CLOVERNOOK. 



cause they were unable to get furniture. So it stood right in the sun, with no shutters, 

 and no trees about it, and Mrs. Troost said she didn't suppose it ever would have. She 

 was always opposed to building it, but she never had her way about anything. Never- 

 theless, some people said Mr. Troost had taken the dimensions of his house with his 

 wife's apron strings — but that may have been slander. 



While Mrs. Troost sat sighing over things in general, Mrs. Hill sewed on the last but- 

 ton, and shaking the loose threads from the completed garment, held it up a moment to 

 take a satisfactory view, as it were, and folded it away. 



" Well, did you ever!" said Mrs. Troost; " you have made half a shirt, and I have 

 got nothing at all done. My hands sweat so I can't use the needle, and its no use to 

 try." 



" Lay down you work for a little while, and we will walk in the garden. 



So Mrs. Hill threw a towel over her head, and taking a little tin basin in her hand, the 

 two went into the garden — Mrs. Troost under the shelter of the blue umbrella, which she 

 said was so heavy that it was worse than nothing. Beans, radishes, raspberries and cur- 

 rants, besides many other things, were there in profusion, and Mrs. Troost said everything 

 flourished for Mrs. Hill, while her garden was all choked up with weeds. " And you have 

 bees, too — don't they sting the children, and give you a great deal of trouble? Along in 

 May, I guess it was, Troost, (Mrs. Troost always called her husband so,) bought a hive, 

 or rather he traded a calf for one — a nice, likely calf, too, it was — and they never did 

 us one bit of good" — and the unhappy woman sighed. 



" They do say," said Mrs. Hill, sympathizingly, " that bees won't work for some 

 folks; in case their king dies they are likely to quarrel, and not do well; but we have never 

 had any ill luck with ours; and we last year sold forty dollars worth of honey, besides 

 having all we wanted for our own use. Did yours die off, or what, Mrs. Troost.'"' 



"Why," said the ill-natured visitor, " my oldest boy got stung one day, and, being 

 angry, upset the hive, and I never found it out for two or three days; and, sending Troost 

 to put it up in its place, there was not a bee to be found, high or low." 



" You don't tell! the obstinate little creatures! but they must be treated kindly, and I 

 have heard of their going off for less things." 



The basin was by this time filled with currants, and they returned to the house. Mrs. 

 Hill, seating herself on the sill of the kitchen door, began to prepare her fruit for tea, 

 while Mrs. Troost drew her chair near, saying, " Did you ever hear about William Mc- 

 Micken's bees?" 



Mrs. Hill had never heard, and expressing an anxiety to do so, was told the following 

 story : 



" His wife, you know, was she that was Sally May, and its an old saying — 



' To change the name, and not the letter, 

 You marry for worse, and not for better.' 

 " Sally was a dressy, extravagant girl; she had her bonnet ' done up' twice a year al- 

 ways, and there was no end to her frocks and ribbons and fine things. Her mother in- 

 dulged her in everything; she used to say Sally deserved all she got; that she was worth 

 her weight in gold. She used to go everywhere, Sally did. There was no big meeting 

 that she was not at, and no quilting that she didn't help to get up. All the girls went to 

 her for the fashions, for she was a good deal in town at her Aunt Hanner's, and always 

 brought out the new patterns. She used to have her sleeves a little bigger than anybody 

 ou remember, and then she wore great stiffners in them — la me! there was 

 extravagance. 



