The Keeper of the Bees, page 24
Jamie arose and took the little Scout by the hand. “Come on, Jean,” he said, “let’s go home.”
The little Scout bounded expertly from crag to crag down the rock in front of him and waited for him at the base.
“You seem to like my name.”
“Well,” said Jamie, “there couldn’t be a lovelier name. It’s something to know about you definitely, and at that it doesn’t tell me whether you’re a boy or a girl.”
Jamie saw the mutiny that instantly dawned in the eyes raised to his.
“Still harping on that old no-sense thing, are you?” demanded the little person. “Still fussing over trifles when you are satisfied with the big thing. If I’m your partner and you’re the keeper of my secrets, and we’re going home together, ain’t that enough for you?”
“That ought to be almost enough for any man,” answered Jamie.
So they started up the path toward the back gate.
Halfway there the little Scout paused and looked at Jamie speculatively.
“Am I to call you the Bee Master now?”
“No,” said Jamie. “You aren’t going to call me the Bee Master, maybe not for long years yet. The Bee Master is a title that has to be won by painstaking work and fine thought and delicate operations. It’s a tide that properly belonged to the man who’s sleeping now. He could wear it with grace and dignity. It’s too big to fit my case. We’ll have to find a title for me that means stumbling along plainly and simply, every day studying my job and making the most of it, going at things with all my heart and putting the best I have to give to them, just sticking on the job because I like it, as you told me I would.”
Registering among the mental pictures that endured, there registered on Jamie’s consciousness the upward lift of the shoulders, the backward slant of the head, the elevation of the chin, the outward gesture of both hands, and on his ears fell the dictum: “Oh, well, then, if you want to be plain and simple, If you want to get right down to brass tacks, you better just answer to what you are—the Keeper of the Bees. That’s a good enough name for any man.”
“I heartily agree with you,” said Jamie. “That’s a fine title. That satisfies me fully and completely, better, in fact, than any title possibly could that was of German origin.”
“Is the ‘Bee Master’ of German origin?” queried the little Scout.
“Yes,” said Jamie, “that title is of German origin.” “Was the Bee Master a German?”
“No,” said Jamie. “Never! The Bee Master was British by breeding and training. He happened to be located in our country, but he was of British ancestry if he didn’t go farther and be of British birth.”
“Well, he didn’t go that far,” said the small person. “That’s another thing he told me himself. He was born in Pennsylvania and he found Mary there and he was married there, and he lived there, and the awful tilting rock was in the mountains there.”
“The tilting rock?” asked Jamie.
The little Scout looked down.
“I guess I’m kind of broke up to-day,” was the conclusion reached. “I guess I’ve said two or three things I’d better kept still about. We won’t talk about that rock to-day. Maybe some day I’ll tell you. It’s pretty awful and I don’t sleep well if I get to thinking about it. If I get to thinking hard about it, I can’t very well quit. I want to see him before they send him away. I want to straighten his hair and fix his tie and fold his hands myself.
I want to fix his feet comfortable and easy and I would like to put his slippers on him, too.”
Right there Jamie broke down. By that time they had reached the bench under the jacqueranda. He sat down on it and buried his face in his hands and sobbed aloud. The little person stood beside him and put stout arms around his neck.
“Aw,” said the voice, roughened with emotion, “they didn’t go and send him right away? They didn’t put him on a morning train? They didn’t not give me a chance? They didn’t let somebody else fix him?”
Jamie straightened up.
“Honey,” he said, “I’m afraid they did.”
“Well, I call that a dirty gyp!” sobbed the little Scout. “It ain’t giving the Bee Master any show, and it ain’t giving me any show! When he liked me the best, he would have wanted me to fix him. Mother would have come with me and so would Dad. Doctor Grayson knew all about me, and I’m going to tell him what I think of that kind of business! I’ve called him on the ’phone maybe half-a-dozen times and got him here and run as tight as I could lick to get what he wanted and to heat water and to help him. He knew darn well who the Bee Master would want to fix him up to go to see God! It ain’t fair!”
Then the little person collapsed and Jamie had his chance at comforting. By and by, when both of them were calmer, they sat on the bench side by side and dried their eyes on the same handkerchief.
“Did he divide things the way you’d like to have ’em?” asked the small person, in abrupt change, as was habitual. “Did he give you the side of the garden you’d most rather have?”
“Why, I’m perfectly satisfied,” said Jamie. “I don’t see any difference.”
“I do,” said the little Scout. “If I’d got to take my choice, I’d ‘a’ said the east side.”
“What difference does it make?” asked Jamie. “There are as many hives on the west side as there are on the east. If there aren’t, we’ll count them and make them exactly even. I’m perfectly willing to move the Black Germans over and give you them as a bonus. Was it the Black Germans you wanted?”
“No,” said the little person, “it wasn’t the Black Germans I wanted. It was the Madonna lilies. I can beat the bees to ’em every crack. I just love to suck the honey out of ’em! It’s the real thing, straight from the fountain, and I like the real thing! And that panel of fence where we make the Redskins bite the dust, I’d like to have had that mighty well.”
“But won’t a west panel do as well?”
“Oh, I reckon it’ll do as well. The only difference is that I ain’t used to the west panel and I am used to the east and so is Old Fat Bill and the Nice Child and Angel Face. All of us are used to the east, but I reckon we could use the west just as well.”
Then the little person looked at Jamie speculatively. “I’m kind of disappointed in you.”
Jamie sat straight.
“I don’t know what I’ve done,” he said.
“That’s just exactly it,” said the little fellow. “Tain’t anything you done. It’s something you didn’t do. When you said it didn’t make any difference to you, and I showed you good and plain that it made the difference of the Madonna lilies and our Indian ambush to me, you might have offered to trade sides with me! Probably I wouldn’t a-done it. Probably I wouldn’t a-had anything but what the Bee Master wanted me to have. Probably I would a-saved up my money and got some Madonna lilies and planted ’em on my side for myself, but I thought you’d offer to trade.”
Slowly Jamie digested this.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “That must have been a thoughtless streak in me. My head is a lot older than yours and I knew that we couldn’t trade without going to court and having measurements and making out deeds and paying officers for making the change, and I suspect that knowledge kept me from saying that I’d trade when it really wouldn’t make any difference to me which side you had or any particular difference if you had both of them.”
“But I wouldn’t have both of them,” said the small person, promptly. “If the Bee Master had said both of them were for me, I wouldn’t have taken but half, because it wouldn’t be square, when I asked you to stay and did all I could to get you to stay. It wouldn’t be fair to take all of it.”
The little person looked at Jamie again inquiringly.
“What’s going to become of all the money he had in the bank?”
“Well,” said Jamie, “according to the word of the will, after his funeral expenses and his just debts are paid, whatever remains in the bank is subject to provisions in the will that your dad will explain to you when he has thoroughly studied the document. I can tell you this: that there is money provided to pay the cost of moving the house on to the grounds of whichever one of us draws it, and there’s money to build another little house that will cost the same as the value of this one, and whatever is left is to be divided evenly between us.”
“Hm-m-m-m,” said the small party, slowly. “You think it’s likely the Bee Master gave me some money as well as the bees and the flowers?”
“I know he did,” said Jamie, “If that will holds good. If there doesn’t turn out to be some blood relatives, somewhere, who can prove that they are relatives and are entitled by law to have possession. You mustn’t set your heart too hard. You must go at this with the feeling that the Bee Master intended you to have it, but there is a large possibility that somewhere in the world there may be a man or a woman who can take it from you, and who very probably will when they learn about it, because, after all, blood is thicker than water, and in this case any one related to the Bee Master would be blood and you and I would be water.”
“Yes, I get that,” said the little person. “I follow through. But in case the Bee Master knew his business and the judge would say things were ours, then would there be money coming to me?”
“Yes,” said Jamie, “I think there would be, but I doubt if it could come to you before you are of legal age. I think probably your father would have to handle it for you and conserve it for you until the law says you are old enough to have it yourself.”
“Aw!” said the little person, “aw! There it goes again!” and the small feet kicked the pebbles of the walk until they flew yards away. “There it goes again! Always having to wait and wait, always having to be disappointed!
“What was it you especially wanted?” asked Jamie.
“What’s the use to tell if I don’t get it?” said the disgruntled little person. “What would you think I’d want?”
“Well,” said Jamie, “if I was taking a random shot at it, I’d say that you would want a horse.”
“You said it, son!”
The little Scout Master leaped in the air.
“You said it! If I ever wanted anything, if I ever really wanted anything in all this world, I want a horse! I want my own horse! Queen’s wonderful and Hans is wonderful, but I want my own horse! I want to put my arms around his neck and love him personal. I want him to know me and follow me like Dad’s dog. I want him to come when I call. I want him to learn my way. And I don’t want anybody else, not Nannette, not little brother, not anybody, to ride him ever but just me! I want him for one thing that’s mine and nobody else’s. I want to be just as selfish as ever I can be with him!”
“Well,” said Jamie, “never having met your father and your mother, I don’t know, but it seems to me, from the tones of your mother’s voice when she talked with me over the ’phone—”
‘Yes, I know her telephone voice,” said the small person. “I like it myself. I stand and listen sometimes when she’s talking just to see how much sweetness can be put into the way she says things.”
“And about your father, because he is your father, I’d think, it would be my judgment, that if this money and this land is a gift to you from the Bee Master, I should think—”
“Of course you should!” interrupted the little Scout Master. “Anybody would think that they’d let me have a horse out of it. Couldn’t we keep him here?”
“I don’t know how far the city limits extend,” said Jamie, “but we’ll investigate. We’ll keep that a secret between us and we’ll investigate it. We’ll see what we can do. If you think it isn’t likely that they would agree to your having a horse in town, don’t say anything about it. Let’s just keep it under our hats and see what we can figure out ourselves.”
“All right,” said the little person. “I won’t say a word to them. We’ll see what we can figure out. And I believe now that I’d better go home. Maybe Doctor Grayson telephoned Dad. Maybe he’s waiting for me. Maybe Mother would like to see me. And just maybe they haven’t taken him away yet.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jamie. “I’m awfully sorry, but I happen to know that they have. You mustn’t build any hopes on that. I happen to know that he’s gone.”
The little person stood still staring hard at the zinnia bed, struggling hard to hold steady lips and to keep eyed. Then came the habitual lightning-like change of subject.
“I hope,” said the little Scout, “I just hope that the Bee Master didn’t have very much money in the bank. I hope there’s only going to be a little of it.”
“But why?” said Jamie.”
“Oh,” said the little Scout, “I can’t see the use of people having so much money. It don’t seem to do anything but make a lot of trouble. I been looking on for a good many years, and seems to me most of the fighting and the fussing and the lawsuits and things going wrong is among the people that have got a whole lot of money. Why can’t folks be satisfied with a reasonable amount?”
“Well,” said Jamie, glad to change the subject, “what would you say was enough? What would you think would be about the right amount for us to have?”
The little Scout thought that over and then announced conclusively: “I’d say that anybody that’s got the east acre or the west acre of this place, and a long row of beehives and lots of fruit trees, and flowers and flowers and worlds of flowers, and the sand and the sea, and a little house that yells ‘Come on in!’ clear across the road to you, I’d say if they had enough to own that, and get the bread and butter and the strawberry pop and the hot dogs, I’d say they didn’t need another thing on earth—clothes, of course, I forgot about enough clothes to cover ’em up with—”
“And didn’t you forget about a horse?” said Jamie.
“Oh, well, now, of course, I meant a horse. I meant a horse most before anything else except a place to keep him. You can’t have a horse without a place to keep him. That’s been my trouble for years. I could a-had a horse almost any time. There wasn’t any stable for him and not any alfalfa or oats or anybody to keep the stable clean. That’s been my trouble all along. A horse, of course!”
“And a boat, of course,” suggested Jamie. “The ocean isn’t very much good without a boat now, is it?”
The little Scout hesitated. “Oh, well, of course, with the ocean at our back door, of course, now, we could use a boat. The Bee Master told me once why he put the fence where he did, but he said he owned clear down to the water. A man wanted to buy his shore line and put a hot-dog stand there and he decided he couldn’t have it because we could get hot dogs down at the corner. The Bee Master said that one of the finest men who ever lived in England, one of the biggest credits to that fine old land was a man, and his name was William Blackstone. He made me say over and over about the hot-dog stand what William Blackstone said. I’ll tell you now.”
The little Scout stepped in front of Jamie, brought small heels together, squared lean shoulders, lifted a chin, and accomplished a nobility of countenance that was startling. Jamie did not understand how it happened that a tear smeared face, that sand-filled tow hair, sanded brows and ears could take on the look of dignity and serenity that was on the face of the youngster in the delivery of this sentence: “Thou shalt not obstruct thy neighbor’s ancient light!”
Suddenly, with the flashing change habitual to the little Scout, the entire figure slumped; came back to the bench sat down beside Jamie and leaned against him.
“That means,” said the little Scout, “that ‘ancient light’ means the sunshine and the moonshine and the clean air clear from China. The Bee Master used to go down and lie on the sand by the hour and let the ocean tell him things that comforted him. He said if he sold that, the man adjoining him would be the owner, and he would be the neighbor, and he didn’t want his ‘ancient light’ all mussed up with a hot dog stand, and he didn’t want his inheritance of well-salted, dustless air right fresh off the sea all fogged up with hot dogs. Didn’t make any difference If they did make your mouth water, we could get ours down at the corner.”
Then the little Scout put a pair of arms tight around Jamie’s neck and closed in almost to the point of suffocation, and the Keeper of the Bees got his second little hot kiss firm on his lips.
The little Scout said: “Thank you for taking his place with me, and I’m glad that you’ve got the Madonna lilies and the fighting ground, and I’m glad you’ve got the east acre and half the bees. I’ll take the Black Germans, if you don’t want ’em. And I’m glad, if the Bee Master had to go, I’m gladder than I can tell you that you are going to stay and keep the bees!”
14. The Home-Made Miracle
Only a short time was required for the settlement of the estate of the Bee Master. All he owned was the two acres of mountain-side and beach and the money that he had deposited in the Citizen’s Bank. Because he was so thoroughly familiar with the Bee Master’s wishes, Doctor Grayson consented to act as executor. The determination as to whom the house should belong had been decided after the manner prescribed, and it had fallen to Jamie.
It was agreed that the house should be appraised, its value should be set aside to accrue interest for the little Scout until such time as it was desirable to erect another house on the west acre. It was agreed that the home should remain where it was until Jamie desired to move it. A fund sufficient to cover a contractor’s estimate of this expense was set aside to Jamie’s credit. The little Scout was to have the complete furnishings of the combined library and living room on demand. The remaining money in the bank was divided equally, Jamie’s half being set aside to his credit, the little Scout’s to begin compounding interest until legal age was attained. The proceeds from the honey and the garden were to be divided equally after the wages of any help employed had been deducted, the child’s share to be placed in the bank. The Bee Master was reaping the reward that the Almighty has in store for a man who has kept the faith and from his earthly opportunities has made of himself a scholar and a gentleman.
