was always trying new ways, and usually losing money on them.
"He's got bees in his bonnet," answered Tom.
"What's that?" demanded Dick, indignantly. "Tom, Uncle Randolph is no more crazy than you are. He has a right to experiment if he wants to."
"Who said he was crazy?"
"You said 'he has bees in his bonnet.' It's the same thing."
"Not much," answered Tom dryly. "He's got bees on the brain—if that suits you better. Aunt Martha wrote me that he had invested in half a dozen hives of bees, and got a queen bee worth I don't know how much to boss the colony."
"Oh, so he's going into bee culture!" murmured Dick. "I hope he doesn't get stung."
"He'll be stung right enough," answered Sam. "If not in one way then in another. He never makes his experiments pay. Say, I rather think I'll steer clear of those bees."
"Maybe we can have some fun with them," mused Tom, and immediately commenced to lay plans for that purpose.
They had a three hours' ride to Oak Run and on the way made several stops of more or less importance. At one place, near the depot, was a cigar store, and Tom left the train and came back with three cigars of large size in his hand.
