A HIVE of BUSY BEES
Effie M. Williams
TABLE OF CONTENTS
How It Happened
The Sting of the Bee
Bee Obedient
Bee Honest
Bee Truthful
Bee Kind
Bee Polite
Bee Gentle
Bee Helpful
Bee Grateful
Bee Loving
Bee Content
Bee Prayerful
Home Again
How It Happened
[Illustration: Children looking out a window.]
"The sun's gone under a cloud," called Grandpa cheerily over his shoulder,
as he came into the dining room.
Grandma, following close behind, answered laughingly, "Why, my dear,
this is the brightest day we've had for two weeks!"
"But look at Don's face," said Grandpa soberly, "and Joyce's too, for
that matter"--glancing from one to the other.
"Children, children," said Grandma kindly, "do tell us what is wrong."
No answer.
"Only," said Daddy at last, "that they are thinking about next summer."
Grandpa threw back his white head, then, and laughed his loud, hearty
laugh. "You little trouble-borrowers," he cried, "worrying about next
summer! Why, only day before yesterday was Christmas; and by the looks
of the dolls, and trains, and picture-books lying all over the house--"
"But, Grandpa," said Don in a small voice, trying not to cry, "summer
will be here before we know it--you said so this morning yourself; and
Daddy says he's going north on a fishing trip--"
"--And so," added Joyce sorrowfully, "Don and I can't go to the farm and
stay with you as we did last year, and the year before last, and every
year since we can remember."
Joyce looked anxiously from one face to another. Daddy's eyes were
twinkling. Mother looked rather sorry, and so did Grandma. But she knew
at once, by the look on Grandpa's face that _he_ understood. He only
nodded his white head wisely. "I see," he said. And some way, after that,
Joyce felt that it would come out all right.
It did.
On the last morning that Grandpa and Grandma were there, Daddy said at
the breakfast table--quite suddenly, as if he had just thought of it--
"Mother, suppose we let the children choose for themselves. You and I
will go to the lake next summer, and catch the big fish; but if they
would be happier on the old farm, why--"
"Oo-oo-ooh!" cried Joyce delightedly. "Don, you and I may go to Grandpa's
house next summer, if we like!"
"How do you know?" said Don rather crossly. "Daddy hasn't said that we
could."
"Why, he said it just now--didn't you, Daddy?"
"Not exactly; but that's what I was going to say," said Daddy, smiling
into Joyce's shining eyes.
After that, it wasn't a bit hard to tell Grandpa and Grandma good-by.
"Only until next summer," whispered Joyce when she kissed Grandma for
the last time.
Long months followed, but June came at last. One happy day the children
came home and threw their books down on the table; and Don raced through
the house singing the last song he had learned at school:
"School is done! school is done!
Toss up caps and have a run!"
"And now," said Mother that night, "we must begin to get ready for our
trips. Are you sure, children, that you still want to go to Grandma's?"
"Sure!" whooped Don, dancing about the room; while Joyce answered quietly,
"You know, Mother, that nothing could ever change my mind."
"Very well," said Mother. "Tomorrow we must go shopping, for you will
need some new clothes--good, dark colored clothes to work and play in,
so Grandma won't have to be washing all summer."
What fun they had in the days that followed! Mother's sewing machine
hummed for many hours every day. And at last she got out the little trunk
and began to carefully pack away the neatly folded gingham dresses, the
blue shirts and overalls, a few toys and other things she knew the
children would need. A letter had already been written to Grandma, telling
her when to meet them at the station. And she had written back, promising
to be there at the very minute.
When the great day came, the children were so excited they could hardly
eat any breakfast. Mother wisely remembered that when she packed their
lunch-box. The last minute, they ran across the street to tell their
playmates good-by. When they came back, Daddy had brought the car to the
front of the house and was carrying out the little trunk. Mother was
already waiting in the car.
It was getting near train time, so Daddy quickly drove off to the station.
He bought the children's tickets, had the trunk checked, and then he
gave Joyce some money to put into the new red purse Mother had given her
as a parting gift. He slipped a few coins into Don's pocket, too, and
the little boy rattled and jingled them with delight. How grown-up he felt!
The children were very brave, until the train whistled and they knew
they must say good-by. Joyce could not keep the tears back, as she threw
her arms around her mother's neck; but she brushed them away and smiled.
"Joyce, dear," Mother was saying, "I am expecting you to be my good,
brave little daughter. Take care of Don. Remember to pray every day--and
be sure to write to Mother."
Joyce promised; and then, almost before the children knew what was
happening, they were aboard the train, the engine was puffing, the wheels
were grinding on the rails, and they were speeding along through the
green countryside.
Joyce was trying very hard to be brave, for Don's sake. But a lump _would_
keep coming in her throat, when she thought of Mother standing beside
the train and waving her handkerchief as it moved away.
Although Joyce was only twelve herself, she really began to feel quite
like a mother to eight-year-old Don. She must try to help him forget his
loneliness. Soon they were looking out the window; and what interesting
sights were whirling past! First there was a big flock of chickens; then
some calves in a meadow, running away from the train in a great fright.
A flock of sheep with their little lambs frolicked on a green hillside;
and a frisky colt kicked up its heels and darted across the pasture as
the train went by.
By and by, in her most grown-up way, Joyce looked at the watch on her
wrist. It was just noon, so she opened the lunch-box; and dainty sandwiches
and fruit soon disappeared. But they saved two big slices of Mother's
good cake--to take to Grandma and Grandpa.
After lunch, the train seemed to creep along rather slowly. But at last
it stopped at the station where Grandma had promised to meet them. And
sure enough, there stood Grandpa with his snowy hair and his big broad
smile. Grandma was waiting nearby in the car.
It was late afternoon when they reached the old farmhouse, and Grandma
soon had supper ready. After supper, Joyce helped to clear away the
dishes; and then the little trunk was unpacked.
Grandma was watching keenly, to see if the children were lonely. "Now,"
she said briskly, "it is milking time. Run down the lane, children, and
let the bars down for the cows to come through the lot; and we will give
them a good drink of water."
Away scampered Joyce and Don; and soon the cows were standing at the
trough and Grandpa was pumping water for them.
"Let us pump!" cried Joyce.
"Fine!" said Grandpa--"that will be your job every evening--to water the
cows."
After that, they watched the foaming milk stream into the shiny pails;
and then they all went into the house together. It was almost dark now;
two sleepy children said their prayers, and Grandma soon had them tucked
snugly in bed.
The Sting of the Bee
[Illustration: The Sting of the Bee.]
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" called Don in a shrill voice, dancing into his
sister's room.
Joyce opened her eyes and looked about her. The bright morning sunlight
was streaming in through the little pink-and-white curtains. "Wh--where
am I?" she asked sleepily, seeing Don standing there.
"Where _are_ you?" cried Don merrily. "Why, on the farm, of course!
Don't you hear that old rooster telling you to get up? There he is,"
he added, pulling aside the curtain. "He is stretching himself, and
standing on his tiptoes. Grandpa says he's saying, 'Welcome to the farm,
Don and Joyce!' Do hurry and get up! We must go out and help Grandpa do
the milking."
Half an hour later, Grandma called two hungry children in to breakfast.
After that, they were busy and happy all the morning long. Joyce helped
Grandma to wash the dishes and tidy the house, and Don followed close
at Grandpa's heels as he did his morning's work about the farm. He felt
very grown-up indeed when a neighbor came by, and Grandpa told him he
had a "new hand."
After dinner, Grandma settled down for her afternoon's nap. Grandpa went
to help a neighbor with some work, and so the children were left alone.
They began to run races in the wide grassy space in front of the old
farm house.
But they made so much noise that soon Joyce said, "I'm afraid we will
wake Grandma, Don. We'd better be quiet."
"Let's go to the orchard," said Don. "We can be as noisy as we like
there, and she won't even hear us." So away they scampered, to play in
the shade of the old apple trees.
But Grandma's nap was not to last long; for soon she was awakened by a
scream from the orchard. Hurrying out, she found Joyce dancing up and
down, with her hand pressed tightly over one eye. Don stood watching her
with round, frightened eyes. He could not imagine what had happened, to
make his sister act like that.
But Grandma knew. Away back in the orchard, Grandpa had several hives
of bees. Joyce had gone too near one of the hives; and a bee had done
the rest.
Grandma did not say much. Quietly she took the little girl's hand and
led her back to the house. Soon Joyce was lying on the couch, and Grandma
was wringing cold water out of a cloth, and gently placing it on her
eye. Before long the pain was gone; but the eye began to swell, and soon
she was not able to see out of it at all.
"It's all my fault that we went to the orchard," said Don, looking sober.
"No, it's mine," said Joyce. "I was afraid we would wake Grandma."
"Well," laughed Grandma, "I guess it was mine, because I forgot to tell
you about the bees."
When it was time to get ready for bed that night, Grandma bathed the
swollen eye again. "I wish there were no bees, Grandma," said the little
girl suddenly.
"Why, you like honey, don't you, dear?" asked Grandma.
"Ye-es, I like honey; but I don't like bees--they sting so!"
"Bees are very interesting and hard-working little creatures," said
Grandma; "and if they are let alone, they will not harm anyone."
"I didn't mean to bother them," said Joyce, "but one stung _me_."
"That's so," said Grandma; "but they have certain rules, and you must
have broken one of them. A bee's sting is the only thing she can use to
protect the hive against intruders--and the bee that stings you always
dies. That's the price she has to pay to do her duty."
"Oh!" said Joyce, "I'm sorry I went too near. But please, Grandma, tell
me some more about bees."
"There are lots of things to learn about them," said Grandma. "They live
in queer little houses called hives. They have a queen; and if she is
stolen, or dies, they will not go on working without her. Only one queen
can live in each house; when a new queen is about to come out of her
cell, the old queen gathers her followers and they swarm.
"The queen bee lays the eggs; and when the eggs hatch, the hive is so
full of bees that it cannot hold them all. As soon as they find another
queen, some of them must move out.
"When the bees are swarming, they always take good care of their queen.
Sometimes they settle on a limb of a tree; and while they are there,
they keep their queen covered, so no one can find her. They send out
scouts to find a new home; and as soon as it is found, they all move the
re.
"Sometimes Grandpa finds the queen, and puts her in the hive. Then she
makes a sort of drumming noise, and the other bees follow her inside."
"Was it the queen bee that stung me?" asked Joyce.
"No, the queen never uses her sting except when in battle with another
queen bee; but the other bees take care of her, even if they must die
for her sake. There are different kinds of bees in the hive. Drone bees
cannot sting; and they will not work--they are lazy fellows. In the fall
they are all killed, so that during the long winter months they cannot
eat the honey which the workers have gathered.
"Bees are busy all the time. On sunny days, they gather honey; and on
cloudy days they make little wax cells in which to store the honey."
"That's why they say, 'busy as a bee,'" said Joyce. "It means 'busy all
the time.' I didn't know there was so much to learn about bees."
"I have been thinking about another kind of bee," said Grandma.
"Do they sting, like the bees in the orchard?" asked Joyce with a little
shiver.
"Their stings are much sharper," answered Grandma, "and the pain lasts
much longer. There is a hive full of these bees, and they are always
very busy. But it is bedtime now. Wait till tomorrow night, and perhaps
I shall tell you about one of them."
Ten minutes later Don fell asleep, wondering what the strange sort of
bee was like, and hoping it would never sting him as the cross bee had
stung Joyce.
Bee Obedient
"I have something to show you," said Grandma after breakfast the next
morning. "Come with me."
"Oh, a little calf!" exclaimed Don a moment later.
"Isn't he cute?" cried Joyce. "See how wobbly his legs are. What's his
name, Grandma?"
"Grandpa says he's not going to bother naming him, when he has two bright
grandchildren here on the farm," answered Grandma, smiling.
"Does he mean that _we_ can name him?" asked Joyce.
"Yes," replied Grandma, "he means just that."
"Oh, Don," cried Joyce, "what shall we call him?"
"I think Bruno is a nice name," said Don.
"So do I; we'll call him Bruno," agreed Joyce.
"I wonder if he would let me pet him," said Don, gently touching the
calf on his small white nose.
The little fellow tossed his head and wobbled over to the other side of
his mother. The children laughed merrily; and they were so interested
in watching the little creature that Grandma had to leave them and go
back to her work.
The hours passed by very quickly and very happily--there were so many
new things to do! Of course Joyce had to write a long letter to Mother,
telling her about the sting of the bee, the new little calf, and many
other interesting things.
Late in the afternoon the children remembered about the cows, and they
thought they would pump the trough full of water ahead of time. It was
such fun that they kept on pumping until the trough overflowed, and the
ground around it was all muddy.
After supper, they let down the bars for the cows to come through. The
cows had just finished drinking, when Don slipped in the mud and fell
backward right into the trough. He kicked and splashed about, trying to
get out; and Joyce got a good drenching when she tried to help him.
Grandpa had to come to the rescue, and fish him out; and then they all
had a good laugh--even Don. The children could not watch the milking
that night, because they had to go to the house and put on dry clothes.
Later in the evening, they reminded Grandma that she had promised to
tell them a story. They drew their chairs close to hers, and she began:
"It was to be a story about a bee, wasn't it? Well, this bee has a sharp
sting, and it goes very deep."
"I hope it will never sting me, then," said Joyce.
"I hope not," said Grandma. "The boy and girl in my story were stung
severely; but it was all their own fault, as you shall see.
"Anna and her brother lived near a pond, and when the cold weather came
it was great fun to skate on the ice. Oftentimes they would slide across
it on their way to school. One morning, as their mother buttoned their
coats, she said, 'Don't go across the ice this morning, children. It has
begun to thaw, and it is dangerous.'
"'No, we won't,' they promised.
"When they reached the pond, Willie said, 'Why, see, Anna, how hard and
thick the ice looks. Come on, let's slide across it.'
"Instantly the bee began to buzz about Anna's ears. 'Bz-z-z-z-z! Don't
do it!' said the bee. 'It's dangerous. You promised Mother.'
"'We'd better not, Willie,' said Anna quickly. 'We promised Mother, you
know.'
"'But Mother'll never know,' said Willie.
"'But you _promised_,' buzzed the bee again.
"'Mother thought the ice was thawing,' added Willie. 'She won't care,
when she knows it isn't. You may do as you like, Anna; but I'm going to
slide across right now.'
"When Anna saw her brother starting across the pond, she followed, in
spite of the bee. But they had gone only a little way when the ice began
to crack, and then to give way under them.
"Anna turned and hurried back to the bank; but Willie had gone too far.
She saw him go down in the icy water; and she ran to the road, screaming
at the top of her voice.
"A man was passing by at that moment. He picked up a board and ran to
the pond as fast as he could. And he reached it just in time to save
little Willie.
"Dragging the lad up on to the bank, he called loudly for someone to
come and help him. Two or three men came running; and they worked over
Willie, until at last he opened his blue eyes and asked faintly, 'Where
am I?' Then they took him home to his mother.
"She thanked God for saving the life of her disobedient boy, but the
danger was not yet past. For many weeks, Willie was a very sick little
boy. When at last they carried him downstairs, he lay on the sofa day
after day, pale and quiet--sadly changed from the merry, romping Willie
of other days. The springtime came; but it was a long time before he
could go into the woods with Anna to hunt for wild flowers or sail his
toy boats on the pond.
"There was no more school for Willie that year. As Anna trudged off alone
day after day, she seemed to hear again and again the buzzing of the bee
about her ears--'Bz-z-z-z! You promised Mother!'
"'I heard it so plainly,' she would say to herself. 'It must have been
my conscience. But I wouldn't listen--and I _almost_ lost my brother.'"
The old farmhouse kitchen was very quiet for a moment, after Grandma had
finished her story. Nothing was heard but the ticking of the
old-fashioned clock.
"I'm so glad it didn't happen--_quite_!" said Joyce at last. "What was
the bee's name, Grandma?"
"Bee Obedient," answered Grandma. "It has sometimes stung boys and girls
so deeply that the hurt has never been healed.
"But," said Grandma cheerily, "this bee will never bother you, if you
listen to its first little buzz."
"We will, Grandma, we will!" cried the children as they drifted off to
the Land of Dreams.
Bee Honest
[Illustration]
It seemed to Don that he had just fallen asleep when he heard Grandma's
cheery voice calling, "Breakfast!" He dressed as quickly as he could;
but when he got downstairs, all the others were waiting for him.
After breakfast Joyce dried the dishes for Grandma; and then she helped
with the sweeping and dusting. Don helped Grandpa to grease the wagon
and oil some harness; and he handed staples to Grandpa, while he mended
some broken places in the fence.
The children were kept busy until dinner time; but in the afternoon they
were free to do anything they liked. Today, they decided to play house
in the orchard; so they got out some of the things that Mother had packed
in the little trunk, to fix up their house.
But Don soon grew tired of that sort of play. "Let's play hide-and-seek,"
he said.
"All right," answered Joyce. "I'll run and hide, while you count to one
hundred."
Away she ran, and Don began to count. Just as he said, "Ninety-five,"
she ran to the chicken-house door. It was standing open, so she stepped
inside.
Now there was something in the chicken-house that Joyce did not expect
to find. One of Grandpa's pigs was there, rooting around in the loose
straw.
The pig was not looking for company; and he was so frightened that he
ran toward the door pell-mell. Joyce, standing just inside, was in his
way; and as he ran against her, she was lifted off her feet and thrown
on to his back. Mr. Piggy dashed wildly out of the chicken-house.
Just outside the door was a large, shallow pan full of water, which
Grandma kept there for the chickens. Joyce fell off the pig's back into
the pan of water; and then she rolled over in the dirt.
Don stopped counting when he heard her screams, and Grandma came hurrying
out. Poor Joyce! What a sight she was! And she was so frightened that
it took Grandma quite a while to quiet her sobs. But a bath and a change
of clothes made the little girl feel quite like herself again.
That evening when Grandma came up from the milking, she found the children
on the porch waiting for another story.
"Very well," said Grandma, "I shall tell you a story tonight about Bee
Honest.
"Many years ago there lived three little boys--Joe, Henry, and Charles.
They all started to school at the same time. For a long while they kept
together in their classes; and they were very good friends.
"But when they were about fourteen, two of the boys--Joe and Henry--began
to go out nights; and it was always late when they got home. Charles
stayed at home in the evening and studied his lessons for the next day,
as he had always done.
"Of course, the difference soon showed up in their school work. Charles
always knew his lessons, while Joe and Henry fell far behind.
"When examination time came, the boys begged Charles to help them.
"'No,' said Charles firmly, 'I will never do anything like that. My
mother says that my father wanted me to be honest; and I mean to be.'
"'Aw,' said Henry, 'your father has been dead a long time; and your
mother'll never know.'
"'I say there's no harm in giving a fellow a lift in his examinations,'
grumbled Joe.
"'It would be cheating,' said Charles quietly; 'or helping you to, and
that would be just as bad.' And with that he turned to his own work, and
began to write diligently.
"Of course Charles passed all his examinations with honors; and of course
Joe and Henry failed.
"After that, the boys tormented Charles in every way they could. They
called him 'Mother's honest little darling'; and when they saw him coming
they yelled, 'Go home and hang on to your mother's apron string.'
"Mother knew, by Charles' sober face, that something had gone wrong.
'What is it, son?' she asked; and Charles told her what had happened.
She told him how glad she was that he would not do wrong; and how proud
his father would be of such a son.
"'I shall never be ashamed of you,' she said, 'as long as you are perfectly
honest. Sometimes you will find it rather hard; but just wait a few
years, and you will see that it pays.'
"Charles had been almost discouraged; but Mother's words made him feel
quite strong and brave again. The next time he saw the boys, his honest
blue eyes looked straight into their faces, unashamed and unafraid. They
dropped their eyes, and hurried away as quickly as they could. They did
not bother Charles again; for the principal had heard of their actions,
and had punished them severely.
"When school was out, the boys began to think about doing something to
earn a little money. Henry was passing the drug store one day when he
noticed a sign in the window--'Boy Wanted, Apply in Person.' He went
into the store at once, and asked for the job.
"The druggist took him to a little room back of the store. 'Here,' he
said, 'is a chest of nails and bolts. You may sort them.'
"The boy worked for a while, and then he said to himself, 'What a queer
job this is!' He went back into the store and said to the druggist, 'If
that is all you have for me to do, I don't believe I want the job.'
"'Very well,' said the druggist, 'that is all I have for you to do just
now.' He paid Henry for the work he had already done, and the boy went
home.
"The druggist went back to the little room, and found bolts and nails
scattered all over the floor. He put them back in the chest; and then
he hung his sign in the window again.
"The next day Joe passed by and saw the sign; and he too went in and
asked for the job. The druggist took him to the little room and showed
him the chest of nails, and told him to sort them.
"When the boy had worked only a little while, he went back to the druggist
and said, 'Those rusty old nails are no good. Why don't you let me throw
them all away? I don't like this kind of job, anyway.'
"'All right,' said the druggist; and he paid Joe for what he had done,
and let him go. As he put the nails and bolts back in the chest he said
to himself, 'I am willing to pay more than this to find a really honest
boy.'
"Later Joe and Henry, sauntering down the street together, saw the same
sign in the window--'Boy Wanted. Apply in Person.'
"'Guess he doesn't want a boy very bad,' said Joe. 'That's no job--sorting
those old rusty things. Did you find anything in the chest besides bolts
and nails, Henry?'
"'I'm not telling _everything_ I found,' said Henry with a laugh.
"Joe looked up, puzzled and a little alarmed. 'Now I wonder--' he
began--but broke off suddenly and started to talk about something else.
"A few days later Charles passed by the drug store and saw the sign in
the window. He went in and told the druggist he would like to have the
job.
"'Are Joe and Henry friends of yours?' asked the druggist, looking at
him sharply.
"'Oh, no, sir.' replied Charles quickly. 'We used to be good friends;
but something happened between us that I don't like to tell; and they
wouldn't have anything to do with me afterward.'
"'I'm glad to hear that,' said the druggist. 'I rather think you're the
boy I want.'
"For two or three hours Charles worked steadily, now and then whistling
a snatch of tune. Then he went to the druggist and said, 'I have finished
the job you gave me. What shall I do next?'
"The druggist went to the little room to see how Charles had done his
work. The boy had found some boxes lying about; and he had placed the
bolts in one, the nails in another, and the screws in a third.
"'And see what I found!' exclaimed Charles. 'It was lying under those
old crooked bolts in the bottom of the chest.' And he handed the druggist
a five-dollar gold-piece.
"The druggist took the money and said with a smile, 'Now you may place
the bolts and screws back in the chest just as you have them arranged
in the boxes.'
"After he had done that, Charles was sent on a few errands; and then he
was dismissed for the day.
"A few days later the druggist gave Charles a key and said, 'You may
come early in the morning and open the store, and do the sweeping and
dusting.'
"At the end of the first week, when Charles received his pay-envelope,
he found the five-dollar gold-piece along with the week's wages.
"One morning not long afterward, when Charles was sweeping the floor,
he found a few pennies lying near the counter. He picked them up and
laid them on the shelf, and told the druggist about them. Another day
he found some pennies, a dime, and two nickels. These too he laid on the
shelf, telling the druggist where he had found them.
"About a month later, when he was sweeping one morning, he found a bright,
shiny new dollar. How he did wish he might keep it for himself!
"'The druggist would never know it,' whispered a tiny voice.
"But just at that instant, Bee Honest began to buzz around his ears.
'Don't forget what Mother told you,' said the bee. 'She said she would
never be ashamed of you, as long as you were perfectly honest.'
"Charles turned the shiny dollar over and over in his hand. The bee kept
on buzzing--'Never do anything that will make your mother ashamed of
you. Be honest! Be honest!'
"'Yes,' said Charles at last, 'I will.' He laid the dollar up on the
shelf; and when the druggist came in, he told him about it.
"The druggist smiled and patted him on the shoulder. 'You are an honest
boy,' was all he said. And at the end of the week, Charles found the
shiny dollar in his pay-envelope, beside his usual wages.
"A few weeks later, the druggist began to give Charles large sums of
money to take to the bank for him. 'I have found that I can trust you,
my boy,' he would say.
"Charles worked in the store all that summer; and when school opened
again, he helped the druggist mornings and evenings. His tired mother
did not have to take in so many washings now; for Charles always gave
her his money at the end of the week.
"After he had finished school, the druggist gave him a steady job in the
store, with good wages.
"'Charles,' said the druggist one day, 'do you remember the day you
sorted bolts and nails for me?'
"'Indeed I do,' answered Charles. 'How glad I was to find work that day,
so I could help my mother a little! And I shall never forget how surprised
I was when I found a five-dollar gold-piece at the bottom of the chest.'
"'I put it there on purpose,' said the druggist. 'I wanted to find out
what sort of boy you were.'
"'You did!' exclaimed the astonished boy.
"'Yes; and when you brought it to me I was pretty sure that I had found
an honest boy. But I wanted to be able to trust you with large sums of
money, so I tested you still further. I left pennies and nickels and a
dime on the floor; and last of all, a dollar. When you picked them all
up, and laid them on the shelf, and told me about them--I knew then that
I could safely trust you.'
"'I should like to ask you,' said Charles suddenly--'was there a
gold-piece lying in the bottom of that chest when Joe and Henry sorted the
nails, too?'
"'Yes,' said the druggist, 'each of them found a gold-piece there; and
each of them kept it for himself.'
"'So you lost ten dollars!' exclaimed Charles.
"'Yes, lost ten dollars hunting for an honest boy. But it was worth
it--for I found one at last!'"
"Is that the end of the story?" asked Joyce, as Grandma paused.
"Not quite," said Grandpa, who had been listening. "Tell them what
happened to Henry and Joe."
"Oh yes; I must not forget to tell you about them," said Grandma. "Soon
after Charles started working for the druggist, Henry was caught stealing
some things from a department store. He was arrested; but his father
paid the fine, so he was allowed to go free.
"But his dishonest habits soon got him into trouble again. He broke into
a house while the family was away, and stole some money. He was sent to
a reformatory for boys; and he had to stay there a long time. After that,
he never could keep a job long; for he was so dishonest that no one could
depend on him.
"Joe did not get into so much trouble in his boyhood; but after he became
a man he forged a check, and was sent to the penitentiary."
"How much better it would have been," said Joyce thoughtfully, "if Henry
and Joe had only listened to the bee in the first place."
"Yes indeed;" said Grandma, "I have often thought of that; for I am sure
the bee talked to them, as well as to Charles."
"Maybe," said little Don softly, "they didn't have a Grandma to tell
them how to be good."
"Maybe not," said Grandpa, smiling as he rose to take the little fellow
in to bed.
"Didn't they ever change into good men?" asked Joyce.
"I'm afraid not," answered Grandma. "That's the saddest part of the whole
story. They felt the sting of the bee as long as they lived."
Bee Truthful
[Illustration]
Every day Joyce and Don went out to meet the mailman; and how glad they
were this morning when he brought them a letter from Mother! Mother and
Daddy were having a good time at the lake; and there was a picture of
Daddy smiling at them, as he held up a day's catch of fish.
"What a string of fish!" exclaimed Grandpa, when they showed it to him.
"And what fine big ones they are!"
"I wish," said Don, "that we could go fishing, Grandpa."
Grandpa whispered something in his ear; and the little fellow began to
dance about and clap his hands.
"What is it?" asked Joyce excitedly.
"Only that we're going fishing tomorrow," said Grandpa. "We'll start out
bright and early in the morning, take our lunch, and spend the day at
the river."
Joyce and Grandma were busy all morning about the house; and in the
afternoon they baked cookies, and got the lunch as nearly ready as they
could for the trip. Grandpa and Don went out to the garden to dig bait.
They soon had a can full of worms; and then Don found a larger can, and
filled that, too. When Grandpa said they had enough, Don covered the
worms with loose dirt and set the cans out in the shed. Then they got
out the fishing tackle.
Late in the afternoon, Grandma called the children and asked them to
catch a chicken for her, so she could get it ready for their picnic
lunch.
The children asked if they might pick off the feathers. They had watched
Grandma do it so many times, they thought it would be an easy job. But
when they tried it, they found it was not so easy after all. They turned
the chicken round and round, picking first in one place and then in
another. It took them a long time to get all the feathers off.
Then Grandma cut up the chicken and put it in a crock, and took it to
the spring house to keep it cool. "I will fry it in the morning," she said.
How quickly the day passed by! It was already time to do the evening
chores. Grandma was trying to teach the brown and white calf to drink
milk from a pail. Grandpa was busy in the barn, so she called the children
to come and help her.
The calf was kept in a lot near the orchard. "I want you to drive him
to the corner of the fence for me," said Grandma. "Then I will try to
coax him to drink the milk."
But the little creature was not so easy to manage. As soon as they had
driven him into the corner, he would back away; and off he would go
again, across the lot.
After this had happened several times, Don said, "Just wait, Grandma;
when we get him into the corner again, I will hold him there."
So the next time, he grabbed the calf about the neck and jumped on his
back. Instantly the calf turned and galloped across the lot. When he
reached the farther side, he turned again, and Don rolled off on the
soft grass.
Just then, Grandpa came to the rescue. He drove the calf to the corner
and held him there, while Grandma coaxed him to drink from the pail.
"We must go to bed early tonight," said Grandpa as they started for the
house. "We want to reach the river by the time the sun comes up."
"But you'll tell us a story first, won't you, Grandma?" asked Don.
"Yes," said Grandma, as she sank into her comfortable old rocking chair
in the kitchen.
"About another bee?" asked Joyce. "Which one?"
"Bee Truthful," answered Grandma. "Boys and girls who will not listen
to him often come to grief--as the boy did that I shall tell you about.
"Little Milton lived on a farm. His father had a number of mules, which
he used in plowing his fields. Two of the young mules were very
ill-tempered. Milton's father was very careful to keep the little pigs and
calves out of their way, for fear the mules would paw them to death.
"When Milton was almost nine, a little baby brother came into his home.
His name was Marion. Milton loved the baby dearly, and never grew tired
of playing with him.
"Their father built a fence around the yard. They were careful to keep
the gates of the fence closed, so little Marion could not wander away;
especially after the two ill-tempered mules were put out to pasture in
the lot just back of the house.
"Late one afternoon, Milton was helping his father in the back lot. Daddy
had to go and do something else, so he left the boy to finish the job.
"'As soon as you have finished,' said Daddy, 'you may go to the house.
But be sure to latch the back yard gate.'
"Daddy did not get home until after dark. 'Milton,' he said, 'did you
latch the gate when you came in this afternoon?'
"Milton knew he had forgotten, but he thought to himself, 'If I tell the
truth, I shall have to go out and latch the gate now; and I am afraid
of the dark.'
"Aloud, he said, 'Yes, Daddy, I did.'
"'Are you sure?' asked Daddy.
"'Yes,' said Milton again.
"The little boy suddenly heard a bee buzzing in his ears--'Tell the
truth, Milton; tell the truth!' But he said to himself, 'It won't matter
if the gate stands open all night; I will latch it the first thing in
the morning.' And so he soon forgot all about it.
"The next morning, right after breakfast, Milton's mother sent him on
an errand. Marion was still asleep.
"'Where's Marion?' asked Milton when he came back.
"'He woke a little while ago,' said Mother. 'After I gave him his
breakfast, I let him go out in the yard to play--it's such a bright
morning.'
"Instantly Milton thought of the gate; and he went to look for Marion.
"A moment later he heard his father cry out in alarm; and looking toward
the pasture where the two young mules were kept, he saw little Marion
just inside the fence.
"Daddy ran toward the baby as fast as he could; but he was just too late.
One of the mules kicked Marion, and he fell over in a little heap. The
mule, seeing Daddy coming, ran toward the other end of the pasture.
"Daddy picked up the limp little body and carried it to the house. The
baby lay so still that at first they thought he was dead.
"Milton was terribly frightened, and he cried almost all day; for he
knew this dreadful thing had happened because he did not latch the back
yard gate--and because he had told Daddy a lie about it.
"Poor little Marion was taken to the hospital. His spine had been injured,
and it was many, many months before he could sit up. And never again was
he able to run about like other children.
"It was a long time before Mother and Daddy found out how the baby came
to be in the pasture with the mules. But one day, after little Marion
had been brought home, Milton told Daddy the whole, sad story.
"'I'm very sorry,' said Daddy kindly, when he had finished. 'I wish you
had told me the truth. I wouldn't have sent you out alone in the dark,
son. I would have gone out and latched the gate myself.'
"It was almost more than Milton could bear, to have his father talk to
him so sadly and yet so kindly. The sting of the bee went deeper and
deeper, as he watched his pale-faced little brother day after day.
Always after that, he was careful to listen to the buzzing of little Bee
Truthful."
Two very sober children said good-night to Grandma just as the clock
struck half-past eight.
Bee Kind
[Illustration]
"Don," said Grandma, shaking the little sleeper, "it's time to wake up!"
Don turned over, rubbed his eyes, and with a deep sigh settled back to
sleep.
"Here, here!" cried Grandma, shaking him again. "Do you want us to leave
you at home all alone? We're going fishing today!"
Instantly Don was wide awake. He bounced out of bed and began to dress
as quickly as he could. In five minutes he was in the kitchen; but Joyce
was there ahead of him, helping Grandma to pack the lunch basket.
Don was so excited that Grandma could coax him to eat only a few bites
of breakfast. He was the first one in the car, ready to start for the
river.
The sun was just peeping over the hills, when they drove into a pretty,
shady nook on the bank of the river. "This is always a good place to
fish," said Grandpa. They stopped under a tree whose great, spreading
branches leaned far out over the water; and soon they were untying the
fishing poles and baiting their hooks.
"I'll give a nickel to the one who catches the first fish," said Grandpa.
Suddenly Don's cork began to bob up and down in the water. Joyce felt a
strong pull on her line, too. Almost at the same instant each of them
lifted a fish from the water. Grandpa took the little perch from Don's
hook, and a catfish from Joyce's; and with his big, hearty laugh he gave
them each a nickel.
The hours passed so quickly that before the children knew it, it was
time for lunch. But when Grandma spread out the chicken and sandwiches
and cookies and lemonade in the shade of the big tree, they found that
they were as hungry as bears.
After lunch, Grandma lay down in the shade and tried to take a nap, while
the others went back to their fishing. But the fish did not bite so well
as they had done in the morning.
They had already caught a great many fish, so they decided to go home
early. Grandpa had been stringing the fish one by one, as they had caught
them; and he had let the line hang down in the water. Now, when he lifted
it out, the children were delighted to see how many fish they had caught.
"That is a longer string of fish than Daddy has in the picture!" cried
Don.
"We cannot use so many fish ourselves," said Grandpa. "We shall have to
share with the neighbors."
When they reached home, Don helped Grandpa to clean the fish. Grandpa
skinned the catfish, and Don scraped the scales from the perch. When
they had finished, Don had fish scales all over him--even in his hair.
But this trouble was all forgotten at supper time, when Grandma set a
large platter of fish on the table. Grandpa said it tasted better than
the fried chicken.
In the evening, the children came to Grandma for their usual story. They
sat down on the porch, with the soft summer dusk gathering about them.
"I shall tell you a story tonight," began Grandma, "about a bee that
every child should listen to and obey. Its name is Bee Kind.
"James and Richard lived near each other, and they were playmates. One
day they were flying their kites in a vacant lot, when they saw a dirty
little puppy. Richard began to stamp his feet and try to scare it; but
as he could not chase it away, he threw stones at the poor little thing.
"A stone struck the puppy on his head, and hurt him very badly; for he
began to turn round and round, whining and howling pitifully. Richard
laughed, as if he thought it a great joke.
"'Shame on you!' cried James, 'for treating a poor little puppy like that!'
"'You're a sissy,' said Richard, 'or you wouldn't care.'
"'You may call me what you please,' said James, 'but I shall never hurt
a poor little dog that can't help himself. Maybe he's lost.'
"With that, he lifted the little creature in his arms and carried him
home. The puppy's head was bleeding where Richard had struck him with
the stone. James washed the blood away and gave the little dog something
to eat, talking to him kindly and petting him all the while.
"When his father came home that evening, he told James that the puppy
showed marks of being a very good dog; and that if the owner never came,
he might keep him for his own.
"James was delighted. He named the dog Rex, and at once began to teach
him to do all sorts of tricks. Rex learned to walk on his hind feet, sit
up straight and beg for something to eat, play 'dead dog,' roll over,
chase his tail, and run through a hoop.
"In a few months, Rex had grown to be quite a large dog. By this time,
James had taught him how to swim; and when the boy would throw a stick
into the water and say, 'Go get it, Rex,' the dog would bring it back
in his mouth.
"All the boys in the neighborhood liked Rex; and he liked them all--
except Richard. Whenever he came around, the dog would growl and show
his teeth.
"Two years later, one warm Saturday afternoon in April, James called Rex
and started for the pond. Oftentimes fishing parties visited this pond,
so a number of small boats were tied among the willows fringing the
shore. On this particular afternoon, Richard and his little brother Harry
had also gone to the pond; and Richard untied one of the boats to take
a ride. Of course he had no right to use a boat that did not belong to
him; but he thought that no one would ever know.
"Just as James came around a clump of willows, he saw the little boat
tip over; and Richard and Harry fell in, at the deepest place in the
pond. James knew they could not swim; so he began to call for help as
loudly as he could. Rex ran back and forth whining, looking first at
James, then at the boys in the water. Suddenly a happy thought struck
James. Pointing to the two boys, he said, 'Go get them, Rex!' Immediately
the dog jumped into the water and began to swim toward the boys. He soon
had Harry's collar between his teeth, and was swimming back to shore.
"James helped Harry to his feet; and then, pointing to Richard, he said,
'Go get the other one!'
"Richard had gone down the second time when Rex reached him; but as he
came up to the surface of the water, the dog caught him and began to
swim back. It was a hard task, as Richard was heavier than Harry; but
at last Rex brought him safely to shore.
"All this time James had been calling for help; and now several men came
running toward the pond. They began working with Richard, and after some
time he came back to consciousness.
"'Who got me out of the water?' he asked, as soon as he could speak.
"'Rex,' answered James.
"Tears rolled down Richard's face as he said brokenly, 'Just think! I
almost killed him when he was a little puppy! I know one thing--I'll
never do such a thing again.'
"Everybody petted and praised Rex for what he had done. Richard's father
bought a beautiful new collar for him. But although the dog had saved
Richard's life, he never would have anything to do with him afterward.
He could not forget how cruelly the boy had treated him in his puppyhood."
"Daddy promised to get a puppy for me soon," said Don. "I shall name him
Rex, after the good dog in the story."
"And I'm quite sure," said Grandma, "that you'll always be as kind to
him as James was to Rex. But I know a little man that will be asleep in
about five minutes. Hustle him off to bed, Grandpa, or you'll have to
carry him upstairs."
Don said a sleepy good-night; and sure enough, five minutes later he was
fast a-sleep.
Bee Polite
[Illustration]
When the children came down to the kitchen in the morning, they found
that Grandpa had eaten his breakfast, and had gone out to build a pig-pen
behind the barn. Don hurried out to help him; and Joyce went to the
spring house to do the churning for Grandma.
The little girl plunged the dasher into the thick cream, lifted it, and
plunged it again, until her arms ached. At last the dasher began to look
clean, and tiny particles of golden butter clung to it and she knew that
the butter had "come." Then she took the butter paddle and the bowl and
cooled them in the spring, just as she had seen Grandma do. She lifted
the butter from the churn with the paddle and began to work it to get
the milk out. She had watched Grandma do this many times, and it had
looked very easy; but she found it quite another thing, when she came
to doing it herself.
After she had worked for some time, she had a solid roll of butter. She
salted it, and worked it some more; and then she called Grandma to come
and see it.
"I could not have made better butter myself!" said Grandma. So Joyce had
something new to write about, in her next letter to Mother.
After dinner the children went to the orchard to play. They found an ant
hill; and it was very interesting to watch the ants as they worked.
One ant was carrying a bread crumb several times larger than herself,
and the children were watching eagerly. The old turkey gobbler came
strutting toward them; but they did not notice. Joyce was bending over,
watching the industrious little ant, when suddenly the gobbler perched
upon her back and began to beat her with his wings.
"Grandma!" screamed Joyce.
It was a comical sight that Grandma saw when she came to the door. There
was Joyce, running toward the house, with the gobbler after her, and Don
coming behind.
The gobbler was right at Joyce's heels, when suddenly the little girl
dodged behind a tree and began to go round and round it, keeping the
tree between her and the gobbler. At last Don found a stick and chased
him away.
When Grandma had comforted Joyce, she explained that it was the little
girl's red dress that the gobbler didn't like. Joyce declared that she
would never wear that dress again while she was on the farm. She never
did; and so the gobbler did not bother her any more.
At bedtime, the children were ready for their usual story. They clambered
up on to the arms of the old rocker on the porch, while Grandpa sat down
on the step.
"What do we hear about tonight?" asked Grandpa. "I believe I like to
hear the stories as well as Don does."
"All boys are just alike--big and little," said Grandma with a smile.
"My story this time is about Bee Polite."
"Oh," said Don, "I know a little verse about politeness. I learned it
at school:
"'Politeness is to do and say
The kindest thing in the kindest way.'"
"Then politeness means kindness, doesn't it, Grandma?" asked Joyce.
"Yes--and more than that," replied Grandma. "A polite person is never
rude. The story is about two children who were stung by Bee Polite just
once--but they never forgot it.
"Daisy and Dan were twins. When they were babies, their mother took them
from their home in the East to live in a far Western state. They could
not remember their grandmother, who still lived back in the old home
town. All they knew about her was what their mother had told them; and
she often wrote long letters, and sent them lovely presents.
"One day they received a letter from Grandma, saying that she was coming
to spend a few weeks with them. They could hardly wait for Thursday to
come when she was to arrive at the station.
"The train was due at six o'clock in the evening, and Mother promised
the twins that they might go to meet Grandma. After school she sent them
to the store to buy some things for supper, and she gave them ten cents
to buy candy.