8 THE BLESSED BEES. 



for me. It was, as I feared it would be, a telegram. 



My nervousness had gone, I was quiet now. I 



opened it and read : 



Your father is worse. Come home at once. 



MARY ALLEN. 



My hope was gone now. I knew my mother 

 would not have sent such a message unless there 

 was real danger. There was no time for anything 

 but action ; indeed, there was scarcely time for that. 

 I asked my chum, Tom, to pick up my things, 

 ready for packing, while I should go across to 

 Bircham's for a horse and wagon. On the way 

 over I stopped at the President's door, and obtained 

 leave of absence from college. It was after nine 

 o'clock, and Bircham had gone to bed. But I roused 

 him, and he promised to be at the boarding-hall at 

 five o'clock in the morning. The train left Lansing 

 at six, and an hour would give us ample time, 

 especially if we took the lower town road, as it was 

 best to do, since they were grading the other. 

 When I got back to the room Tom had everything 

 ready for packing ; but before beginning, I went to 

 the rooms of several of my special friends to say 

 good-bye. They were manly fellows, full of pluck 

 and kindliness. They all wanted to help me, but 

 there was really nothing they could do, and they 

 had the good sense to see it, and not trouble me. 

 Then the old trunk was soon packed. Tom said he 



