Bee Truthful

Every day Joyce and Don went out to meet the mailman; and how glad they were this morning when he brought them a letter from Mother! Mother and Daddy were having a good time at the lake; and there was a picture of Daddy smiling at them, as he held up a day’s catch of fish.

“What a string of fish!” exclaimed Grandpa, when they showed it to him. “And what fine big ones they are!”

“I wish,” said Don, “that we could go fishing, Grandpa.”

Grandpa whispered something in his ear; and the little fellow began to dance about and clap his hands.

“What is it?” asked Joyce excitedly.

“Only that we’re going fishing tomorrow,” said Grandpa. “We’ll start out bright and early in the morning, take our lunch, and spend the day at the river.”

Joyce and Grandma were busy all morning about the house; and in the afternoon they baked cookies, and got the lunch as nearly ready as they could for the trip. Grandpa and Don went out to the garden to dig bait.

They soon had a can full of worms; and then Don found a larger can, and filled that, too. When Grandpa said they had enough, Don covered the worms with loose dirt and set the cans out in the shed. Then they got out the fishing tackle.

Late in the afternoon, Grandma called the children and asked them to catch a chicken for her, so she could get it ready for their picnic lunch.

The children asked if they might pick off the feathers. They had watched Grandma do it so many times, they thought it would be an easy job. But when they tried it, they found it was not so easy after all. They turned the chicken round and round, picking first in one place and then in another. It took them a long time to get all the feathers off.

Then Grandma cut up the chicken and put it in a crock, and took it to the spring house to keep it cool. “I will fry it in the morning,” she said.

How quickly the day passed by! It was already time to do the evening chores. Grandma was trying to teach the brown and white calf to drink milk from a pail. Grandpa was busy in the barn, so she called the children to come and help her.

The calf was kept in a lot near the orchard. “I want you to drive him to the corner of the fence for me,” said Grandma. “Then I will try to coax him to drink the milk.”

But the little creature was not so easy to manage. As soon as they had driven him into the corner, he would back away; and off he would go again, across the lot.

After this had happened several times, Don said, “Just wait, Grandma; when we get him into the corner again, I will hold him there.”

So the next time, he grabbed the calf about the neck and jumped on his back. Instantly the calf turned and galloped across the lot. When he reached the farther side, he turned again, and Don rolled off on the soft grass.

Just then, Grandpa came to the rescue. He drove the calf to the corner and held him there, while Grandma coaxed him to drink from the pail.

“We must go to bed early tonight,” said Grandpa as they started for the house. “We want to reach the river by the time the sun comes up.”

“But you’ll tell us a story first, won’t you, Grandma?” asked Don.

“Yes,” said Grandma, as she sank into her comfortable old rocking chair in the kitchen.

“About another bee?” asked Joyce. “Which one?”

“Bee Truthful,” answered Grandma. “Boys and girls who will not listen to him often come to grief—as the boy did that I shall tell you about.

“Little Milton lived on a farm. His father had a number of mules, which he used in plowing his fields. Two of the young mules were very ill-tempered. Milton’s father was very careful to keep the little pigs and calves out of their way, for fear the mules would paw them to death.

“When Milton was almost nine, a little baby brother came into his home. His name was Marion. Milton loved the baby dearly, and never grew tired of playing with him.

“Their father built a fence around the yard. They were careful to keep the gates of the fence closed, so little Marion could not wander away; especially after the two ill-tempered mules were put out to pasture in the lot just back of the house.

“Late one afternoon, Milton was helping his father in the back lot. Daddy had to go and do something else, so he left the boy to finish the job.

“ ‘As soon as you have finished,’ said Daddy, ‘you may go to the house. But be sure to latch the back yard gate.’

“Daddy did not get home until after dark. ‘Milton,’ he said, ‘did you latch the gate when you came in this afternoon?’

“Milton knew he had forgotten, but he thought to himself, ‘If I tell the truth, I shall have to go out and latch the gate now; and I am afraid of the dark.’

“Aloud, he said, ‘Yes, Daddy, I did.’

“ ‘Are you sure?’ asked Daddy.

“ ‘Yes,’ said Milton again.

“The little boy suddenly heard a bee buzzing in his ears—‘Tell the truth, Milton; tell the truth!’ But he said to himself, ‘It won’t matter if the gate stands open all night; I will latch it the first thing in the morning.’ And so he soon forgot all about it.

“The next morning, right after breakfast, Milton’s mother sent him on an errand. Marion was still asleep.

“ ‘Where’s Marion?’ asked Milton when he came back.

“ ‘He woke a little while ago,’ said Mother. ‘After I gave him his breakfast, I let him go out in the yard to play—it’s such a bright morning.’

“Instantly Milton thought of the gate; and he went to look for Marion.

“A moment later he heard his father cry out in alarm; and looking toward the pasture where the two young mules were kept, he saw little Marion just inside the fence.

“Daddy ran toward the baby as fast as he could; but he was just too late. One of the mules kicked Marion, and he fell over in a little heap. The mule, seeing Daddy coming, ran toward the other end of the pasture.

“Daddy picked up the limp little body and carried it to the house. The baby lay so still that at first they thought he was dead.

“Milton was terribly frightened, and he cried almost all day; for he knew this dreadful thing had happened because he did not latch the back yard gate—and because he had told Daddy a lie about it.

“Poor little Marion was taken to the hospital. His spine had been injured, and it was many, many months before he could sit up. And never again was he able to run about like other children.

“It was a long time before Mother and Daddy found out how the baby came to be in the pasture with the mules. But one day, after little Marion had been brought home, Milton told Daddy the whole, sad story.

“ ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Daddy kindly, when he had finished. ‘I wish you had told me the truth. I wouldn’t have sent you out alone in the dark, son. I would have gone out and latched the gate myself.’

“It was almost more than Milton could bear, to have his father talk to him so sadly and yet so kindly. The sting of the bee went deeper and deeper, as he watched his pale-faced little brother day after day. Always after that, he was careful to listen to the buzzing of little Bee Truthful.”

Two very sober children said good night to Grandma just as the clock struck half-past eight.