GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



September, 1919 



He was sticky and gooey aud mussed and 

 miserable. And at last, the deluge being 

 still unnoticed and unstopped, he gave one 

 last powerful lunge that successfully sever- 

 ed him from his moorings. With a rush he 

 skidded down the aisle, volplaned thru the 

 open door and tore on out down the street, 

 squawking, squeaking, flapping, trumpeting 

 his disgust to high heaven and trailing the 

 sticky honey over every spot he touched! 

 Then someone walked thru a sea of honey 

 and turned off the spigot. 'What a mess! 

 What a messi' groaned my storekeeper nar- 

 rator, laughing as he groaned. 'Six inches 

 deep over the hull back o ' the store. An 

 when that man came back and grouched 

 round bout his rooster bein all mussed up 

 that way, rooster nothin, I ses, how about 

 me losin a hull barrel o ' honey, an it costin 

 me a dollar a gallon?' Which proves, says 

 Daddy Lowe, that it happened several years 

 ago. 



' ' We got several prizes, including third 

 on extracted honey. There was a good deal 

 of animated, perfectly friendly discussion 

 among the exhibitors after the prizes w^ere 

 awarded, about the system of judging honey. 

 It was the general opinion that making 

 color the chief deciding factor was unfortu- 

 nate. Yet no one seemed able to suggest 

 any other really practicable basis. Color 

 and body were the two qualities considered, 

 which I understand is the custom in all 

 judging. (They turn the bottle upside down 

 to judge the body, or thickness, and watch 

 the bubble rise. Quickly up, too thin, pos- 

 sibly 'green' and liable to ferment; slowly 

 up, thick and heavy and rich and ripe.) 

 We all tasted the different honeys, and it 

 was a fact that some of the darker ones 

 were better flavored than the very light 

 ones. Everybody said so, including the 

 winner of the flrst prize. Yet it would 

 hardly be safe to judge by flavor, because 

 different judges would have different tastes. 

 Unless they had a committee. Oh, well, it's 

 not my problem — and it 's certainly not 

 yours! 



"At last Theodore has abandoned his fool- 

 ish farming venture with Mr. Clark, and 

 has his old place back in town. He brought 

 Katherine Clark over here several times 

 alter Jack came back. You see she and 

 Jack are old friends, neighbors always, and 

 I have heard several times that they were 

 expected to be more than friends some day. 

 Theodore came along, tho, to tell me good- 

 bye. I was sitting with Mrs. Lowe and, 

 hoping to avoid serious topics, I wouldn't 

 leave her. But presently he said, most seri- 

 ously, 'Well, Anne, right here before Mrs. 

 Lowe I admit I've given up. I tried hard, 

 and I hope we'll always be friends. But I 

 give up — and admit it.' Now wasn't that 

 like Theodore? And so he went. 



' ' The funnv thing was Mrs. Lowe 's sur- 



prise. She had thought I really cared for 

 him — that way! Later she told me she was 

 glad I didn 't. Everyone seems glad. Dad- 

 dy Lowe said he certainly couldn't spare 

 his apiary assistant, and even Jack, who of 

 course barely met Theodore (and didn't 

 seem to take to him much) seems pleased 

 that he is getting his old place back. Which 

 is nice of Jack. 



' ' You have often said he was a fine type. 

 And so he seems to be. How could he help 

 it, with the parents he has? In his restrict- 

 ed semi-invalid way he has certainly been 

 considerate of me, asking me often to read 

 to him or talk to him or listen to him — - 

 trying, you see, to save me from feeling 

 lonesome or out of things. 



' ' One day lately he even took me into his 

 confidence about Katherine Clark — evident- 

 ly knowing I would have heard about his 

 former attentions to her. He said the week 

 that you and I spent here last winter was a 

 very important one for him, being the week 

 he decided not to ask Katherine to marry 

 him, till after he came home. (How little 

 we suspected, that pleasant week, what an 

 imjjortant matter our younger host was de- 

 ciding!) Well, when he told me that, I kept 

 thinking about Katherine 's frank delight 

 in Theodore 's return to city life and the 

 fact that she is planning to spend the com- 

 ing winter in town with her aunt, and I 

 began to fear my secret hopes for Theodore 

 might mean disaster for Jack. I hesitated 

 to say anything — he was so pale aud weak- 

 looking — but finally I said I hoped he hadn 't 

 waited too long, and wondered if Theodore 

 might count now. He looked at me for a 

 minute as tho he didn 't understand, then 

 suddenly laughed, as tho it were funny, and 

 said he hadn't the slightest fear of Theo- 

 dore. Men are certainly confident creatures. 



' ' I don 't know where I '11 be when I write 

 you next. Not here, of course. The gap I 

 came to fill has ceased to exist, now that 

 Jack is back. And with him and Mrs. Lowe 

 both getting stronger, I think it would be 

 better for them to be just by themselves. 

 I haven't- said anything to them about it 

 yet, and of course they will be all urgent 

 hosjiitality. They're like that. I expect to 

 go, tho — I 'm sure that will be better. And 

 more considerate. But don 't you worry 

 about me. Wherever I am, I shall be busy 

 and, except when I think about this cruel 

 Mar, I shall be happy. Because wherever 

 I am, there will be beauty over the earth 

 and something inside me singing. 



"And indeed, Eobert, even when I think 

 about the war, I am seldom wholly unhappy. 

 For I always thrill to think how nobleness 

 and righteousness have flamed up in people's 

 hearts and how much closer, when the world 

 is still again and clean, it must walk with 

 God. Your loving sister, 



Anne. " 



