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The Keeper of the Bees

“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 havin’ to wait and wait, always havin’ 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——”