Bee Honest

It seemed to Don that he had just fallen asleep when he heard Grandma’s cheery voice calling, “Breakfast!” He dressed as quickly as he could; but when he got downstairs, all the others were waiting for him.

After breakfast Joyce dried the dishes for Grandma; and then she helped with the sweeping and dusting. Don helped Grandpa to grease the wagon and oil some harness; and he handed staples to Grandpa, while he mended some broken places in the fence.

The children were kept busy until dinner time; but in the afternoon they were free to do anything they liked. Today, they decided to play house in the orchard; so they got out some of the things that Mother had packed in the little trunk, to fix up their house.

But Don soon grew tired of that sort of play. “Let’s play hide-and-seek,” he said.

“All right,” answered Joyce. “I’ll run and hide, while you count to one hundred.”

Away she ran, and Don began to count. Just as he said, “Ninety-five,” she ran to the chicken-house door. It was standing open, so she stepped inside.

Now there was something in the chicken-house that Joyce did not expect to find. One of Grandpa’s pigs was there, rooting around in the loose straw.

The pig was not looking for company; and he was so frightened that he ran toward the door pell-mell. Joyce, standing just inside, was in his way; and as he ran against her, she was lifted off her feet and thrown on to his back. Mr. Piggy dashed wildly out of the chicken-house.

Just outside the door was a large, shallow pan full of water, which Grandma kept there for the chickens. Joyce fell off the pig’s back into the pan of water; and then she rolled over in the dirt.

Don stopped counting when he heard her screams, and Grandma came hurrying out. Poor Joyce! What a sight she was! And she was so frightened that it took Grandma quite a while to quiet her sobs. But a bath and a change of clothes made the little girl feel quite like herself again.

That evening when Grandma came up from the milking, she found the children on the porch waiting for another story.

“Very well,” said Grandma, “I shall tell you a story tonight about Bee Honest.

“Many years ago there lived three little boys—Joe, Henry, and Charles. They all started to school at the same time. For a long while they kept together in their classes; and they were very good friends.

“But when they were about fourteen, two of the boys—Joe and Henry—began to go out nights; and it was always late when they got home. Charles stayed at home in the evening and studied his lessons for the next day, as he had always done.

“Of course, the difference soon showed up in their school work. Charles always knew his lessons, while Joe and Henry fell far behind.

“When examination time came, the boys begged Charles to help them.

“ ‘No,’ said Charles firmly, ‘I will never do anything like that. My mother says that my father wanted me to be honest; and I mean to be.’

“ ‘Aw,’ said Henry, ‘your father has been dead a long time; and your mother’ll never know.’

“ ‘I say there’s no harm in giving a fellow a lift in his examinations,’ grumbled Joe.

“ ‘It would be cheating,’ said Charles quietly; ‘or helping you to, and that would be just as bad.’ And with that he turned to his own work, and began to write diligently.

“Of course Charles passed all his examinations with honors; and of course Joe and Henry failed.

“After that, the boys tormented Charles in every way they could. They called him ‘Mother’s honest little darling’; and when they saw him coming, they yelled, ‘Go home and hang on to your mother’s apron string.’

“Mother knew, by Charles’ sober face, that something had gone wrong. ‘What is it, son?’ she asked; and Charles told her what had happened. She told him how glad she was that he would not do wrong; and how proud his father would be of such a son.

“ ‘I shall never be ashamed of you,’ she said, ‘as long as you are perfectly honest. Sometimes you will find it rather hard; but just wait a few years, and you will see that it pays.’

“Charles had been almost discouraged; but Mother’s words made him feel quite strong and brave again. The next time he saw the boys, his honest blue eyes looked straight into their faces, unashamed and unafraid. They dropped their eyes, and hurried away as quickly as they could. They did not bother Charles again; for the principal had heard of their actions, and had punished them severely.

“When school was out, the boys began to think about doing something to earn a little money. Henry was passing the drug store one day when he noticed a sign in the window—‘Boy Wanted, Apply in Person.’ He went into the store at once, and asked for the job.

“The druggist took him to a little room back of the store. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘is a chest of nails and bolts. You may sort them.’

“The boy worked for a while, and then he said to himself, ‘What a queer job this is!’ He went back into the store and said to the druggist, ‘If that is all you have for me to do, I don’t believe I want the job.’

“ ‘Very well,’ said the druggist, ‘that is all I have for you to do just now.’ He paid Henry for the work he had already done, and the boy went home.

“The druggist went back to the little room, and found bolts and nails scattered all over the floor. He put them back in the chest; and then he hung his sign in the window again.

“The next day Joe passed by and saw the sign; and he, too, went in and asked for the job. The druggist took him to the little room and showed him the chest of nails, and told him to sort them.

“When the boy had worked only a little while, he went back to the druggist and said, ‘Those rusty old nails are no good. Why don’t you let me throw them all away? I don’t like this kind of job, anyway.’

“ ‘All right,’ said the druggist; and he paid Joe for what he had done, and let him go. As he put the nails and bolts back in the chest, he said to himself, ‘I am willing to pay more than this to find a really honest boy.’

“Later Joe and Henry, sauntering down the street together, saw the same sign in the window—‘Boy Wanted. Apply in Person.’

“ ‘Guess he doesn’t want a boy very bad,’ said Joe. ‘That’s no job—sorting those old rusty things. Did you find anything in the chest besides bolts and nails, Henry?’

“ ‘I’m not telling everything I found,’ said Henry with a laugh.

“Joe looked up, puzzled and a little alarmed. ‘Now I wonder—’ he began, but broke off suddenly and started to talk about something else.

“A few days later Charles passed by the drug store and saw the sign in the window. He went in and told the druggist he would like to have the job.

“ ‘Are Joe and Henry friends of yours?’ asked the druggist, looking at him sharply.

“ ‘Oh, no, sir.’ replied Charles quickly. ‘We used to be good friends; but something happened between us that I don’t like to tell; and they wouldn’t have anything to do with me afterward.’

“ ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said the druggist. ‘I rather think you’re the boy I want.’

“For two or three hours Charles worked steadily, now and then whistling a snatch of tune. Then he went to the druggist and said, ‘I have finished the job you gave me. What shall I do next?’

“The druggist went to the little room to see how Charles had done his work. The boy had found some boxes lying about; and he had placed the bolts in one, the nails in another, and the screws in a third.

“ ‘And see what I found!’ exclaimed Charles. ‘It was lying under those old crooked bolts in the bottom of the chest.’ And he handed the druggist a five-dollar gold piece.

“The druggist took the money and said with a smile, ‘Now you may place the bolts and screws back in the chest just as you have them arranged in the boxes.’

“After he had done that, Charles was sent on a few errands; and then he was dismissed for the day.

“A few days later the druggist gave Charles a key and said, ‘You may come early in the morning and open the store, and do the sweeping and dusting.’

“At the end of the first week, when Charles received his pay envelope, he found the five-dollar gold piece along with the week’s wages.

“One morning, not long afterward, when Charles was sweeping the floor, he found a few pennies lying near the counter. He picked them up and laid them on the shelf, and told the druggist about them. Another day he found some pennies, a dime, and two nickels. These, too, he laid on the shelf, telling the druggist where he had found them.

“About a month later, when he was sweeping one morning, he found a bright, shiny new dollar. How he did wish he might keep it for himself!

“ ‘The druggist would never know it,’ whispered a tiny voice.

“But just at that instant, Bee Honest began to buzz around his ears. ‘Don’t forget what Mother told you,’ said the bee. ‘She said she would never be ashamed of you, as long as you were perfectly honest.’

“Charles turned the shiny dollar over and over in his hand. The bee kept on buzzing—‘Never do anything that will make your mother ashamed of you. Be honest! Be honest!’

“ ‘Yes,’ said Charles at last, ‘I will.’ He laid the dollar up on the shelf; and when the druggist came in, he told him about it.

“The druggist smiled and patted him on the shoulder. ‘You are an honest boy,’ was all he said. And at the end of the week, Charles found the shiny dollar in his pay envelope, beside his usual wages.

“A few weeks later, the druggist began to give Charles large sums of money to take to the bank for him. ‘I have found that I can trust you, my boy,’ he would say.

“Charles worked in the store all that summer; and when school opened again, he helped the druggist mornings and evenings. His tired mother did not have to take in so many washings now; for Charles always gave her his money at the end of the week.

“After he had finished school, the druggist gave him a steady job in the store, with good wages.

“ ‘Charles,’ said the druggist one day, ‘do you remember the day you sorted bolts and nails for me?’

“ ‘Indeed I do,’ answered Charles. ‘How glad I was to find work that day, so I could help my mother a little! And I shall never forget how surprised I was when I found a five-dollar gold-piece at the bottom of the chest.’

“ ‘I put it there on purpose,’ said the druggist. ‘I wanted to find out what sort of boy you were.’

“ ‘You did!’ exclaimed the astonished boy.

“ ‘Yes; and when you brought it to me I was pretty sure that I had found an honest boy. But I wanted to be able to trust you with large sums of money, so I tested you still further. I left pennies and nickels and a dime on the floor; and last of all, a dollar. When you picked them all up, and laid them on the shelf, and told me about them—I knew then that I could safely trust you.’

“ ‘I should like to ask you,’ said Charles suddenly—‘was there a gold-piece lying in the bottom of that chest when Joe and Henry sorted the nails, too?’

“ ‘Yes,’ said the druggist, ‘each of them found a gold-piece there; and each of them kept it for himself.’

“ ‘So you lost ten dollars!’ exclaimed Charles.

“ ‘Yes, lost ten dollars hunting for an honest boy. But it was worth it—for I found one at last!’ ”

“Is that the end of the story?” asked Joyce, as Grandma paused.

“Not quite,” said Grandpa, who had been listening. “Tell them what happened to Henry and Joe.”

“Oh, yes; I must not forget to tell you about them,” said Grandma. “Soon after Charles started working for the druggist, Henry was caught stealing some things from a department store. He was arrested; but his father paid the fine, so he was allowed to go free.

“But his dishonest habits soon got him into trouble again. He broke into a house while the family was away, and stole some money. He was sent to a reformatory for boys; and he had to stay there a long time. After that, he never could keep a job long; for he was so dishonest that no one could depend on him.

“Joe did not get into so much trouble in his boyhood; 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.”