"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 round Grandma's neck.

"So do I," said Joyce as she kissed Grandma good-night.



Bee Content



"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



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



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

THE END