A Hive of Busy Bees | Page 8

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