Chapter 3

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.

"Now there were some children living in the neighborhood who were very rude. For this reason the twins were never allowed to play with them. But today, on their way to the store, they met these children, and all went on together.

"They crossed a vacant lot, where there was a pile of crushed rock. Near the rock pile, they met an elderly woman carrying a small satchel. She spoke kindly to them; but one of the boys answered her very rudely, and then stuck out his tongue at her. The lady turned to him and said, 'My boy, you need someone to teach you how to be a gentleman.'

"'Oh, do I?' said the boy roughly. And picking up a stone from the rock pile, he threw it at her. Another lad did the same, and still another.

"Now the twins had been taught to be polite--especially to old people. Just now little Bee Polite began to buzz about them. But when children are in bad company, it is always hard for them to hear the small voice of conscience. For a moment they stood and watched the boys throw rocks at the old lady; and then they began to throw them too.

"No matter how hard she tried, Daisy could not throw a stone straight. But Dan had a better aim, and he threw a rock which struck the old lady's hand.

"When the twins reached the store, there were several customers ahead of them; so they had to wait their turn. It was nearing supper time when they came out of the store with their bundles. The rude boys had waited outside for them all that time; and the twins gave them some of their candy.

"When Daisy and Dan reached home, they were much surprised to find a visitor there. It was the old lady whom they had treated so unkindly. Mother was crying, as she bathed the hand that had been hurt by Dan's rock.

"'Children,' she said, 'this is your dear grandmother who has come to see you. She came on an earlier train than she expected; and she inquired the way, and walked out from the station alone. Some rude children treated her very unkindly on the way. You will have to very good to her, to make up for it.'

"'Well, well,' said Grandma kindly, 'is this Daisy and Dan? I should never have taken them to be my grandchildren.'

"The twins expected her to add, 'So _you_ are the naughty children who threw stones at me.' But she did not say it; and Daisy and Dan hurried out of the room as quickly as they could.

"So the good times the children had expected to have with their grandma were spoiled in the very beginning. After that, whenever they went into the room where she was, they felt very uncomfortable.

"'I don't understand why the twins act so strangely,' said Mother one day, as she and Grandma sat mending together. 'I am really ashamed of them. They had planned to do so many things to make you happy during your visit. But they seem to keep away from you all they can.'

"Daisy, who was passing outside just under the window, heard every word distinctly. Her heart pounded like a hammer, and she held her breath, to hear what Grandma would say.

"Grandma went on mending, without saying a word. 'Dear Grandma! She won't tell on us for throwing stones at her,' said Daisy to herself. 'Then I'll tell, that's what I'll do!' she added with a sob.

"An instant later, Mother was surprised to see the little girl dash into the room with tears running down her cheeks. She threw herself down by the chair and laid her head in her mother's lap. She was crying so hard that for a moment she could not speak.

"'There, there, little girl,' said Mother, 'what has happened? Tell Mother all about it.'

"Then Daisy told the whole story. When she had finished, she threw her arms around Grandma.

"'I'm so sorry, dear Grandma!' she cried.

"Just then Grandma looked up and saw Dan standing there. He had come in so softly that no one had noticed.

"Grandma held out her hands to him; and he burst into tears. 'It was my fault, lots more than Daisy's,' he sobbed. 'I threw a stone before she did; and besides, it was my stone that hit your hand.'

"Grandma talked to the twins for a long time, then, in her own quiet way. She told them that children who were in bad company were almost sure to do wrong themselves; and that polite boys and girls usually grew up to be the best men and women.

"'I know that such a thing will never happen again,' she said, kissing them both; 'so now it is all forgiven and forgotten.'

"But the twins could not forget. Two or three weeks later, Grandma went home. She still wrote letters and sent presents, just as if nothing had ever happened. But for many years--long after Daisy and Dan had grown up--every time they thought of their dear grandmother, they felt the sting of their rudeness and cruelty to her."

Joyce winked the tears out of her eyes, as she threw her arms around her grandma's neck. "I could never treat you like that, dear Grandma!" she cried.

"Neither could I," said Dan soberly, kissing her good-night.

Bee Gentle

In the morning, another letter came from Mother. "Daddy and I are getting lonesome for you," she wrote.

"We're having a better time than Mother and Daddy are," laughed Don. "If they had come with us to Grandpa's, they would not have been so lonesome, would they, Joyce?"

"I should say not!" answered Joyce. "The days go by too fast for that; and besides, something is always happening. If it's nothing else, the old turkey gobbler chases me around the tree." Don and Grandma laughed heartily and Joyce joined in.

Grandma had promised to make some cookies this morning; so with Joyce on one side of her and Don on the other, she mixed up the dough and rolled it out on the large board. Then she got some cutters from the pantry, and cut out the cookies in all sorts of shapes. There were different kinds of animals: a bird for Joyce, and a queer little man for Don. His eyes, nose, and mouth were made out of raisins; also the buttons on his vest. Then she put the cookies in the oven to bake.

When they were done and Grandma took them out, Joyce's bird stuck to the pan and its tail came off. And Don's man had grown so fat that he had burst one of the buttons off his vest.

A long time ago, when the children's mother had been Grandma's little girl, she had lived on this very farm. In those far-off days she had planted a lilac bush and a cluster of prickly pear. Grandpa did not like the prickly pear, but he had let it grow all these years because his little girl had planted it.

"Isn't the grass nice and soft here?" said Don. "It feels just like a velvet carpet. Watch me turn somersaults on it."

With that, he began to turn somersaults, going in the direction of the prickly pear. Joyce called to him to be careful, but it was too late; he came down right in the middle of the cactus plant. The long thorns pierced him like sharp needles; and although he tried to be brave, he could not keep back the tears.

There was nothing to do but pull out the thorns one by one, and it took Grandma quite a while to do that. And although Don turned many somersaults afterward, he was always careful to keep away from the prickly pear.

When story time came, Grandma, gently rocking back and forth, began: "I shall tell you tonight about a bee that it is very necessary to have in the home; and it is also much needed by those who have anything to do with animals. Its name is Bee Gentle. Have you ever noticed how gentle Grandpa is with all his animals?"

"Yes, I have noticed it," said Joyce. "And the horses love him for it, too. Whenever he goes to the pasture, they trot up to him and begin to nose about his pockets."

"He usually carries something in his pockets to give them," said Grandma. "He has raised all his horses from little colts; and he has always treated them kindly. Some men think they must treat animals roughly, to make them obey; but that is not so.

"Jake and Jenny were a brother and sister who loved each other dearly, but they were quite different in disposition. All the animals about the place were afraid of Jake, for he treated them roughly, and sometimes beat them. But they loved Jenny because she was gentle with them. The dog would follow her about, and the cat would curl up on her lap and purr itself to sleep. When she went to the pasture, the horses would trot up to her and rub their noses on her shoulder. She often gave them lumps of sugar, or other dainties that horses like. No matter how wild or shy they were with others, Jenny could always catch them easily.

"Of all the horses in her father's pasture, Jenny loved best a beautiful swift-footed mare called Fanny. Sometimes she would ride about the country on Fanny's back. But as gentle as the mare was with Jenny, she was afraid of Jake and would not let him catch her in the pasture.

"'It would be much better,' Jenny would often say to her brother, 'if you would not treat the animals so roughly. See how easily I can handle Fanny--just because I am always gentle with her.'

"'Oh,' Jake would answer with a laugh, 'that is all right for a woman, Jenny; but a man, you know, must show his authority.'

"Very early one morning, Jake's father came into his room. 'Jake,' he said, shaking the boy, 'wake up, son! Mother was taken very ill in the night. Catch Fanny and go for the doctor as quickly as you can.'

"The hired man was sleeping in the next room, and he heard what Jake's father said. He also got up and dressed, and hurried out to the pasture to help Jake catch the mare.

"The two were gone quite a while. At last they came back to the house, and Jake said, 'I can't catch Fanny, Father. She has jumped the ditch a dozen times. What shall I do?'

"'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

"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

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 and bridle 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."