Bee and Butterfly Part 13

"I just believe that it heard father," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed she, as the coveted insect winged its way in the direction of town. "I don't care, I'll follow it, anyway."

The naturalist and his daughter in pursuit of insects had become a common sight to the people of Louisiana, and so the bareheaded, flushed maiden in breathless pursuit of a beautiful b.u.t.terfly caused only a few persons to look after her curiously. Onward went the b.u.t.terfly. Just as the town was reached it began to rise in its flight, and Beatrice realized that it was her last chance, for it would soon be lost over the housetops. She made an upward leap, and by a fortunate sweep of the net succeeded in capturing the prize.

"Bravo!" exclaimed a voice, and she looked around in some confusion to discover a boy gazing at her with admiring eyes. "I think that's pretty good for a girl."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I THINK THAT'S PRETTY GOOD FOR A GIRL."]

"Oh! indeed!" cried Bee heatedly. "Could you have done any better yourself, even though you are a boy?"

"I don't know," replied the lad coolly. "I never wanted a b.u.t.terfly bad enough to try it."

"I don't believe that you ever even chased one in your life," said the girl, staring at him scornfully. "You look a namby-pamby sort."

The boy's face flushed. He was all of thirteen years old, but despite the fact was garbed in black velvet knickerbockers, a ruffled white blouse, long black stockings with low, ribbon-tied shoes, and had a silken sash knotted about his waist. Worst of all, to the girl's mind, he wore his hair in curls which fell far down upon his shoulders.

"If you were a boy I'd fight you for that," cried the urchin angrily, clenching his fists.

"Pooh!" sniffed Bee, turning up her nose. "I would not be afraid of such a baby if I were six times a boy. Where's your mother?"

"She's home, asleep. What's yours thinking about that she lets you go wild like this? My mother said, when she saw you running through the fields one day, that she wondered what kind of a woman she could be to let you go like that. Where is she?"

"She is dead," answered the girl in a low voice. "I think your mother is horrid."

"She isn't. She's lovely. Everybody says so. I am sorry that yours is dead. You can't help being rude, of course, if you have no mother. Who looks after you?"

"Why, father, of course," answered Bee. "And I am not rude."

"What makes you run after b.u.t.terflies and things, then?" demanded he sternly. "I saw you one day, and you had a worm--a great, ugly worm--in your hand."

Beatrice gave way to a burst of laughter.

"A worm?" cried she mirthfully. "Oh, you poor little thing! You don't know anything, do you? That was not a worm. It was a caterpillar."

"Well; what's the difference?"

"A true worm never turns into an insect," she informed him. "It goes creeping around through life, a worm and nothing more; while a caterpillar changes at last into a beautiful b.u.t.terfly, or moth. This was a caterpillar once," she ended, raising the net with her captured prize for his inspection.

"You are a strange girl," observed the boy. "I never knew one before who cared about such things. Where did you learn it?"

"I get it from my father," responded she with pride. "He is Doctor William Raymond, a noted lepidopterist. He has been all over the world just to study b.u.t.terflies. What does your father do?"

"Haven't got any." The boy thrust his hands into his pockets, and stared at her cheerfully.

"Haven't you? I am so sorry. It must be dreadful to be without a father," spoke Bee with genuine commiseration.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess from what I've heard that they are pretty much of a nuisance. You see they always want to handle the cash, and my mother and I would rather keep that in our own hands."

"I don't care to talk with you any longer," remarked Bee, turning away from him. "You say such awful things. My father isn't a nuisance, whatever yours may have been."

"Say! I didn't mean your father. I don't know anything about him. He may be all right. I never knew a father who was a lepi--what do you call 'em? They may be different. Does he let you have the money?"

"Of course not," answered Bee indignantly. "He gives me an allowance that I can spend as I please."

"That's all right. I think that is the proper thing," declared the lad, anxious to propitiate her. "It wouldn't do for me, you know, because I'm a man."

"A pretty poor sort of one," flashed the girl. She started to go back into the road, intending to go on to the postoffice, when the boy called imploringly:

"Don't go yet. I like you even if you do catch b.u.t.terflies and worms.

Come over and see me; won't you?

"I don't visit boys," loftily. "Besides, I don't know where you live."

"We live in the big white house just beyond you," he told her in an injured tone. "You people are so inhospitable. I thought Missouri folks were nice to strangers. My mother feels bad about it. We have been here a whole month, and you haven't even noticed that we lived next to you."

"We have not been home very long ourselves," explained Bee, touched by the allusion to Missouri. "You see, my father has been away from me for a long, long time, and we have been so busy getting acquainted with each other that we have not paid much attention to other people. Perhaps we will come over to see you. I'll ask him. I must go on now; so, good-bye."

"I'll just go along with you," said the boy, swinging into step by her side. "You see my pony lost a shoe, and I had to wait for him to be shod, so I walked out here a ways when I saw you coming. I'll just take you back in my cart. It is a long, hot walk."

"Will you?" asked Bee gratefully. It was a long distance, and after the chase the b.u.t.terfly had given her she was glad of the offer. "It is very kind of you."

"Oh, that's all right," he said in an offhand manner. "I like to be obliging to my friends; and we are going to be friends, you know."

"Are we?" asked Bee, laughing outright. "Why, how do you know that you will care to be after you know me?"

"We've got to be," he replied. "We live next to each other, and it would be so convenient. I made up my mind that we'd be friends when I first saw you."

"But you said that I was rude," reminded Bee. "I shouldn't think that you would want to be friends with a rude girl."

"You said a few things, too," he retorted, laughing. "Are you going in here?" as Bee stopped before the postoffice. "Then I'll bring the cart here. Be sure you wait."

He scampered away, and Bee entered the office. There was a letter for her father, and the girl congratulated herself that the offer of the ride would enable her to get it to him quickly. She was anxious, too, to show him that she had succeeded with the b.u.t.terfly. She had not long to wait until her new-found acquaintance appeared with his pony and cart.

"This is not really my pony," the boy told her as he a.s.sisted her into the cart. "The cart is mine, but my mother just hired the pony until she could find one to suit. Though this one is pretty nice."

"Indeed it is," remarked Beatrice approvingly, as the little pony started off at a brisk pace. "Why don't you get this one?"

"They won't sell," said the boy. "I can have it until the fellow to whom it belongs comes home. He's away now."

"I see," said she. And thus chatting she soon reached home. "I thank you very, very much," she said as she jumped out. "I do hope that we shall be friends."

"And you didn't ask my name," reproached the urchin. "No; I shan't tell you now. If you want to know, just come over. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye," she called after him. "I certainly shall come over to find out. I want to know."

"So your chase led you to the office after all," laughed her father as she ran into the study, taking the net and the letter from her at the same time. "I had no idea that you would catch it. You have done well, though I am sorry that you had such a long, hot, dusty walk."

"I did not walk back, father. We have a new neighbor in the white house, and the boy brought me home in his pony cart." Bee sank into a chair and began to fan herself, watching him as he carefully removed the b.u.t.terfly from the bag, and placed it in the poison jar. "Isn't it a beauty?"