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The Keeper of the Bees

“Would you contract,” asked Jamie, “to deliver this message? I’ve been to the hospital for a visit with the Bee Master. He is homesick to see his little partner. He has asked particularly for a visit the coming Saturday. I thought I had better tell you about it before arrangements were made with the boys for a scouting party or some kind of a hike.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “I’ll make a note of the message and I’ll see that it is delivered. I should be interested in knowing how you found the Bee Master.”

“It is difficult to say,” said Jamie. “He seems so frail that a strong draft of air coming in the window beside him might carry his breath away.”

“Too bad,” said the gentle voice. “That is too bad. The children dearly love him. Any one can see that he is a noble specimen of manhood.”

“Yes, I think that, too,” said Jamie. “His home here, his library, his room, the pictures on his walls, the furniture he uses, everything seems to indicate that he could not be finer.”

“I’ve heard about you,” said the voice over the wire. “If you’re fine enough to appreciate the Bee Master to the fullest extent, it means that you are pretty fine yourself. We’d be glad to have you come in with our little person some day and take dinner with us.”

“Why, thank you,” said Jamie. “That’s awfully kind. I’ve been pretty seedy and I’ve been shunning people for quite some time, but I think, if there’s an evening when