"'Try again,' said his father. 'I can't leave Mother long enough to go to the pasture; and she must have help soon.'
"Just then Jenny came in. 'I will catch Fanny for you, Father,' she said, and hurried out to the pasture.
"'Fanny, O Fanny!' she called; and the beautiful creature turned her head and trotted toward her. But an instant later, to Jenny's surprise, she galloped away across the field. Glancing behind her, Jenny saw Jake and the hired man coming up the lane."
"'She sees you coming,' called Jenny; 'that's why she won't let me catch her. Go back to the house and wait; I'll bring her to you.'"
"Jake and the man went back; and Jenny went further into the pasture, calling, 'Fanny, O Fanny!' Instantly the mare turned and trotted toward her. She came close; and when Jenny gave her a lump of sugar, she rubbed her nose against the little girl's shoulder."
"Quickly she put the bridle on the mare, and led her through the lane to the barn. Then she harnessed her and hitched her to the buggy, and called to Jake. The boy hurried out, looking rather pale and worried; and as he stepped into the buggy Jenny stroked the mare's neck, saying gently, 'Now go along, dear Fanny, and do your best for Mother.'"
"Fanny rubbed her nose against Jenny's shoulder again, as if to say, 'I will, little mistress; you may depend on me.' Then as Jake lifted the reins, she trotted down the road at a rapid gait."
"Jake found the doctor just sitting down to breakfast. When he heard the boy's story, he did not stop to eat. He rode right back with Jake, and in a short time he was at the mother's bedside. She was indeed very ill. 'If I had been a little later,' said the doctor in a low tone, 'I could have done nothing for her at all.'
"When Jake heard that, he went into the kitchen, sank down on a chair, and leaning his head on the table, he sobbed like a child. Jenny found him there a little later.
"She stood there beside him, gently stroking his hair. 'Jake,' she said at last, very softly, 'don't cry any more, because God was very kind to us and didn't let it happen. But just think what might have been, if I hadn't been able to catch Fanny this morning. Don't you think it would pay to always be kind to the animals?'
"Jake nodded; he could not trust himself to speak.
"The sting of little Bee Gentle went very deep. Never again was Jake cruel to animals. He tried hard to make friends with Fanny; but she would have nothing to do with him. She remembered how roughly he had treated her in the past; and being only a horse, she did not understand that he never would do so again."
"How glad Jenny must have been," said Joyce, "that she had treated Fanny kindly! Because Fanny brought the doctor, the doctor saved her mother's life."
"And besides," added Grandma softly, "people are always glad when they know they have done right."
Bee Helpful
[Illustration]
"What are you going to do with that rope?" asked Don, as Grandpa came from the shed with a coil of rope on his arm.
"Come with me, and you will find out," answered Grandpa. "And you may call Joyce, too, if you wish."
Don ran to the house to get Joyce, and soon the two came back together. They followed Grandpa down the lane toward the pasture where he kept his pigs. The children kept asking him what he intended to do, but he would only answer, "Wait and see."
Grandpa had a good many grown hogs, and ten little pigs. He opened the pasture gate and called to them, and they all came out into the lane, grunting and squealing. Then he coaxed them toward the pig-pen that he had been building. He closed the gate, and turning to the children said, "Now if you watch me, you will see what I intend to do with the rope."
When the children were both safe on the other side of the fence, Grandpa climbed into the pig-pen and coiled the rope a number of times in his hands. Then he cast it from him, and it fell over one of the little pigs. He drew it in, and the pig was caught. Then he lifted him and placed him in the pen. How the little fellow squealed, and how hard the old hogs tried to get to him! Some of the larger ones started toward the fence where Don and Joyce were perched on posts. Grandpa laughed to see how quickly the children scrambled down.
"Now," said Grandpa, "you see why I wanted the fence between you and those hogs, don't you? If they could get to you, they might tear you in pieces; for they want to take care of the little pigs."
Grandpa coiled the rope again, caught another of the little pigs, and then another and another, until all ten of them were in in the pen. Then he opened the gate and turned the others back into the pasture.
Grandpa had caught the pigs so easily—only once or twice had he had to try a second time. "I don't see how you could catch them when they were running away from you," said Don. "I couldn't catch them if they were standing still."
"Perhaps not," said Grandpa. "But I can catch you if you try to get away from me. Just try it."
At that, Don began to run as fast as he could; but he had not gone far when he felt the rope slip over his shoulders, and he was lifted off his feet.
"What fun!" shouted Joyce. "Now try it on me."
Grandpa spent quite a while catching first one and then the other. Joyce was the hardest to catch, for after a few times she learned how to dodge the rope.
"Why did you put those little pigs in the pen?" asked Don, following close at his heels.
"They are getting in the cornfield," answered Grandpa, "and eating too much of my corn."
"But can't you keep them out?" asked Don.
"No," said Grandpa; "for when I mend one place in the fence, the little pigs are sure to find another place big enough to squeeze through. So the only way I can keep them out is to pen them up. Don, you may carry water for the little pigs—and they will need plenty, too, because it is so warm."
That pleased Don, and he began at once to fill the trough which Grandpa had placed in the pen.
That evening, Grandpa and Grandma and the children sat on the porch, listening to the chirp of the katydids and the call of the whippoorwills.
"Grandma," said Don, "what kind of bee will you tell us about tonight?"
"Bee Sleepy, and go to bed," said Grandpa, with a wink at Grandma.
The children laughed. "No," said Don, "I don't want to hear about that bee—not yet."
"All right," said Grandma, "we'll have our story first; but we must begin right away, because it is almost bedtime. The bee I am thinking about tonight comes often to us all—especially to little children.
"Once there was a boy named Alfred who was the only child in his home.He was very selfish; and often he was determined to have his own way.But he had his good points, too.
"Alfred lived in the country; and during the Christmas holidays, he visited a friend of his who lived in the city. Then his friend in turn visited him during the summer vacation.
"As soon as his company came, Alfred thought it was quite too much for his mother to ask him to help her. He forgot how very ill she had been, and how frail she still was. Indeed, it was hard for him to think of anything but having a good time with his friend.
"The two boys had planned to spend a certain day at the creek, fishing. Of course they were eager to start as early as they could that morning. After they had gathered together everything that they needed for their trip, they went out to the kitchen and found Alfred's mother packing a lunch for them.
"'Alfred,' she said, 'I wish you would help me a little with the work before you go. I am afraid that I shall not be able to do it all alone. Would you mind stopping long enough to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen for me?'
"Alfred began to pout, but his mother continued, 'I really wish you were not going fishing today. Your father will be away all day; and I would rather not be left alone, for I do not feel as well as usual. But I will not keep you, if you will wash the dishes before you go.'
"'Now, Mother,' said Alfred angrily, 'why do you ask me to do that, when you know I want to get started early? If I have to wait half the day, I don't care to go at all.'
"Just then the bee began to buzz about Alfred's ears. 'Help your mother! Help your mother!' it said. But Alfred did not pay any attention. 'Let the dishes go,' he cried. 'I don't care whether they are ever washed or not.' And picking up the lunch which his mother had packed so nicely for him, he started toward the creek. He did not even look back to say 'good -by.'
"The boys found fishing very good that day. They caught a fine string of trout, ate their lunch, and in the middle of the afternoon were ready to start for home. Alfred was much pleased with their catch, and on the way home he said over and over, 'Won't Mother be glad we went fishing today, when she sees our string of trout? She is so fond of trout.' But even while he was saying it, he could not forget the tired look on his mother's face, or the hurt look in her eyes when he had refused to wash the dishes for her.
"When the boys reached the house, it seemed strangely quiet. They found the dishes cleared away, and the kitchen neatly swept. Alfred's mother was lying on the couch, and she seemed to be resting very comfortably.
"'See, Mother,' said Alfred, 'isn't this a nice string of trout?'
"But Mother did not answer. Alfred spoke to her again. Still no answer.He touched her hand then, and found it icy-cold.
"Then the awful truth dawned upon him—his mother was dead! She had died while he was fishing; but she had done the work that she had asked her boy to do.
"All his life, poor Alfred felt the sting of the bee that had buzzed about him on that summer morning. What hurt him most deeply was that he would never again have a chance to help his frail little mother who had done so much for him."
"I'm so glad," said Joyce, "that I still have my mother, and that I can do things for her when she is tired."
"It's a sad story, Grandma," said little Don, "but I'm glad you told it to us. I'm going to remember it always."
Bee Grateful
[Illustration]
Another morning came to the farm—another day for the children to roam about the fields and enjoy themselves in God's big, free out-of-doors. How much more pleasant than having to play in their own yard in the city, these hot summer days!
In that long-ago time when the children's mother had lived on the farm,Grandpa had given her a pony of her own to ride to school in the village.Old Ned was still on the place. Grandpa was always ready to saddle andbridle him, whenever the children wished to go for a ride.
Today, as the children wandered to the back of the orchard, wishing for something to do, Ned stood on the other side of the fence and neighed at them. That gave Don an idea.
"O Joyce!" he cried, "let's ride Ned around in the pasture."
"Without a saddle?" exclaimed Joyce.
"Of course," answered Don in his most grown up tone. "Why not?"
"All right," said Joyce a little doubtfully.
They went out through the barn lot, leaving the gate open behind them.Then, letting down the bars, they soon found themselves in the pasture.
Joyce led old Ned to the fence, holding to his mane. She climbed up on the fence, and then onto the horse's back. Don quickly climbed on behind her.
In his younger days, Ned had been taught a number of tricks, which he still remembered. He would shake hands, and nod his head, and ride up the steps. And when a rider was on his back, if he gripped his knees in Ned's sides, the old horse would gallop away as fast as he could.
Always, before this, the children had ridden with a saddle; and so they had never had to hold fast with their knees. But today Joyce knew she would have to hold on tightly, so she pressed her knees hard against old Ned's sides. Instantly he started to gallop across the pasture. He went up the lane, through the open gate into the barn lot, and on to the watering trough. Joyce still held to his mane with all her might, gripping him tightly with her knees. Don bounced up and down behind her, with his arms about her waist.
When Ned reached the watering trough, he stopped. Suddenly he lowered his head, and both children slipped off into the trough. It was about half-full of water, and Joyce fell in face downward. Such sputtering, puffing, and blowing, as they scrambled out of the trough! And there stood old Ned, looking at them as if to say, "How did you like your bath?"
Grandpa came hurrying up to see if they were hurt. He told them that old Ned was only doing as he had been taught when he was a colt; and that they could not expect him to do otherwise, if they rode him like that.
That evening, as twilight settled down, Grandpa and Grandma and the children sat on the porch and listened to the lonely call of a whippoorwill from the neighboring woods.
"I see the Big Bear," said Don—"and the Little Bear, too."
"What is the Milky Way, Grandma?" asked Joyce.
"When men look through telescopes they find millions of stars—so close together and so far away that not one star can be seen by the naked eye. The Indians used to say it was the path which all Indians must travel after they died, to reach the Happy Hunting Grounds."
"See how bright the stars are in the Dipper!" exclaimed Don.
"When I was just a little girl," said Grandma, "I learned a rhyme about the Milky Way:
"The Man in the Moon that sails through the skyIs known as a gay old skipper.But he made a mistake,When he tried to takeA drink of milk from the dipper.
"He dipped it into the Milky Way,And was just prepared to drink it,When the Big Bear growled,And the Little Bear growled,And it scared him so that he spilled it."
The children liked the queer little rhyme, and said it over until they knew it by heart.
At last Grandpa said, "I guess it's about time to turn in for tonight."
"Oh, no," said Don—"not till Grandma tells us our story."
"All right," said Grandma; "I shall tell you this time about a little bee called Bee Grateful. It has a very sharp sting, as you will see.
"Far away, under sunny Italian skies, there is an old, old town by the name of Atri. It is built on the side of a steep hill.
"A very long time ago, the king of Atri bought a great golden-toned bell and hung it in the tower at the market-place. Fastened to the bell, there was a long rope that reached almost to the ground.
"'We shall call it the bell of justice,' said the king.
"He proclaimed a great holiday in Atri, and invited everyone to come to the marketplace and see the bell. It shone like gold in the bright sunlight. When the king came riding down the street, the people whispered to one another, 'Perhaps he will ring the bell.'
"But he did not. Instead, he stopped at the foot of the tower and raised his hand. All the whispering and talking stopped; for the people knew that the king was about to speak.
"'My good people,' he said, 'this bell belongs to you. No one must ever pull the rope unless he is in trouble. But if any one of you—man, woman, or child—is ever treated unjustly, you may come to the marketplace and ring the bell. The judges will come together and listen to your story; and the one who has done wrong will be punished, whoever he may be. That is why this is called the bell of justice.'
"Year after year passed by, and the great bell still hung in the tower. Many people who were in trouble had rung the bell; and in every case, the judges had been perfectly fair, and had punished the one who had done wrong.
"The rope had hung there so long in the sun and rain, and had been pulled by so many hands, that it was almost worn out. Some of the strands were untwisted; and it had grown shorter and shorter, until only the tallest man or woman could reach it.
"'We must have a new rope,' said the judges at last. 'If a little child should be wronged, he could not reach high enough to ring the bell. That would never do.'
"At once the people of Atri set about to look for a new rope; but there was none to be found in all the town of Atri. They would have to send someone to a country across the mountains to get the rope. But that would take quite a while; and what should they do, while they were waiting?
"One man thought of a plan. He ran to his vineyard and came back with a grapevine. Then he tied the vine to the rope.
"'There!' he said, 'the smallest child will be able to reach it now, and ring the bell'; for the vine, with its leaves and little tendrils, trailed on the ground.
"The judges were pleased. 'Yes,' they said, 'that will do very well, until we can get a new rope from the country beyond the mountains.'
"Near the village of Atri, higher up on the hillside, there lived an old soldier. When he was a young man, he had traveled in far-distant countries, and had fought in many wars. And he was so brave that his king had made him a knight.
"He had had one true and faithful friend all through those hard and dangerous years. It was his horse. Many a time the brave steed had saved his master's life.
"But now that the knight was an old man, he no longer wished to do brave deeds. He cared now for only one thing: gold,gold, GOLD. He was a miser.
"One day, as he passed his barn, he looked in and saw his faithful horse standing in his stall. The poor creature looked almost starved.
"'Why should I keep that lazy beast any longer?' said the miser to himself. 'His food costs more money than he is worth. I know what I will do. I will turn him out on the hillside, and let him find his own food. If he starves to death—why, he will be out of the way!'
"So the brave old horse was turned out to graze as best he could on the rocky hillside. He was sick and lame, and he grew thinner every day; for all he could find was a tiny patch of grass or a thistle now and then. The village dogs barked at him and bit at his heels; and naughty boys threw stones at him.
"One hot afternoon, the old horse limped into the market-place of Atri. No one was about the streets; for the people were trying to keep as cool as they could in the shelter of their homes. As the horse went picking about trying to find a few blades of grass, suddenly he discovered the long grapevine trailing on the ground at the foot of the tower. The leaves were still green and tender, for it had been placed there only a short time before.
"The horse did not know that the bell would ring if he pulled the vine. He only knew that here was a juicy bit of dinner for him, and he was hungry.
"He nibbled at the end of the vine; and suddenly, far up in the belfry, the huge bell began to swing back and forth. From its great throat, golden music floated down over the town of Atri. It seemed to be saying:
"'Some—one——has—done——me—wrong! Ding—dong——ding—dong!'
"The judges put on their robes, and hurried out of their cool homes into the hot streets of the village. Who was in trouble, they wondered?
"When they reached the market-place, no one was there; but they saw the starving old horse, nibbling at the tender grapevine.
"'Ho, ho!' cried one, 'it is the miser's brave old steed. He rings the bell to plead for justice.'
"'And justice he shall have!' cried another.
"'See how thin he is,' said a lad with a kind heart.
"By this time, many people had gathered in the market-place. When they saw the old horse, a murmur of astonishment swept through the crowd.
"'The miser's steed!' cried one to another. 'He has waited long; but he shall have justice today.'
"'I have seen the old horse wandering on the hillside day after day, in search of food,' said an old man.
"'And while the noble steed has no shelter,' said his neighbor, 'his master sits at home, counting his gold.'
"'Bring his master to us!' cried the judges sternly.
"And so they brought him. In silence he waited to hear what the judges would say.
"'This brave steed of yours,' they said, 'has served you faithfully for many a long year. He has saved your life in times of danger. He has helped you to hoard your bags of gold. Therefore, hear your sentence, O Miser! Half of your gold shall be taken from you, and used to buy food and shelter for your faithful horse.'
"The miser hung his head. It made him sad to lose his gold; but the people laughed and shouted, as the old horse was led away to a comfortable stall and a dinner fit for the steed of a king."
"Hooray!" cried Don. "Good for the brave old horse! Grandpa, I'm so glad you aren't a miser!" He was thinking of old Ned, with his sleek, shining black coat.
"Bedtime!" announced Grandma, as she led the way into the house."Good-night, children—and happy dreams to you!"
Bee Loving
[Illustration]
When the children ran down to meet the mailman in the morning, he handed them another letter from Mother. She and Daddy were going home next Friday, she said; and they must be there Saturday, to start school on the following Monday.
"Only three more nights to be here," said Joyce, taking the letter in to Grandma. "I want to go home and see Mother and Daddy, but I wish I could stay on the farm, too."
"And only three more stories about bees," added Don. "We must remember them all, Joyce, so we can tell them to Mother."
"What do you want to do today, children?" asked Grandma.
"After our morning work is done," said Joyce, with her most grown-up air, "we must finish weeding the flower-bed."
"Grandma," called Don a little later, "come and see how nice it looks where we pulled the weeds yesterday."
Grandma stood a moment thoughtfully looking down at the half-weeded bed of flowers.
"Children," she said suddenly, "If you wanted a flower this morning, where would you pick it—in the part of the bed that is full of weeds, or in that patch over there that you have weeded so nicely?"
"I would pick my flower where there aren't any weeds," answered Don, wondering why she asked. "I would take that pretty big red one right over there."
"And so would I!" declared Joyce, pulling up a stubborn weed.
"But why wouldn't you take this one?" said Grandma, as she parted the weeds and showed another red beauty.
"Well," answered Don, "I s'pose it's just as pretty, but some way the weeds make it look ugly."
"That's just what I was thinking about," said Grandma. "I have seen children who were like this flower in the weeds. They had beautiful faces; but they let the weeds of disobedience, selfishness, deceit, and pride grow all about them until you could not see their beauty for the ugly weeds.
"This garden makes me think of two cousins that I knew once. One was obedient, unselfish, and kind to everybody; and although she did not have a beautiful face, she was loved by all who knew her. The other girl had a beautiful face; but she had such an unlovely disposition that nobody cared for her, and so she was left very much to herself. Her beauty, like this lovely flower, was quite hidden by the ugly weeds growing up all around her.
"These weeds in the flower-bed were very small in the beginning; but they grew and grew, until now they are taller than the flowers. And the weeds in God's child-gardens are small at first, too. To begin with, there springs up the weed of telling a story that is not quite true. If it is not pulled up at once, soon it grows up into a big ugly lie weed. Other weeds—disobedience, selfishness, and unkindness—spring up around it; and soon the beautiful flower is hidden by the tall weeds. And when the Master of the Garden wants a lovely flower-child to do a kind deed for Him, He never thinks of choosing one that is surrounded by weeds."
"What a nice story!" exclaimed Joyce. "But it wasn't about a bee,Grandma."
"Yes, it was," said Don—"Don't Bee Weedy."
"But there haven't been any Don't Bee's in the stories before," saidJoyce. "Besides, I wouldn't call that Don't Bee Weedy; I'd call it BeeClean."
"That's a good name for it," said Grandma. "I hope you'll always keep your lives clean from the weeds that children so often allow to grow up around them."
Grandma went back to the house, while the children set to work weeding the rest of the flower-bed. They were very careful not to pull up any of the flowers with the weeds. When they had finished, the flower-bed looked beautiful, cleared as it was of all weeds and grasses.
"I surely don't want any ugly weeds to grow inmygarden, so I shall always listen to Bee Clean," said Joyce softly, as she walked slowly toward the house.
"Will you make us a kite, Grandpa?" asked Don after dinner.
"Yes, do!" cried Joyce. "It will be such fun to fly it."
"Well," said Grandpa, "you children hunt around and find some sticks. Then ask Grandma for some paper and paste and string; and bring them out to the woodshed, and I'll try my hand at making a kite."
After it was made, they had to let it lie in the sun for a while, to dry. Then they took it out to the pasture. There was a soft breeze blowing, and Grandpa said the kite ought to fly. Don took the string and ran along with it for quite a distance. The wind lifted it a little; but after it had darted back and forth, it fell on the ground. This happened several times, and at last Grandpa said, "It's too bad, children, but my kite won't fly. But I'll see if I can make something else for you."
Then Grandpa took some thin boards and whittled out darts. He took a short stick, and tied a string to it; and then he fitted the string in a notch which he had cut in one end of the dart. He threw the dart up in the air, ever so high. It came down just a few yards from Don. The sharp end stuck fast; and there it stood, upright in the ground.
Don was as much pleased with this as he would have been with a kite that would fly. Soon he and Joyce were shooting darts into the air, to see whose would go the highest.
They had so much fun that the afternoon flew by very fast. It was nearly suppertime when Don gathered up the darts and took them to the house with him. He carefully put them away in the little trunk, saying, "I'll show the boys how to throw darts when I get home."
That evening, as they sat on the porch in the quiet twilight, they heard the faint tinkle of a cowbell in the distance. They talked a while, and then they sang some songs together.
"It's story time, isn't it?" said Grandpa by and by. "And who is going to get stung tonight?" he asked, winking at Joyce.
"I hopeIdon't," she laughed, remembering the time the bee had stung her on the first day of her visit.
"No one shall be stung tonight," said Grandma. "I have a very sweet little bee to tell you about. And because the little girl in my story listened to its buzz, it made honey for her all her life. Its name is Bee Loving; and it can do things that nothing else in the world can do. You know people can sometimes belovedinto doing things that they could not be persuaded to do in any other way.
"Gene was a very little girl who had been left alone in the world. She had never seen her father; and her mother had died when she was only two and a half. Some kind people had taken care of the little girl when her mother was ill; and when she died, they tried to find her relatives, to ask what should be done with Gene. But they could not find any trace of them.
"When Gene was three, these kind people wanted to go away for a couple of weeks, and they asked a lady to take care of the child while they were gone. The lady was very glad to do this, for she loved little children. And so Gene came to stay in the big mansion where the lady, her husband, and grown-up daughter lived.
"The lady's husband did not like children very well, and it always annoyed him whenever little Gene came near him. She had a sunny disposition and a very sweet smile, and she tried to make friends with the man; but he would not pay any attention to her.
"He always read his paper in the morning before he went to work, and in the evening after he came home. Little Gene would peep up at him under the paper, with her sweetest smile. He would lay the paper down, and walk away; but soon he would come back and pick it up and begin to read again. And in a moment, there little Gene would be, peeping up at him again with her lovely smile.
"One day when Gene had been living in the home about a week, the man was reading his paper and she was peeping under it with her usual smile. Suddenly he laid the paper aside and took her in his arms. He kissed her on her forehead, saying tenderly, 'It doesn't matter how hard a man tries to keep from loving you; you just love your way right into his heart.'
"Gene threw her small arms about his neck, and laid her curly head on his shoulder, saying in her pretty baby way, 'Gene woves oo, big man.'
"That completely won his heart; and when the two weeks had passed and Gene's friends came after her, he did not want to give her up. So he decided to keep her and bring her up as if she had been his own little girl. This also pleased his wife and grown-up daughter very much, for they had loved little Gene from the beginning.
"Gene is grown now, but she still has the same sunny disposition and the same sweet smile, which make her beloved by all who know her. Nothing but love could have won for her the beautiful home she has had all these years. And to this day, Bee Loving is still helping her to win her way through life. The greatest victories are always those that are won through love."
"I know someone that I love," said little Don, throwing his arms roundGrandma's neck.
"So do I," said Joyce as she kissed Grandma good-night.
Bee Content
[Illustration]
"Listen to the mocking bird!" exclaimed Joyce, early the next morning. "It sounds as if he would burst his throat. Sometimes his song is loud, and then again he whistles softly, like our canary."
As they listened, the bird whistled shrilly, like the cardinal; then he trilled like the canary, and chirped like the sparrow. He gave a call like the hen quail's, and sang a song exactly like the song of the bluebird. Then he twittered like a number of smaller birds, sang the song of the robin, and came back to the whistle of the cardinal.
"Did you ever hear such a wonderful song?" cried Joyce. "I could listen to him all day long."
"I like to hear him sing in the daytime, too," laughed Grandma; "but during the night I don't enjoy it so much. Last spring the mocking birds built their nest in the same tree where that little fellow is singing now; and such music, all night long, during the time when they were nesting! It was beautiful, but it kept me awake many an hour when I should have been sleeping. Mocking birds usually build their nests near houses, to protect themselves from robbers."
"Robbers! What kind?" exclaimed Don.
"Sometimes larger birds; and sometimes cats, or snakes. You can always tell when a robber is about, by the fuss the old birds make. Last spring I heard a great commotion in that tree, and I went out to see what was the trouble. I looked about for quite a while before I discovered the nest; and all the time, the birds were darting here and there and giving their sharp little cries of distress. When at last I found the nest, I saw a big black snake crawling toward it. I got the garden rake and pulled him loose from the limb; and when he fell to the ground, I killed the cruel thief."
Joyce stepped out into the yard, to get a better look at the little songster as he sat swinging at the top of the old apple tree. Just then he flew across the orchard and down to the creek, alighting among the willows along the bank.
That afternoon the children went to the creek, to see if there were any water lilies in bloom. As they neared the clump of willows, Don said, "Let's be quiet, and see if we can find the mocking bird." So they walked softly, and talked in whispers; but they did not catch a glimpse of the lovely songster. Suddenly Don stopped and pointed to a big green frog sitting on a lily pad in the middle of the creek.
"Oh-h-h!" exclaimed Joyce. Instantly there was a splash, and the frog was gone. There were splashes all around, as other frogs disappeared in the water.
The children hid behind the willows, and waited quietly for some time. Soon they saw a big green fellow swim toward the lily pad and climb up on it. Others began to swim about in the water, and a number of them came out along the bank.
Suddenly Joyce caught sight of something else, which made her forget the frogs. Just beyond the spot where the frog sat perched on a lily pad, there was a lovely water lily in bloom.
"O Don," she whispered, "do you think we can get it?"
"I'd rather have the frog than the lily," answered Don.
"Yes, but you can't get him, you know," said Joyce. "Will you help me to get to the lily?"
Don nodded, and came out from behind the willows where he had been crouching. Instantly there was another splash, and Mr. Froggie was gone. In a moment there was not a frog to be seen anywhere.
To get the lily, the children had to cross the creek and then step out on an old log. The creek was so shallow that they knew there was no danger of drowning, even if they should fall into the water; so Joyce steadied the log with her hands, while Don stood on it and reached for the lily. It took him some time to get it, for it had a tough stem which was very hard to break. But Joyce was so pleased when he handed her the beautiful lily, that he felt repaid for all his trouble.
About three o'clock the children found some empty spools and went to the corner of the orchard, and sat down in the cool shade of the lilac bush. Soon they were blowing many-colored bubbles and flying them in the air.
Tabby, Grandma's pretty Maltese cat, lay curled up in the shade. One of Don's bubbles lit on her back, and then burst. By and by another lit on her nose, and burst immediately. The old cat jumped to her feet and began to sneeze. Then she sat down and washed her face with her paw, as if to say, "Thank you, I'd rather wash my face without any soap."
That evening, as they sat on the porch, Joyce said a little sadly, "It will not be long now before we shall hear the noisy street cars again, instead of the katydids and whippoorwills. Only one more night after this, and we shall be home."
"Yes," added Don—"only two more stories about the bees." He clambered up on to the arm of Grandma's rocking chair, while Joyce sat down at her feet.
"We're ready for our story, Grandma," said Don.
"All right," answered Grandma. "I shall tell you this time about a little bee called Bee Content. Its buzz is often heard among children at play, when things happen that no one can help. Some will not listen to it, and so they complain and make everyone about them miserable.
"Willie was a poor boy who lived on a farm. Although he had to work hard, helping his father, he always went about whistling or singing. His clothes were old and patched; and he did not have things to play with, as other boys have. But he did not mind being poor, because he had parents who loved him dearly.
"One day when Willie was working in the field, he looked up and saw a great cloud of dust. A team was running away. The horses were hitched to a buggy; and as they came rushing toward him, the thought flashed into Willie's mind that he must try his best to stop them. A short distance down the road, there was a bridge. If the horses should run into the railing,' he thought, 'they would tear the buggy to pieces, and perhaps hurt themselves.'
"The boy leaped over the fence, and braced himself; and as the horses came near, he grabbed one by the bridle and held on tightly. This was a very brave thing to do; for if he had missed catching hold, he might have been thrown under the horses' hoofs and trampled to death. His weight swinging on the horse's bridle soon stopped the team.
"Soon a man came running along the highway; and when he learned what Willie had done, he said, 'You are a brave boy. What do I owe you for your trouble?'
"Willie smiled his friendly smile as he answered, 'I did not stop the horses for pay, sir. I thought of the railing on the bridge; and I was afraid the horses would break the buggy, and hurt themselves.'
"Noticing that Willie's clothes were badly worn, the gentleman said,'Will you not let me give you some money to buy clothes?'
"'I have a better pair of shoes than these—and a better suit of clothes, for Sundays,' answered Willie. 'And these clothes are all right to work in.'
"'But you will need some new books for school this fall,' said the gentleman.
"'I have some books that were given to me,' replied the lad; 'and Mother glued in the loose leaves, so that I can use them very well, thank you.'
"'Wouldn't you like to have a ball and bat?'
"'I made a ball from some old wool that Mother gave me,' answered Willie; 'and I whittled out a bat which answers the purpose very well.'
"The gentleman laid his hand on Willie's shoulder, saying kindly, 'My boy, I understand now why you have that smile; for you have learned a secret which few people know—the secret of contentment. I shall have to call you The Contented Boy.' And with that, he drove away.
"A few days later, a large box came to the village, addressed to Willie. The express agent sent word out to the farm, and Willie's father drove in to the village to get it.
"When Willie opened the box, he found a large card lying on top on which were written the words:To the Contented Boy, From a Grateful Friend and Debtor. He knew then that the box had come from the man whose team he had stopped a few days before.
"It contained a new suit of clothes, some shirts, overalls, stockings, a warm cap and mittens, and a new baseball and bat. When he lifted out the overcoat he felt in the pockets and discovered a five-dollar bill.
"How pleased Willie was! As he went back to his work in the field, he whistled more cheerily than before.
"But that was not all. At Christmas time, a wonderful bicycle came from his new friend. You will believe me when I tell you that he was the happiest boy in the country."
"That's the best story you have told us yet," said Don. "I think Willie was a brave boy."
"And he deserved everything he got," added Grandma; "for he had learned the secret of being content with a very little."
Bee Prayerful
[Illustration: Bee Prayerful]
Another morning came; the morning of the last day Joyce and Don were to spend on the farm. They followed Grandma about the house, eager to do something to help. After the usual work was done, and they had taken turns at the churning, Grandma said she would make cookies to pack in their lunch-basket the next day.
So she gathered together eggs, sugar, flour, milk, butter, baking powder, and spices. Quickly she made the dough and rolled it out on the board. The children stood close to her watching as she cut out the dough in different shapes.
She made quite an army of cookie men; and after they were baked, she covered them with icing. She made their eyes out of cinnamon drops; also the buttons down their vests.
"Aren't they lovely?" cried Joyce. "Put plenty of them in our lunch-basket tomorrow, won't you, Grandma? Then we can take some home to Mother and Daddy."
"Yes," said Grandma, "and there will be enough for your little friends, too."
In the afternoon the children's trunk was brought out, and Grandma helped them to pack. There were so many things they wanted to take home with them, that this was quite a task. At the last moment, just as Grandma was ready to close the trunk,
Don ran and got the kite that Grandpa had made. "Maybe Daddy will know how to make it fly," he said. But there was no room for it in the trunk, so he had to take it back to the woodshed.
"I can put it away in a safe place," he said. "It will be waiting for us when we come back next summer."
That evening the children did all they could to help Grandpa with the chores. They gathered the eggs, pumped water, filled the wood-box, and did many other things.
"You are certainly fine little helpers," said Grandpa when they had finished.
"When you get home," added Grandma with a smile, "you must tell Mother and Daddy that we need you to help us on the farm."
"We will," promised the children with beaming faces.
When they had gathered on the porch for their last evening together, Joyce stole up to Grandma's chair and said softly, "Tonight you must tell us the very best bee story that you know."
"It couldn't be better than the one about Bee Content," said Don.
"I shall tell you about the bee that is perhaps the most important of all," said Grandma thoughtfully. "It does wonderful things for those who listen to its buzz; but those who refuse to listen are sure to be sorry afterward. It is called Bee Prayerful." The children were eager to hear the story, so Grandma began at once:
"William Sutherland was a boy who lived in the state of Maryland. When he was thirteen years old, he gave his heart to God and became a Christian. After that he would often steal away alone and spend a few minutes talking to God.
"When he was fourteen, Willie began to work in the bank as an errand boy. The banker soon found that he was honest, and trusted him with large sums of money. One of his errands was to carry the payroll to a mill town several miles away. He made this trip every two weeks; and he always set out in the afternoon, and returned the following morning.
"There were no automobiles in those days, and no good roads. William had to ride a pony, leaving the main highway and riding over a trail that had been blazed through the forest.
"As he started out one afternoon, his mother said to him, 'Son, I'm afraid to have you carry so much money over that lonely trail.'
"'Oh, there is no reason to worry, Mother,' replied the lad cheerfully, as he swung into the saddle. 'You know I have always made the trip safely before.'
"'Yes,' replied the good woman, 'but I feel fearful today. I shall be praying for you while you are on your way.'
"William waved to her, as he turned his pony about and started on his journey. He had placed the payroll in his saddle bags; and as he looked at them he said to himself, 'How glad I am that my master trusts me with so much money.'
"He whistled and sang, as he rode along; but as he neared the lonely forest trail, a strange feeling of fear came over him. He reined in his pony and sat still for some time, wondering just what he ought to do. Then Bee Prayerful began to buzz about his ears. He had heard its little voice many times before, and he had learned always to listen and obey. He rode on to the spot where he must leave the highway and set out upon the forest trail; and then he slipped from the saddle and knelt down beside the bushes growing there.
"'Dear God,' he said aloud, 'I don't know why, but I feel very much afraid. Take care of me, as I ride through this lonely place. I believe You will, because You have written in Your Book, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."'
"And as William knelt there, alone with God, all feeling of fear melted away. He arose, mounted his pony, and rode on with a light heart.
"The mill men knew he was coming, for they could hear his cheerful whistle before his pony came into view. He gave the payroll to the foreman, spent the night in the little town, and the next forenoon returned safely to his home.
"His mother met him at the door. 'Son,' she said, 'something peculiar happened to me yesterday while you were away. I was very busy, but a little voice seemed to tell me that I ought to stop my work and pray for you. I felt that you were in danger, and that I should ask God to keep you safe. So I laid my work aside, went into my room and knelt down, and stayed there until I was sure that you were quite safe.'
"Then William told her how he had felt just before he reached the lonely forest trail, and how he had knelt down among the bushes and asked God to protect him. After that, they often talked about this strange happening, and wondered what it could mean.
"William worked in the bank for quite a long while, and then he went away to college. After he had graduated, he became a minister. Soon after this, God called away his good mother to her home in Heaven.
"One day William received a letter stamped with the postmark of a town in a distant state. 'I am very ill,' said the writer, 'and the doctor says I shall never recover. I must see you, as I have something very important to tell you before I am called away to meet my God. Please come to me as quickly as possible.' There was no name written at the end of the letter. It was signed, 'A friend.'
"William turned the letter over and over in his hand. He knew no one in that faraway place, and for a time he was very much puzzled. Then he did as he had been in the habit of doing for many years—he slipped away to spend a few moments alone with God. And a voice in his heart kept saying, 'Go; someone is in need, and your work is to minister to every soul who asks for help.'
"'But whom shall I ask for, when I arrive?' asked William, still perplexed.And the voice answered, 'Only go; God will take care of the rest.'
"Hastily packing a few things in his traveling bag, William boarded a train and started for the town in the far-distant state. Arriving at the end of his journey, he stepped out upon the station platform. He was astonished when a gentleman came up to him and said courteously, 'Is this Reverend Sutherland?'
"'Yes,' replied the minister, 'I am he.'
"'I have been sent to meet you, sir,' said the stranger. 'I have met every train during the past week. Will you come with me?'
"A few minutes later, he led the minister into a darkened room where a sick man lay. As they tiptoed into the room, he looked up eagerly, and his breath came fast. Holding out his hand, he asked in a feeble voice, 'Is this Reverend Sutherland?'
"'It is,' said the minister gently, clasping the thin white hand. 'Where have I met you before, my friend—and what can I do for you now?'
"'You have never met me before,' said the sick man, and his voice sank to a whisper. 'I saw you only once and that was many years ago. But I have kept track of your whereabouts all these years. I have sent for you now, sir, because—I am dying.'
"The sick man sank back upon his pillows and rested a moment; then, fixing his large eyes on the minister's face, he went on:
"'Mr. Sutherland, one afternoon many years ago you were entrusted with a large sum of money to take to the foreman of a certain mill. In a wild and lonely spot, you slipped from your saddle and knelt down by some bushes and asked God to protect you. Do you remember it?'
"'As if it had been yesterday,' said the minister. 'But, my good friend-what do you know about it?'
"'Far more than you do,' said the sick man sadly.I heard that prayer. I was crouching among the bushes nearby, with my rifle pointed at your heart. I had planned to kill you, take the money, and ride away on your pony. But while you were praying something passed between us; I did not know what it was, but I believed that God had sent it to protect you. I sat in those bushes, too weak to pull the trigger, and watched you ride away—perfectly helpless to do any harm to you. But it has haunted me ever since—the thought of what I wanted to do, and what I should have done if God had not answered your prayer. I could not meet God without telling you all this. Can you forgive me?'
"Again William grasped the hand of the dying man, saying in a husky voice, 'My friend, as God has forgiven my sins, I freely forgive you. Ask now for God's forgiveness, and be at peace.'
"The minister stayed with the man for some time, talking and praying with him; until at last the light shone in his dark soul, and God forgave his sins.
"He died soon after that, and William Sutherland was asked to preach his funeral sermon. He chose as his text those words from the book of Proverbs: 'Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.'"
The children sat very still for some time, after Grandma had finished her story. "I think Bee Prayerful is the best of all," said Joyce at last. "I shall remember that story as long as I live."
"I hope you will, dear," said Grandma. "No matter where you go—no matter how busy you are—always listen to the gentle buzz of Bee Prayerful."
"We will, Grandma," said the children soberly.
"And now," said Grandma, "it is bedtime for two little folks who will have to be up bright and early in the morning. You know the train leaves at eight o'clock."
"Good-night, katydids and whippoorwills," murmured Don a little drowsily."We shall come back to hear you sing again next summer."
With that, two tired children crept upstairs and tumbled into bed; and very soon they were in the Land of Dreams.
Home Again
[Illustration: Home Again]
The sunlight was streaming in at their bedroom windows, when Joyce and Don awoke the next morning. They dressed quickly, and ran down to watch Grandma pack their lunch for the trip home. At the breakfast table, they talked of all the nice times they had had during the past few weeks; and they promised to persuade Mother and Daddy to come with them to the farm next summer.
When everything was ready, Grandpa lifted the little trunk to his shoulder and carried it out to the car; and soon they were on their way. When they reached the station Grandpa bought the tickets, checked the little trunk, and gave the children a story book to read on the train. Dear Grandpa and Grandma! They always knew just what to do to make the children happy.
As the train whistled in the distance, Don caught Grandpa's hand and held it tight. Joyce threw her arms around Grandma and whispered, "Dear Grandma, I love you! And I've had such a happy time!"
The train pulled up, and the conductor called, "All aboard!" After Grandpa had helped them on to the train, and had gone back to the station platform, the children waved and threw kisses through the window. As the train moved away, they pressed their faces to the window and watched Grandpa and Grandma as long as they could. But they soon were left behind, the train moved faster, and the little village passed out of sight. Happy vacation days on the farm had come to an end.
For a few moments the children had to fight to keep back the tears. Then Joyce opened the book that Grandpa had given them, and soon their loneliness was forgotten.
There was a story about a little lame dog that came to a man's house one cold winter night and whined about the door. He let it in, bound up its foot, and gave it some food and a comfortable place to sleep.
The man liked the dog so well that he decided to keep it. One night, when everyone was asleep, the house caught fire; and the dog awakened the man in time to save the whole family from burning to death.
There were stories about cows and horses; and a long, long one about the interesting animals to be seen at the zoo.
One story was so funny that when Don read it, he burst out laughing; and the other passengers looked at him and smiled. It was about a mischievous monkey at the zoo. One day a gentleman who wore a wig came by, carrying his hat in his hand. The monkey reached through the bars and caught hold of the wig, pulling it off his head.
When it was time for lunch, Joyce opened the basket that Grandma had packed for them. They spread out a napkin on the seat in front of them, and ate their lunch off this "table" in the most grown-up fashion. Grandma had tucked in several surprises; and how good the cookie-men tasted!
In the middle of the afternoon they began to pass through the suburbs of the city, and soon familiar sights came into view. When the train backed into the station, there stood Mother and Daddy waiting for them.
"O Mother," cried Joyce with a bear hug, "I've had a good time, but I'm so glad to see you again!" Don, big boy that he was, had jumped into Daddy's arms. Soon the little trunk had been placed in the car, and they were driving toward home.
"What did you enjoy most of all, during your vacation?" asked Mother, as they were eating supper that evening.
"Fishing," replied Don quickly.
Joyce did not answer; she sat quite still, with a far-away look in her eyes.
"And what did my little girl like best of all?" asked Mother at last.
"O Mother," said Joyce, her eyes shining, "I was happy every minute— even when the old turkey gobbler was chasing me around the tree. But what I liked best was to sit out on the porch in the evenings, and listen to the katydids and whippoorwills, and watch the stars come out one by one. And then it was so nice to sit close to Grandma's old rocking-chair
End of Project Gutenberg's A Hive of Busy Bees, by Effie M. Williams