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The Keeper of the Bees

“Perhaps you did,” he said. “Is that shovel yours or theirs?”

“It’s theirs,” answered the little Scout. “I took it from the biggest one, and you will notice he is taller and huskier than I am. So that’s that.”

“You come with me,” said Jamie. “Let’s go up here to the rock and sit down and look out on the ocean. When were you home last?”

“Left right after breakfast,” said the little Scout. “It’s Saturday, you know. I was comin’ to help you with the bees this morning, but you wasn’t there, and so I came on down to the sand and thought I’d look around and see if I could start anything, and right away those kids began picking on me, so I thought I’d better show ’em a few.”

Jamie headed toward the throne and the little Scout scuffed along beside him.

“If you’ve not been home since breakfast,” said Jamie, when they were finally seated facing the ocean, “if you haven’t been home since breakfast, Jean——”

Who told you my name was Jean?” cut in the little Scout.

“Doctor Grayson,” said Jamie. “He told me at the hospital this morning that your name was Jean Meredith.”

“What else did he blab about me?” inquired the little Scout. It was evident to Jamie that the whole of the small figure beside him was suddenly imbued with defiance, drawn up for battle.

“He didn’t say anything,” said Jamie, “except that you