignonette--Comes faintly in, and the silent chorus lends To the pervading symphony of peace."
Doctor Raymond's visitor proved to be a fellow naturalist who became so interested in his host's rare specimens that he spent the entire day examining them. Beatrice passed the time in her own room, loath to subject herself to curious eyes.
Aunt Fanny came up after a time with a second lot of jimpson leaves which she proceeded to make into a poultice despite the girl's protestations.
"Yer mus', honey," insisted the negress. "I'se done been down ter Miss Browne's, an' she say hit air de onliest thing ter do. She say hats turn yaller 'fore deys bleached, an' hit's de same wid yer skin. Dis'll be de las' time."