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 Sophie /T\ay's Complete U/orl^s 
 
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 DRONES' HOHEY: A Noael 91-60 
 
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 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS BOSTON
 
 DRONES' HONEY 
 
 BY 
 
 /f-^txM/ S fr-id&A 1 - ^ 
 
 SOPHIE MAY 
 
 
 "When a young man has tasted drones' honey, . . . then he 
 returns into the country of the lotus-eaters." 
 
 PLATO'S Republic. 
 
 BOSTON 
 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 
 
 1887
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1887 
 BY LEE AND 8IIEPARD 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 RAND AVERT COMPANY 
 
 BI.ECTBOTYPERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BOSTON
 
 TO MY FRIEND 
 
 MISS EMILY DANFORTH 
 
 dHjte Book 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 1626964
 
 DRONES 1 HONEY, 
 
 I. 
 
 " He that is wise, let him pursue some desire or other ; for he that 
 doth not affect some one thing in chief, unto him all things are 
 distasteful and tedious." 
 
 " ~T)ENJAMIN, my son, do you see that Kate has 
 
 -'' a skein ready for you to hold ? ' ' 
 
 It was precisely what the young man had been trying 
 not to see ; but at this maternal reminder he sprang 
 forward with tardy gallantry, and proffered his ser 
 vices, which Miss Kate laughingly accepted. And 
 thus he was pinned for an indefinite period in the 
 recesses of the bay-window, with arms extended like 
 pegs from the wall. He looked at the worsted, and 
 occasionally essaj'ed a remark ; while she looked at 
 him and replied, till in some way she said he was 
 careless the skein became entangled, and her white 
 fingers flew hither and thither among the meshes, trying 
 to find the lost clew. 
 
 Out of doors sullen drops of rain were splashing 
 steadily from a blue-gray sky into the slate-gray pools 
 of the street ; and Mr. Benjamin Kirke found himself
 
 2 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 listening rather dreamily to the monotonous sound, 
 and wondering why Miss Kate Stanley had not lunched 
 at home on such a day as this, instead of walking a 
 half-mile in the rain to discuss worsted-patterns with 
 his sister Lucy. She came very often, and there was 
 no reasonable doubt that it was always to see Lucy. 
 But Ben, the only son of the family, regarded her 
 call to-day as a " visitorial penance." He had asked 
 his young friend Joseph Fiske to luncheon, intending 
 to show him some new bric-a-brac ; and here was Joe, 
 the most restless of mortals, dancing about like a 
 piece of quicksilver, impatient to be gone. Was there 
 no end to the yarn ? 
 
 "Benjamin, my son," said the little mother again, 
 turning her head, with its cap of filmiest lace, toward 
 the baj'-window, "what are your objections to the 
 Land of the Sky?" 
 
 "None, mother; none whatever," he replied, look 
 ing across the angry waves of worsted with a ready 
 smile. "Only the world is wide, and one doesn't 
 care to go to the same place every season." 
 
 " I quite agree with you there," said Miss Stanley, 
 raising both her involved hands gracefully, though 
 rather to the detriment of the yarn. " The world is 
 just full of pleasant resorts, and one doesn't care to 
 go to the same resort every summer." 
 
 As this sounded extremely like what he had just 
 been saying, the young man paused a moment, trying 
 to discover wherein the difference consisted. Miss 
 Stanle}- had a way of taking up one's remarks and 
 differentiating them, showing that the ideas pleased 
 her, and she wished to make them fully her own.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 3 
 
 But this bewildered rather than flattered Mr. Kirke. 
 Her eyes, too, fatigued him. They were considered 
 expressive, and she used them a great deal ; but he 
 had never been able to feel their charm as he ought. 
 
 " She is a good girl, and a pretty girl, and expects 
 to be admired, and it's on my conscience to admire 
 her. What possesses me that I can't do it? " queried 
 he, being of a metaphysical turn. 
 
 And then he sank back with an air of polite endur 
 ance, sitting in a stooping posture, as if to reduce in 
 some degree his huge proportions ; for he was an over 
 grown young man, who blushed at standing " six feet 
 two " in his boots. 
 
 "But you do enjoy the mountains?" she asked, 
 breaking the pause. 
 
 "Oh, yes ; but the sea is more to my fancy just 
 now!" 
 
 " That's exactly what I always say," she returned 
 enthusiastically. " I adore mountains, but I prefer 
 the sea. And there's Newport, now. James and 
 Molly declare it's perfectly enchanting. That was 
 what your mother and I were discussing when you and 
 Mr. Fiske came in." 
 
 "Yes, my son, it is really worth considering for 
 you and the girls. Not for me, of course, for I shall 
 not leave your father," returned Mrs. Kirke with a 
 doubtful glance at the young man's impenetrable face. 
 
 "And I told your mother," went on Miss Stanley, 
 "that brother James and sister Molly have such a fancy 
 for Newport that they've quite won me over; that 
 is," with an eloquent uplifting of the speaking eyes, 
 " that is, if everybody else likes it, and we can arrange
 
 4 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 a pleasant little party of our own. James and Molly 
 would not want any one outside the two families, 
 they're so particular, don't you know? " 
 
 Mr. Kirke smiled quietly, as a young man may who 
 does not mean to be appropriated without his own con 
 sent. He had never even thought of Newport, much 
 less of combining the two families in a Kirke-Stanley 
 party. If his mother and sisters had made the plan, 
 they would find they had reckoned without the son 
 and brother. 
 
 " How quiet you are, Ben ! " said Lucy, his younger 
 sister, coming up to pinch his ear. 
 
 "I'm waiting till all the evidence is in. You 
 wouldn't have me interrupt a witness?" he replied, 
 with a glance at Miss Stanley, who considered his 
 glances " magnetic." 
 
 " He wants you to go on, Kate. You are the wit 
 ness for Newport." 
 
 " And what if I should not choose to go on? " said 
 Miss Kate archly. "What then? If I were you, 
 Lucy, I wouldn't indulge him in these high airs. It's 
 not the way I used to manage James." 
 
 " But Ben is not in the least like James. He has to 
 have every thing expounded and compounded before he 
 will choose to understand. Please look up here, sir. 
 Do you know that Mr. and Mrs. James Stanley pro 
 pose to go to Newport in July, and have honored us by 
 an invitation to join them ? ' ' 
 
 "Indeed! Flattered and obliged, I'm sure," said 
 the tiresome brother with a profound bow. 
 
 And Miss Stanley went on with animation to re 
 peat,
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 5 
 
 " James and Molly are so particular, 3*011 know. 
 There are so few people James and Molly would really 
 choose to take into the party." 
 
 " My compliments to James and Molly, if you 
 please, Kate," here the last lingering inch of worsted 
 was wound off, " my compliments," said Mr. Kirke, 
 springing up, and flourishing his liberated arms ; " and 
 tell them I feel it an unmerited honor, but will take it 
 into consideration." 
 
 Then, without pausing to note her discomfiture, he 
 darted across the room, caught up his little mother, 
 and bore her through the air in his arms to an easy- 
 chair near the grate. 
 
 " Benjamin, my son, have you no sense of propri 
 ety ? ' ' gasped the gentle lady with a plaintive attempt 
 at dignity. '-Benjamin, my son, do you know this is 
 very rude before our guests ? " 
 
 And then, finding the giant quite insensible to public 
 opinion, she resigned herself perforce, and permitted 
 him to play with her jewelled fingers ; while she looked 
 around with a deprecatory air, which said, 
 
 " You see I've made all proper resistance ; but, 
 really, he's a boy 3'ou can do nothing with." 
 
 "Oh, why do you mind it, mamma dear? " said Lucy. 
 " Everybody knows you and Ben are such lovers." 
 
 The fair matron blushed like a girl, and her husband 
 raised his judicial eyes from his newspaper to see what 
 they were all laughing at. Whether the wily young 
 man had intended it or not, there was a summary end 
 to the Newport argument, and he seized the opportu 
 nity to ask Mr. Fiske up-stairs. 
 
 "I always said you were the luckiest fellow alive,
 
 6 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 Ben," remarked Mr. Fiske with a smothered sigh, 
 after he had sufficiently admired the newly imported 
 Italian statue of Cupid and Psyche, of the color of 
 well-creamed coffee, and both the young men had seated 
 themselves in the elegant den, for a chat. 
 
 Mr. Kirke answered with the eas}' indifference of 
 one sated with luxury, 
 
 " Well, yes, I've no fault to find with this suite of 
 rooms, unless it's overcrowded with bric-a-brac. It's 
 surprising how such trash accumulates." 
 
 Mr. Fiske rose restlessly. 
 
 "Where did you shoot this wild-cat? In Canada? 
 Where did you get this lace coral ? ' ' taking down a 
 fine specimen, with light purple veins and darker arte 
 ries. And, scarcely waiting for answers, he turned 
 from the cabinet to the framed photograph of a regatta 
 race. "How many cups have you won? Oh, there 
 they are in a row, two, four, six! Well, why not? 
 That comes of your ' giantism,' " drawing up his own 
 slight, wiry figure, and looking at his friend, laughing. 
 If the laugh was rather forced, one could scarcely 
 wonder. He had found the world a battle-field ; and 
 Ben Kirke, fully three years older, had found it a play 
 ground. Ben had had avant-couriers to cut down all 
 the thorns and briers in his path of roses ; while on 
 foot and alone, and against fearful odds, young Joe 
 had walked up and stormed the enemies' citadels. 
 
 And Joe was only a boy yet, a boy of delicate mould. 
 Surely Fate was either perverse or blindfold, or the posi 
 tions of these two }'oung men would be exactly reversed. 
 
 " Yes, Art always said ' Kirke's luck ' was the by 
 word at school and college."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 7 
 
 Arthur Fiske, or "Art," Joe's elder brother, de 
 ceased, had been Ben's chosen friend ; for whose sake 
 it was that Ben could now be patient with Joe's many 
 vagaries, and consent to admit the boy to a sort of 
 intermittent confidence ; rather strained sometimes, it 
 must be confessed, as the two young men were widely 
 unlike, and had very few points in common. 
 
 "Did Art say that? " 
 
 Joe was not quite sure that he ever did, but the 
 answer was prompt enough. 
 
 " Yes : he said the fellows envied you beyond every 
 thing. Lots of money, and no hardships, you know. 
 And here you are, sir, at twenty-five, a flourishing 
 lawyer, with a senior partner to do all the work, and 
 let you roam to the ends of the earth." 
 
 "Quarter, quarter! Grant that Randall does the 
 hard work, grant that he lets me lounge in the office 
 occasionally ; but that's not saying I relish the law 
 for a vocation. To draw it mildly, Fiske, I hate 
 it." 
 
 His companion looked up in genuine surprise. 
 
 " Then what upon earth sent you into it? I thought 
 if ever a body did as he chose, it was you, Ben 
 Kirke." 
 
 Mr. Kirke smiled, elongated himself, and brushed 
 an imaginary dust-speck from his sleeve. 
 
 " So that's as much as you know about it, Fiske. 
 Father planned it all while I was in the cradle, and 
 the first word my infant tongue was permitted to lisp 
 was Blackstone." 
 
 " Indeed ! So you sacrificed yourself to the judge? 
 Well, I knew you were the pattern of meekness."
 
 8 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " Thank you. I was called a lovely child ; but the 
 chances are I might have held out against the law, if 
 I'd known as much about it then as I do now." 
 
 " Ah? And didn't you know nearly as much? An 
 intelligent infant " 
 
 " Come now, be civil, Joe. I had an especial, 
 growing horror for litigation, and that settled it; for 
 father's an old-style Puritan, and holds to taking life 
 across the grain." 
 
 "Oh! is that it?" 
 
 " And if I'd been of a sensitive nature, and fainted 
 at the sight of blood, he'd have made a surgeon of 
 me, Joe, as true as you're alive." 
 
 Mr. Fiske spun about like a revolving globe, alight? 
 ing at last on one foot. He was receiving information, 
 and it rather excited him. 
 
 " If I'd been sharp enough to faint," went on Mr. 
 Kirke reflectively, " I suppose I might have been saw 
 ing bones this minute ; and it's dawning upon me that 
 I should have enjoyed it." 
 
 Mr. Fiske revolved again. 
 
 " Why, yes, you always had a knack that way. I 
 remember how you patched up those fellows in the 
 base-ball club ; Jones, wasn't it, and Stanley? " 
 
 " No ; Jones and Meader. One was a finger, the 
 other an arm. And then there was Holway, with a 
 break above the ankle. I make no pretensions to gen 
 eral scholarship ; but if there's one thing I'm tolerably 
 versed in, it's anatomy." 
 
 Here he arose and stood erect, with a look of con 
 scious power. It was surprising how well the expres 
 sion and attitude became him.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 9 
 
 ct I tell you, Fiske, I have times of thinking I'll 
 stop this drifting, and go to steering," 
 
 "What port?" 
 
 " Ay, there you have me. Surgery is drudgery, 
 and medicine a farce. And, besides, my fate was de 
 cided for me a dozen years ago : so where's the use? " 
 returned the young man, settling back indolently into 
 his chair. 
 
 " A dozen years ago? How is that? " 
 
 " Sit down again, Joe, and I'll tell you. It's not a 
 long story." 
 
 Mr. Fiske steadied himself on the arm of a divan, 
 and swung one foot pendulum-wise, while his friend 
 began slowly, 
 
 "You know father is a bright and shining light in 
 the church, though a very blue light. Well, I always 
 went to church and Sunday school regularly ; and one 
 Sunday, twelve years ago, I was over thirteen at 
 the time I strayed down to the wharf with another 
 boy, I'll tell you who it was : it was Dan Thatcher. 
 And we stood watching the ships come in. We were 
 both of us going to Sunday school, but thought there 
 was no hurr}', you know how time slips with boj's, 
 when all of a sudden I heard my name called, and 
 father seized upon me and caught me up like a whirl 
 wind. Not a word spoken, no chance for apologies or 
 explanations : I was just marched by the jacket-collar 
 through the street, into the church, and down the aisle 
 to my class, where the bo}"s were reciting. I lived it 
 through : but my blood was up, and when I got home 
 1 walked into father's study ; and said I, 
 
 u ' Father, you got me into Sunday school to-day,
 
 10 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 but it's the last time. I'll never go again as long 
 as I live.'" 
 
 "And you didn't?" 
 
 u And I didn't ; though I fair!} 7 adored my teacher, 
 Mrs. Lathrop. Of course I didn't, Joe. Father was 
 wrong, morally wrong," returned Ben, with a smoul 
 dering fire in his hazel eyes, which suggested that he 
 might not have been, early in life, an easy boy to 
 manage. 
 
 " But the gist of the story is, that mother never got 
 over that rebellion, as she calls it, though I've been a 
 rigid church-goer ever since ; and a year ago, when 
 father made this law-cage for me, she said, ' Benjamin, 
 my son, do not thwart your father; another rebellion 
 would kill me.' So I bowed my head, and entered the 
 cage ; and there you have it, Fiske, in a nutshell. 
 What are you going to do with these women when 
 they lie awake o' nights, and cry? You can't be a 
 brute." 
 
 The smouldering fire in his eyes had given place 
 now to the look of tenderness which usually came into 
 them whenever he spoke to or of his mother, or even 
 thought of her. 
 
 Mr. Fiske dropped lightly upon his feet, and nodded 
 in a wise way, indicating vast experience with mater 
 nal tears. He did not hold them very sacred, it was 
 plain to see. 
 
 " But I've never considered the law a finality, Joe, 
 and shall be ready to slip out of it at any time, if 
 something better should offer. Ah, is that you, 
 Caligula?" 
 
 The door opened warily at this invitation ; and a
 
 DRONES' HONEY. II 
 
 handsome, elaborately-dressed mulatto boy, some four 
 or five years old, peeped in. flourishing a silver tray, 
 but shrank back with a frightened roll of the eyes, on. 
 seeing a stranger. 
 
 " What little monkey is this? " laughed Mr. Fiske. 
 
 " Our cook's grandson ; and I've begged him for a 
 parlor decoration. Named him Caligula on account of 
 his new shoes. Dance, Caligula." 
 
 Whereupon the urchin struck into an irresistibly 
 droll double-shuffle, fixing his rolling eyes intently on 
 the beloved slippers, and beating time with the tray. 
 
 " Hold, that will do, my young emperor. Where 
 did you get that tray?" 
 
 " Off 'm the table, sir-r. You tellcd me to fetch it, 
 and I 'membered and fetched it," running triumphantly 
 to his master, and offering it with a deep bow and 
 flourish. 
 
 "But where are the letters? Why didn't you put 
 the letters on it? " exclaimed Mr. Kirke, breaking into 
 immoderate laughter. Then, as the child's eyes threat 
 ened to overflow, "Oh, well, never mind! The letter 
 without the spirit killeth ; and you've shown a noble 
 spirit, my boy." 
 
 The pleasant tone and smile effectually stayed the 
 infant's tears ; but he remained hopelessly bewildered 
 till his master added, "Take the tray down to the 
 parlor, to the pretty lady in the lace cap, and ask her 
 to put rny letters on it ; and then do you bring them 
 up, and see how quick you can be. What, Joe? 
 Not going? Well, come again, and you shall do the 
 talking next time."
 
 12 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 II. 
 
 "/ love tlie mysteiy of a female missal." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 decorative " Caligula " returned, bearing a 
 tray full of letters, presenting it with a bow so 
 profound that he lost his balance, and fell headlong 
 upon the floor. His master threw him a nickel, de 
 clared he was " the indispensable adjunct of his life," 
 and ordered him to " scamper." 
 
 The correspondence was of no especial interest, 
 judging by the indifference with which it was received. 
 All business letters were directed to the firm, and went 
 to the office. These were merely a few personal notes 
 of invitation, an upholsterer's bill, a publisher's reply 
 to a question concerning a new book, and the like ; 
 nothing more, except one dainty missive, written on 
 cream-tinted linen paper, and sealed with light-blue 
 wax, bearing the initial " S." 
 
 The graceful feminine hand was quite new to Mr. 
 Kirke ; and he could not recall at the moment a single 
 one of his lady acquaintances whose surname began 
 with " S," unless it was Kate Stanley whom he had 
 just left down-stairs. This certainly was not Kate's 
 writing ; moreover, the letter was postmarked " Nar- 
 ransauc, Maine." AVho ever heard of such a town? 
 Mr. Kirke had been something of a traveller for a man
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 13 
 
 of his 3'ears, but had never visited Maine ; and it was 
 singular, to say the least, that a lady correspondent 
 should suddenly spring up unbidden from the soil of 
 that rock-bound State. She was not a client : a client 
 would have addressed the firm. 
 
 He held the letter for some moments, rather re 
 luctant to break the seal, and dispel the little charm 
 of mystery. Perhaps, after all, it was one of the 
 strong-minded, asking his money or influence for some 
 "scheme" more or less absurd. He had had his 
 share of mendicants begging for schemes ; and she 
 might have heard of his gullibility, though ignorant, 
 it seemed, of the street and number of his residence. 
 He had no mind to be softly entreated : still it was 
 necessary to open the letter, and read what she had to 
 say. 
 
 "Mv DEAK FRIEND, Forgive me. What have I said or 
 done to cause this mistake ? " 
 
 "Oh, a mistake, is it? It looks like it," thought 
 the reader. 
 
 " I did not know what you meant that night when you put 
 the letter in my hands, or I would not have received it as I 
 did." 
 
 " What letter? Who on earth is she? " He turned 
 now to the third page for the signature. 
 
 "Ever yours sincerely, 
 
 EVELYN S." 
 
 "Why, the plot thickens. Who is Evelyn? Never 
 heard the name outside of a book. It would be a
 
 14 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 satisfaction to know the surname, whether Smith or 
 Sawyer; but it will come to me as I go on." 
 
 He returned with increasing curiosity to the first 
 page. 
 
 " You say I must have divined this. Indeed you are wrong. 
 If you had a preference for either of m, mind, I say only a 
 preference, it was natural it should he for Theodate, for it is 
 with her you have chiefly conversed; while I have sat near, 
 listening or not, as it chanced, and I confess often wrapped in 
 my own sad thoughts. But we are both so much older than 
 yourself, that these little conversations seemed to us the most 
 harmless things in the world : it was like two sisters chatting 
 with a younger brother, listening to his hopes and plans for the 
 future, and giving in return our sage, elderly advice." 
 
 " Good soul ! Can't remember a word of it ! When 
 did I ever meet these old ladies?" thought the young 
 man, with a sudden fear that his mind was going. 
 
 " I do not see how you could possibly have made this mis 
 take, when we are each of us more than twenty-six years old, 
 and you are not twenty-two." 
 
 "I am twent3 - -five, my lady; but you fill me with 
 terrible apprehensions. Am I a discarded lover? For 
 if not B. I. Kirke, who am I? " 
 
 " We were frank with you " 
 
 " We? It seems I loved them both ! " 
 
 " But forgive me if my great grief has made me selfish and 
 thoughtless. You are young, my dear boy, or you would know 
 there is more in you than can be killed by this." 
 
 " If I have come to death's door, it's high time to 
 stop. Of course this is meant for somebody else ; and,
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 15 
 
 for the first time in my life, I've been meddling with 
 other people's letters." 
 
 He turned again to the superscription, which seemed 
 legible enough. 
 
 '" Kirke, beyond a peradventurc. And if that's not 
 a ' B,' what is it? ' I ' for Ingraham, too : as good an 
 ' I ' as you'll find in the alphabet. Stop ! Some people 
 make a ' J' in that way I don't respect them for it 
 but she might have meant it for a ' J.' Is there a Bar 
 tholomew Jones Kirke in this city ? If so, a heavy blow 
 awaits him," rapidly turning the leaves of a directory. 
 " Poor boy, not twenty-two. There are Kirkes on 
 Blue Island, John and Peter; he may belong to one of 
 those, not to any of my family. I don't see what I 
 can do but seal up the letter and post it, and trust to 
 chance for Bartholomew's getting it." 
 
 But he did not seal it immediately. Some charm, 
 either in the subject-matter or the delicate chirograph}-, 
 held him spell-bound. 
 
 " I don't understand her blundering so in that super 
 scription. She has a perfect command of the pen ; 
 not that she really forms her letters : who does? But 
 they glide into one another with such regularity that 
 the words are unmistakable, all but my name. " 
 
 He strictly forbore glancing at the third page, 
 one must draw the line somewhere, but what he had 
 already read he re-read, slowly, with thoughtful eyes, 
 and a smile of genuine admiration. Few young men, 
 perhaps, have lingered with such pleasure over a re 
 jected proposal. 
 
 "I'd like to see how Kate Stanley would manage the 
 thing! If she'd do it so handsomely, I'd almost
 
 1 6 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 wouldn't take the risk, though ! " with a wise shrug of 
 the shoulders. " Why, she actually begs pardon for 
 being so lovable, the charming creature ! She had no 
 wish to trifle with you, my poor Bartholomew, and 
 you're the only one to blame ; ' of this I'll put myself 
 on the country,' " said the 3"oung man in quaint law 
 phrase. And folding the enigmatical letter, he re 
 placed it in the envelope, which he sealed again with 
 blue wax, stamping it with a pictorial charade, " Fare" 
 over an old-fashioned well-sweep, making the word 
 "Farewell." 
 
 " That will annihilate him at the outset, if he ever 
 sees it," dropping the letter into a street mail-box, and 
 keeping on to his own office, which bore the sign " Kirke 
 & Randall." 
 
 Mr. Ephraim Randall was a gray-haired man of 
 twenty years' experience in law ; but his name came 
 second, for he brought neither money nor family influ 
 ence into the new firm, only unusual techinal knowl 
 edge, sound judgment, and a capacity for hard work. 
 He was happily quite independent of his junior partner, 
 consulting him merely out of mock courtesy ; but it 
 did seem to Mr. Randall, on this particular afternoon, 
 that the dullard might have surmised which was the 
 plaintiff in " the Brown suit " without an elaborate ex 
 planation, and that he need not have punned upon the 
 words in such a light-minded way. Life, to Mr. Ran 
 dall, a family man, was a serious affair, and the very 
 breath of that life was the law ; and, when he laid down 
 "the points of a case," he wished to be heard with 
 becoming respect and solemnity. He was pleased with 
 the partnership, finding it a great advantage to him-
 
 DRONES^ HONEY. I/ 
 
 self; and " j'oung Kirke was never troublesome," so he 
 told his wife. Indeed, when he chose to keep idlers in 
 his own private office, out of the way of the working 
 partner, he became a positive help. Mr. Randall 
 always spoke of him indulgently, as an " upright, well- 
 meaning fellow," but withheld his opinion of his intel 
 lect. What, indeed, could he think of a Iaw3 7 er who 
 actually wanted to keep his clients out of most of their 
 law-suits, and would have settled their disputes amica 
 bly on the spot, if he had had his way ? What excuse 
 could be made for a young man who did not want to 
 take a case " unless there was justice in it; " whereas 
 every sane practitioner knows a case is not tried in the 
 name of justice, but in the name of the client? 
 
 Ben's taste in reading was very much against him. 
 Novels might be winked at: Mr. Randall had read 
 them himself in his youth, but had never wasted 
 time, not he, on poetry vaporous stuff or on sci 
 ence, which is equally unsatisfactory, and more unset 
 tling, tending directly to atheism. Works of this sort 
 were injuring the youth's brain, and unfitting him for the 
 solid, profitable reading which looked out so invitingly 
 through the glass doors of the office library. The sen 
 ior partner pitied Judge Kirke for the disappointment 
 he evidently felt in his son, but it did not become him 
 to discuss so delicate a subject with the unhappy 
 father. 
 
 " You took him in with a fair understanding that 
 nothing was to be expected of him. Still, I can't give 
 up all hope. He's slow in developing, but I believe 
 there's the making of a good lawyer in him," sighed 
 the judge, perversely resolved not to see that his son
 
 1 8 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 had been forced into a position entirely unsuited to his 
 natural capacity and inclination. 
 
 Ben's private office, like his apartments at home, was 
 elegantly appointed ; and the law-books it contained 
 had a well-regulated, orderly look, as if held too sacred 
 for use. When Mr. Randall stepped in this afternoon 
 to look for a missing paper in " the Brown suit," the 
 j'oung man had a Mitchell's atlas on the table before 
 him, and his forefinger was travelling carefully up and 
 down the party-colored map of Maine. 
 
 "What new notion is it?" thought the older law 
 yer, finding the missing paper under a pile of books, 
 and going quietly away with it, leaving the young man 
 muttering to himself, 
 
 " Narransauc? Narransauc? Wonder if she got 
 that name right any more than B. I. Kirke? Yes, 
 here it is. Huzza ! An attractive little place, too, 
 sitting on a river-bank, gazing at its reflection in the 
 water. I like the name, Indian, of course, and 
 "the chances are it's a good place for fishing. Down 
 with Newport, the rose that all are praising ! Let 
 James and Molly have their party to themselves, since 
 they are so l particular ; ' and I'll slip out of the way 
 and run up to Maine. Why have I so neglected that 
 grand old State? It's becoming a famous resort; and 
 the seacoast is wonderfully picturesque, it's said. 
 Mount Desert now, I half promised Danforth I'd 
 go there with him last year. Let's see, Narransauc is 
 nowhere near ; it's inland, and pretty well up ; yes, but 
 I could take it on the way. There are ponds in the 
 neighborhood, probably, at any rate, brooks, and 
 I've never yet had enough of trouting. Randall," as
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 19 
 
 the senior walked by the door, perusing a long docu 
 ment, " suppose I should take a fancy to run off for a 
 vacation earlier than usual ; you'd find it something of 
 a relief, wouldn't you? Business wouldn't suffer?" 
 
 Mr. Randall's yellowish white visage, almost as 
 smoothly polished as an ivory chess-man, took on a 
 smile of quiet amusement, which he was at no pains 
 to conceal. 
 
 " No, my boy ; with the extra attention I should be 
 obliged to devote to it, I think we may safely say our 
 business would not suffer from your absence. But 
 where are you going, and what's the haste? " 
 
 "Well, I was behind time last year, and got to the 
 Land of the Sky in a crowd : so I thought I'd be wiser 
 this time, and start before the rush. I haven't settled 
 on a place, though. Weren't Mrs. Randall and the 
 girls rather enthusiastic about Mount Desert? " 
 
 "Very," returned Mr. Randall, rapt again in the 
 Brown suit, " I think we may safely say very." 
 
 The tone was dreamy and inexpressive. Mr. Kirke 
 decided that it would be useless to seek further infor 
 mation from that quarter. Moreover, he was by no 
 means sure he should go to Mount Desert, or even to 
 Maine. In fact, the Narransauc plan was merel}* a 
 floating idea, which would have passed into oblivion, 
 but for the persistency with which that letter kept 
 coming back to Mr. Kirke. There seemed to be no 
 getting rid of it. In vain it was remanded to all the 
 city suburbs, with " mis-sent " strongly italicized in the 
 corner ; in vain the " I " was transformed into a " J," 
 at a venture : still, after short intervals of searching for 
 another owner, the letter invariably returned ou that
 
 20 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 silver tray, and was offered again with the same orna 
 mental flourish by the tiny " Caligula." 
 
 "How long is it doomed to walk the earth?" 
 thought Mr. Kirke, enjoying, at each re-appearance, a 
 solitary laugh ; for he had confided the story to no 
 one. " I've half a mind to give it a few weeks' rest; 
 and perhaps, when I take a trip to Maine, I can find 
 Miss Evelyn and restore it to her. Is she a summer 
 boarder at Narransauc? That has been my opinion 
 all along, and has inclined me toward the town. Miss 
 Evelyn she seems to exist without a surname is 
 certainly refined and fastidious, and would not rusti 
 cate in a spot that fell far short of Eden." 
 
 And all the while Miss Kate Stanley was dropping 
 in to lunch or dine with the Kirkes, and the Newport 
 plan, never agreeable to the young man, was growing 
 positively distasteful. 
 
 " Mother," he announced one morning at breakfast, 
 " ty" your leave I'm going to take a little run up to 
 Mount Desert or the Isles of Shoals before the season 
 begins." 
 
 The gentle lad}' was apprehensive in a moment. 
 
 "My sou, you are not well. I have feared you were 
 applying yourself too closely, and now your appetite 
 has quite failed," said she tenderly, passing him the 
 honey. 
 
 "He prefers drones' honey; don't you, Ben?" 
 asked Gertrude slyly, the wit of the family. 
 
 The young man looked up inquiringly. The expres 
 sion was new to him, but he thought his sister could 
 not have coined it. 
 
 " Is that one of your learned quotations? " said he
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 21 
 
 with a frown of annoyance, for his father was looking 
 on, evidently amused by his daughter's sharpness. 
 
 " It has a delusive sound of meaning something," 
 said Lucy reflectively. " Yet I don't see what it can 
 mean but empty nothing. Are you going to Mount 
 Desert to gather drones' honey, Ben, and then coming 
 to Newport to share it with the rest of the party? " 
 
 " No ; I shall want every drop of it myself. And 
 what made you fancy I should turn up at Newport at 
 all?" 
 
 " Now, Ben, j'ou're not going to be contrary, and 
 disappoint us, after all that's been said and planned ! " 
 
 " I don't remember that I've ever committed myself 
 to any plans," replied the vexatious brother dryly. 
 "James and Molly are said to be very particular, and 
 I'm still more so, for I choose to have no company 
 but my own." 
 
 And this was all he would say ; and the sympathetic 
 mother pondered over it, suspecting some underlying 
 meaning that involved annoyance with Kate ; but she 
 wisely refrained from comment. 
 
 " It's one of his odd notions. He has taken his 
 camera and gone off to Maine just to tease us," ex 
 plained Gertrude to the discomfited Miss Stanley. 
 
 " Yes ; but he'll join us at Newport, you may 
 be very sure of that," added peace-making Lucy. 
 " There's one thing to be said of Ben : he's always a 
 great deal better than his word."
 
 22 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 III. 
 
 " From the dusty path there opens 
 Eastward an unknown way." 
 
 BRYANT. 
 
 " T WOULD be greatly obliged to any one who 
 -L would tell me just where I am going, and what 
 I intend to do after I arrive there," mused Mr. Kirke, 
 under his travelling-cap, as the cars rattled along 
 through a stretch of level country in the very heart 
 of Maine. 
 
 The morning had been closely veiled in white ; but 
 it was now past noon, the sky was of a clear and 
 vivid blue, and the sunshine fell warmly on the quiet 
 green fields and on the old farmhouses, which turned 
 their backs derisively upon the railroad, unwilling 
 to countenance the frivolity of the travelling-world. 
 Ghosts of departed dandelions haunted the wayside ; 
 feathered pollen sailed aimlessly through the summer 
 air ; a bee emerged from a buttercup, having drained 
 it of its last drop of waiting honey. 
 
 " The sunshine and the green fields seem to have 
 reached a mutual understanding, but they answer none 
 of my questions. Is there a bureau of information, 
 I wonder, at any of these stations, that will kindly 
 enlighten me? Eighty miles farther to Narransauc," 
 consulting his guide-book.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 23 
 
 And then he looked out of the window at a brown 
 hen meandering through the tall grass of a meadow, 
 now partially hidden, now emerging, pecking leisurely 
 at the bowing clover-tops. 
 
 " The settlements seem to be growing rather sparse ; 
 but, then, the rail always runs through the dullest part 
 of the country," said he, rousing himself, and looking 
 about upon his fellow-passengers, whom he had 
 hitherto regarded with scarcely any human interest. 
 
 The car had not been well filled at the outset, and 
 b}' this time half the occupants had dropped off at the 
 various stations on the way. 
 
 " It's a dreadful warm day for June," he heard a 
 woman just behind him announce in thunder-tones to 
 a neighbor across the aisle, who responded with a 
 sympathetic nod of her aged but well-preserved bonnet. 
 "Just the weather for cheese, and no weather at all 
 for butter." And after a pause, "How's Sabriua? 
 I hear she ain't verj 1 rugged." 
 
 "Well, she ain't, that's a fact. Appetite's poor. 
 "Won't eat a morsel of breakfast, without it's a piece 
 of mince-pie." 
 
 Mr. Kirke cast an unmeaning smile toward the land 
 scape. This was the first scrap of provincial dialect 
 that had met his ears, the first reminder of his arrival 
 in the region of " perpetual pie." 
 
 "Is this a foreshadowing of my bill of fare? It's 
 high time I should make acquaintance with some one, 
 and inquire as to the resources of Narransauc. It 
 would refresh me to know for a certainty that it has a 
 hotel. Wonder if there is anybody in the car who 
 would be likely to know? "
 
 24 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 In the scat before him sat a rather rustic-looking 
 man, beside a well-dressed young woman with an infant 
 in her arms. Absorbed in his own thoughts, Mr. 
 Kirke had not noticed the eager gestures the baby was 
 making in his own direction. 
 
 " No, no, Mamie ; no, no," pleaded the mother in a 
 gentle, reasoning tone, as if she regarded the little 
 creature as a responsible but misguided human being. 
 
 The woman's profile was delicately cut, with a low 
 brow, piquant nose, and sensitive mouth. The man 
 was older, and evidently of inferior cla} r , his features 
 coarse and noticeably one-sided, his gestures uncouth 
 and angular. 
 
 "She must have married him in a fit of humility, 
 poor girl ! " thought our 3~oung lawyer. " His hair is 
 as rough as a besom, and there's a glint of white in it, 
 suggesting that he is no longer young : so, I dare say, 
 this is his second wife. What is it Boswell says of 
 second marriages? They are 'experience overcome 
 by hope.' A lively hope for him, in this case; but 
 think of her despair ! Wish she'd turn her head. If 
 I could get a full view of her face, I could tell whether 
 she's the sort of woman to let her husband know she 
 repents, or whether she's an angel and tries to spare 
 his feelings.'' 
 
 His wish was unexpectedly gratified. The baby, 
 who had long been coveting his watch-seal, now made 
 a sudden dash for it, and would have plunged head 
 long, if the mother had not turned quickly, and ar 
 rested the tiny thief with the strong arm of the law. 
 
 "No, no, baby must not have it: it belongs to the 
 gentleman," said mamma correctively, at the same
 
 DRONES 1 HONEY. 2$ 
 
 time glancing at the owner of the watch with a pretty 
 blush of apology. 
 
 It was but for a moment, and then her face was 
 turned away again, and she and papa were laughing 
 over naughty baby's kleptomania ; and naughty baby 
 was given an orange, as a preventive of tears and 
 other unpleasant demonstrations likely to follow her 
 chagrin at the uncompleted robbery. Mr. Kirke had 
 had but a glimpse of the mother's face, yet it was 
 enough to justify and confirm his previous admiration. 
 
 " Whry, it's like a fleeting, beautiful dream! It is 
 like one of the lost loves of the poets. Where did 
 she get that look of exquisite refinement, the wife 
 of a country lout ? ' ' 
 
 Baby, resenting the interference of justice, and 
 spurning the orange as an iguoble substitute for the 
 bright gem, was screaming by this time indignantly ; 
 and the father, in the desperate, energetic fashion 
 common to his incapable sex, was dancing her up and 
 down, and whistling quite ineffectually. The mother's 
 crimson, perplexed face appealed to Mr. Kirke's chiv 
 alry. 
 
 44 Here, here ! Don't let the little thing cry like 
 that," he exclaimed, leaning forward, and hurriedly 
 tossing over both watch and seal. If it had been a 
 priceless diamond, he would have done the same. An 
 infant was to him a species of dangerous maniac, to 
 be soothed and suppressed at all hazards. 
 
 The mother bent her graceful neck in acknowledg 
 ment ; while the terrible child seized the seal with 
 what the young man could not but regard as demoni 
 acal glee, crunched it between her wan toil little teeth,
 
 26 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 and would have made a meal of the watch also, if the 
 prudent father had not hidden it in his huge, plebeian 
 hand. 
 
 "Much obliged," said he, turning half around to 
 Mr. Kirke, though never losing sight of the little cor 
 morant. " She can't keep her eyes open much longer ; 
 and, when she dozes off, you shall have your property 
 back again." 
 
 " Was this the child's usual method of going to 
 sleep? If she could shriek like this when ' dozing off,' 
 what must be the pitch of her voice when fully 
 awake?" queried the young man, regarding her with 
 astonishment not unmixed with respect. But, as he 
 gazed, behold those infantile orbs fast withdrawing 
 behind their fringed curtains, those white teeth gradu 
 ally loosing their hold of the choice golden morsel ; 
 till at last the watch slips from the drooping mouth, 
 and the vanquished rebel lets her weary flaxen head 
 fall confidingly upon the paternal shoulder. It was 
 not to be denied that in sleep she made a prctt}' pic 
 ture. One plump hand softly pressed papa's whiskers, 
 the other fell like a careless rose-petal over his coat- 
 collar ; while the rest of her little person lay prone 
 across his breast, with one unguarded foot partially 
 lodged in his vest-pocket. Under these circumstances, 
 she was beyond criticism ; and the young man forgave 
 all her waking sins, for the pleasure she afforded him 
 by her inimitable pose. 
 
 Not so the mother : scarcely looking at her beautiful 
 offspring, she took a book from her satchel and began 
 to read, turning the pages slowly with a neatly gloved 
 finger. The cars clattered and bounced, baby stirred
 
 DKOXES' HONEY. 2/ 
 
 and moaned, the father restored the watch and chain 
 to the owner with sundry comments ; but still the un 
 natural mother read on. Into what far-away land of 
 romance was she drifting? What writer was magician 
 enough to deaden her to the common distractions of 
 travel ; above all, to cause her to forget her own child ? 
 
 Mr. Kirke was himself a dreamer and a novel- 
 reader, but he hardly liked to see a mother so al>- 
 sorbed : it augured ill for her children and home, lie 
 wished he could make out the title of the book ; he 
 hoped it was not exactly trash. The woman was beau 
 tiful and had interested him : he did not like to find 
 her downright commonplace, like her husband. By an 
 adroit forward movement of his head while dropping the 
 window-blind, he secured a sidewise peep over her shoul 
 der. She was reading the " Imitation of Christ." So 
 that was the sort of light literature she carried with her 
 in the cars ? Well, there was a certain fitness in it ; for 
 the unfortunate mother of such a child would naturally 
 stand in peculiar need of religious consolation. Still 
 he did not remember to have observed any thing of 
 the sort in his travels heretofore. She was no ordi 
 nary person, as he had said from the first ; and here 
 after he should have great respect for his own intuitive 
 judgments. 
 
 Presently an urchin appeared in the aisle, bearing a 
 basket of mixed refreshments. The husband bought 
 some " pop-corn," and, after nibbling a few kernels, 
 tossed the bag into his wife's lap, declaring he 
 "couldn't make an} r hand eating 'em, his teeth were 
 so scattering." But even this failed to arouse her. 
 She nodded carelessly, and turned another leaf. The
 
 28 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 husband's small brown eyes twinkled with fun as he 
 nodded to Mr. Kirke. 
 
 " You see, mister, she's so taken up with that book, 
 that she's kind of oblivious. That's just her way. I 
 told 'em she'd forget there was a baby aboard, and if 
 we got it alive to Narransauc, 'twould be no thanks to 
 her. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Kirke looked his surprise at this extraordinary 
 speech ; but the mother had not heard it, apparently. 
 
 "Did you speak to me? Shall I take the baby 
 now?" she asked, without, however, dropping the 
 book. 
 
 Mr. Crabtree's eyes twinkled again, and he gave Mr. 
 Kirke a tolerably full view of his " scattering teeth." 
 
 " This little one's folks is dead, and we're fetching 
 of it home to its grandmother," he explained. 
 
 "Ah? Very kind of you, certainly." 
 
 " Well, I don't know how we could have done any 
 other ways. You see, I was off to a church conven 
 tion at Bath, and my wife wrote and asked if I couldn't 
 contrive it somehow." 
 
 "Your wife! " 
 
 The exclamation was involuntary. 
 
 " Yes ; and she wrote to Evelyn too, Evelyn was 
 up to Boston and asked her if she'd meet me at 
 Potter's Junction, and help along with the baby." 
 
 "Evelyn?" 
 
 There was more than surprise in the young man's 
 tones now : there was something like awe. Had he 
 found the author of that mysterious migratory letter 
 which was lying in his breast-pocket awaiting an owner? 
 
 " Evelyn, did you say? "
 
 DROXES* HONEY. 29 
 
 t 
 
 The young lady turned quickly on hearing her name 
 pronounced by a stranger. She had taken the baby, 
 and was administering to it a cooky, by instalments. 
 
 " Why, yes, this is Evelyn, Miss Searle, I should 
 say. Shall I make you acquainted with Miss Seaiie? " 
 added Mr. Crabtree, proud of himself for recollecting 
 his manners ; for in his code politeness required him 
 to introduce his lady friend to any one with whom he 
 happened to have a few moments' conversation. He 
 had already "made her acquainted " with sundry un 
 known people, who had merely bowed in acknowledg 
 ment, without divulging their own names or places of 
 residence. But Mr. Kirke seemed fully impressed 
 with the honor done him, doffing his travelling-cap in 
 the most courtly manner, and begging leave to present 
 his card to both parties. 
 
 Miss Searle accepted hers graciously, but with a 
 slight air of reserve, letting it fall unheeded in her 
 lap. It was plain that she knew better than to relish 
 being thrust in this compulsory way upon the notice of 
 an entire stranger. Possibly her disapproval blinded 
 her judgment in dividing the cooky ; for she meted 
 out too liberal a share, and the covetous baby re 
 ceived it into an already overburdened mouth, with the 
 result which might have been expected, coughing, 
 wheezing, and other symptoms of strangulation. Miss 
 Searle was terrified ; but Mr. Crabtree rose to the 
 occasion, laughed derisively, seized the stricken baby, 
 and patted it on the back with all the unconcern of 
 the father of a family, who has performed the like 
 office for six infant victims in due succession, and thinks 
 nothing of it.
 
 30 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 "There, there, now go back to her, sonny, and tell 
 her not to abuse you again. Strange how I keep call 
 ing of her a boy ! You see my three youngest are all 
 boys, so it comes kind of natural," addressing Mr. 
 Kirke once more, unconsciously attracted by such a 
 good listener. 
 
 "Will you not come here and share my seat," 
 suggested the young man thoughtfully, " and give the 
 young lady more room for the child? " 
 
 "That's a good notion of yours, sir. Thank you, 
 don't care if I do," returned Mr. Crabtree, complying 
 at once. He had not fancied the stranger's appear 
 ance, considering him " too lazy to breathe, one of 
 these pompous fellows that own half the railroad, 
 likely enough, riding round on a free pass ; " but, find 
 ing him so civil-spoken and agreeable, Mr. Crabtree 
 concluded that it would be no more than fair to reveal 
 to him his own name, and perhaps entertain him with 
 a little light conversation. 
 
 "My name's Crabtree, sir," shoving himself into 
 the seat as clumsily as if he had been one of his own 
 cartloads of gravel. "Yes, you see this little tot's 
 father and mother belonged to our town, and was both 
 drowned first of the month up to Moosehead. Can't 
 see what possessed 'em to go out in a birch canoe 
 without an Injun to paddle. Ever see one o' them 
 birches? As tittlish as an egg-shell. Have to part 
 your hair in the middle before you venture aboard, and 
 then hold your breath till you strike shore. Lots of 
 folks, first and last, gets upsot in them birches ; but 
 I never thought it of Eb Wood. He ain't in the habit 
 of going up there, either. But they both took a notion
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 31 
 
 to go and see her brother Jeff ; and then next thing 
 this happened, and they were fetched down here to be 
 buried. I tell you 'twas a pretty solemn funeral, a 
 young couple so, with this one child ; but they were 
 both of 'em church-members, and prepared, as we 
 hope, for the great change. Miss Plummer of Bath 
 came and took the baby home, but on account of sick 
 ness in the family couldn't keep it any longer ; and 
 we're fetching of it back to the old folks. Look out, 
 Evelyn, can't you get his mind off of eating? His 
 grandma' am will be disappointed if he don't call for 
 his supper when he gets there. She'll have it all 
 ready. Beats all," he added, with a confidential drop 
 ping of the voice and partial closing of the left eye, 
 "beats all what a difference there is in folks. Now, 
 there's my wife ; if I had her along with me, I shouldn't 
 be bothering my head about that young one. I never 
 saw a child so full of mischief to the square inch, or 
 such a catawauler ; but my wife could fix it up all 
 complete, and no help needed." 
 
 Mr. Kirke sincerely wished the capable Mrs. Crab- 
 tree was " along," and pitied poor, tired Miss Searle 
 with all his heart. 
 
 " The child seems to have extraordinary lungs, and 
 a furious temper ; but I believe such things indicate 
 teeth," said he sarcastically. Then, after a pause, 
 "Do I understand you, Mr. Crabtree, that you are 
 going to Narransauc? The fact is, I am going there 
 myself." 
 
 "You don't say so! Hear that, Evelyn?" said 
 Mr. Crabtree with a resounding laugh, which awak 
 ened the suspicion in Mr. Kirke's mind that Narran-
 
 32 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 sauc was by no means a popular resort. Miss Searle 
 flashed him a side smile, and the orphaned baby 
 reached over her shoulder and maliciously showered a 
 handful of cooky-crumbs on his knee. 
 
 " Kirke, Kirke, none related to our Kirkes, I 
 guess? " said Mr. Crabtree with another laugh. " No, 
 I thought not. There's a family of that name in 
 town a shiftless set. They'll all play cards and 
 smoke, if not drink." 
 
 " Have you any hotels? " asked Mr. Kirke. 
 
 There was no reply, but a long pause, during which 
 the young man felt that he was undergoing scrutiny. 
 
 " Maybe you've got some interest in our stone-quar 
 ries? Folks come here from quite a distance after 
 grave-stones; considered the best granite you'll find 
 in the New-England States." 
 
 The young man smiled indolently ; but, before he 
 could plead not guilty of travelling in behalf of a 
 cemetery, Mr. Crabtree had hazarded another conjec 
 ture. 
 
 " Word has gone out, so I've heard lately, that our 
 railroad bonds are good for nothing ; and I've rather 
 expected a lot of sharpers would be along buying of 
 'em up for a speculation. But they'll miss their guess, 
 for the bonds are pretty nigh up to par." This with a 
 shrewd, good-humored snapping of the tiny brown 
 orbs, as if to warn the Chicago lawyer that his crafty 
 designs were foreseen and circumvented. 
 
 "Oh, well, as for myself, I'm merely taking a run 
 up here for amusement! " returned the young man, 
 directing a look of supreme innocence toward the 
 back of Miss Searle's bonnet. What a heavy coil of
 
 HONEY. 33 
 
 fair hair, and how well her head was set on her 
 shoulders ! 
 
 "Is your scenery really so fine, Mr. Crabtree?" 
 Narransauc might be set in a sandbank, for aught he 
 knew to the contrary ; but it is always safe to say 
 " scenery " to a resident. 
 
 A light broke over Mr. Crabtree's crooked face. 
 "Well, they do say you scarce ever saw a prettier 
 place than what ours is in the summer season. That's 
 so, ain't it, Evelyn?" 
 
 " Indeed it is," replied the young lady, with another 
 tantalizing side smile. Perhaps she knew her profile 
 was worth studying. 
 
 " There's Vi'let Hill, and there's the Cascade; and 
 if you come just a'purpose for the scenery Can't 
 contrive, though, where you've heard so much about 
 us," went on Mr. Crabtree inquiringly. "Any ac 
 quainted with folks that's been this way? We've had 
 a plenty of 'em, to be sure. Oh, maybe you've got 
 word of our mineral spring ? That's up in my orchard : 
 been analyzed by Professor What's-name in Bruns 
 wick ; and I won't undertake to tell the ingredients, but 
 it's good for any number of complaints." 
 
 "I think I'm more interested in your your fish 
 ing," said Mr. Kirke at a bold venture. 
 
 "Yes, yes; that's so, our ponds. Well, we've 
 got three, with more perch and pickerel in 'em than 
 you can shake a stick at, not to mention the trout- 
 brook in Cobb's meadow." 
 
 Mr. Kirke sat bolt upright. Had Providence chosen 
 to smile on his wild undertaking? Were all things con 
 spiring to render it a reasonable, every-day affair ? Here
 
 34 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 he had pricked forth into the desert ; and lo, it was 
 blossoming like the rose ! " Kirke's luck," he thought, 
 smiling. " I'm delighted to hear my good opinion of 
 your fishing confirmed, Mr. Crabtree. And now, if 
 you will please inform me how many hotels you have, 
 and which is the best one, I'll be greatly indebted." 
 
 He was still sitting upright and alert, and Mr. Crab- 
 tree looked at him with growing respect. 
 
 "Well, there's two in the place; but there's only 
 one where you'd want to put up, and that's the Druid. 
 Follow along from the deep-o to the bridge hill ; or 
 you better take a hack, if you ain't used to walking. 
 You'll find Mrs. Simpson a complete good cook, and 
 the table always sot with sarse," drawing his crooked 
 mouth around to the left side, as if to close the sub 
 ject, his usual method of marking a double period. 
 
 Another hour elapsed, during which the infant showed 
 signs of utter depravity, and Miss Searle's face like 
 a blush-rose " drooped o'er the infant bud " in mortifi 
 cation and despair. This was too much for Mr. Kirke's 
 humanity ; and, as Mr. Crabtree looked on in indiffer 
 ence, he begged the privilege of taking the unhappy 
 child himself, and carrying it up and down the aisle for 
 change of scene. This was of course for the relief of 
 the young lady, who seemed duly grateful ; but Mr. 
 Crabtree laughed as heartily as if Mr. Kirke and the 
 baby were perambulating for his amusement. The 
 young man ought to have been insensible to ridicule, 
 but I fear he was not. I fear his sentiments toward 
 the hilarious Mr. Crabtree were realty vindictive, all 
 the more as the baby plucked at his hair in a manner 
 that attracted marked attention from the passengers.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 35 
 
 Fortunately the end of the journey was near, and 
 Mr. Crabtree soon announced that Narransauc was in 
 sight. 
 
 " I presume you'd like to have me name some of the 
 residences," said he, pointing an obliging forefinger 
 toward the distant landscape. 
 
 Mr. Kirke planted the hindering baby on the seat, 
 and looked out. 
 
 "Over yonder, top o' that hill, you see a house? 
 brick, painted a kind o' reddish brown, trimmings a 
 little darker? You can't see it so well as you ought 
 to, on account of the trees. Well, that's where Eve 
 lyn Miss Searle lives. Look out, Evelyn, there's 
 somebody at your house shaking a handkerchief ; guess 
 it's Theodate." 
 
 "Theodate?" thought the young man. "She is 
 an old acquaintance ; I'd like to see her myself." 
 
 Miss Searle had sprung up eagerly, and was gazing 
 out. Far away amid the mass of coloring could be 
 very faintly discerned a blotch of white ; and toward 
 this dim object, the supposititious handkerchief of 
 Theodate, she shook her own handkerchief with a smile 
 and nod. Mr. Kirke commiserated Theodate, because 
 she lost the smile. It was not like the one he had 
 received from the same source a little while ago, a 
 merely conventional ripple, playing for a moment on 
 the surface : this smile was the real thing ; it rose glow 
 ing from the heart, and suffused the whole face with 
 warmth and light. 
 
 "You live in a sightly place, Evelyn; only you 
 ought to have some of them big trees cut down. In 
 my opinion, they kind of pizen the land. That used to
 
 36 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 be a great house for young men to go calling, before 
 her sisters were married off," added Mr. Crabtree with 
 an explanatory wink toward Mr. Kirke. " But there's 
 no great of a rush round there now, as I've heard of. 
 Look out, Evelyn, or you and Theodate will both be 
 turning the old maid's corner." 
 
 This coarse raillery, so odious to a person of ordin- 
 ary refinement, caused Miss Searle to shrink away from 
 the window, with a slight, tremulous swaying of the 
 neck, like the recoil of a sensitive plant at the touch 
 of a hand. 
 
 Mr. Kirke was so incensed by Mr. Crabtree' s brutal 
 ity, that in revenge he handed him the baby. 
 
 And as they had now arrived at the station, he has 
 tened, with his courtliest bow, to proffer his services to 
 Miss Searle ; feeling it a privilege to let her see, that, 
 though somewhat awkward as a baby's nurse, there 
 were yet some things he could do with absolutely fault 
 less grace.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 37 
 
 IV. 
 
 " TJie bee, 
 
 All dusty as a miller, takes his toll 
 Of powdery gold, and yrumbles. What d day 
 
 To sun me and do nothing !" 
 
 LOWELL. 
 
 MR. KIRKE stood on the platform of the little 
 station, gazing after his late travelling-com 
 panions, till a thick cloud of dust wrapped them from 
 sight, like the fabled cap of invisibility. Narran- 
 sauc seemed to be one of the quiet, unknown towns 
 aptly described as "geographical expressions," with 
 no particular "scenery" so far discoverable, except 
 clumps of trees, a sandy soil, and the hint of a dark 
 river glooming somewhere in the background be3'ond 
 a wooded slope. 
 
 The station had a subdued air, suggesting that busi 
 ness was allowed to interfere as little as possible with 
 repose. There was a drowsy hum of talk between the 
 baggage-master and an express-agent ; while the hack- 
 man of the " Druid," and the hackman of the " Nar- 
 ransauc," exchanged a few dry jokes with another 
 driver, mounted on the Latium stage. The chief 
 liveliness of the scene was due to two young children, 
 a boy and girl, who quarrelled over a banana, and 
 both fell to wailing, with their heads against the out 
 side corner of the building ; reminding Mr. Kirke of
 
 38 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 the "Jews weeping at the walls of Jerusalem," 
 a sight familiar in his Eastern travels. 
 
 " So this is Narrausatic ; a handful of houses, a 
 church, there must be a church somewhere, a 
 blacksmith's shop, and it seems two hotels," thought 
 our tourist, handing his fishing-tackle to the driver, and 
 entering the Druid coach, the sole passenger. 
 
 It was impossible not to feel a little vexed with him 
 self. Why had he selected this dull hollow, instead of 
 one of the really choice resorts so thickly scattered 
 over New England ? But he had not ridden far before 
 his mood changed. As they ascended the " bridge 
 hill," commanding a view of the village, behold a lovely, 
 sparkling river with wooded banks, a long, wide stretch 
 of meadow, and on three sides bold mountains rising 
 blue in the distance ! 
 
 " This will do for me," he said with a smile of con 
 tent. " Let James and Molly have Newport to them 
 selves. Is that Miss Searle's home, that hill over 
 there, where the purple light falls? And are Evelyn 
 and Theodate twin-sisters? Evelyn is a saint, en 
 shrined in purple light. Naturally she travels with a 
 Prayer-Book, has outgrown lovers, and begs pardon 
 for being so lovable. I can understand it now : it is 
 the environment. I can see how she looked when she 
 wrote to my double ; just as she looked when she rea 
 soned with that baby : in short, like an angel. But 
 I'm not sure I fancy angels ; on the whole, I give the 
 preference to mortals. Shall I ever see her again? 
 She scarcely looked at me, and never uttered a word, 
 till I took that imp of a baby. Wouldn't know me 
 again, doesn't remember my name, and hasn't kept
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 39 
 
 my card. Not flattering. Perhaps the twin-sister is 
 less heavenly. I'd like to see Theodate." 
 
 The Druid was a spacious hotel, built a century ago, 
 when the town was young and precocious, holding out 
 a delusive promise of growth. The massive doors had 
 heavy iron latches, and the front one a knocker as ag 
 gressive as a war-club. The yellow glory of the large 
 hall floor was obscured here and there by braided 
 woollen mats. Mr. Kirke's arrival was apparently a 
 surprise ; for the sleepy, portly, baldheaded landlord 
 met him with a stare, and, instead of greeting him, said 
 to the porter who was setting down the luggage, 
 
 "When are the old doctor's remains going to be 
 fetched?" 
 
 " To-morrow mornin'." 
 
 "We were looking for a corpse to-night," was the 
 landlord's cheerful explanation to Mr. Kirke, who 
 bowed meekly, and entered the office, feeling that he 
 was a disappointment at the outset, a poor substitute 
 indeed for the expected " remains." 
 
 The floor of the office was of the same radiant hue as 
 the hall, but so warped that all the chairs halted on three 
 legs and held up the fourth, like a flock of lame sheep. 
 
 "Pretty hot, ain't it, though?" quoth the landlord 
 sociably, recovering in a measure from his sense of 
 injury regarding the deceased doctor, and smiling as 
 he entered a grated enclosure used as a desk. Behind 
 this grating his departed grandsire had once stood, 
 and at this very counter poured West India and New 
 England rum into thick glass tumblers, stirring in the 
 brown sugar with a toddy-stick, for the delectation of 
 travellers. There was no liquor of an)* sort there now,
 
 40 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 it is needless to say, only pens, ink, and a day-book, 
 in which Mr. Kirke was asked to inscribe his name below 
 that of Miss Anne Belcher of Boston, who had arrived 
 on the noon train. This day-book was a modern 
 affair, and Mr. Simpson had a pride in it, as well as 
 in the bright key with label attached, which he now 
 gave his guest, summoning the factotum Tom to show 
 him to his room; though he "hoped he would look 
 round all he pleased, and make himself perfectly at 
 home." 
 
 The antiquity of the house delighted the young 
 man, as well as its quaint appointments. The piano 
 in the parlor claimed to have originated in London in 
 1725, and was composed of rosewood, white holly, 
 and ebony ; six feet long, two feet wide, with mahogany 
 legs and brass casters. Mr. Kirke's face brightened ; 
 he was becoming deeply interested. At the tea-table 
 it was a new experience to find himself placed on the 
 footing of an old acquaintance ; the friendly Mrs. 
 Simpson "making conversation" with himself and 
 Miss Belcher, while she poured the tea. Her husband 
 was more than willing to aid her in her social duties ; 
 but, unfortunately, when he talked he forgot every 
 thing else : hence, it was her policy to keep him quiet. 
 Mr. Crabtree once said, " Simpson is like that little 
 boat of Andrew Cromwell's, - a terrible small boat 
 with an awful big whistle ; and, when he blowed the 
 whistle, the boat always stopped." 
 
 "I'm so glad you like the looks of our town, Mr. 
 Kirke," said the friendly landlady, with a nod of her 
 pepper-and-salt curls. 
 
 "You'll have to see Violet Hill, Miss Belcher. I
 
 DROiVES' HONEY. 41 
 
 guess I'll drive you up," remarked the equally friendly 
 landlord, forgetting to pass the butter. 
 
 "Won't you help to the pease, Mr. Simpson?" 
 said his wife reprovingly. " ' Blessed abundance' is 
 the name of these pease, Miss Belcher ; and we think 
 they're pretty early." 
 
 Presently the door opened, and a man sauntered 
 into the dining-room with no other ceremony than a 
 prolonged whistle. " Been hunting all over the house 
 for a match to light my pipe. Where do you keep 'em, 
 anyhow?" 
 
 " Why, Andrew, we keep them on the kitchen man 
 tel-piece, in an iron box," replied the neighborly old 
 lady, surprised at the weakness of the question. 
 
 But Andrew was too dilatory to go at once, even 
 for the pleasure of a smoke. " Look here, Simpson," 
 lounging up to the table, and laying a small article 
 beside the host's plate, " that's the kind of blind- 
 fastener you want, ain't it?" 
 
 "Looks like it," replied Mr. Simpson, slowly con 
 sidering the subject between his sips of tea. 
 
 " There, I said so. I knew you'd like it. It's the 
 women-folks that make the bother, and keep you trot 
 ting. Now, I've been to Latium twice for a blind- 
 fastener; and Evelyn Searle ain't suited yet." 
 
 Mr. Kirke grew suddenly attentive. 
 
 " Guess they're 'most too particular up there on the 
 hill," remarked the landlord. 
 
 "Oh, no!" said his wife. "Andrew has been 
 plaguing their lives out of them. You know3'ou have, 
 Andrew. Now, if you're going after matches, look 
 out not to hit my yeast-pitcher on the mantel-shelf.
 
 42 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 And mind, Andrew, you promised to come next week 
 to mend the sink by the water-barrel. Clever boy," 
 she added benignly, as the door closed after him ; 
 " but if he gets that sink mended by next November, 
 it's all I expect. And Mr. Simpson's so easy ! I 
 don't see as I'm a grain better off than the young 
 ladies on the hill." 
 
 " Three girls up there all alone, and not a man 
 among 'em," murmured Mr. Simpson in a tone of 
 heartfelt pity. 
 
 "Oh, well, Evelyn and Theodate are happier than 
 the majority of married couples ! Anybody would 
 enjoy living with Evelyn, she has such a soothing way 
 with her. (Won't you pass the biscuit, Mr. Simpson?) 
 I tell 'etn they're too care-free and happy for this 
 world, up there in the clouds, one of 'em a-paint- 
 ing, the other a-scribbling, and a nice little French 
 girl to do the rough work." 
 
 "Is the name Searle, do you say?" asked Mr. 
 Kirke, with the air of a stranger who feigns a polite 
 interest. 
 
 "Well, yes, the name of one is Searle; but we've 
 got in the way of calling 'em ' the young ladies.' 
 Evelyn is the last one left on the old Searle place ; and 
 she sent for an old crony of hers, a Wilder girl from 
 Bangor way, to come and live with her," replied Mr. 
 Simpson. And then " the boat stopped " again ; and 
 his wife, alarmed at his growing interest in the con 
 versation, struck in hurriedly, 
 
 " Will you pass the butter, my dear? Yes, and a 
 great thing it was for Theodate. Her folks were 
 never very well-to-do, and her father took to drink,
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 43 
 
 and she had to support the family ; but now they've all 
 died off, and Theodate is ever so pleased to have a 
 home with Evelj'n, and a chance to set up a class in 
 painting." 
 
 " So she is an artist? " 
 
 "Well, I don't know just what you'd call it. "We 
 think she paints handsome pictures. You can almost 
 smell her roses. And her landscapes, too, we think 
 they're as good as anybody's. The cake, Mr. Simp 
 son." 
 
 "And Miss Searle writes poetry, perhaps? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! Story books and pieces for the magazines. 
 I don't believe but she could write poetry, though. 
 I've a great mind to ask her if she won't make up 
 some verses for our golden wedding, Moses, November 
 next, the 27th ; and we expect all our eight children 
 to be here," said she, pausing, and looking at her 
 guests, in anticipation of hearing them exclaim, "A 
 golden wedding ? You surprise me. You don't look 
 over sixty." 
 
 But Miss Belcher was too rigidly truthful for that ; 
 and Mr. Kirke, not knowing what was expected of him, 
 only said, 
 
 "Ah! and have you lived in this house ever since 
 your marriage, Mrs. Simpson?" 
 
 " Why, to be sure ; and what's more we were mar 
 ried here, right by that east window ; and old Mr. 
 Searle the minister, Evelyn's grandfather, performed 
 the ceremony." 
 
 "And the daughter is the last of her race, I think 
 you said? " 
 
 " Yes, all but her uncle, Mellen Searle, and his
 
 44 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 family. They live here in this town," replied the pleas 
 ant old lady, her heart going out more and more toward 
 this " sociable young man " who took such an interest 
 in village affairs. 
 
 "Why," said she after tea, to Moses, "he seems 
 just like one of ' our folks,' and I hope he'll like to 
 stay with us. Anyway, we'll do our best to make him 
 have a good time." 
 
 Accordingly he was regaled that evening in the par 
 lor with more conversation, and with the music of the 
 past, which Miss Belcher evoked from the poor old 
 cracked piano ; and Mr. Simpson tried hard to keep 
 awake and be agreeable, though he did fall asleep at 
 last in his chair. 
 
 There was a degree of solemn excitement in the 
 village next day, over the "old doctor's" funeral; 
 though what name the old doctor had borne in life Mr. 
 Kirke never heard. He busied himself most of the 
 day in fishing ; and Mrs. Simpson fried his trout for 
 supper, but was obliged to leave him in the evening to 
 the care of her somnolent husband, who would be but 
 poor company, she feared. She remarked apologeti 
 cally, as she drew on her gloves, that she wouldn't go 
 a step, only it was a special church-meeting, and she 
 felt it a duty. 
 
 "A Baptist dance," explained the irreverent Mr. 
 Simpson to their guest, fond of shocking his devout 
 wife, who hushed him with a " Why, Moses ! " 
 
 " But I've got out a lot of books here," pointing to 
 the table, " and you can read all you're a mind to." 
 
 Mr. Kirke thanked her. The} r were lives of presi 
 dents and other grandees, adorned with woodcuts of
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 45 
 
 the log cabins in which they were born. "Showing," 
 the old lady said instructively, " how most of our 
 great men have come up from ign'ance." 
 
 " Yes," he returned with a smile ; " but I object to 
 that moral, which is, ' Don't educate the masses, and 
 you'll get presidents out of the slums.' ' 
 
 The good lady looked rather scandalized. Had she 
 been deceived in this fair-seeming young man? Could 
 he be, after all, one of the dreadful free-thinking sort? 
 
 " Perhaps you have different ideas out in Chicago 
 from what we have up here in Maine; perhaps," with 
 a tinge of severity, " you think labor is degrading, and 
 look down upon ladies that do their own work. But 
 we haven't any aristocracy here. We consider that 
 the Lord never intended us to shirk ; and, rich or poor, 
 we do our part. To be sure," relenting a little, " we 
 do have some drones in the hive ; but public opinion is 
 against 'em up here, and they know it." 
 
 Mr. Kirke blushed. There were reasons dating 
 from childhood why he could never hear the word 
 "drone" without suspecting a personal application. 
 Good Mrs. Simpson noted the blush, and her tender 
 heart misgave her. " Good-by, a very pleasant time to 
 you," said she, casting back a motherly smile through 
 the crack of the door. 
 
 But he was not destined to a quiet evening with the 
 sleeping landlord and the dead presidents. Mr. Crab- 
 tree soon entered, followed by a handsome St. Bernard 
 dog with a dead chicken fastened about his neck, 
 and close behind tne dog a sandy-haired gentleman 
 whom Mr. Crabtree announced as " Mr. Searle, well 
 acquainted with your father, Judge Kirke."
 
 4.6 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 It was a proud moment for Mr. Crabtree. He had 
 been searching all clay for Mr. Kirke, to let him know 
 that Narransauc was not so far out of the world, after 
 all ; that, in fact, it had its great men, second to none 
 in Chicago or elsewhere. He made the introduction 
 with a loud laugh. He had a laugh ready to express 
 all shades of feeling ; it meant now that he hoped Mr. 
 Kirke would be satisfied as to the town's gentility, of 
 which he. Mr. Crabtree, had not been a fair sample. 
 He had " no manners to brag of," and he knew it ; he 
 was a " singed cat," giving no outward sign of his in 
 terior worth. But look now, here was a real gentleman, 
 the best lawyer in the county, as well as an ex-con 
 gressman ; and if these facts did not come out in the 
 course of conversation, then he, Mr. Crabtree, would 
 know the reason why. 
 
 " Yes, I was well acquainted with your father, and 
 am most happy to meet you, Mr. Kirke," said Mr. 
 Searle with a cordial hand-grasp, which the young man 
 returned in kind, looking up at, or more strictly down 
 upon, the older gentleman with a deference which grati 
 fied Mr. Crabtree, as reflecting honor indirectly upon 
 himself. " Yes, I knew your father when we were 
 both young. He was a native of Andover, you know ; 
 and I went there to school, and we were in the same 
 classes. And years afterwards we travelled together. 
 We were excellent friends," said the lawyer, who had 
 not } r et released Mr. Kirke's hand. 
 
 A sudden recollection flashed into the young man's 
 mind, 
 
 " You are not the gentleman who went to South 
 America with my father?"
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 47 
 
 " The very same." 
 
 "Then I have often heard of you, sir. My father 
 is very fond of referring to his South-American 
 voyage, and to Mr. Melleu Searle. Is that the 
 name? " 
 
 " Is he? I am glad to hear it," returned Mr. 
 Searle with a glow of pleasure in his eyes, which im 
 mediately recalled to the young man the smile of the 
 niece, Miss Evelyn Searle, as she saw her friend's 
 figure in the distance from the car-window. It might 
 be an accidental resemblance, but that smile was surely 
 one of a thousand. 
 
 Here followed a series of anecdotes concerning the 
 memorable voyage, not of absorbing interest to Mr. 
 Crabtree, who broke into the conversation before long 
 to address his dog, 
 
 "Well, Bruno, you needn't look so meaching: I 
 don't believe the folks have taken any notice of your 
 necklace; and, if you'll promise not to rob any more 
 hen-roosts, I'll take it off when we get home. Well, 
 Square, hadn't we better be going? " 
 
 Mr. Searle rose with some deliberation. " We shall 
 expect an early call from you, Mr. Kirke. Mrs. 
 Searle will be glad to know you, and I hope to have 
 the honor of showing you some hospitality." 
 
 "H'm! If his wife will let him," thought Mr. 
 Crabtree. "Bruno; here, Bruno," to the dog who 
 had retreated under the table. 
 
 "To-morrow will be Sunday," he added in a tone 
 of sanctity, after a solemn clearing of the throat, as if 
 by that act he drew a strict line between secular and 
 religious conversation ; " and we'd be glad to have
 
 48 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 you come to our meet/in', Congregational, and sit in 
 our pew. And, if you're going to be any time among 
 us, we should be pleased to have your help in the 
 prayer-meeting and Sabbath school." 
 
 This last with the rising inflection, as was natural in 
 addressing a stranger whose religious proclivities were 
 unknown. 
 
 Mr. Kirke bit his lip. He had never heard " the 
 holy whine " from this source before, and it struck 
 him as much funnier than any of Mr. Crabtree's inten 
 tional jokes. He said he should attend church, and 
 would be glad to accept the hospitality of Mr. Crab- 
 tree's pew. 
 
 And upon this the guests took their leave.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 49 
 
 V. 
 
 " Life with you 
 
 Glows in the brain, and dances in the arteries ; 
 'TVs like the wine some joyous guest hath quaffed, 
 That glads the lieart, and elevates the fancy.' 1 
 
 OLD PLAY: ANTIQUARY. 
 
 MR. SEARLE supposed he was doing Judge 
 Kirkc's son a favor in escorting him on Tuesday 
 evening to Violet Hill, the old homestead where the 
 " young ladies " lived. The 3 7 oung man had expressed 
 a wish to go ; but now, that they were on their way up 
 the gradually ascending street, he found himself dread 
 ing the call. Miss Searle had been an unsocial travel 
 ling-companion, reading Thomas a Kempis in the cars. 
 IShe probably had a dreamy mind, shut into itself iu a 
 sort of spiritual balloon, so to speak ; and it was only 
 people of a rarefied nature who could soar high enough 
 to converse with her. 
 
 Of the two young ladies, he had less fear of Miss 
 Wilder, because he had never seen her. 
 
 As they turned into the curved path leading to the 
 house, they met a small boy trudging toward them, 
 half concealed under a swaying forest of rhubarb 
 stalks and leaves. 
 
 4 'They give 'em to me," cried the walking forest 
 with an injured air, on being questioned as to his
 
 50 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 spoils. " Evelyn said our folks could have all the 
 rubub I's a mind to pick." 
 
 "All right," laughed Mr. Searle. 
 
 But, as both gentlemen had now turned short around, 
 the boy looked back indignantly, his moon-shaped face 
 showing in the umbrageous mass like a nondescript 
 flower bursting into bloom. He thought they still 
 doubted his claim to the " rubub," whereas Mr. Searle 
 was only calling attention to the landscape. 
 
 They were on the summit of Violet Hill, command 
 ing a broad view of four neighboring towns, the wind 
 ing river, and three ponds, with an eastern horizon of 
 snow-capped mountains. 
 
 The hill had been so named on account of its violet 
 tinge ; but, indeed, as they looked down, the whole 
 world seemed to have borrowed the color. The light 
 from the mountains was sifting through evening clouds 
 of varying tint, but every cloud cast always a violet 
 shadow. In the west the sun was sinking in golden 
 light, and the east mourned him in fantastic purple 
 and pink ; but still, as far as the eye could reach, the 
 soft and lovely violet eveiywhere prevailed. 
 
 "Is it like what you thought?" asked Mr. Searle, 
 after a pause, as they both stood gazing with heads 
 involuntarily bared. 
 
 " I don't know what I thought ; but there's nothing 
 to be said," replied the young man, drawing a long 
 breath. " It's a revelation of itself." 
 
 " When I was a boy, I used to stand in the garden 
 back of the house, and look down by the hour at that 
 scene," said Mr. Searle in hushed tones. "And I 
 never look at it now without thinking of what Fichte
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 51 
 
 says : ' The world is but the curtain by which an in 
 finitely more perfect world is concealed from me.' 
 I believe I should have been nearer heaven now, if I 
 had never left this place," he added half sadly. " It 
 belonged to me as the eldest son, but I gave it up 
 to my brother John ; and, when John died, the farm 
 ran behind, and there's nothing raised on it now but 
 grass and garden vegetables. I'll take you over the 
 orchard some time, and the wood-lot ; but we'll go 
 into the house now, and make our call. Are the }~oung 
 ladies in?" he asked of the nutbrown maid who 
 answered the bell. 
 
 " Yes, sir; they's out in the orchard playing tag," 
 she replied, wiping a smile from the corner of her 
 mouth with her apron. " Walk in, sir. I'll call 'em 
 d'rec'ly." 
 
 Rosa's frankness regarding family affairs was a daily 
 trial to her young ladies. 
 
 "Tag? You probabl}' mean calisthenics," said the 
 rather fastidious Mr. Searle, as they were ushered into 
 the parlor. 
 
 But Rosa was incorrigible. " No, sir, they's a-chas- 
 ing one another lickety-split," emphasizing the dreadful 
 remark by bringing her hand down upon a piano-key 
 to kill a fly, which perished melodiously like a dying 
 swan . 
 
 " You will find the young ladies are not very con 
 ventional," said Mr. Searle apologetically, as Rosa 
 went to summon them. " They are great brain- 
 workers ; and some romping is necessary, perhaps, to 
 keep up their health. 1 think Miss Wilder is rather 
 the ringleader. My son Ozro says she took lessons
 
 52 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 last summer in pistol-shooting of a young man who 
 was visiting in town, but I regard this as an exaggera 
 tion. By the way, the young man was from Chicago, 
 and knew your famity well." 
 
 "Ah! What name?" 
 
 " I was about to tell you ; had it a moment ago, but 
 now it's gone. Strange how names fly from us." 
 
 " Very," assented Mr. Kirke, watching Mr. Searle's 
 knitted brows with considerable interest. A young 
 man from Chicago? Could it possibly have been the 
 hero of the letter? 
 
 " Was the name long, or short? " he asked, wonder 
 ing if it began with a " K," and was capable of being 
 twisted into Kirke. 
 
 " 'Twill come back presently," said Mr. Searle, 
 spreading out his palm as if to grasp it in the air. 
 " I'll have it soon. Yes, he knew your family well ; 
 and I was going to ask you about him last night, but 
 forgot it." 
 
 Mr. Kirke chafed inwardly at these lapses of mem- 
 oi*3' ; but his thoughts were diverted now by the entrance 
 of a vision in white, floating in the wake of a falling 
 sunbeam. It was Miss Searle, and the sunbeam trans 
 formed her "ling long" yellow hair into a sort of 
 aureola about her head. Could this be the young lady 
 who had just been playing "tag" in the orchard? 
 Had she romped in that fleecy gown with its delicate 
 lace trimmings? or had she made a. new toilet with 
 the magic speed of a Cinderella? Her uncle's knitted 
 brows cleared as he arose to greet her and present her 
 with formal pride to " the son of my old friend Judge 
 Kirke." She extended her hand with a playful smile.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 53 
 
 " I am happy to meet you again, Mr. Kirke, and 
 without that dreadful baby." 
 
 He had risen rather stiffly, expecting an icy greeting ; 
 hut it seemed that Miss Searle made a distinction be 
 tween chance acquaintances and people who came with 
 proper credentials. This was her court, here she was 
 queen ; and it pleased her to be sweetly gracious and 
 charming. 
 
 "Thank you. I am very happy to be permitted to 
 call and inquire if you have recovered from the fatigue- 
 of the journey. Was that a human baby, Miss 
 Searle?" 
 
 Upon this they both laughed ; and she said, turning 
 to Mr. Searle, 
 
 "You wouldn't wonder at the question, uncle Mel- 
 len, if you had seen the impish cruelty of that little 
 creature, and its fierce way of pulling his hair. I owe 
 you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Kirke, for thrusting your 
 head into the breach." 
 
 She paused as a dark figure entered the doorway like 
 the shadow of night ; and the young man said to him 
 self, ' ' ' Who is this that cometh from the house of 
 mourning, clad in the garments of woe? ' " 
 
 " My friend Miss Wilder, Mr. Kirke." 
 
 Her appearance was striking, almost severe. 
 There were few curves of beauty in her erect, square- 
 shouldered figure, no compromising waves in her mid 
 night hair ; but when she smiled, as now, a light leaped 
 out of her dark eyes as warm and friendly as a house 
 hold fire. 
 
 " Miss Wilder, this is the Good Samaritan who 
 helped me the other day with little Mamie. You ought
 
 54 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 to have been there to make a sketch of him as he strode 
 frantically up and down the aisle, brandishing her on 
 his shoulder." 
 
 " I think I should have sketched that baby with a 
 very hard pencil," said Miss Wilder, shaking hands 
 warmly. " Even its grandmother is half beside herself 
 with such a child." 
 
 Rosa now appeared, and lighted the hanging-lamps, 
 which the moonlight put to shame with a cold, superior 
 smile. 
 
 * ' Rosa, will you bring a pitcher of water fresh from 
 the pump? " asked Mr. Searle blandly. " Mr. Kirke, 
 I wish to regale you with some sparkling water from an 
 old well which has come down to our family by inherit 
 ance, like the wells of the Israelites," he added, as the 
 nut-brown maid re-appeared with pitcher and glasses. 
 
 The water was very refreshing ; and the young man 
 declared he would like to drink a health to the roan- 
 tree which Mr. Searle said grew beside it, and had the 
 power of keeping off witches. 
 
 The little French girl listened with much interest to 
 these remarks. She had never felt quite sure before 
 that there are such beings as witches, but she should 
 believe it henceforth on what she considered the high 
 est authority. She wore a charm about her neck, the 
 hind foot of a rabbit, which her lover Peter had shot 
 in the graveyard at midnight ; and she had fancied 
 once or twice that Miss Date was disposed to make 
 game of this "graveyard rabbit," for she did make 
 game sometimes without smiling at all. Miss Evelyn 
 never did such a thing : she was so very, very tender 
 of people's feelings. It seemed rather too bad, but
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 55 
 
 Miss Date called attention now to this charm ; and 
 Rosa was sure the large young gentleman understood at 
 once how affairs stood between herself and Peter. She 
 retreated to the kitchen in great confusion, with pitcher 
 and goblet ; and next moment there was heard a crash 
 of glass, followed by a diminutive scream. 
 
 "I am afraid, Theodate, what you said was rather 
 embarrassing to the child," remarked Mr. Searle. 
 " She seems to be as sensitive as Peter himself." 
 
 And then, for the amusement of the company, he told 
 an anecdote of this French youth, his work-boy. 
 
 " When he filled our wood-box this morning, he 
 wanted to put on his leather apron ; but his hat was on 
 his head, and how to get the apron over the hat he 
 could not think. But he finall}' solved the problem by 
 taking off the hat and slipping it through the apron." 
 
 Poor love-distraught Peter ! It was very easy to 
 laugh at his aberration of mind ; it served to give a 
 light and pleasant turn to the conversation. And, when 
 Mr. Searle saw that the young people were chatting 
 together in the highest good-humor, he soon excused 
 himself and took his leave ; turning at the door to say 
 in a softened tone to his niece, " Your aunt wants to 
 see }'ou, Evetyn. Come down to-morrow if you can." 
 
 This lowering of the voice had been noticeable 
 whenever he addressed her. Was it an involuntan' 
 tribute to her gentle-heartedness ? 
 
 She had a sunny face. There was a slight uplifting 
 of the nose, as if it breathed the upper ether ; a 
 glad look in the eyes, as if the}* saw the silver lining 
 of the clouds ; a pleasant look about the month, as if 
 it shut in a whole treasury of smiles. You felt that
 
 56 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 she would look for the poetry of life, and find it. She 
 would not sink into the pitfalls, for she bore wings on 
 her feet. And how much sunshine these happy women 
 garner up, and kindly shed abroad on rainy days ! 
 
 These were Mr. Kirke's reflections, not mine. He 
 understood now, for her uncle had told him so, that 
 Miss Searle had a very buoyant temperament, but the 
 loss of her mother had changed her sadly during the 
 past year. How she could rely on Miss Wilder to keep 
 up her spirits, as Mr. Searle said she did, was a mystery 
 to Mr. Kirke : Miss Wilder seemed to him at first sight 
 so very serious. What possessed a woman of her age 
 to dress like a nun? Had she lost all her friends? 
 She served as a foil to Miss Searle's fair beauty. Was 
 there design of that sort in her sombre dress, with only 
 the slight relief of a linen collar and a pansy at the 
 throat? Even the pansy might be said to be in second 
 mourning, for it had a heart of royal purple. Could 
 she not bend to fashion enough to curl or toss or crimp 
 her puritanical straight hair? 
 
 So much for masculine criticism. Miss Wilder had 
 tried the effect of crimps and curls, and considered 
 them as much out of place on her Roman forehead as 
 a Punch and Judy in a pulpit. She had lost all her 
 friends except Miss Searle. Moreover, black was 
 economical, and she believed it becoming. She was 
 as scrupulously neat in her attire as her friend ; but 
 Evelyn's little graceful touches of the toilet, she ab 
 jured. What had a plain woman to do with adorn 
 ments? Evelyn believed she had possibilities of 
 beauty, and wished she felt half the interest in bringing 
 out her own best points that she had in painting from
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 57 
 
 nature. But Theodate had settled the matter long ago, 
 and it was not to be denied that her rigid simplicity 
 of dress did give her extra time for work. 
 
 "Miss Searle," said Mr. Kirke, " we met a very 
 discouraged little boy going out of your garden, over 
 powered with rhubarb stalks. He looked like Birnam 
 Wood coming to Dunsinane." 
 
 " Jimmy Skilliugs, I presume, though I did not 
 know he had been here." 
 
 " He will carry off the whole garden, Evelyn, if you 
 are so easy with him," exclaimed Miss Wilder. 4t The 
 Skillingses are a poor family in the village," she ex 
 plained to Mr. Kirke, " always begging or borrowing ; 
 vegetables, clothes-lines, even stove-pipes they ask for. 
 I never knew Jimmy to return but one borrowed article, 
 and that was an egg ; and I was so surprised that I 
 said, 'Why, Jimmy, is that the egg I lent you the 
 other day? ' ' No,' said he, ' mother used that egg : 
 this is another one.' ' 
 
 Miss Wilder was a good talker ; and Miss Searle led 
 her on to relate several stories, evidently amused her 
 self, and sure that Mr. Kirke would be amused, by her 
 dryly uttered drolleries. 
 
 Schoolmates these two young women had been a few 
 years ago at Wellesley, merely schoolmates at first, 
 then friends ; and now they were more than friends, 
 united by a bond which they held almost as sacred as 
 marriage. This was another thing Mr. Searle had told 
 Mr. Kirke ; and the young man considered it romantic, 
 and wondered what would be the end of it, in case 
 either of the twain should venture to think of matri 
 mony.
 
 58 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 "What enviable people you are," said, he "living 
 quite above the world, in the loveliest spot this side of 
 sundown, unless you find it too quiet? " 
 
 " Quiet ! That is the very thing Miss Searle is look 
 ing for, and can never find. She sends me away every 
 morning, imploring me to stay away all day, just to 
 give her a little quiet ; and when I come back at night, 
 half afraid to meet her, she says, ' Why, what brought 
 you home so soon ? ' 
 
 Miss Searle smiled up at Mr. Kirke. " In plain 
 prose, Miss Wilder has classes in painting which take 
 all her mornings, and she often sketches in the after 
 noon, which leaves me alone more than I would choose. 
 But we always have our evenings together," she added 
 with a look which said that that was bliss enough for 
 this world. 
 
 " Mr. Kirke, are you waiting to be asked the 
 question, how do you like Narrausauc?" said Miss 
 Wilder. 
 
 "Oh, that is superfluous! I'm captivated. How 
 can I help it?" 
 
 "Thank you, thank you. I like that," said Miss 
 Wilder, leaving her place on the sofa and taking a chair 
 somewhat nearer their guest. For all her serious looks 
 and slowness of speech, she was humorous, he could 
 see that, and more impulsive than the lighter, sunnier 
 Miss Searle. 
 
 " I enjoy the views immensely, Miss Wilder, from 
 various points, above all from this hill. Will you 
 mind my bringing up my camera some fine morning? 
 You shall not be disturbed in the least." 
 
 "Your camera? "
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 59 
 
 " Yes. Perhaps Mr. Searle did not mention to you 
 that I am a travelling photographer." 
 
 Miss Wilder looked amazed. 
 
 "No, he did not." She hesitated a moment. 
 " Now, perhaps that will be the very thing for me. 
 If you could take some of the views I like, and I 
 could send them to my friends " 
 
 " Don't 3'ou see he's laughing at us, dear?" inter 
 posed Miss Searle with a quiet smile. "I'm afraid 
 he's only a Chicago lawyer, and not an artist. At 
 any rate, I have his card that says so." 
 
 Indeed ! Then she had not deliberately lost the 
 card, after all. 
 
 Miss Wilder laughed heartily at her mistake ; she 
 had an infectious laugh. 
 
 " But you did bring a camera? " she asked. "You 
 won't be so cruel as to say you were jesting about 
 that?" 
 
 " Yes, I did bring a camera for my own amusement ; 
 but my pictures would strike despair to your heart, 
 Miss Wilder: you never saw any thing so bad." 
 
 " Oh, perhaps, now, you are too modest ! You'll let 
 us see some and judge for ourselves, won't you? " 
 
 After this the conversation naturally drifted to art. 
 Mr. Kirke had a taste for it, and had gathered consid 
 erable desultory information on the subject, besides 
 being acquainted with several well-known artists ; and 
 the talk grew quite animated, Miss Searle joining in it 
 chiefly with her eyes. She was such an electric listener 
 that Mr. Kirke was surprised afterward to remember 
 how little she had really said. 
 
 During a pause she brought him a photograph-album ;
 
 60 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 but he was so interested in the graceful way she turned 
 the leaves, and the vital force of her manner in giving 
 bits of biography, that he sometimes forgot to look at 
 the pictures, for looking at her. 
 
 "There, this is a Chinaman; perhaps 3'ou wouldn't 
 care to hear his history. But it reminds me to ask, do 
 the Chinese identify criminals by taking an impression 
 of their thumbs?" 
 
 " I have heard so." 
 
 "That is convenient and sensible, just like the 
 Chinese," remarked Miss Wilder. " There never were 
 two thumbs alike, of course." 
 
 " Neither are hands alike. I wish I had a book full 
 of the hands of my intimate friends, all done to the 
 life," said Miss Searle. " They are just as individual 
 as faces, and just as full of character." 
 
 She was turning a leaf as she spoke ; and Mr. Kirke 
 suddenly exclaimed, " Joe Fiske ! Why, where did 
 you ever know him?" 
 
 " Bryant Fiske is a friend of ours from Chicago," 
 replied Miss Searle briefly, and was about to turn an 
 other leaf ; but Mr. Kirke persisted, 
 
 "Joseph Bryant Fiske is his full name, one of our 
 neighbors at home ; but I never dreamed of his knowing 
 you." 
 
 Miss Wilder came forward now from the sofa, and 
 laid on the table a geranium-leaf which she had been 
 crushing in her hand. " Mr. Fiske has been at Cam 
 bridge University ; and Miss Searle and I have known 
 him well, for we spend our winters in Boston." 
 
 " Ah ! I wonder I never heard of it." 
 
 "And Mr. Fiske was here last summer for several
 
 DRONE'S HONEY. 6 1 
 
 weeks," added Miss Wilder, "and again for a few 
 days in May." 
 
 " You surprise me more and more. Spent several 
 weeks at Narransauc, and never mentioned it to me ! " 
 
 At this moment, Mr. Kirke chanced to meet Miss 
 Searle's eyes, which dropped timidly. She left her chair 
 to adjust the lamp, which required no attention ; and it 
 flashed through his mind, he could hardly have told 
 why, that she did not choose to talk of Mr. Fiske, 
 that she had not wished his name brought up. And 
 why not? What was amiss in Joe Fiske? He could 
 not be her lover? Then another blaze of intuition, 
 the name " B. I. Kirke " on that letter: could it pos 
 sibly have been meant for " B. J. Fiske " ? Strange it 
 had not occurred to him long ago. Yet not so strange 
 either, considering that he had never before seen Joe's 
 initials reversed in that order. They had always been 
 " J. B. F.," as they should be. This freak of turning 
 them topsy-turvy, and calling himself Bryant, was new 
 to Mr. Kirke. And there was the "K: " could that 
 have done duty as an " F " ? Improbable. The whole 
 surmise was absurd, especially Joe's love-affair. Yet 
 why otherwise had Joe been so sly about his visit to 
 Narransauc? So moody and restless, too, all the 
 spring, even more trying to the patience than usual. 
 It was a subject for reflection. 
 
 Mr. Kirke shortened his call, already long for village 
 etiquette, and tore himself away while yet it seemed 
 to him that the delightful evening was only begun. 
 
 " I hope you will remain in town some time," said 
 Miss Wilder in a friendly tone, at the door ; and Miss 
 Searle's large gray eyes held a wish equally kind.
 
 62 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " Thank you. I shall probably stay several weeks," 
 was the prompt reply, though nothing had been farther 
 from his plans an hour ago. A few days would amply 
 suffice, he had thought, and then for the Adirondacks. 
 But that was before he had seen the view from Violet 
 Hill.
 
 DRONES 1 HONEY. 63 
 
 VI. 
 
 " All her excellences stand in her so silently, as if they had stolen 
 
 upon her without her knowledge." 
 
 SIB THOMAS OVEBBUBY. 
 
 W for that vagrant letter," said Mr. Kirke, 
 taking it out as soon as he reached his room 
 at the Druid, and reading the superscription with per 
 fect ease : " B. J. Fiske." It was like racking one's 
 brains over a hard line in Virgil, and then suddenly 
 spying a footnote at the bottom of the page, which lets 
 in a light as clear as noon-day. He stamped his foot 
 with impatience. 
 
 "I might have made it out by my own unassisted 
 imagination if I had ever heard of his being at Nar- 
 ransauc, the insufferable idiot ! And he aspired to 
 that girl ! A boy just out of college ; no father, a 
 mother and sister to support ; and falling in love out 
 of hand ! I never thought he was quite level-headed, 
 but this is too much. Well, he is Art's brother, and 
 I mustn't be hard on the child," with a smile at his 
 juvenile absurdity. 
 
 " I can understand now the surprise in her letter. 
 She had been kind to him, as she was to me this even 
 ing, or as she was to that little wight with the rhubarb ; 
 and he took it for ' encouragement.' It will always be 
 a mystery to her, I suppose, how it should have hap-
 
 64 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 pened ; for she certainly has no more artifice than a 
 white kitten. Now, there's the wonder of it, after all," 
 reflected Mr. Kirke, who was nothing if not metaphysi 
 cal. "Artifice would explain it; but she is an amber 
 and white woman, innocent of all design, and not in the 
 least fascinating. If either of them could cast a glam 
 our, I'd sooner suspect Miss Wilder with those midnight 
 eyes of hers ; and I fancy I'm entitled to an opinion, 
 being a moderately susceptible young man, of some 
 experience in affairs of the heart. I should have the 
 siucerest respect and admiration for Miss Searle, by 
 the way, she doesn't look a day over twenty, she's as 
 graceful as wild oats, and you like to watch her waj's, 
 like those of a child : but she's too transparent to be 
 dangerous ; it needs a spice of wickedness to bewitch a 
 man, and that's always lacking in your ethereal women. 
 My dear Miss Searle, I kneel to your transcendent 
 loveliness, but my heart is safe against your charms. 
 
 " Well, well," with a look of scorn tempered b}- pity, 
 "Joe's mind is in a wild state; and I'm sorry for 
 the poor girl if he means to pursue the subject, as 
 he certainly will unless he hears from her. Can he 
 have waited all this while for her answer? Highly 
 improbable. Still he ought to have the letter. I 
 believe I'll remail it forthwith." 
 
 He found a fresh envelope, and dipped his pen in the 
 ink. " Stay, he'll recognize my writing. He'll see 
 I'm in Narransauc, and will suspect I'm intruding upon 
 his affairs. No, I'll destroy the letter, and then it will 
 tell no tales." 
 
 He was about to tear it across, when the thought 
 occurred to him, " Suppose the boy should tire of wait-
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 65 
 
 ing, and in a frenzy of desperation come on here to 
 demand his sentence from Miss Searle's own lips?" 
 
 The bare possibility was startling ; it decided him 
 at once. " No; in justice to the young lady, I must 
 send the letter. Can I disguise my hand? Here's 
 a feminine stroke that I flatter myself is well done," 
 he added triumphantly, after several trials. " It's pos 
 itively a little like Miss Searle's ; at any rate, more like 
 hers than like my own. He'll study over it, and won 
 der where the letter has waited so long, but will never 
 suspect me of having tampered with it. Why should 
 he, when it is certainly not my writing? Moreover, he 
 does not know I'm in Narransauc, and I must take 
 care that he does not find it out." 
 
 He would see that the letter was mailed early in the 
 morning when he went to escort Miss Belcher of 
 Boston to the train. She was a highly respectable, 
 withered little person, who had made about as much 
 impression upon him as a faded autumn leaf. But 
 there was enough chivahy in Benjamin Kirke, indo 
 lent as he was, to insure his rising betimes to-morrow 
 morning to bid her a courteous good-by. 
 
 " Do you remain much longer, Mr. Kirke?" asked 
 the lady, as he made his parting bow at the car- 
 window. 
 
 " As long as the charm holds," he replied. " The 
 town is very green and beautiful." 
 
 " So are some cemeteries," she answered with a 
 final wave of the hand, and a satirical smile. 
 
 Well, it might be a trifle dull ; but it was a sweet, 
 refined dulness, and thus far he was quite content. 
 He was glad the letter was gone, and wished he might
 
 66 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 tell Miss Searle the history of it. It would surely 
 amaze her to learn that this product of her brain had 
 had such a wide circulation, travelling farther, perhaps, 
 than some of her stories. He thought he should like 
 to read her stories : they must be pure and wholesome. 
 If she had a pen-name, what was it, he wondered, 
 and had she more than a local reputation ? He would 
 like to see Miss Wilder's paintings. She looked the 
 sort of person to do a thing well: she would be just 
 and conscientious in all she undertook. 
 
 He had risen at such an unwonted hour that he had 
 a long day on his hands, and it promised to be a 
 sultry one. How should he entertain himself? He 
 might take a few photographs. Yes, that was just the 
 thing. Would Tom go with him, he wondered, and 
 help carry the burdensome materials? Certainly he 
 would. Tom had conceived a prodigious fancy for 
 the "big fellow from Chicago," and liked nothing 
 better than rambling off with him to the Cascade in a 
 broiling sun, encumbered by instrument and chemicals. 
 
 Mr. Kirke took several views, and spent most of the 
 afternoon in elaborating two of them, which turned 
 out to be darker and gloomier than the views of a 
 pessimist. Tom was aware of a great strain upon his 
 conscience when he tried to praise them. 
 
 " The> most that ails 'em is the black spatters," said 
 he hesitatingly. "There wasn't any ink in any of 
 them bottles, was there? " 
 
 The landlord's comments were in the same vein. 
 *' Like enough they'd be firstrate, if they weren't 
 mildewed," he said, as anxious as Tom to be polite, 
 and equally afraid of sacrificing the truth.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 67 
 
 The amateur artist was divided between scornful 
 contempt of his own work, and amusement at these 
 free criticisms. 
 
 " I believe I'll show them to Miss Wilder, just for 
 the fun of the thing. Will it do to call this evening? 
 I'm afraid not." 
 
 Yet when he went out for a stroll after tea, he was 
 careful to place the pictures in his pocket. It was doubt 
 ful when Miss Wilder would see them, but it was well 
 to have them with him. He owed it to her, he thought, 
 to ask her what were her favorite bits of landscape ; 
 and it might be polite even to offer her the camera, and 
 instruct her how to use it. He would be glad to help 
 her in this way, if she would not laugh at him. 
 
 Mr. Simpson was close at his heels as he left the 
 house. 
 
 " Better come out on the bridge, and see the river- 
 drivers, Mr. Kirke." 
 
 The bridge was so near the hotel that the landlord 
 seemed to regard it as a sort of annex, and spent much 
 of his leisure time standing on it, looking down into 
 the water. Mr. Kirke joined him now ; and in com 
 pany with a score of other people, old and young, 
 they leaned over the bridge-railing to watch the men 
 in gray, known as "river-drivers," who were setting 
 loose a " jam of logs." 
 
 " It's a dreadful late season and low water, or the 
 logs would have been down before," said Mr. Simpson, 
 as if the delinquencies of Nature ought to be excused 
 to a stranger. 
 
 "This is all new to me. Why, it's like a huge 
 game of jack-straws," exclaimed Mr. Kirke.
 
 68 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 The logs were pressed closely together, forming a 
 sizable island six feet high, technically a "jam," on 
 which stood thirty men with long hooked poles, detach 
 ing one log after another from the irregular mass, to 
 send it whirling after its fellows. 
 
 "So it is ; yes. I used to play 'em when I was a 
 youngster," replied Mr. Simpson after a long interval, 
 during which Mr. Kirke had forgotten his allusion to 
 jack-straws, and was left to wonder vaguely what the 
 man was talking about. 
 
 " Used to be as pretty again when they all wore red 
 shirts. You ought to have seen 'em thirty years ago, 
 decked out in red, and you'd have said it was a hand 
 some spectacle. Why, Theodate, is that you?" 
 
 " Good-evening, Mr. Simpson ; good-evening, Mr. 
 Kirke," replied Miss Wilder, setting down a good-sized 
 flat package, and leaning over the railing to watch the 
 busy crew. 
 
 " Isn't that fine now?" said Mr. Kirke, longmg to 
 expend some of his surplus muscle in wielding one of 
 the cant-dogs. " Would they let me go down there 
 and lend a hand, do you think, Mr. Simpson? " 
 
 " No, they'd only laugh at } T OU," replied the landlord 
 slowly, casting a pitying eye on the youth's faultless 
 linen and the gimcracks he wore for sleeve-buttons. 
 " You were cut out for a regular Samson, but you see 
 you've been spoiled in the bringing up. It may look 
 easy to you, what they're doing, but 'twould keel you 
 up in half an hour." 
 
 The patronizing tone rather nettled Ben Kirke, the 
 champion rower and polo- player, who felt that he had 
 it in him to throw any one of the stalwart river-drivers
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 69 
 
 on the jam ; but he chose to ignore this slighting re 
 mark. 
 
 " Do you understand the game, Miss Wilder? " he 
 asked, as the ejaculations of the men, short and ear 
 nest, rose on the air: " Hello! Heave there! Now 
 for it!" 
 
 " No, I'm not initiated. I only know it takes a 
 certain amount of shouting as well as prying to start 
 the logs." 
 
 " No, there's a science to it," said the landlord. 
 " You see, there's one particular log they're aiming for, 
 the one that holds the jam. There's always one log 
 that does the business." 
 
 "Like the key-stone of an arch," exclaimed Miss 
 Wilder. 
 
 " Well, yes. They call it the key-log; and, when 
 they're smart enough to get hold of that and pry it up, 
 the jam breaks, and off goes the whole caboodle of 'em. 
 Now, you hold on a while," pursued Mr. Simpson, tak 
 ing off his hat and wiping his excited crown. " You 
 just hold on a little while. I think it's a doubt if they 
 get it off to-night ; but, if they do, it's worth staying 
 for, ain't it, Theodate?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied, pushing back her shade-hat to 
 insure a clearer view ; whereupon a hairpin stole out, 
 and down fell a heavy mass of purple-black hair, sweep 
 ing her shoulders and shimmering in the sun. She 
 caught up the recreant coil, and carelessly put it back 
 in place, thinking of Lizzie Hexam and of the trial 
 it was to make straight hair stay up. She would have 
 been surprised if she had known that Mr. Kirke was 
 regarding; her with admiration;
 
 70 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " "What hair and eyes ! She just escapes being a 
 magnificent woman." 
 
 She was looking intently at the log-drivers, her head 
 bent a little forward, her hands clasping the railing. 
 Well-shaped hands they were, rather small for her size, 
 but very brown from exposure to the sun ; for she 
 sketched every afternoon out of doors, and, of course, 
 without gloves. 
 
 " Regarding her in the light of a piece of furniture, 
 you'd call her Eastlake. Regarding her as a piece of 
 architecture, you'd call her Gothic. Why doesn't she 
 decorate herself?" thought Mr. Kirke, and resumed 
 his watch of the logs. It was an exciting moment. 
 " Hurrah ! 'rah ! 'rah ! " The banks took up the echo. 
 Off went every man's hat, and up it flew in air, includ 
 ing the disinterested hats of the men on the bridge. 
 The secret was out, the key found, the prison unlocked, 
 the captives at large. "Hurrah! hurrah!" The 
 merry giants were certainly alive, and quivering with 
 delight at their recovered freedom. It was impossible 
 not to rejoice with them, as they made triumphant 
 curvets to try their powers. North, south, east, and 
 west they turned, before launching eastward at last 
 down the watery highway toward the sea. 
 
 " Was it worth staying for, Mr. Kirke? " asked Miss 
 Wilder. 
 
 " I would have waited all night for a sight like that," 
 said the young man, drawing in his breath, as the last 
 loitering logs were caught up in the hurrying current 
 and disappeared below the bridge. 
 
 " See what an excitement they leave in the water," 
 said Miss Wilder. "That wild, free motion is the
 
 DRONES' HONEY. /I 
 
 despair of an artist ; it is forever eluding him and 
 dying on the point of his brush. O Mr. Kirke, what 
 of the camera? Have you taken any pictures?" 
 
 " Two. May I show them to you?" feeling in his 
 breast-pocket. " But no, I hardly dare ; they are really 
 too appalling." 
 
 "But I enjoy being frightened. Let me see them, 
 please. ' ' 
 
 "At your own risk, Miss Wilder, if you'll allow 
 me to walk home with you and carry that parcel." 
 
 " Certainly. Then Miss Searle will share the pleas 
 ure of seeing your pictures." 
 
 As they walked off the bridge, Mr. Kirke feeling 
 that he had scored several points at one stroke, Mr. 
 Simpson wiped his head leisurely, and looked after 
 them, saying to a bystander, 
 
 " That's as fine a young fellow as I ever saw in this 
 town, and I've lived here over seventy-five years. But 
 it's a pity he hadn't some regular trade, so he wouldn't 
 go fooling round in the daguerreotype business. It 
 looks to me as if he had bit off more'n he can chew." 
 
 They passed the hotel piazza, where two men were 
 seated playing a serious game of checkers. Next door 
 was the shop of Seth Cromwell, " Tin-plate and sheet- 
 iron worker," father of Andrew ; and opposite was a 
 comprehensive variety store, with a stunted tree close 
 by it, writhing under the ignoble legend, " Good Family 
 Butter." Next the store was a large post-office, which 
 included a town-library and reading-room. The church 
 was farther on up the hill, surrounded by an open 
 space which served as a sort of village green. 
 
 "Those church-windows are obliged to wink at a
 
 j 2 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 good deal of secular conduct," said Miss Wilder, as 
 they passed a crowd of boys playing ball. One of the 
 boys, seeing her, caught up a battered tin pail which 
 had been reposing on the church-steps, and ran to meet 
 her, swinging it in his hands. 
 
 "Say, want any plums? Picked 'em this after 
 noon," whipping off a piece of newspaper, and reveal 
 ing a moist substance resembling raspberry jam, reeking 
 with purple juice. 
 
 "Why, Jimmy, what is it? No, of course I don't 
 want that!" 
 
 The boy's freckled face deepened to orange color, as 
 he sulkily replaced the newspaper, glowered at Mr. 
 Kirke, and ran back to his game. 
 
 " The rhubarb boy? I hardly knew him without the 
 foliage." 
 
 " Yes ; but why did I crash him in that way ? " ex 
 claimed Miss Wilder in compunctious tones, thinking 
 how sweetly Evelyn would have declined the dreadful 
 plums, and sent him off smiling. 
 
 " You haven't crushed him. You couldn't do it 
 with a mangle," said Mr. Kirke, as Jimmy ran forward 
 chasing the ball with shouts of laughter, leaving the 
 forgotten "plums" drowning still deeper in their 
 heart's gore. 
 
 All the way up the hill the path was bordered on the 
 right by elms and maples, whose boles reached to a mag 
 nificent girth and made great stretches of shadow upon 
 the soft grass below. A row of cinnamon-rose bushes 
 by the corner of an old fence scattered glowing petals 
 wastefully at Mr. Kirke's feet as he brushed by them. 
 And now they both paused a moment, for they had a
 
 DROA 7 ES' HONEY. 73 
 
 good outlook here upon the river, fringed with beeches, 
 willows, oilnuts, and those most graceful of all small 
 trees, tender white birches. Neither of them spoke, 
 and no sound arose louder than their own breaths ; 
 but soon a faint and gradually increasing noise mur 
 dered the sweet silence. It was the exasperating creak 
 of Mr. Crabtree's cart-wheels struggling up the hill. 
 
 "Good-evening, is that you?" he called out, in 
 tones loud enough to speak a ship in a storm. " Wait 
 a minute." 
 
 He had come to a full halt now on the steepest point 
 of the hill, to the manifest inconvenience of his meekly 
 surprised horse. "Wait a minute. Did you hear of 
 the scare they had last night up to the Putnams', about 
 burglars? " 
 
 " No, oh, no !" cried Theodate, her eyes bright with 
 terror. 
 
 "Oh, don't be scared now! Only, your silver 
 where are you in the habit of keeping of it? " 
 
 " In the sideboard, what'-s not on the table." 
 
 " Why don't you set it out on the front-door stone ? " 
 rejoined Mr. Crabtree playfully. " Now, don't you 
 woriy a minute about them burglars, Theodate. I 
 don't know's there's any truth in it, but my wife was 
 of the opinion I'd better name it to j^ou. Giddap ! " 
 And, leaving the thorn to rankle as it might, the 
 obliging neighbor rode away in triumph. 
 
 "What unmitigated nonsense! I don't believe a 
 word of it," said Mr. Kirke, turning to his companion, 
 who stood perfectly still, bent forward, her face quite 
 colorless, and her breath coming with difficulty. "Take 
 my arm, Miss Wilder. Lean on me."
 
 74 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 "Thank you. I am better now," said she with 
 a quiver of the mouth, that tried hard to be a smile. 
 "I am not frightened to death, Mr. Kirke ; it was 
 only the suddenness. I have slight attacks of pal 
 pitation of the heart sometimes." And she erected 
 herself and walked slowly on. " You see now why I 
 stooped forward and dropped my arms? It arrests the 
 palpitation." 
 
 " Yes, I understand," said he gravely. 
 
 Her face was still very pale. 
 
 "But don't think again of that foolish story. I 
 will patrol your grounds all night, if it will relieve 
 your mind. I will, indeed." 
 
 " Thank you ; but really I am not a coward. Do 
 not misapprehend me," said she, laughing bravely. 
 " I will confide to j'ou, Mr. Kirke, that I own a pistol, 
 and can fire it, too, if occasion should require." 
 
 "Is it possible?" 
 
 " Oh, you are not to imagine I am of a murderous 
 disposition and wear it at my side. But Mr. Fiske, 
 your friend, persuaded me that it was well to learn to 
 fire at a mark ; and I have practised a little." 
 
 "Bravo! " said Mr. Kirke. He was keeping step 
 with Miss Wilder, but did not venture to offer his arm 
 again. " It seems that you know Mr. Fiske well? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! He is an enchanting young man, gay, 
 and full of anecdote. But did you ever know him still 
 for a minute?" She smiled as she spoke, drawing a 
 mental comparison, perhaps, between the youth in per 
 petual motion and this athletic, easy-going giant by her 
 side. 
 
 "No, never," responded Mr. Kirke, thinking the
 
 DROA T ES' HONEY. 75 
 
 erratic, uncertain Joe must have been on his best 
 behavior at Narransauc ; for surely he was not in 
 general considered "enchanting." "The boy has a 
 bright, quick mind," he continued heartily. "His 
 older brother was a particular friend of mine, my 
 chum at college." 
 
 " Arthur, the one who died? We have heard much 
 about him. Was he really so superior? " 
 
 " I thought so. He had a remarkable influence over 
 his friends. His brother needed him ; and it would 
 have made all the difference in the world to Joe, if he 
 had lived." 
 
 "Now, do you know I can easily believe that? 
 Bryant or Joe as you call him is a brilliant, ver 
 satile fellow, rather inclined to look up to people older 
 than himself ; is it not so? " 
 
 Mr. Kirke could hardly forbear smiling at the 
 innocent art of the question. Naturally Joe had 
 looked up to these two young ladies ; that went with 
 out the saying. 
 
 " Yes, he is amenable to advice from people he 
 esteems; not from every one, though." And he 
 thought of the boy's poor mother, a childish woman, 
 who called Joe hard-headed, and bemoaned to all the 
 world her lack of influence over him. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Fiske was at Harvard all last winter, you 
 know, as well as the winter before ; and we were in 
 Boston, and he came out regularly to spend two even 
 ings a week with us." 
 
 " Ah ! Then you ought to feel well acquainted with 
 him.*' 
 
 " Oh, yes ! And he was here a long time last sum-
 
 76 DROA T ES' HONEY. 
 
 mer, certainly a month. He is very old for his years, 
 very manly. Don't you think he has unusual tenacity 
 of purpose; or am I mistaken?" she added, without 
 any apparent reason for the question. "That is, he 
 would not be easily turned from a cherished plan 
 well, an idea?" 
 
 "Why not ask it outright: will he be constant in 
 love, and so a trial to Miss Searle?" thought Mr. 
 Kirke, much amused ; though he managed to answer 
 demurely, " I hardly know, he is still so young." 
 
 But they were on the piazza now. Miss Searle was 
 coming toward them with a smile of greeting, and the 
 tall clock on the stairs striking eight put a summary 
 end to the conversation.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 77 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Happy are they that hear their detractions, 
 And can put them to mending." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE'S Much Ado. 
 
 days glided on very quietly for Mr. Kirke. He 
 *- received pleasant hospitalities from Mr. Searle's 
 family, had bookish chats with young Mr. Marsh, the 
 clergyman, walked, fished, bicycled ; and, above all, 
 paid daily visits to Violet Hill. It was not an exciting 
 mode of pleasure-seeking ; but he liked the air of the 
 town, so he told his landlady, who replied delightedly, 
 that it was always so with strangers, with the single 
 exception of "that lady from Boston." People who 
 came to Narransauc were sure to stay on, she said. 
 The middle of July was usually the time to look for 
 them, and that would soon be here. 
 
 A new awning of blue-checked goods, notched at the 
 edges and bound with scarlet, floated now from the 
 upper piazza. A servant-girl appeared in the kitchen ; 
 and Mr. Simpson began to hint mysteriously of " par 
 ties " from Portland and from Lynn who wished to en 
 gage rooms, and Tom was charged to give the " span " 
 an extra grooming in view of coming demands. This 
 span presented the pleasing contrast of a large white 
 horse and a small black nag, and drew a carryall which 
 seated four souls. "For example, the young ladies,
 
 78 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 Cousin Ozro Searle, and myself," thought Mr. Kirke, 
 surveying it one da}' in an observant mood. 
 
 Oak Hill was three miles away, the point of view 
 Miss Wilder desired to put on canvas. He took no 
 pride in his blunders with the camera, but the hope of 
 helping her to the ground-idea of a new picture gave 
 him a glow of purety benevolent pleasure. Why should 
 he not go to see the young ladies, and ask them if they 
 would like a ride some day to Oak Hill? It was one 
 of the fairest of summer evenings, and Narrausauc was 
 largely out of doors enjoying it. The girls and boys 
 from the two coat-shops were at leisure, the noisy brass 
 band was parading the street, and altogether the town 
 presented a festive appearance which would have sur 
 prised Miss Belcher of Boston. As the band tramped 
 by the hotel, the crimson roses growing luxuriantly on 
 the eastern side dropped their petals in showers, but 
 the two men seated as usual on the piazza at checkers 
 never even looked up from their game. Seth Crom 
 well, the " sheet-iron and tin worker," was taking 
 down his samples of tin ware ; and the rays of the set 
 ting sun, illumining the big coffee-pot, struck a blaze of 
 reflected light into Mr. Kirke's eyes as he passed by 
 the door. 
 
 On his way half up the long hill, he overtook Rosa 
 and Peter. Rosa called after him, and when he 
 stopped seemed frightened at what she had done. 
 
 "I didn't think," said she; "I mean I thought 
 Was you going up to see the young ladies? " 
 
 " Is there any thing I can do for you, Rosa?" he 
 asked, smiling; while handsome Peter smiled too at 
 her incoherence.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 79 
 
 She was evidently taking home the night's mail from 
 the post-office, for both hands were burdened with 
 letters. 
 
 " I don't know as Miss Wilder" he observed she 
 did not say Miss Searle " would like it ; " and then 
 she held out the letters. " But if it wouldn't be no 
 trouble" 
 
 " Certainty, I will take them for 3*011 with pleasure," 
 said Mr. Kirke. " I suppose you and Peter want to 
 go down and hear the band play." 
 
 It was a little thing, and he was glad to oblige the 
 interesting pair ; but, in glancing carelessly at the let 
 ters, he could not help seeing that one of them was 
 from Joseph Fiske, no doubt in reply to the wandering 
 epistle which must have reached him at last. 
 
 " Sorry to have to give it to her," he thought. " I 
 wonder where this thing is going to end." 
 
 He found both the young ladies in the garden at the 
 rear of the house ; Miss Searle wielding a pair of scis 
 sors, Miss Wilder a trowel, while Cousin Ozro knelt 
 before them planting some sort of a vine. They greeted 
 Mr. Kirke very cordially. " So you have turned knight- 
 errant," said Miss Wilder, coming up to him in her 
 dignified way, and holding out her free hand for the 
 mail. Miss Searle approached with her usual " skip 
 ping grace," but flushed as she received and looked at 
 her letters, and grasped at the syringa-tree with a nerv 
 ous motion. 
 
 " Pray go into the summer-house, young ladies, and 
 look over your mail," said Mr. Kirke. "I hope you 
 are both very well." 
 
 "Miss Searle is not well; she is killing herself,"
 
 80 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 replied Miss Wilder flatly. " What do you think of a 
 young lady, Mr. Kirke, who writes six hours in the 
 morning at the top of her bent, and teaches a charity 
 school in the afternoon in weather like this ? ' 
 
 " What do I think of her? I think she is too good 
 for this world, and is trying to fly out of it." 
 
 " Now listen to me," retorted Miss Searle, waving a 
 gesture toward Miss Wilder. " What do } 7 ou think of 
 a young lady, Mr. Kirke, who teaches painting every 
 morning with might and main, and goes sketching every 
 afternoon in weather like this? " 
 
 " Go along into the summer-house, girls," cried out 
 Ozro. "Mr. Kirke and I would like a little peace, 
 and you are always quarrelling. I am planting a 
 matrimony vine," he added, as they disappeared ; 
 " and it makes me feel as I do when I make an offer 
 of marriage, and don't know whether it will be accepted 
 or not." 
 
 Ozro was a would-be wit of eighteen, with " seedling 
 brains," which would perhaps amount to something in 
 time, if his friends only had the patience to wait for 
 them to grow. 
 
 "Isn't this a scarecrow of a garden, though? Oh, 
 you needn't say any thing ! I know what you think." 
 
 The garden was by no means of the regulation pat 
 tern, but just an exuberant tangle of pleasant surprises ; 
 here a syringa-tree, there a row of currant-bushes ; in 
 this corner a gray rock overgrown with creeping money 
 wort and moss ; in a southern nook a mound with a 
 trellis hidden by grape-leaves ; and under a weeping- 
 willow, that had no business there, a brown summer- 
 house in the shape of a Swiss chdlet.
 
 DRONE'S HONEY. 8 1 
 
 " Mr. Kirke, you are obliged to admire this garden," 
 said Ozro, rising from his knees. " You mustn't say it 
 looks helter-skelter. It's only picturesque. You see 
 the girls mix it up this way on purpose," which was 
 literally true. They had " mixed " it carefully; and, 
 though Nature seemed to run riot, she had been sternly 
 checked and pruned, till you would look in vain for a 
 recreant weed or broken stem in all the lush profusion. 
 
 Miss Wilder had not finished reading her letters ; 
 but Miss Searle came out of the chdlet, and said to 
 Mr. Kirke with a hospitable smile, 
 
 "This is like a walk into the country, isn't it? 
 Come with me. I am going to cut some flowers for 
 Ozro to take down to the Temperance Hall. We'll 
 begin with the plebeian ones." 
 
 She led the way to the fence-border, where stood 
 sundry thistles with needles in their sides, and tall 
 sunflowers, which she said, laughingly, had striven so 
 hard to follow the sun, that they had brought on 
 curvature of the spine. " I love sunflowers. They are 
 found from Maine to Arizona, indifferent to change of 
 climate, so long as their sun-god is only in sight. Do 
 you want some of the straightest of these, for the 
 Egyptian vase, Ozro? " Next she was bending over a 
 little plat of daisies, which she said were from the 
 grave of Burns ; but they looked too fair and frail to 
 be disturbed, and she passed on in a zigzag course 
 to the rose-bushes, plucking one of each variety till 
 both her hands were full. "There, I can't spare any 
 more roses, Ozro, but you may have any thing else you 
 can find ; and I'll lend you the large fountain vase, if 
 you like. Shall we go into the house now, Mr. Kirke ? "
 
 82 DROA 7 ES' HONEY. 
 
 Her letter from Mr. Fiske had disturbed her greatty. 
 It was the third on the same subject, full of a fierce 
 despair; though the despair was conditional, and he 
 would delay going into sackcloth till he heard from 
 her again. He knew she would change her mind. 
 
 "How man}- times must I go through all this?" 
 she mused, the thin smile of hospitality gradually dis 
 appearing, and revealing a sad mouth with a droop at 
 the corners. She did not perceive that Mr. Kirke was 
 looking at her, or suspect that he held the key to her 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Shall we sit here on the piazza, Mr. Kirkc? " 
 
 There were rustic chairs there, and a lounge. She 
 took one of the chairs, and he chose a lower place on 
 one of the piazza steps. They sat a while in silence, 
 looking at the westering sun, and noting the shadows 
 cast by the trees and houses far below them in the 
 village. 
 
 "What is the most interesting part of that land 
 scape to you?" said Miss Searle at last. 
 
 " The place where the sk}* and earth meet, by all 
 means." 
 
 " That is just what I think," she rejoined ; " not the 
 sky alone or the earth alone, but the horizon. Why is 
 it, I wonder?" 
 
 "Because we are mortal," said Mr. Kirke promptly, 
 " and the sky is too vague for us unless it touches the 
 earth somewhere." 
 
 "Is that it?" 
 
 " I believe so ; just as a sermon must have some 
 human nature in it, or it does not move us. Now, 
 that's the fault of your good preacher, Mr. Marsh, if
 
 DROA r ES' HONEY. 83 
 
 you'll pardon me. When he goes into the pulpit, he 
 leaves the earth behind him ; and we strain our eyes to 
 find a horizon line somewhere, but can't, and then we 
 get lost in the blue." 
 
 Miss Searlc laughed. " He is very abstracted and 
 vague, I admit ; but, then, he is very young. When he 
 has a little more knowledge of the world, he can meet 
 our wants better." 
 
 "Is it not the same thing with writing? " asked Mr. 
 Kirke, wishing to divert her thoughts. " I fancy you 
 cannot touch the popular heart unless you mingle with 
 various sorts of people, and make a study of human 
 nature? " 
 
 " Very true. The secret of writing is the capacit}* 
 to feel, and to make others feel. It is magnetism on 
 the point of a pen." 
 
 Mr. Kirke looked up with an appreciative smile. He 
 thought this was well said. 
 
 " Not that I have this power myself," added Miss 
 Searle modestly. " I can only discern what it is, and 
 long for it. I am no genius." 
 
 Mr. Kirke did not know how far she might under 
 value herself ; yet, with or without genius, he was aware 
 that she had earned the money to give her younger 
 brother a liberal education, and to supply the wants of 
 her mother's declining years, she, a frail girl, as 
 gentle and retiring in manner as his sister Lucy. But 
 there was something in her eyes that Lucy never had. 
 They were eyes that dared all things, and hoped all 
 things. They were eyes that looked bej'ond this world, 
 and penetrated the veil of the invisible. He felt a thrill 
 of admiration for her, amounting to reverence ; an admi-
 
 84 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 ration he would not have expressed even if he could. 
 He contrasted her busy, full life with Kate Stanley's 
 pursuit of the new fashions, and his lip curled. He 
 contrasted it with his own aimless existence, and had 
 the grace to blush for himself. 
 
 " I wonder if it is desirable to have genius," said 
 he, breaking the pause with the first words that oc 
 curred to him. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no ! I should shrink from the responsi 
 bility," she replied with a little shiver. "But it's 
 all service, after all. I've found that out, Mr. Kirke : 
 whether your gifts are great or small, they are to be 
 used for others." 
 
 " Yes," said he vaguely. How much had he ever 
 thought of this before? 
 
 " We affect others for good or ill, whether we mean 
 it or not," she went on. " We can't live to ourselves 
 any more than the leaves on a tree." 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 His remarks were becoming rather brief, and per 
 haps it occurred to her that this was hardly the sort of 
 conversation to interest a professed idler ; for with 
 ready tact she broke off, saying, " To go back to the 
 sky, Mr. Kirke, I wonder who first called it blue. 
 The ancients had no name for the color, I believe." 
 
 " No ; they knew only red, yellow, and green. Peo 
 ple had to become somewhat enlightened before blue 
 was worked out. Perhaps }'ou might call it rather a 
 spiritual hue," said he with a smiling glance at her 
 turquoise-colored dress, which made a fine setting, he 
 thought, for her fair face. 
 
 "Blue is the rarest of all hues in flowers now,"
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 85 
 
 she rejoined, " and perhaps it always will be. Is it 
 not strange, though, that colors should go on multi 
 plying, and that they should follow the progress of 
 ideas? What a wonderful world it will be when it is 
 finished!" 
 
 " It is a wonderful world now," said he, in a tone 
 of unwonted enthusiasm. The world his world 
 lay all before him, waiting for him. Should he trifle 
 longer, when the harvest was plenty and the laborers so 
 few? "It is midsummer, and the hay is down," he 
 said, his eyes travelling quickly over the distant 
 meadows. " It is midsummer, and June is gone." 
 
 "Oh, nevermind! I'm always glad when June is 
 out of the way. It's too fairy-like, too wonderful to 
 last; and I'm so on the alert not to lose one drop of 
 its sweetness, that it's really quite fatiguing," said 
 Miss Searle, letting her hands fall together with a 
 playful gesture of weariness. 
 
 "June is almost too exquisite up here in New 
 England," returned Mr. Kirke. "I've spent several 
 springs in Cambridge, and isn't it a marvel to watch 
 the unfolding of the leaves? " 
 
 "Oh, yes! Don't you fancy the trees are glad to 
 reveal themselves in that quick, bright way, like poets 
 who have had to keep their beautiful thoughts shut up 
 in their hearts because the cold world would not listen, 
 till all at once the world grows warm and genial, and 
 they rush forth eager to confide in it? Am I talking 
 nonsense?" she asked with a slightly embarrassed 
 laugh, meeting his eye. 
 
 He always looked straight at her when she spoke ; 
 for she had so many beguiling little motions of the
 
 86 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 eyes and eyebrows and the flexible mouth, that he missed 
 something if he did not see as well as hear her speak. 
 
 But before he had time to assure her that she was 
 talking the best of sense, and that it interested him 
 immensely, a prosaic incident occurred, such as often 
 disturbs the flow of poetic thought in the country. 
 A disorderly woman, without any bonnet on her head, 
 walked up to the piazza, and asked if she could borrow 
 a piece of salt pork. 
 
 It was Jimmy Skillings's mother. She had "been 
 devilin' all the afternoon in Miss Putnam's sullar," she 
 said, " and nothing to show for it but a peck of white 
 beans. She wished she was a washwoman ; for a wash 
 woman gits what she gits, and gits what she gits give 
 her." 
 
 Mr. Kirke and Miss Searle exchanged smiles, and 
 Rosa was summoned to explore the pork-barrel. After 
 this Miss Wilder and Ozro came in from the garden, 
 and it was time to propose the ride to Oak Hill. The 
 young ladies were greatly obliged, but demurred a 
 little. They were busy people, with little time to waste 
 in roaming about under a hot sun ; and, besides, the 
 pictures were sure to be so very bad. However, it 
 was settled at last that they would go, and Ozro with 
 them, the day after to-morrow. 
 
 " Mr. Kirke," said Miss Wilder, as he was taking 
 his leave, ridiculously early as he considered it, but he 
 knew they were tired, " Mr. Kirke, can it be only two 
 weeks that we have known you ? You seem quite like 
 an old acquaintance already." 
 
 " Yes, it was two weeks ago yesterday that I met 
 Miss Searle on the train, and was introduced to her;
 
 DROSSES' HONEY. 87 
 
 though I think she did not once look at me, not fairly. 
 I tried to make her, but she would not turn around." 
 
 "How could I?" said Miss Searle, a sensitive 
 quiver running over her face at the recollection of the 
 day's annoyances. 
 
 " There was no need of her looking at you. 
 Evelyn can see through the back of her head," said 
 Miss Wilder very seriously. 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " You would think so, if you had heard the off 
 hand sketch she gave me that night of your appearance 
 and character." 
 
 " My character ; how surprising ! Tell it, please." 
 
 "Now, Theodate!" 
 
 " Oh, never fear, Evelyn ! It is safe with me." 
 
 "Really," said Mr. Kirke, " it won't be fair, Miss 
 Wilder, if you don't go on, after exciting my curiosity 
 in this way." 
 
 " Impossible," said she roguishly, " for the descrip 
 tion was correct in every particular. Do you think it 
 good manners to show people their own portraits? " 
 
 "I'd give a small fortune to know what she did 
 say about me," queried the young man, bounding 
 home with rapid strides through the leafy shadows. 
 " What a charm she has, a charm that grows on you, 
 though not a dangerous one, as she does not know 
 how to use it ! And that's why I can't understand Joe 
 Fiske's case. Joe Fiske ! The insane presumption ! 
 But what could she have said about me?" 
 
 If he had known, how would the portrait have 
 pleased him? 
 
 " A very large, indolent-looking young man, between
 
 88 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 twenty-five and thirty ; much reserved force ; an inert, 
 passive temperament. But temperament is deceptive, 
 Theodate. Below his gentle, listless manner is an 
 undercurrent of force that sweeps all before it when he 
 chooses. A good mind : I gathered that from his chat 
 with Mr. Crabtree ; though how cultivated, I cannot judge. 
 A good heart certainly, or he wouldn't have allowed him 
 self to be made ridiculous by that baby. He attracted 
 me strongly, and at the same time he irritated me. I 
 declare, Theodate, I felt like saying to him : ' Wake 
 up, wake up. Life is short; the world needs you.' 
 And he has it in him to do so much, if he only will." 
 
 After all, it might have been well for Mr. Kirke if 
 he had heard this off-hand sketch as it was giveu from 
 the lips of Miss Searle.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 89 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Hut who can tell what cause had that fair maid 
 
 To use him so, that loved her so well ? 
 Or who with blame can justly her upbraid 
 
 For loviny not ; for who can love compel ? 
 
 SPENSER. 
 
 " /CONSIDER the lilies, O Evelyn, my dear, con- 
 *<-J aider the lilies," pleaded Miss Wilder, as she 
 entered the kitchen with head more than usually erect, 
 and found Miss Searle standing patiently before the 
 drop-table, teaching her amateur writing-class, six 
 vagrant boys and Rosa Dulac ; while the Crabtree 
 baby, who had come visiting, was begging in a little, 
 high, squealing tone to be taken in arms. " Weren't 
 you tired enough without this, Evelyn? Do go and 
 rest" 
 
 " I told her so. I told her she ought to went and 
 rested," said Rosa, looking up with the air of a cul 
 prit ; for though ambitious to learn to write, because 
 Peter knew how, she could not bear to have Miss 
 Evelyn blamed for teaching her. 
 
 Not one of these boys could be wheedled into going 
 to school ; but they were all willing to spend an hour or 
 half an hour in Miss Evelyn's society on certain after 
 noons of the week, lured by gingerbread or taffy such 
 as is only to be found in "high families." If they 
 got at the same time a little food for the mind, it was
 
 QO DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 certainly not their fault. It all came of Miss Evelyn's 
 queer notions, and they tried to forgive her. 
 
 " Why, this is nothing, Theodate," said Miss Searle, 
 taking up the clamorous baby. " I have finished my 
 story, and married my heroine to the wrong man, and 
 am so depressed over it that I must be diverted. O 
 Jimmy Skillings, don't wipe up the blots with your 
 tongue." 
 
 "See here," said Jimmy, casting sheep's-eyes at 
 Pat Murphy, "mayn't I quit now? Me and another 
 boy, we want to go fishing." 
 
 This was rather an extra occasion. The whole class, 
 to a man, had promised faithfully not to swear any 
 more or use any bad words, " except Fourth of July," 
 and evidently felt that this overpowering sacrifice de 
 served some sort of reward. Evelyn was a wise gen 
 eral : she knew her men. 
 
 " Yes, you may all stop writing. Wipe your pens, 
 and put all your things neatly away in the shed. Rosa, 
 you may get each of the boys a stick of your nice 
 vinegar candy ; and boys, you needn't come again till 
 Monday. . Now, don't forget to make a polite bow when 
 you go out. That's right. Good-by, all." 
 
 "The whole thing is as easy for you as picking a 
 flower; but what a piece of work I should make of 
 it ! " said Miss Wilder, looking on with a grim smile as 
 Evelyn's uncouth adorers shuffled out respectfully ; 
 and then, taking the lovely teacher by the arm, she 
 walked her off to the back parlor. " Now, Miss Nero, 
 Miss Domitian, Miss whatever name is bad enough 
 for you, what do you mean by being so cruel to your 
 self, you wicked creature? If you don't take an im-
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 91 
 
 mediate rest and doze on that lounge, you may look 
 out for vengeance from me." 
 
 " you foolish old darling, working every waking 
 minute yourself, and then making such an absurd 
 parade over the merest nothing I do," responded Miss 
 Seatie, dropping her head on her friend's neck with a 
 moment's abandonment, as if it swayed there against 
 her will, enticed by the broad, restful shoulders. 
 
 Theodate's dark eyes glowed. It was seldom, piti 
 fully seldom, that Evelyn gave any outward sign of 
 affection beyond a light kiss or a soft pat of one's 
 cheek. She had raised her head even now, and was 
 forcing back the tears. "How cool and cheery you've 
 made the rooms with all this greenery, Date dear. But 
 now, if you're going to scold, run off to the front par 
 lor, and draw \\\Qportfere. There, go." 
 
 She smiled wearily when left to herself ; for, though 
 she had not admitted it, she was tired and sad. It had 
 been one of the days when it seemed as if she could not 
 live any longer without her mother. 
 
 "If ever there was comfort and rest in a friend, I 
 have it in Theodate, and I don't know how God came to 
 be so good as to give her to me. But I miss my mother ; 
 and I cannot even say I miss her, or it will break Date's 
 heart. O mother, mother, where are you gone? " 
 
 Evelyn turned her eyes away from the empty chair by 
 the window : there was an intolerable void there. She 
 glanced at the next window, but the woodbine against 
 it nodded, " No, she is not here ; " and the tree at the 
 foot of the terrace rustled softly, " She will not come 
 again." And this must still be borne, the "staying 
 away " of the best beloved.
 
 Q2 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 The door-bell had rung. Theodate was entertaining a 
 visitor in the parlor, by the voice, old Mrs. Putnam ; 
 and Evelyn smiled to hear the curt sentences which 
 Theodate doled out to her, the Theodate who could 
 be to those she loved all warmth and kindness. 
 
 " What ails Evelyn, did you say?" 
 
 " She is tired from overwork." 
 
 " You don't say ! Whj r , all she does is a little writ 
 ing, ain't it? Keeps a girl too. Ain't Rosa good for 
 any thing? " 
 
 " Rosa does very well." 
 
 " Have you seen Mrs. Morgan lately?" 
 
 "I believe not." 
 
 " But you've heard what's going about her? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "You haven't? Why, there's a dreadful sight said 
 about Mrs. Morgan lately." 
 
 "Indeed," said Theodate with suppressed ire. 
 " But there is one comfort, Mrs. Putnam : we are not 
 obliged to listen to it." 
 
 A dead silence followed, probably of disappointment 
 and chagrin, during which Evelyn laughed all by her 
 self, wondering how Theodate could have had the 
 heart to cut off the old lad}' so summarily from her 
 anticipated gossip. Mrs. Putnam was merely empty- 
 minded, not malicious ; and Evelyn would have listened 
 to her little story with a mild protest, and then deftly 
 turned the conversation to safer topics. But there was 
 no compromise in Theodate, none of the innocent 
 adroitness which made Evelyn such a prime favorite 
 in society ; or, as Miss Seaiie expressed it, "You can't 
 trifle with Theodate, the grand creature."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 93 
 
 As might have been predicted, the old lady hastened 
 to finish her dry call ; and Theodate soon after left the 
 house, with a charge to Rosa that Miss Evelyn must 
 not be disturbed on any account, as she was probably 
 asleep. Rosa listened with respectful incredulit} T to 
 this bold flight of the imagination. Miss Date was 
 always fancying Miss Evelyn was tired, and begging 
 her to go to sleep, a thing Miss Evelyn had never yet 
 done in the day-time, so far as Rosa knew. In view 
 of this fact, it is not surprising that the girl quite for 
 got the injunction that she " must not be disturbed." 
 
 At half-past five, the train from Boston having been 
 in just forty minutes, Rosa was summoned to the door 
 by a caller, Mr. Bryant Fiske. She gave a little 
 scream of pleased surprise ; for she had always liked 
 the man who had told her once, in such lt pooty French," 
 that her eyes were bright. He was pale and slightly 
 incoherent, but must see Miss Searle immediately, he 
 said. He gave her no card. None was needed, she 
 thought, from an old friend like this. So, without a 
 moment's hesitation, she ushered him unannounced 
 into the back parlor, where sat Miss Evelyn regaling 
 herself with poetry and lemonade. It was one of 
 Rosa's officious blunders, such as she herself was 
 quick to see and regret when too late. 
 
 Miss Evelyn turned verj* white, and let the book fall, 
 as she rose and extended her hand, when the quick 
 color surged back to her face. She wanted to retreat, 
 and then wanted to make that retreat a rout ; for the 
 resolved look in the youth's face intimidated her. 
 
 " You see," said he, as Rosa vanished in dismay, 
 " you see I have come."
 
 94 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " Yes ; we did not know you thought of it." 
 
 " No ; it was a sudden freak." 
 
 He would not sit ; and she, too, remained standing. 
 
 " Did you receive my second letter, Mr. Fiske? " 
 
 "Yes; and I find now, Miss Searle, that you did 
 answer 1113- first one. But, do you know, your answer 
 did not reach me till last week." 
 
 " How strange ! " 
 
 " Where was it lying all the while? It was written 
 the first of June, but not mailed from here till last 
 week." 
 
 "I do not know, Mr. Fiske. I was astonished 
 when I learned you had not received it. I never 
 knew our postmaster to hold a letter over. He is very 
 careful." 
 
 "Well, I got it at last; but I don't consider it a 
 final answer." 
 
 "OMr. Fiske!" 
 
 " Don't speak to me. I can't bear it. Don't crush 
 me yet." 
 
 She did not look very formidable surely, standing 
 there trembling visibly, and supporting herself by the 
 back of a chair. 
 
 " Though that is just what I came for, your final 
 answer. I could not wait any longer. I've been 
 waiting ever since the world began." 
 
 " Pray be seated, Mr. Fiske." 
 
 He was gyrating now, with one arm thrown round 
 the back of his neck, as if lassoing himself, an old 
 gesture she T'emembered. She excused herself a 
 moment, and slipped out to bid Rosa bring some cold 
 lemonade ; and when she came back, a little more
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 95 
 
 self-possessed, he was pacing the floor with quick 
 strides. 
 
 " I don't know why you wrote such a letter, but 
 what does that matter now ? I am here, and you can 
 change it all. Did you think me do you think me 
 presumptuous? " 
 
 He spoke in a half-frightened way, for something 
 indefinable in her air reminded him that she must 
 consider him very young. Either she had matured a 
 little, or he had rejuvenated ; for the difference between 
 them had increased within a year. But how seraphic 
 she looked in that blue dress ! Like a Madonna in a 
 cloud. Poor Joe ! He would have felt bitterly dis 
 couraged if he had known how he himself looked at 
 that moment, for all the world like a schoolboy 
 called out on the floor for mischief. 
 
 " Tell me, Miss Searle, you never thought that." 
 
 "Oh, no! I simply thought you had made a mis 
 take ; and I'm sure you will see it for yourself, by 
 and by." 
 
 He ceased gyrating, and looked up at her despair 
 ingly. How came she by that icicle in her bosom, 
 called a heart? 
 
 t; You don't mean that. You don't leave it there 
 finally. O Miss Searle, you can't be so cruel! " 
 
 She felt positively faint. If she had only had a little 
 of Theodate's courage in facing people with the truth ! 
 In her place, Theodate would have settled the matter 
 forever with a decisive word ; while Evelyn was 
 obliged to go over the ground again and again, without 
 making any visible progress. Mr. Fiske was terribly 
 depressed, but allowed himself to be persuaded to
 
 96 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 stay to tea. Miss Wilder kindly undertook to cheer 
 him, but without success ; and at eight o'clock he was 
 about to withdraw with a reproachful, broken-hearted 
 adieu, when Mr. Kirke dropped in, and created a 
 diversion. He was nnfeignedly surprised to see Mr. 
 Fiske ; for having been out of town all day, bicycling, 
 he had not heard of his arrival. But it was very plain 
 that his pleasure in the -meeting was not shared by Mr. 
 Fiske, who, to use a figure of speech, embraced him 
 as the Arabs did Islam, " at the point of the sword." 
 
 " I saw Gertrude and Lucy the other day. They 
 told me you were here," said Mr. Fiske, twirling his 
 light mustache with something like defiance ; and then 
 he sat down again. A minute before he had not 
 thought any thing worth while, even the effort to 
 live ; but now it occurred to him that he would really 
 like to know on what sort of footing Ben Kirke was 
 received at this house. He would stay and see for 
 himself. He had not been well pleased to hear of his 
 coming to Narransauc : the news had fallen upon him 
 like a shock, as well it might ; for he considered 
 Narransauc his own discovery, and had hoarded it from 
 the profane world like a miser's treasure. He had yet 
 to learn where Ben Kirke ever heard of the town. 
 
 "Kirke," said he, rallying with an effort, and trying 
 to speak in his usual manner, " the last I heard of 
 you, you were bound for Newport ; let's see, that 
 day I was up in your room looking at bric-a-brac. 
 What changed your mind all of a sudden?" 
 
 "Oh, I was never really committed to Newport!" 
 returned Mr. Kirke, concealing his embarrassment 
 under a nonchalant manner, for he fancied the eyes
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 97 
 
 of both young ladies were fixed upon him curiously. 
 They must have wondered from the first what had 
 brought him to this remote village. 
 
 " I was amazed when I heard of you away up here, 
 bicj'cle and all. Didn't know you ever heard of 
 the place," continued Mr. Fiske with unconscious 
 petulance. 
 
 "Ever heard of the place? Do you suppose a 
 beautiful, high-bred sort of town like this can be 
 hidden in a napkin? The only thing to be amazed 
 about," continued Mr. Kirke maliciously, "is your 
 not sending me up here yourself. When I found 
 you'd been here, and become acquainted, it struck me 
 as rather shabby of you that you hadn't told me, Joe." 
 
 Joe could make no reply to this, beyond a forced 
 laugh. He had not wished Ben Kirke to discover 
 Narransauc, and he had therefore carefully refrained 
 from mentioning the town in his hearing. Still he 
 hardly knew himself why he had so refrained. "The 
 heart has reasons that reason cannot understand." 
 But he was effectually worsted now, and relapsed into 
 silence with that peculiar setuess of the lips, suggestive, 
 in common phrase, of biting an imaginary board-nail. 
 The worst of it was that the conversation went on very 
 well without him. He might have slipped out of the 
 room, and nobody would have missed him ; but on that 
 very account he preferred to stay and torture himself 
 by jealous watchfulness of Mr. Kirke and Evelyn. 
 Unhappy boy ! he had the melancholy satisfaction of 
 seeing what he brought eyes to see. 
 
 "She never talked to me with such animation, 
 never. Wish I were taller, so she'd have to raise her
 
 98 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 chin that way when she looks at me. How prettily 
 she does it ! But he is used to seeing chins raised, and 
 doesn't notice it. He's not taking the least pains to 
 be agreeable ; sits there as easy as if he were in his 
 own den at home. Yes, that's the way he charms 
 them all, just by not caring. Now, do you call that 
 fair?" He gave his mustache a downward, despair 
 ing pull. There was something intensely provoking 
 about Ben Kirke, if you happened to be Joe Fiske. 
 " Slower than the growth of a tree. Why, I could 
 turn round three times while he's getting ready to 
 speak. Yet that's the sort of fellow that takes with 
 women. Queer. How Miss Wilder's eyes shine ! 
 Never saw her look so handsome. He's drawing her 
 in, drawing them both in ; and they don't know it, or 
 he either. Well, yes, he probably knows it ; but 
 what does he care? Ben Kirke has had every thing 
 without trying for it all his life, till I suppose it gets 
 monotonous. But I didn't think Evelyn Searle's 
 heart was like a lucifer match, to go off at a touch. 
 No, I didn't," springing up from his chair, lassoing 
 himself by the neck, and sitting down again with an 
 effort. 
 
 Mr. Kirke had taken up a volume of Browning's 
 poems, and, at Miss Searle's request, was reading 
 aloud " Evelyn Hope." 
 
 " He always did have a trick of reading poetry well. 
 I read poetry aloud to them once myself last summer, 
 but I suppose I clipped it off too quick. Anyway, I 
 noticed they never asked me to do it again." 
 
 Mr. Kirke looked over the volume as he finished, 
 saying it was as good as a symposium to read a book
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 99 
 
 so full of little pencil jottings. He wondered who had 
 marked this volume. Evelyn pleaded guilty. Theo- 
 date cared little for Browning, she said, except a few 
 favorite poems ; had no patience with his obscurity 
 and affectation. Mr. Kirke defended him warmly, 
 seconded by Evelyn. 
 
 " Their tastes agree. I might have known they 
 would," thought Joe, his faint heart sinking still 
 lower. " I remember last summer I used to think of 
 it sometimes when she was talking, that this or that 
 sounded like Ben Kirke ; and somehow I never wanted 
 them to meet. It's monstrous ! Luck always fol 
 lowed Kirke ; but, as for me, I'm Fate's football," with 
 a half-audible groan. 
 
 Joe Fiske was among friends that evening, or his 
 absurd conduct would have exposed him to ridicule. 
 Usually a gay, social fellow, "enchanting" as Miss 
 Wilder had described him, he behaved to-night like an 
 intermittent lunatic, sitting in sulky silence glowering 
 upon Mr. Kirke, then suddenly springing up and pacing 
 the floor with muttered exclamations. Miss Wilder, 
 with her remarkable self-control, could treat him ex 
 actly as if nothing had happened ; but Evelyn was so 
 manifestly unhappy, that Mr. Kirke could not endure it 
 long, and hastened to take his leave, doubting whether 
 Joe would be rational enough to do the same. But the 
 boy sprang out of his chair eagerly, and followed him. 
 
 " Here's farewell to the girl who prefers a drone to 
 a working-bee," he muttered between his teeth, as 
 they got outside. "Farewell to the girl that's all 
 sweetness to a stranger, and bitter as death to the man 
 that loves her."
 
 100 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " Now, wait a minute. Joe. Aren't you a little 
 wild? Haven't had any wine, have you? " 
 
 " Wine? No ; but I'll have it or brand}'. Do they 
 keep liquors at the Druid? " 
 
 Mr. Kirke had him by the arm now, and, though Joe 
 faintly resisted, was marching him steadily down the 
 gravel path. * 
 
 "There's a breeze coming up, Joe. 'Twill be a 
 good night to sleep. Hope you'll sleep off your 
 headache." 
 
 " Headache? Who said I had a headache? A good 
 night to sleep ! That's just like your laziness." 
 
 Mr. Kirke offered no further remark, rather relieved 
 than otherwise that Joe consented to go with him. 
 Let the lad say or do what he might, he was still Art 
 Flske's brother, and as such should be treated with 
 forbearance, and, if possible, brought to his senses. 
 
 "You know what ails me, Ben: so no more of 
 your confounded nonsense. You know I love her, 
 and you're trying to step between us." 
 
 "Ah! To which lady are you referring? Please 
 specify." 
 
 " That's more than I'll stand, sir. As if you didn't 
 know ! Didn't you sit there, and go through me with 
 your eyes? You saw me making a fool of myself, 
 and enjoyed it. And now you ask me which one, as 
 if Evelyn Searle had her peer on earth ! " 
 
 "A fine girl she is, truly," returned Mr. Kirke. 
 " So there's an attachment between you. Well, don't 
 rave at me any longer, Joe. I haven't hurt your 
 cause, and wouldn't try to do it. But, if you say so, 
 I'll take myself out of the way to-morrow."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. IOI 
 
 The imperturbable good-nature of the tone, utterly 
 free from any implied sarcasm, had its effect upon 
 Joe. 
 
 "Oh, don't hurry away on my account! I'm per 
 fectly reasonable, Ben, perfectly reasonable. I admit 
 you're not to blame, for you didn't know there was 
 such a girl till you came blundering along into my 
 territory. It's just your luck, and it's just my luck, 
 that's all." 
 
 "But what have I done? You'll feel very differ 
 ently about this to-morrow morning, Joe. Did you 
 sleep last night ? ' ' 
 
 "Sleep? There it is again. I don't spend my 
 life with my eyes shut. No, I didn't sleep, and sha'n't 
 to-night. What right have you to be on such terms 
 with those girls?" 
 
 "There, that will do. I solemnly assure you, Joe, 
 I am not at all in love with Miss Evelyn Searle. 
 And suppose I were, if she ever cared for you, she 
 wouldn't throw you over for me, or any other man. 1 "' 
 
 " I didn't say she cared for me, exactly ; that is, she 
 never gave me her word, or an^y thing so far as that," 
 stammered Joe. " But the field was mine. I know 
 her Boston friends, and all and Well, I had 
 reason Yes, in fact, the field was mine. I make 
 no charges against you, Ben, and I know the thought 
 never entered her mind ; but it's a mighty hard case 
 for me, your coming up here into my territory. And 
 you so tremendously cool about it, too ! "
 
 102 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 IX. 
 
 "Passion, as frequently is seen, 
 Subsiding, settles into spleen." 
 
 GREEN. 
 
 MR. FISKE must have enjoyed the pangs of 
 renunciation, for he prolonged them by linger 
 ing day after day at Narransauc. He made the fourth 
 in the carryall party to Oak Hill, Ozro following on 
 horseback. 
 
 Miss Wilder left a study of lilies fading in water, 
 Miss Searle a stud}- of lovers pining in her portfolio, 
 lovers were trying factors in her stories, as she never 
 knew how much they ought to suffer, and both 3'oung 
 ladies entered the carryall at two o'clock of the sultry 
 afternoon, with that air of feminine resignation which 
 would cut a man to the heart if he knew how to inter 
 pret it, which happily he never does. 
 
 Mr. Kirke drove the motley span ; Mr. Fiske choos 
 ing the back seat beside Miss Wilder, where he could 
 torture himself by watching Miss Searle and his rival. 
 Tom followed at a respectful distance, with the " ma 
 chine," and the materials for lemonade ; laughing in 
 his sleeve at this t; photo business," which was the one 
 " loony streak " in the otherwise sensible fellow from 
 Chicago. 
 
 Ozro had his own views regarding lunacy, and kept 
 close to the carryall, that he might lose not a word or
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 103 
 
 a look of Mr. Fiske. Joe was absurd enough, at the 
 best ; it was well that no one suspected him of this 
 dawning jealousy of Mr. Kirke, who, for his part, was 
 merely amused by it, and talked unrestrainedly with 
 Miss Searle, though he knew poor Joe was listening in 
 torture to every word. 
 
 Oak Hill was somewhat remote from the highway ; 
 and on reaching the spot, a hilly old orchard, Tom let 
 down the bars, and they all walked in and upward over 
 the soft grass to the sugar-loaf summit, where they 
 seemed to stand in the very centre of a circular green 
 world. 
 
 " What have I told you? " said Miss Wilder trium 
 phantly to Mr. Kirke. " Look there and there," 
 pointing to the distant mountains and ponds and the 
 white outlying villages. 
 
 Mr. Kirke looked to order. He had a real apprecia 
 tion of the beautiful in nature, which was refreshing 
 to Miss Wilder's soul ; and she liked to stand with him 
 and Miss Searle in reverential silence, thinking thoughts 
 unutterable. But Mr, Fiske was continually asserting 
 himself, and dispelling the charm. 
 
 " How I admired this last summer ! " said he with a 
 deep-drawn sigh. "We were here twice, do }'ou 
 remember it, Miss Searle? once in a shower." 
 
 Oh, yes, she remembered, but not with the enthusi 
 asm he could have desired. She was more interested 
 in seeing Mr. Kirke set up his camera than in listening 
 to reminiscences. 
 
 " Going to take a picture, Ben? Well, that is really 
 too droll," said poor Joe, welcoming the opportunity 
 to find fault. Why was the camera set in this spot
 
 104 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 instead of that? What was the particular object in 
 being so slow? No wonder the pictures turned out 
 ink-blots. What else could you expect with no pre 
 tension to a knowledge of the art? And, in all mod 
 esty, he must say he thought he could do better himself. 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. Kirke, "suppose you try. 
 This is my sixth and last," slipping a photograph 
 plate into its receptacle, and seating himself comfort 
 ably upon the grass. 
 
 Joe accepted the challenge eagerly. " Oh, yes, I 
 know how it goes ! Just let me alone, Ben. Don't 
 need any help, thank 3-011 ; " and to work he went with 
 blind zeal upon the very foolish undertaking, while the 
 rest of the party retreated to the shade of the largest 
 apple-tree, relieved at having him off their hands for a 
 while. They could see him moving restlessly to and 
 fro, and hear the sharp sound of the plates as he shot 
 them impatiently into the camera. Did he really ex 
 pect to outshine stupid Ben at a moment's notice? 
 
 " He has an enormous fund of surplus energy ; 
 I'm glad he has found something to do," said Miss 
 Searle, looking demurely at nobody, while she plucked 
 up a handful of daisies by the roots. 
 
 Ozro fell to laughing immoderately, and wished it 
 understood that he saw something extremely droll in 
 the corn-field across the fence. The secret amusement 
 they all felt in common may have added something to 
 their sense of good-fellowship ; for they seemed to get 
 on wonderfully well together, the four souls under the 
 apple-trees : and Joe looked around occasionally, like a 
 sharp-eyed little pedagogue, to see what they were all 
 laughing at, Ozro toppling over like a card-house ;
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 105 
 
 Miss "Wilder shaking in a sort of ague of fun ; Miss 
 Searle swaying like a flower in a breeze, like a musical 
 flower, if such a thing is imaginable. It was charac 
 teristic of Evelyn, this quick response of her light fig 
 ure to the motions of her mind, almost as if her body 
 thought ; and Mr. Kirke found it charming. 
 
 He had always liked to be of use to her ever since her 
 uncle had told him of her excessive grief for her mother. 
 He thought he could partially understand the feeling, 
 for his own mother was the most precious being to him 
 upon earth ; and the anguish he had suffered the pre 
 vious winter, while she 1'ay hovering between life and 
 death, was an experience never to be forgotten or de 
 scribed. She had been spared to him, thank Heaven ; 
 but his dread glance into the abyss of desolation had 
 given him forevermore a keen sj'mpathy with that par 
 ticular phase of sorrow. Miss Searle had a happy 
 nature : but there was a pathetic look in her eyes some 
 times which went straight to his heart, and nerved him 
 to try all his powers to dispel it ; and in one way or 
 another he usually succeeded. 
 
 It was very much the same with Miss Wilder, who had 
 an unacknowledged tendenc}' to blues. He could cheer 
 her with very little effort, and light a merry fire in her 
 gloomy dark eyes. This easy influence over two such 
 minds was a triumph, it must be confessed, to the young 
 man's vanity. What was it in both these young ladies 
 which made him so entirely at home in their society, 
 while, at the same time, they called forth the very best 
 he had to give ? He thought of it to-day as he strode 
 about, with his arms behind him, spinning jests and 
 stories.
 
 106 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 He had always known it was rather ungracious in 
 him, but really he had never cared to exert himself 
 much for his lady friends at home ; and, in fact, there 
 had been little need, for the sou of rich Judge Kirke 
 was foreordained to please. But here it was different : 
 here he was taken solely on his own merits ; and there 
 is always a stimulus in having a new audience before 
 you, a new reputation to make. 
 
 Naturally Joe could not stand this sort of thing 
 long. "What are you all laughing at over there?" 
 said he ; and, throwing up his attempts at art as a bad 
 bargain, he came to join the merry circle. "It's the 
 first time, Ben, that I ever suspected you of being a 
 wit." 
 
 " How many pictures have you taken, Joe? " 
 
 " Six, the same that you did ; and, if they prove as 
 bad as yours, I'll flee my countiy," said the despairing 
 lover courteously, and then sank on a sod at Miss 
 Searle's feet with such a woe-begone look that Ozro 
 felt obliged to brace himself against the nearest tree. 
 
 " Miss Searle, I never shall forget the terrific thun 
 der-shower that came up when we were out here last 
 summer, and how we took shelter in that hermit's hut. 
 For that was the day when I could have sworn she 
 was in love with me," went on Joe to himself. " Yet 
 now, I presume, all she was thinking about was how 
 to keep the rain off her bonnet." 
 
 "A hermit!" exclaimed Mr. Kirke. "Do you 
 own a curiosity like that, and have never told me? " 
 
 "Do you expect an inventory of the town to be 
 given you at a fortnight's notice?" retorted Joe; 
 then, softening a little, " If he is on exhibition still,
 
 DRONES' HONEY. IO/ 
 
 perhaps we could go home by the cross-road and in 
 terview him ; that is, if the ladies say so." 
 
 " It is a vote," cried Ozro, before the ladies could 
 reply. 
 
 "Very well, and isn't it time to start now?" said 
 Miss Wilder, rising regretfully from the grassy throne 
 from which she had been overlooking the peaceful 
 world below. 
 
 As they entered the carryall, Miss Searle remarked 
 to Mr. Kirke, with what Joe considered undue defer- 
 erence, " I'm sure you'll say Mr. Vose is a genuine 
 hermit. At any rate, he is sufficiently exclusive." 
 
 " ' He that is exclusive excludes himself,' " quoted 
 Joe. 
 
 "What is the matter with him? What made him 
 retire from the world? " asked Mr. Kirke. "I think 
 it's interesting to know the reasons ; don't 3*ou? " 
 
 "The reason was a woman," said Ozro, bending 
 forward and making a grimace toward the carryall. 
 " The other man was rich, you know." 
 
 " I'll warrant it," muttered Joe in an injured tone, 
 which nobody fairly understood or cared to inter 
 pret. 
 
 " I believe there was once a pretty girl named 
 Betsey Crane," said Miss Searle, "and it is conven 
 ient to say that she broke his heart. But I dare say 
 the stor}' is largely traditional. At any rate, he was 
 never heard to complain of Betsey ; and the nearest 
 approach he ever made to confiding in any one was to 
 say to my grandfather once, in a tragic tone, ' Mis 
 fortune has smiled on me, Mr. Searle.' ' 
 
 " I am glad misfortune can smile," said Miss Wilder,
 
 IOS DROA'ES' HONEY. 
 
 " but it must be over the left shoulder, a cold, cruel, 
 crooked smile." 
 
 " I have a growing interest in your hermit, Miss 
 Searle. He certainly commands one's respect by not 
 wearing his heart on his sleeve," said Mr. Kirke 
 quietly. 
 
 "Good," thought Ozro, ready to shout; "a capi 
 tal hit. Kirke knows how to do it. Well, he is the 
 coolest fellow." 
 
 They were approaching now a dreary stretch of 
 sand, the only blot on all the fair green landscape. 
 
 " Vassal Vose's estate," said Miss Searle with a 
 light wave of the hand. "It is said there was hardly 
 a peck of sand here when he came ; but it has been 
 blowing broadcast from 3 - ear to year, and he has taken 
 real satisfaction in watching the spread of it. A desert 
 is more to his taste than a garden of spices." 
 
 " I feel quite oppressed," said Miss Wilder. " Isn't 
 it fearful to think how the fairest, most exquisite facul 
 ties of the human mind are capable of perversion? " 
 
 "Well," exclaimed Joe with a black look, "}-ou 
 needn't tell me a man that has been fairly treated 
 would get in such a condition. It stands to reason 
 that somebody is to blame for it." 
 
 In the midst of this forlorn waste, in the shelter of 
 a rock, stood a tiny hut of pine logs, fitted together 
 with toggles and pins, and filled at every crevice with 
 cluster moss. 
 
 " He built it himself," explained Miss Searle. 
 " See, there are shutters to ever}' window, and all 
 closed. He will not have even the honest sun peep at 
 him. Ah, here he is now! Look, Mr. Kirke."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 1 09 
 
 "Can't she ask me to look, too?" thought the 
 spoiled child on the back seat. 
 
 A crooked man, coatless and hatless, was crossing 
 the road before them, swinging a stick in his hand. 
 
 " As the old woman said of the hippopotamus, 
 k Ain't he plain? ' " sakl Ozro. 
 
 His straggling, unkempt hair resembled the fine fur 
 of some wild animal ; his body was bent like a siphon ; 
 and he looked down at the ground, as if scorning to 
 notice the approach of such a paltry thing as a car 
 riage-load of human beings. 
 
 "How d'ye, Vassal?" called out Ozro; but his 
 words fell upon empty space. The strange being pur 
 sued his way in silence to an iron teakettle boiling over 
 a little fire on a heap of stones, where he halted, and 
 held one end of his stick, a white ashen one, carefully 
 over the steam of the kettle. 
 
 " Hullo, Vassal ; how's the polo business? Is that 
 a good polo stick?" The hermit wagged his head 
 slowl}*, miserly of his words as of every thing else. 
 But Ozro meant that Mr. Kirke should hear his voice, 
 which he had told him sounded more like the clink of 
 small change than like any thing human. 
 
 " Look here, Vassal, they do say your polo sticks 
 beat the world. Now, what' 11 you take for that 
 one?" 
 
 The grim mouth opened, and a metallic sound issued. 
 
 " Fo'pence ha'penny," he replied, surprised into 
 speech. 
 
 " Good gracious, what a price ! " shrieked the mis 
 chievous Ozro, touching whip to his pony and bound 
 ing off without the least warning ; leaving the old man
 
 1 10 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 glaring after him, his hitherto blank features working 
 with rage and amazement. 
 
 " I'll buy it, and two more, if 3-011 have them to sell," 
 said Mr. Kirke, who found no pleasure in cheating the 
 poor wreck of humanity out of a compound word, and 
 disappointing him in a trade. 
 
 The bargain was concluded, and the carryall drove 
 on, leaving poor Vassal muttering his delight over such 
 unprecedented luck. 
 
 " Just like Ben. I wish I had thought to do it my 
 self ; such little things go so far with the women," 
 mused Joe. 
 
 "Mr. Vose's troubles haven't seemed to sanctify 
 him," said he aloud. 
 
 " No," returned Miss Wilder. " One would sup 
 pose his remarkable constancy to Betsey might have 
 left a shade of softness on his visage, but unfortu 
 nately it has not." 
 
 " Which gives us food for thought," said Mr. Kirke. 
 " Haven't our poets something to answer for in that 
 regard? They rave continually about constancy, yet 
 here we see for ourselves what an utterly silly and 
 ridiculous thing it is in real life." He spoke medita 
 tively, as of love-stricken swains in general ; but Joe 
 felt the application, and stirred uneasily. 
 
 "Constancy, clo 3-011 call it? I call it obstinacy," 
 exclaimed Miss Wilder, furtively pinning up her back 
 hair. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Kirke, "obstinacy is the better 
 word. No man of common-sense would wreck his life 
 for a woman who doesn't care a pin whether he's alive 
 or dead."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. Ill 
 
 Joe thrust his head abruptly out of the window. 
 " Look at that superb mountain chain." 
 
 " But," went on Mr. Kirke in a lower tone, so low 
 that Joe could not catch the words, " but our friend 
 the hermit was a mere boy, was he not, when it hap 
 pened ? He must have been very young, or he would 
 have known ' there was more in him than could be killed 
 by such a thing as that.' ' 
 
 Miss Searle turned quickly. It was a saucy venture 
 in Mr. Kirke to make this quotation from her own let 
 ter, but she did not recognize it; she only wondered 
 vaguely where she had heard those words before. 
 
 " And he was not killed," said she, laughing ; " his 
 heart is only shut up in his crooked body, like a white 
 bear taking a winter nap." 
 
 "True," said Miss Wilder; "and, for my part, I 
 believe his cold heart would have gone to sleep all the 
 same if he had married Miss Betsey, or indeed if she 
 had never been born." 
 
 "But wasn't she a fortunate woman?" said Mr. 
 Kirke. " I'd like to congratulate her on her happy 
 escape." 
 
 " If such are your sentiments," cried Ozro, galloping 
 back to meet the carriage, " if such are your real sen 
 timents, just stop at our house, and we'll all drink to 
 Miss Betsey's health in a glass of raspberry shrub." 
 
 Accordingly, when they reached Mr. Searle's, they 
 halted at the gate, and were merrily touching glasses 
 with a " three times three to the fickle Miss Betsey," 
 when the ubiquitous Mr. Crabtree came leaping across 
 the stile of a neighboring field, exclaiming, " Well, 
 well, how do you do, Mr. Fiske, and how do you
 
 112 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 do again? I heard you was here. Come to stop 
 long?" 
 
 Mr. Fiske aroused himself, and shook hands cor 
 dially. He knew his last summer's reputation for 
 gayety and affability, and it would never do to let Mr. 
 Crabtree go off and tell the gossips how he had 
 changed. 
 
 " Oh, I came up for a peep at you all, and to get 
 Kirke home ! " said he jovially. " Too dissipated here 
 for Kirke ; he's grown wild." 
 
 Mr. Crabtree looked keenly at Mr. Kirke and 
 Evelyn, who seemed quite at home together, he fancied, 
 on the front scat. " I see, I see. 1 didn't mistrust, 
 when I met him the other day in the cars, that he was 
 going to kind o' settle down here like one of our own 
 folks." 
 
 " Neither did I," laughed Mr. Kirke. 
 
 Miss Searle said nothing ; but there was a reserved 
 sweetness in her smile, Mr. Fiske thought, which caused 
 him to glower unconsciously upon Ben, and justified 
 the shrewd Mr. Crabtree in telling his wife at tea-time 
 that " something was up with that little whipper-snapper 
 of a Joe Fiske. He looked as if he'd got his death- 
 warrant ; and Evelyn was at the bottom of it, of course, 
 though he never had thought she was one of that kind."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 113 
 
 X. 
 
 " What is 'will for, if it cannot help vs in emergencies ?" 
 
 EMERSON. 
 
 " "TTTTIEN are you going home, old man?" Mr. 
 V V Fiske considered himself in a state of u quali 
 fied war" with Mr. Kirke, but was as communicative 
 as ever, and had just accepted an invitation to ride 
 with him into the country. 
 
 "Joe, what do you mean?" said Mr. Kirke, taking 
 up the reins, and looking him steadily in the eye. 
 
 There was a latent force in Ben that now and 
 then asserted itself in a glnnce or a tone, causing the 
 younger man to quail for a moment. " I thought this 
 thing was settled once for all between us, Joe. Didn't 
 you say yesterday you gave it up, and didn't care a 
 rush how I disposed of myself? " 
 
 " Well, and I don't. You may see her every hour 
 in the day, for all me ; but what's that to do with your 
 answering a civil question? " 
 
 " Oh, well, as to going home, let us see ! I haven't 
 fairly thought it out yet. Where's the hurry? " 
 
 "I should think Randall might have a word to say 
 about that," was the retort; "and he would, if he 
 wasn't such a willing ox. You've heard of the ox in 
 the yoke that was willing to pull, and the other ox was 
 willing he should? " 
 
 Ben's brow darkened .for a second ; but, reflecting
 
 114 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 that it was hardly worth while to take offence, he 
 prudently remained silent. 
 
 " I asked your plans, Kirke, because, if you think of 
 going soon, I may as well wait, and go with you." 
 
 There was a pause while Mr. Kirke flicked a fly off 
 the horse with the whip-lash, and Joe looked at him 
 sharply. It was a clever face, and a strong one, with 
 a dash of sarcasm about the mouth, or so Joe read it, 
 and a pair of hazel eyes that expressed as much or as 
 little as their owner pleased. Just now they expressed 
 nothing whatever to Joe's scrutiny, wearing the shut- 
 in look suggestive to Ben's sisters of "drawing the 
 blinds." 
 
 "I suppose Chicago will be there right along," said 
 Mr. Kirke at last ; " and, in case the willing ox doesn't 
 object, I believe I'll finish out the summer here." 
 
 Joe sank back overpowered. " Settle down here 
 for good, Kirke. Don't regard my feelings. What 
 am I ? If I should die to-morrow, you'd sleep just as 
 well for it." 
 
 "Joe, is it of the least use to ask you to be 
 reasonable?" 
 
 "Reasonable? I think myself I'm pretty tremen 
 dously reasonable, considering you've ruined my pros 
 pects for life." 
 
 "Take care, sir." 
 
 "Oh, your not knowing it makes no difference! 
 You're weaving a spell all the same. I tell you, Ben, 
 if 3-011 cared two straws about the girl, I could bear it. 
 But to see you simply sit still in that everlastingly lazy 
 way of yours, and let her grow into liking you ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " returned Ben, a sudden light leaping
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 115 
 
 into his eyes, which it was as well Joe did not see. 
 ''There's not a particle of truth in what you say. 
 You've placed me in a ridiculous light before her when 
 ever you could." 
 
 Joe cowered a little. 
 
 " What did you talk about last night up there? Do 
 you suppose a man wants all his college nonsense raked 
 over before ladies? I tell you, Joe, if I considered 
 you in a sane state of mind, I'd give you the soundest 
 thumping you ever had in your life." 
 
 " Well, now, look here, old man, what sent you up 
 here in the first place? If you'd only staid away, I 
 should have won her. But you've stepped between 
 us; and now, God pity me, my chance is over!" 
 
 This outburst of unreason moved Mr. Kirke in divers 
 ways, to box the boy's ears, to laugh at him, to throw 
 an arm around him and let him cry on his shoulder. 
 A silly fellow, surely, was Jos. He had declared re 
 peatedly, that, if it wasn't for his mother, he wouldn't 
 hesitate to blow out his brains. But he had reached 
 the point now, so he went on to declare, when his 
 mother no longer stood in the way ; and the pistol should 
 do its deadly work to-morrow or the day after. 
 
 It was hard to have patience with him, or treat his 
 woes seriously. 
 
 " If I'm ever such a fool as to fall in love where 
 there's no hope for me, I won't howl over it," thought 
 the comfortable, well-cared for, unsentimental Ben 
 Kirke, as contempt got the better of pity. 
 
 Still, though he was so sure that this meant nothing 
 serious in Joe's case, and would soon blow over, his 
 conscience was not altogether easy. He had not been
 
 Il6 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 quite frank with the lad to whom he really owed his 
 acquaintance with Evelyn Searle. He had never told 
 him, how could he? of the intercepted letter, and 
 the influence it had had in bringing him to Narransauc. 
 His coming had not hurt Joe's cause, for Joe never 
 had a cause ; but no doubt it had had its effect in 
 making the boy behave a great deal worse than he 
 would otherwise have done, by exciting his jealousy, 
 which was always his weak point. And, after all, he 
 was Art's brother ; and had it been fair? 
 
 Mr. Kirke had no faith in Joo's leaving Narransauc 
 at present, nor had Joe himself much faith in it. He 
 pretended to be fully decided, but changed his mind 
 secretly a dozen times ; and though he went so far 
 next morning as to pack his portmanteau, and ride over 
 to the station with his friend, he was still in a turmoil 
 of doubt. 
 
 " That cold-blooded Kirke ! If he would only show 
 some sign that he's glad to be rid of me, there 'd be 
 some sense in going." 
 
 The train was made up, the few passengers had all 
 entered the car. 
 
 "Good-by, old fellow. See you again," said Joe, 
 planting one foot on the step, with a swinging motion. 
 
 " Well, good-by, Fiske." 
 
 " Wait a minute," cried Joe, swinging himself down 
 again. "I I believe I'll give it up, after all." 
 
 " Very well, why not?" returned Mr. Kirke civilly. 
 
 If he had betrayed the slightest anno}*ance, Mr. 
 Fiske would have staid; but the indifference settled 
 it. Joe caught at the railing as the car began to move 
 off, and at some risk succeeded in boarding the train.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 117 
 
 Mr. Kirke laughed: who could have helped it? The 
 bystanders laughed too. They had been watching 
 the very nimble young man's gyrations for some time 
 with interest ; and one beholder now said to another, 
 
 " An uneasy fish, but he got hauled in at last." 
 
 Mr. Kirke drove back to the Druid, feeling as light 
 as a feather. It would be in order to call at Violet 
 Hill this evening, and report the news, which he knew 
 would be thankfully received. 
 
 As he drove across the bridge, he could see that 
 something unusual was going on at the Druid. A dozen 
 neighbors men, women, and children were hurry 
 ing in and out of the house ; and presently the land 
 lord rushed bareheaded into the middle of the street, 
 exclaiming, " Hello, there, Kirke, you'll have to hitch 
 your own horse : Tom is done for. Hitch your horse, 
 and come right in ; Tom is in a fix." 
 
 " What is it? Shall I go for the doctor? " 
 
 "Doctor?" repeated an energetic old lady on the 
 piazza, rolling her right sleeve up to the elbow. " You 
 can't get any doctor in this town, not if you're dead 
 and laid out." 
 
 "Father's dead; funeral at Saccarap," cried an 
 officious little bo}\ 
 
 "Oh, is that it ? Poor Tom ! ' ' 
 
 " No, no ; not Tom's father, the doctor's father. 
 Tom's broke his leg," vociferated Mr. Simpson at 
 last, his face nearly plum-color with suppressed speech. 
 
 " And no doctor to come anigh," supplemented the 
 old lady, pulling her sleeve down again. 
 
 " I'll tell you how he broke his leg," struck in the 
 officious little boy. "He came bump up against that
 
 Il8 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 photo-machine o' yours, out in the stable, covered up 
 with hay." 
 
 Mr. Kirke was more noted for strength than speed ; 
 but he was not long now in brushing through the hin 
 dering crowd, and making his way to Tom, who lay on 
 the wooden settle in the bar-room, groaning with every 
 breath, and protesting that he would not, could not, 
 should not, be moved till Dr. Cargill arrived, who had 
 been sent for from St. Gregory. This might be an 
 hour hence, it might be more ; for Mr. Simpson was 
 afraid the horse's loose shoe would make some differ 
 ence. The fleet horse Dick had been in use by Mr. 
 Kirke, and they had taken Jack in their haste ; though 
 Mrs. Simpson was sure now that time would have been 
 saved if they had gone to the station for Dick. This 
 she had just been saying ; and, in the kindness of her 
 heart, Mrs. Crabtree had added that she didn't believe 
 Dr. Cargill was at home, anyhow. She had heard of 
 his going to Prince Edward's Island ; and why hadn't 
 somebody thought to tell Nathan, the messenger, to get 
 Dr. Pen-in?" 
 
 "Why, Dr. Perrin is a homoeopath: he can't set 
 bones," responded another woman, equally kind. 
 
 These remarks, and others of like nature, had been 
 passing freely around the circle, no doubt to Tom's 
 edification. But his knitted brows relaxed a little now 
 at sight of Mr. Kirke ; and he inclined his head toward 
 him, as if half expecting some sort of aid or comfort 
 from the stalwart young man, who had the look of 
 being equal to any emergency. 
 
 ''Courage, Tom, my boy. Mr. Crabtree and I 
 together can carry you up-stairs to vour own bed so
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 1 19 
 
 easily that yon won't know it. We'll handle you like 
 a glass vase. Won't you trust us, Tom? " 
 
 The tone was re-assuring ; and there was a certain 
 masterful, self-possessed air about Mr. Kirke that had 
 always had a strong but indescribable influence on 
 Tom. 
 
 " Well, I guess you can do it, seeing's you think 
 you call," sighed he trustfully, and closing his eyes 
 resigned himself at once to the two gentle-handed 
 bearers, who made the journey with signal success. 
 As they neared Tom's chamber, Mr. Kirke saw that it 
 was low, small, and ill-furnished, with flies pouring in 
 at the open window like gossips flocking to a tea-party. 
 
 " Not there ; we can't put him there," said he auda 
 ciously to Mrs. Simpson, who walked in advance of the 
 litter. " ShoW us a better room, larger, with window- 
 screens and curtains." 
 
 Mrs. Simpson seemed amazed ; but, reflecting that 
 Mr. Kirke was the sort of man to pay for what he 
 called for, she led the way to the north room, which 
 had been set off from the old dancing-hall, and, though 
 seldom used, was really the most comfortable summer 
 resort the house afforded. Tom, in his soiled working- 
 suit, his feet incased in dusty boots, was extended 
 upon the dainty lavender-scented bed ; and the much- 
 tried Mrs. Simpson cast an eloquent glance upon Mrs. 
 Crabtree, who might be supposed, as a woman and a 
 housekeeper, to understand her feelings. Then fol 
 lowed a remark which would have electrified both 
 ladies if they had heard it. 
 
 "May I examine your hurt, my boy?" said Mr. 
 Kirke in a low tone, leaning over the patient. " Be-
 
 120 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 cause, if it's nothing worse than a broken bone, I can 
 set it myself." 
 
 Tom ceased groaning from sheer surprise. " I 
 wouldn't do it if the doctor gets here in good time, 
 3 T ou understand, Tom, or if you can wait till he comes. 
 I've no desire to take the business out of his hands." 
 
 "I know enough for that; j'ou're fooling with me 
 like," returned Tom coolly, feeling that such jests 
 were rather ill-timed ; but that he must try not to take 
 offence, considering the source. 
 
 Mr. Kirke gave his grimy hand a kindly pressure. 
 "I'm not fooling with you, Tom. I'd be ashamed to 
 do it after you've come to your death by that infernal 
 ' machine ' of mine. But you needn't think I'm a 
 bungler at every thing, as I am at pictures. I can 
 mend this little breakage of yours, and make you as 
 good as new : so keep up your heart, my boy." 
 
 "Why in the world doesn't Nathan come?" said 
 Mrs. Simpson anxiously. 
 
 " Why, here he is," exclaimed Mrs. Crabtree, from 
 her post by the window ; " but he's all sole alone. I 
 should have thought he'd have brought somebody, if 
 it was nothing but that homy path." 
 
 Nathan, being interviewed, defended himself stoutly. 
 How could he fetch folks that weren't there to be 
 fetched? The doctors were all gone kiting, and of 
 course he had come back to report and take a fresh 
 start for Liter's Falls. What else could he do? 
 
 " How long am I going to lie here and stand this? " 
 wailed Tom, left alone with Mr. Crabtree and Mr. 
 Kirke. " What was it 3-011 said just now, Mr. Kirke? 
 Did you mean honest you could set my bones? "
 
 DROXES* HONEY. 121 
 
 'il did Tom; can't you believe me?" The tone 
 was clear, firm, and re-assuring. 
 
 "A natural bouesetter, hey?" said Mr. Crabtree 
 with his loudest laugh ; while Tom regarded Mr. *Kirke 
 with a look of awe second only to that he might have 
 felt for a two-headed animal or other monstrosity. 
 
 " It has come in my way to set three broken bones, 
 and one was a compound fracture." 
 
 "Did they heal firstrate?" asked Mr. Crabtree 
 cautiously. 
 
 " Yes, to a charm." 
 
 "All right," said Tom. "Go ahead. I'll risk it 
 if you will." 
 
 Mr. Crabtree laughed again, whether at the " natural 
 bouesetter' s " rashness or the patient's credulity did 
 not appear. But he said next moment, " Yes, Kirke, 
 try it ; and I'll bear you out in it. I don't believe }"ou'd 
 undertake any thing you couldn't carry through. ' ' And, 
 as Tom would wait no longer, it was tried accordingly, 
 Mr. Crabtree lending his aid and countenance. 
 
 "I tell you what it is," said Mr. Crabtree after 
 wards, in tones of unqualified admiration, "I don't 
 believe there's a full-fledged Philadelphia doctor could 
 have handled that case any better than what Kirke did. 
 Knew just where every thing ought to go, and laid 'em 
 all together as neat as a pin. I never saw anybody go 
 to work so hand}'." 
 
 It is no more than the truth to say that the young 
 man had a real enthusiasm for a thing of this sort, a 
 loving interest in wrecks of matter, which is simpby 
 incomprehensible to the average mind. Tom could 
 not have done him better service than to go to pieces
 
 122 DRONES' HOXEY. 
 
 in this way, and allow himself to be put together 
 again. 
 
 When Dr. Campbell arrived from Liter's Falls after 
 all was over, and there was nothing left to do, he ex 
 pressed entire satisfaction with the lay performance, 
 and advised the amateur surgeon by all means to keep 
 the case. He doubted if he himself could manage it 
 better. 
 
 "That's right," said Tom, turning to Mr. Kirke 
 with the affectionate, pleading look of a wounded dog. 
 " You'll stay by me, won't }'ou, sir? " 
 
 The young man felt that he was " in for it." He 
 had never been depended upon to " stay by " anybod}* ; 
 but there was no resisting a look like that from Tom, 
 especially since the poor fellow owed his mishap to that 
 "machine," which had never been set in any spot yet 
 where it had not been in somebody's way. 
 
 " Yes, Tom, I'll stay by you," said Mr. Kirke, so 
 promptly that nobody suspected it cost him an effort. 
 He liked surgery, and why not nursing? At least, Mrs. 
 Simpson was sure a little care and responsibility 
 wouldn't hurt him a grain. 
 
 " He'll find it some work trotting back and forth to 
 the north room, it's so out of the way. But I can't 
 say I pity him much," said she, in confidence to Mrs. 
 Crabtrce. " He would put Tom in there, and now he 
 must take the consequences."
 
 DROXES' HONEY. 123 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Blessed is he who hath found his work ; let him ask no other 
 
 blessedness." 
 
 CARLYLE. 
 
 TOM proved a most exacting patient. The strong, 
 stirring young fellow had never before been " laid 
 up " a day in his life ; and now, with no amusement but 
 to lie and think what he would like to do if he could 
 " get round," it was surprising how his imagination 
 was quickened, and how many things in remote places 
 he thought of, and came to consider indispensable to 
 his well-being and comfort. He would hardly allow 
 Mr. Kirke out of his sight ; and the young man thought 
 with a sigli of Cobb's brook, and its " shadowy water 
 with a sweet south wind blowing over it," and the 
 trout darting through it in all their " speckled pride." 
 
 Toward evening Tom grew fretful. " You ain't going 
 off to leave me," he besought, as the self-installed 
 nurse ventured to recommend solitude to his patient, 
 as conducive to sleep. " Why, I can't shut my eyes 
 unless I know you are sitting right there by me." 
 
 " Oh, I'll stay with you, Tom, if you'll be quiet ! Do 
 j T ou know you've talked for two hours like a delirious 
 magpie ? ' ' 
 
 It was the first entire evening that Mr. Kirke had 
 spent without a rim to Violet Hill, and he regarded
 
 124 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 Tom as childish and unreasonable. It had been a 
 sultry day, and the next was still more oppressive ; 
 Mr. Cromwell, the tin-man, expressing grave fears 
 that it would " unsodder him." Mr. Kirke wondered 
 how it was faring with the " young ladies,'" and on in 
 quiring of Jimmy Skilliugs learned that they " hadn't, 
 either of 'em, been out that day. He guessed likely 
 they had a sight of work to do. ' ' 
 
 The} r were indeed busy, but had found time to think 
 of Mr. Kirke, and say to each other, " Why hasn't he 
 been in?" Rosa had heard of Tom's mishap, but 
 not of Mr. Kirke's surgical feat. " Tom's limb was 
 broken," she said. 
 
 "What, his arm?" 
 
 " No : his limb. If it was his arm, I should have 
 said so," returned the extremely proper little maid. 
 
 Andrew Cromwell, who came the next afternoon to 
 work on the roof, informed the 3"oung ladies that Mr. 
 Kirke had left the day before for Chicago. And was 
 it not strange that he should have gone without so 
 much as a word of good-by ? 
 
 " I thought he meant to stay at least several days 
 longer, for you know he spoke of another ride," said 
 Miss Wilder. 
 
 " He must have changed his mind rather suddenly," 
 returned Miss Searle, taking up a spray of mountain 
 fringe from the hall table, and placing it carefully in 
 the bronze vase on the window-sill. 
 
 Miss Wilder looked through the screen-door at the 
 summer fields, and said, as if she were reading the words 
 in the air, " But he has not gone, Evelyn. I don't 
 believe he would be so rude."
 
 DROA T ES' HONEY. 125 
 
 This was a bold denial, considering that Andrew had 
 actually seen him enter the cars ; but whatever Theo- 
 date said in that slow, positive way of hers seemed 
 rather surer than the evidence of one's own senses. 
 
 "Maybe you're right," said Miss Searle, but with 
 no appearance of especial interest. She had agreed 
 with her friend that they should miss Mr. Kirke, that 
 his calls had been their best entertainment this summer. 
 But just now her mind seemed to be engrossed in the 
 new tin gutter which was being laid upon the roof. 
 "Is it nearly done, Andrew?" said she anxiously to 
 the eye-servant, who was standing on a ladder near the 
 piazza. The work had been promised weeks ago, and 
 Miss Searle was becoming impatient. 
 
 " Well, I don't know certain," replied Andrew, pre 
 tending to consider the matter as he gazed down un 
 flinchingly into the innocent eyes raised to his. "This 
 is a slow, puttering job, you see ; and I've had every 
 thing to hinder me." 
 
 " I should think he'd be ashamed to lie to her in 
 that way, when she believes every word he says," 
 thought Reuben Wyman, the assistant workman, who 
 knelt on the grass watching his irons heating in a 
 small iron stove, from the top of which issued a tow 
 ering smoke, like the genii ascending from the vial. 
 
 Astonished and alarmed, the birds had left their nests 
 in the piazza roof and were flying away with loud cries, 
 to report to their neighbors that the world was about 
 to burn up. Andrew came down the ladder a few 
 steps, and peered cautiously under the roof. "You 
 have phrebes building here every year, I take it." 
 
 "Yes, these corner-lots are never vacant. O An-
 
 126 DROA 7 ES* HONEY. 
 
 drew, Andrew, you are not going now ! " as the young 
 tinman leisurely dropped to the ground, and began to 
 put on his coat. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. I lack about a foot of tin. Can't 
 go back for it to-night. Got to go now and mend 
 Simpson's lead pipe. I'll be back to-morrow," replied 
 the finished liar, without the quiver of an e3 T elash ; 
 though it was simply his inveterate " shiftlessness " 
 that was sending him home to an early supper, and he 
 knew that Miss Wilder knew it, if Miss Searle did not. 
 
 Both the ladies were speechless, for what would speech 
 have availed ? But Miss Searle stood for a few moments 
 on the piazza, allowing herself to feel the full force of 
 her disappointment. The young apprentice looked at 
 her compassionately, being not yet hardened in the 
 guileful ways of his craft. There against the roof 
 leaned the ladder ; there on the lovely grass lay scat 
 tered the unsightly old shingles ; and, though the shed 
 was out of sight from the piazza, the boy knew it was 
 disgraced by a broken window which Andrew had prom 
 ised to mend. After precious time spent by Miss 
 Searle in seeking and then in watching these workmen, 
 they had effected nothing but this miserable chaos ; 
 and when Andrew would find it convenient to come 
 back with that "foot of tin" who could say? She 
 went to the other end of the piazza, and was looking 
 up with a troubled air at the empty birds'-nests, when 
 Cousin Ozro dropped down upon her suddenly from 
 the roof ; and next moment Mr. Kirke was saying, 
 " Good-evening ; your cousin is responsible for bring 
 ing me round by way of the orchard." 
 
 Miss Searle's face brightened visibly as she extended
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 127 
 
 her hand, and Mr. Kirkc was sure he could not be 
 mistaken in thinking she was certainly glad to see him. 
 She did not say that his coming to-night had been un 
 expected ; but he learned it next moment from Miss 
 Wilder, who came out exclaiming cordially, 
 
 " Ah, so you are not gone, after all? There, Eve 
 lyn, what did I say? " 
 
 "Could you think for a moment that I would steal 
 out of town without letting you know it? " returned Mr. 
 Kirke, in some surprise, though immensely flattered. 
 So his going away would really have been a matter of 
 regret to the young ladies. So they had been discuss 
 ing it with interest. So that was why Miss Searle had 
 met him with such a smile. Well, he was glad he had 
 found out that they really cared a little about him, and 
 were not disposed to throw him over on Joe's account ; 
 for he had often felt that he suffered vicariously for 
 Joe, by being always associated with him in their minds. 
 He had fancied, the last time he called with that turbu 
 lent youth, that Miss Searle had looked at them both 
 with nearly equal disfavor ; for Joe had contrived on 
 that occasion to place him in a most ridiculous light. 
 
 " What of Mr. Fiske? Has he really gone? " asked 
 Miss Wilder with a humorous look. 
 
 " Yes, really. At au} T rate, I saw him enter the car." 
 
 " I fancy Mr. Fiske is not feeling very well ; he is 
 astonishingly thin this summer," said Miss Wilder. 
 
 " Very thin," echoed Miss Searle, without venturing 
 to meet any one's eye. And so the subject of poor 
 Joe was dropped as by one consent, and even Ozro did 
 not venture to take it up again. In fact, Ozro's mis 
 chievous spirit was inclined just now in another direc-
 
 128 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 tion. He had conceived the idea that he would like an 
 invitation to supper, and was intriguing to bring it 
 about. 
 
 " What is that, Evelyn," pretending to misunder 
 stand something she was trying to say: "lawn tea? 
 Wiry, I'm glad you thought of it ! That's capital." 
 
 Of course she had neither said nor thought a word of 
 the sort : but the rogue knew well enough, that, after 
 this suggestion, a lawn tea would be inevitable ; and so 
 it proved. It was only half-past five, the heat of the 
 day had not abated in the least, and Mr. Kirke had 
 just been saying that the piazza, with the breeze from 
 the river, was the coolest place he had seen. He had 
 left Tom safely asleep, and there was no reason why 
 he might not accept this very tempting invitation, 
 which came, as he honestly supposed, from head 
 quarters ; and he accepted it accordingly. 
 
 " Ozro shall suffer for this," thought Miss Wilder, 
 as she disappeared to the kitchen to give her orders 
 to Rosa. Fortunately there was a roasted chicken in. 
 reserve for to-morrow's dinner, and there were plenty 
 of strawberries on the vines ; but this did not lessen in 
 the least the deep guilt of Ozro, who neither knew nor 
 cared any thing about the state of the larder. It might 
 have been worse ; and, despite the annoyance she nat- 
 uralty felt at being forced into this impromptu hospi 
 tality, Miss Wilder could not but admit that she should 
 enjoy a social meal with such an agreeable guest as 
 Mr. Kirke. Rosa would not mind bringing out the 
 light table and the landscape china, old and precious, 
 and should make cream biscuits ; she seldom failed 
 with these. But what had gone amiss with Rosa, that
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 129 
 
 she whistled so joyously ? For it was always misfortune 
 that called forth her sweetest strains. Miss Wilder 
 entered the kitchen prepared for a catastrophe, but 
 nothing worse had happened than the overturning of a 
 pitcher of rich buttermilk on the unpainted shed floor. 
 
 " Oh, yes, mum, cream biscuits ; yes, rnum ! They'll 
 be easy mixed, and I'll fetch out the table and all," 
 responded Rosa, on her knees scrubbing the floor, 
 while the "grave-yard rabbit," suspended from her 
 neck, beat what might be called a lively funeral march. 
 She thoroughly liked Miss Date, yet there were reasons 
 why she considered lawn teas a nonsensical nuisance. 
 "Ain't you afraid they'll break the chiuy out there, 
 mum? It's hard getting the table sut just even." 
 
 "Slice the cold chicken, Rosa," said Miss Date, 
 who had a way quite foreign to Miss Evelyn of " shut 
 ting up " the little maid. " And give us iced tea and 
 strawberries, and we'll eat at seven," was the final 
 order. 
 
 It was a tempting table that was spread on the lawn 
 before the piazza ; and Ozro hoped Mr. Kirke was 
 duly grateful to him for the meal, and duly impressed 
 by the lovely way in which his cousin Evelyn presided. 
 He was proud of Evelyn at any time ; and to-night, 
 with that flush on her cheeks, she was what he elegant 
 ly termed a "raving, tearing beauty." Rosa was of 
 the same opinion. Coming in with the biscuits, she 
 gazed lingeringly at her mistress in her fleecy white 
 gown, and thought if she could be borne straight up to 
 heaven on a mighty, rushing wind, looking as she did 
 this minute, the angels would gladly make room for 
 her, and never doubt she was one of their own. " Such
 
 130 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 crispy, goldy hair ! And that easy way she moves her 
 head and arms, as if they didn't weigh a feather! I 
 won't like her better'n I do Miss Date, though ; for it's 
 Miss Date that most generally always helps me wash 
 days, and I'll like her best, if it kills me." And she 
 took dutiful care to throw Miss Wilder a smile as she 
 disappeared with the cake-plate ; only the smile glanced 
 off perversely, and was caught on the way in the meshes 
 of " crispy, goldy hair," a mistake which Miss Wilder 
 would have pardoned freely, if she had known it. 
 
 Theodate was looking very happy to-night, though 
 she was always happier than people supposed. Her 
 eyes had a look of measureless content, as they swept 
 the far-reaching landscape below and around her and 
 rested at last on the dark-blue mountain range softly 
 outlined against the western sky. Was there on earth 
 a fairer spot? She thought not, and Miss Wilder was 
 a young lady of decided opinions. She had come to it 
 two years ago from the total wreck of a home, and 
 found shelter, peace, and loving-kindness ; and were it 
 possible for Violet Hill to crumble by to-morrow into 
 a sandy desert, like Vassal Vose's estate, it would re 
 main forever dear and sacred to her grateful heart. 
 
 The conversation turned naturally upon Tom's mis 
 hap ; and, with Ozro for a trumpeter, Mr. Kirke be 
 came the hero of the hour. 
 
 " I tell you, girls, he's a stunner. The doctor from 
 Liter's Falls says he didn't leave any rough edges, and 
 he'd trust him as quick as he would a professional 
 hand." 
 
 This was all new to the young ladies, and seemed 
 at first incredible. " What, you, Mr. Kirke, without
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 131 
 
 any knowledge of the art?" exclaimed Miss Searle 
 with very wide eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I have a superficial knowledge, enough to 
 serve in an exigency ! " 
 
 " Now, you needn't believe that. He's altogether 
 too modest," cried the admiring Ozro. 
 
 "Of course he is, and he knows it," said the 
 straightforward Miss Wilder. " You didn't perform 
 such an operation by accident, Mr. Kirke." 
 
 " No ; I have had a little practice, though only in 
 cases of emergency like this." 
 
 She drew a long breath. " You are a perpetual sur 
 prise to me. You remember, Evelyn, we first knew 
 him as a photographer, next we learned he was a law 
 yer, and now he turns out a surgeon." 
 
 Mr. Kirke set down his glass of iced tea in a 
 slightly confused manner. " You make me out a 
 Jack-at-all-trades, Miss Wilder; and, the worst of it 
 is, there is some truth in it." 
 
 " But you have studied surgery? " 
 
 " Oh, no, only in a cursory way, as I've studied 
 every thing else ; though I admit it always took a 
 stronger hold on me than my other studies, for I liked 
 it better." 
 
 There was an inquiring look in Miss Searle's eyes, 
 but she said nothing. What would she have liked to 
 say? The conversation drifted now into a general dis 
 cussion of medical science and the progress of ideas ; 
 Dr. Sangrado's name was brought up, the fabled 
 physician who wrote in favor of the practice of bleed 
 ing, and declared " if he killed off all his patients, he 
 must continue bleeding, for the credit of his book."
 
 132 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 Mr. Kirke said that only forty years ago there was 
 a loud cry against anesthetics ; and when they were 
 defended on the ground that Adam underwent a sur 
 gical operation in his sleep, the reply was, " Ah, but 
 that was before sin entered the world ! " 
 
 Miss Searle remarked that vaccination was bitterly 
 opposed a century ago ; and Miss Wilder said it was 
 some time later that windmills were voted down in 
 Scotland, because they were in league with Satan, the 
 11 prince of the powers of the air." 
 
 " I'll try to match that," said Ozro. " When they 
 discovered the bones of those cave-men in France, 
 they thought at first the} 7 were the remains of fallen 
 angels." 
 
 "Well, we shouldn't have been wiser to-day than 
 any of these people, if we had not been instructed," 
 said Miss Searle softly: " so we needn't be proud of 
 our knowledge. We didn't acquire it ; we merely in 
 herit it, you know, as an idle young man inherits his 
 father's fortune." 
 
 "An idle young man." It was impossible to sus 
 pect the gentle girl of any covert meaning ; but Mr. 
 Kirke had a growing sensitiveness regarding his stand 
 ing in Narransauc, which lent a sting to the words. 
 Every man, woman, and child in the busy town seemed 
 to be pointing a finger at him, metaphorically, and ask 
 ing him what he was good for ; and this imaginary 
 question, so novel as well as perplexing, he was wholly 
 unable to answer. 
 
 "Mr. Kirke," said Ozro after a pause, with a seri 
 ous look which sat almost grotesquely on his merry 
 face, " father and I have been having aii argument to-
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 133 
 
 day, and I'd like your vote upon it. He says I ought 
 to be choosing my profession now, this minute, before 
 I leave college. Do yon believe it? " 
 
 " That depends. What is your bias? " 
 
 "Bias? I haven't the sign of a bias; but when 
 I say that to father, he thinks I'm a dunce. Now, I 
 want to know if it's customary for fellows to have a 
 bias. Did you know off-hand at my age what yon 
 wanted to be? " 
 
 "N-o-o." 
 
 " There, I told him so. I told him I'd warrant 
 you'd had your time of dillydallying. " 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Yes. I don't know why I thought so, but I did." 
 
 " Perhaps, unfortunately, I don't remind you of 
 Daniel Webster or Rufus Choate," said Mr. Kirke 
 dryly. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean any disrespect! I've no doubt 
 you have great influence over a jury ; only, from the 
 way you spoke the other day, I thought perhaps you 
 didn't take up law from any particular liking, you know. 
 I thought you didn't seem very enthusiastic over it." 
 
 Mr. Kirke looked rather uncomfortable, though Ozro 
 had spoken with a marked attempt at politeness. " The 
 truth is, Mr. Searle, I have a partner who achieves all 
 the enthusiasm for the firm, and all the business too : 
 so any effort on my part is quite superfluous." 
 
 "Huzza! That's the very thing forme. Find me 
 such a partner, will you? and I'll be a law} T er to 
 morrow. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Kirke shook his head, and replied very seriously, 
 " There's nothing worse for a young man than to help
 
 134 DXOA?ES' HONEY. 
 
 him too much at the start. It's like setting a baby on 
 its feet before it's ready to walk." 
 
 " Oh, you needn't be concerned about my being 
 propped up too much ! There's no money in our family ; 
 and I've got to work my way along, every step of it," 
 said Ozro with a wry face. 
 
 w I'm honestly glad to hear it, for it was the bane of 
 my life that I wasn't obliged to work my way. There 
 was a groove made for me ; and I was set in it, and left 
 to slip along on rollers." 
 
 " But 3'ou had some studying to do? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, now and then ! But it is surprising how 
 little study you can get on with, and pass the law." 
 
 Mr. Kirke had no intention of punning. The con 
 versation was becoming unpleasantly personal ; and 
 Miss Wilder did not help him much when she fastened 
 her searching eyes upon him, and said impressively, 
 "Are you sure the law is your vocation, Mr. Kirke? " 
 
 "About as sure of it as 1 am of the color of the 
 mud in the moon." 
 
 " Yet it was your choice? " 
 
 "I have not said so. If you remember, I just 
 remarked that the choice was not mine. I merely 
 accepted what stood ready for me." 
 
 "Pardon me," persisted Miss Wilder, "but you 
 don't seem to me like the sort of person to do that. 
 Now, I should have said you have a pretty strong will 
 of j'our own." 
 
 "But can't you imagine my being too indolent to 
 exert it?" returned Mr. Kirke, the color mounting 
 to his brow with as keen a seuse of shame as he had 
 ever felt in his life.
 
 HONEY. 135 
 
 What must these two working bees think of such a 
 drone? And how easily he might have avoided con 
 victing himself in their presence. Few young men 
 would have considered such frankness necessary ; but 
 if Ben Kirke spoke of himself at all, it was always 
 honestly, with a fine scorn of extenuation. 
 
 Miss Searle had been wishing for some time to 
 come to his relief, and she now began to say something 
 about the phcebes in the corner lot ; but Ozro struck 
 in with boyish obtuseuess : " I say, Mr. Kirke, now, 
 honestly, don't you believe you were cut out for a 
 doctor?" 
 
 The question whizzed through the air like a bullet 
 shot from a gun. 
 
 " Maybe I was. I confess I have often thought so, 
 and that my going into the law was a mistake." 
 
 Miss Searle stooped to pick up her handkerchief. " It 
 is not too late to correct the mistake, is it? " laughed 
 she in a low, sweet tone, so close to his ear that no one 
 else heard it. 
 
 She spoke carelessly, but the words electrified him. 
 He raised his head quickly ; and, as he looked at her, his 
 eyes kindled. " Not too late." It came with the force 
 of a conviction. How often he had vaguely wondered, 
 especially of late, if he might not some time strike out 
 in a new path, and be something more than a mere 
 hanger-on upon Randall. But the thought had hardly 
 taken definite shape before, as a question to be met 
 face to face and decided once for all. 
 
 Miss Searle glided back easily now to the pha'bes, and 
 from them to the last novel, and the little tea-party 
 broke up very pleasantly. But, as Mr. Kirke sought
 
 136 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 his pillow that night, the words repeated themselves in 
 his ear: "It is not too late too correct the mistake, is 
 it?" 
 
 "Natures, like melodies, have their key-notes;" 
 and the key-note of his nature had been struck. Had 
 Evelyn done it unwittingly ? For a transparent woman, 
 she was sometimes hard to read. How much had she 
 meant by these careless words? But the young man's 
 heart responded, 
 
 " No, it is not too late."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 137 
 
 XII. 
 
 11 God is ever drawing like toward like, and makinr/ them 
 
 acquainted." 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 " TF he carries out this project, he has me to thank 
 
 -L for it ; though I'm sometimes afraid he considers 
 me a prig," said Miss Wilder with a pained look in 
 her e}*es, as she stood before the hall mirror without 
 looking into it, and energetically tied her bonnet- 
 strings. 
 
 " Then he thinks the same of me," returned Evelyn, 
 peeping over her friend's shoulder to see if her own 
 bonnet was straight. The eyes of the two young 
 ladies met in the glass. 
 
 "You? Oh, no, dear! You couldn't preach, to 
 save your life. You only look at him wistfully, while I 
 harangue ; but did you think three weeks ago, when 
 we had that lawn tea, that he would spring up so 
 suddenly, and go to studying with Dr. Stone? " 
 
 " No ; but he does not call it studying : he is only 
 browsing among the doctor's books, he says," re 
 turned Evelyn, pinning a rose-geranium into her belt. 
 " I do like these flowers that grow in clusters, bless 
 their hearts, they have such a social look. Ah, there 
 he comes." 
 
 " Good-by, Rosa, we are gone," called out Theo- 
 date toward the kitchen ; adding in an aside to Evelyn,
 
 138 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 "I could wish Ozro might be left at home when we 
 ride." 
 
 It is possible that Mr. Kirkc had the same wish ; but 
 of what avail the fourth seat in a carryall, if not 
 occupied? And how can you exclude a boy who never 
 waits for an invitation, but assumes that he is the life 
 of the party, and even suspects that -the party was 
 made for him ? Ozro was in the highest possible feather 
 to-day, prepared to lead the conversation, as usual, 
 for the relief of Mr. Kirke and the girls. He always 
 studied Mr. Kirke's wishes in this regard, and was 
 glad that he could make himself so useful to him ; 
 for he was becoming completely enthralled by the 
 large, indolent young man, who seemed so little self- 
 centred, so careless of effect. He tried to copy Mr. 
 Kirke's ringing laugh, his easy gestures, his very 
 pleasant way of elevating his eyebrows ; and, as for 
 his style of necktie, he would hit that off or perish in 
 the attempt. 
 
 Mr. Kirke might not have been aware of this ami 
 able weakness in Ozro ; but the young ladies had been 
 quick to see and smile at it, though they allowed it to 
 pass without comment. He was like Victor Hugo's 
 flea, "full of good sentiments," and his talk was an 
 intermittent play of fireworks. But, during a brief 
 pause, Evelyn ventured to ask Mr. Kirke if he could 
 tell her the meaning of a word which had puzzled her 
 all the morning, " honey-dew." " I am sure it is of 
 Greek origin," said she, " but I cannot find it in any 
 of our books on Grecian literature." 
 
 He tried to be politely serious, as he asked, " Have 
 you looked in the English dictionary, Miss Searle? "
 
 DX ONES' HONEY. 139 
 
 She bore with very good grace the laugh which fol 
 lowed, though Ozro from that time forth gave her little 
 peace of her life. He didn't take stock in Greek, he 
 said, had never read a Greek play, didn't know any 
 thing particular about Grecian history ; but he hoped 
 he knew honey-dew. Would be pleased to show her 
 some, if she'd condescend to look at any thing so com 
 mon. Plenty in the wood ; but she might prefer to go 
 to Greece for it, etc. 
 
 "And now, Miss Searle," said Mr. Kirke, as she 
 began to recover from her blushing confusion, "there's 
 a word I'd like to have you define for me : it's drones' 
 honey." 
 
 " Stop a minute. I didn't know they made it," cried 
 Ozro. 
 
 " I saw that very word this morning, Mr. Kirke, 
 when I was looking for the other one ; but I can't tell 
 you what it means." 
 
 " Where did you see it? " 
 
 " In Plato's ' Republic.' ' When a young man has 
 tasted drones' honey ' I forget the rest. But farther 
 on it says, ' And so the young man returns into the 
 country of the lotus-eaters.' ' 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Searle. I heard somebody use 
 the word ouce, derisively, and I've wondered ever since 
 where it came from." And then he added to himself, 
 with an unconscious squaring of the shoulders, " It 
 shall never be flung at me again. Drones' honey is 
 bitter to the taste: I abjure it forever." For while 
 he had no present intention of leaving Narransauc, the 
 country of the lotus-eaters, persuading himself that he 
 was actually needed here till Tom should get upon his
 
 140 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 feet again, he had nevertheless decided to make a 
 complete revolution on his return to Chicago, drop the 
 law, and begin the study of medicine. True, he had 
 wasted some valuable time ; but a man at twenty-six 
 is not yet old, and may still hope for better days. 
 " Father will grind me to the earth for it, but I shall 
 be more of a man under his heel than I am now as a 
 figure-head in Randall's office. As for mother" 
 This was a sentence he had never been able to finish. 
 He left it like a serial story, to be continued. 
 
 They were travelling over a pleasant road, bordered 
 by white birches, willows, and alder-bushes, and were 
 approaching a small white schoolhouse which stood 
 blistering in the sun. 
 
 " I taught my first school here, oh, so long ago !" 
 said Miss Searle with a playful sigh. 
 
 " It was built near that birch grove, so it would be 
 handy for her to send out after switches," explained 
 Ozro to Mr. Kirke ; " but, I'm sorry to say, she had to 
 be fined for whipping the children too hard." 
 
 Here he fell into contortions of mirth at the absurd 
 ity of the idea. 
 
 " It was the summer before I met you, Theodate," 
 continued Miss Searle, in a reminiscent tone. " I was 
 a little girl of fifteen, and had just gone into long 
 dresses, and was full of poetical fancies. I wonder if 
 they've taken down a wreath of immortelles I hung on 
 the wall. It was still there when I peeped in last 
 year." 
 
 Unfortunate remark. Ozro at once seized the reins 
 and stopped the horses, exclaiming, " Let her out, let 
 her out." And, quite unexpectedly to themselves,
 
 DRONES' HONEY, 141 
 
 Miss Searle and Mr. Kirke were left standing together 
 by the roadside ; while Ozro drove on at a furious rate 
 with Miss Wilder, despite her threats and protestations. 
 The situation was a trifle awkward for the deserted 
 ones, though they made as merry over it as they could. 
 
 "At least, you can peep in at the window now," 
 said Mr. Kirke, mentally wishing he had in his hand 
 one of the birch switches Ozro had been discoursing 
 of, and could apply it to his saucy young shoulders. 
 
 They did peep in through a very dirty window, and 
 beheld for their pains an empty schoolroom, left an 
 hour ago in rude disorder, and a smoke-stained wall, 
 on which hung the ambitious, but dry and dusty, motto : 
 Ad astras. 
 
 " There it is in its fadeless glory. What a silly child 
 I was! " exclaimed Evelyn. 
 
 " What is it made of, immortelles? " 
 
 "Yes; and don't you detest them? Such juiceless 
 flowers. Can you see why people should use them as 
 an emblem of immortality?" 
 
 " No : they are a dreary mockery of it to me. They 
 do not remind me of heaven, but of Nirvana," said Mr. 
 Kirke, trying the window to see if he could raise it. 
 
 "Think of dragging out a stupefied, stifled eternity 
 on a schoolhouse wall," said Evelyn. "Wouldn't 
 you rather be a wholesome, homely hollyhock, to grow 
 old and die when your time comes? " 
 
 " Perhaps so; unless I were granted the consolation 
 of being set up by you in Latin." 
 
 Evelyn laughed. " I wonder I did not try Hebrew 
 or Sanscrit : it would have been still more imposing. 
 Dear me ; how proud I felt, sitting in that desk after
 
 142 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 school, stitching those letters on green cambric, with 
 the children watching me, so full of awe, and wonder 
 ing what it meant ! " 
 
 " I can imagine it," said Mr. Kirke, " and the guile- 
 lessness of your face. They must have adored you for 
 your humility as much as your learning. Will you give 
 me that motto, Miss Searle? " 
 
 " Not if you laugh at it." 
 
 "Oh, I'm deeply serious ! Here comes Ozro. Why 
 did you take the trouble to come back for us, Ozro? 
 We hoped you would be kind enough to let us walk 
 home," said Mr. Kirke, debating in his own mind the 
 feasibility of taking the lad one side at the first oppor 
 tunity, and giving him a wholesome shaking. But, 
 when Evelyn and Ozro reached the carriage, Mr. Kirke 
 was not to be seen. He had gone around to the back 
 side of the schoolhouse, climbed in at the open window, 
 and was capturing the coveted wreath of immortelles. 
 
 t Jt is mine, is it not?" said he, emerging with it 
 in his hand, and flipping the dust from it as he held 
 it up to Miss Searle's view. 
 
 " Why should it be yours? Did I give it to you? " 
 
 " Possibly not, in so many words ; but I have it by 
 right of possession, you see," entering the carriage 
 and coolly taking up the reins. 
 
 " To the robber belong the spoils," said Miss Wild 
 er. " But perhaps you'll tell us what you want to do 
 with this elegant trophy, Mr. Kirke." 
 
 '' Oh, merely to hang it up in my room at the Druid, 
 and admire it for its modest worth ! " 
 
 "A clear case of spoons," whispered Ozro behind 
 his hand to Miss Wilder, in a tone so audible that it
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 143 
 
 was only by a lucky accident that Mr. Kirke did not 
 hear it. 
 
 Miss Wilder made no response, but looked thought 
 fully at Evelyn's flushed and annoyed face, then 
 at her own folded hands, and remained silent for 
 some time. 
 
 The next evening had been appointed for a row on 
 the river ; and when they were all four seated in the 
 boat, advancing quietly up stream, Mr. Kirke said, 
 turning to Miss Searle, t; Do you know, my conscience 
 has been pricking me all day for that theft of yester 
 day." 
 
 ' ' Do you mean the motto ? I am glad you have a 
 conscience, Mr. Kirke." 
 
 " But, you see, I don't intend to give up such a fine 
 piece of workmanship after the great risk I ran to get 
 it." 
 
 " Then your repentance is not genuine." 
 
 " Oh, 3'es, it is ! I long to make reparation ; but can 
 you expect me to give up that motto, when I need it 
 for my moral improvement? " 
 
 " What's your reparation ? " asked Ozro. 
 
 Mr. Kirke produced something from his pocket, which 
 he placed in Miss Searle's hand. " A curious stone I 
 found last summer in Dakota, or that a friend of mine 
 found, who was with me." 
 
 She made an exclamation of delighted surprise, as 
 her eye fell upon it. It was a moss agate, about an 
 inch long and half an inch wide, with a pictured sur 
 face, so truly and cunningly fashioned by Nature that 
 it seemed a perfect work of art. It was a castle with 
 three towers, and a low wall in the rear, while beyond
 
 144 DROA T ES' HONEY. 
 
 was a sea-line distinctly defined. The castle was seat 
 ed on the brow of a promontory ; the view down the 
 side, in the foreground, broken into two distinct lines 
 of road, leading to the gates. All this in a combina 
 tion of colors so striking and beautiful, that it was 
 hard to believe it a work of chance. 
 
 "You are only jesting with us, Mr. Kirke. Now, 
 confess that some one painted this stone," said Miss 
 Wilder, as it passed under her inspection. 
 
 " Upon ray word, it has only been cleansed and pol 
 ished." 
 
 " O Ozro, do be careful ! " said Evelyn, as the lad 
 plunged the agate into the water and brought it up 
 dripping. 
 
 " Did you suppose I was going to let it fall? There, 
 take it, if you think I can't be trusted," dropping it 
 into her palm. 
 
 After another admiring look at the stone, Miss 
 Searle gave it back with a word of thanks to Mr. 
 Kirke. 
 
 " Why do you return it? It is not mine ; that is, if 
 you will condescend to accept it." 
 
 "You did not really intend to give this to me?" 
 exclaimed Evelyn, in some embarrassment. 
 
 "Oh, no! It's merely a barter. I hoped you might 
 accept it in exchange for the wreath." 
 
 " But this stone is so rare," said she, looking up at 
 him with a smile of hesitation. 
 
 " So is the motto." 
 
 " But the motto is not valuable." 
 
 " Why not, if I prize it? " 
 
 " I am on his side there, Evelyn," said Ozro, fear-
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 145 
 
 ful of being left out of the conversation. " He knows 
 what the}- are both worth to him, and you'd better take 
 the stone at his valuation." 
 
 " It isn't fair to tempt me," replied Evelyn, turning 
 instinctively toward Theodate, who had said noth 
 ing, but was regarding her with a sidewise look hard to 
 interpret. 
 
 " I think the gnomes intended this for one of your 
 sisters," added Evelyn | "'twould make her such a 
 pretty brooch." 
 
 Mr. Kirke bowed veiy soberly, and deposited the 
 bone of contention in his breast-pocket with a slightly 
 offended air, which did not augur well for any future 
 benevolence toward either of his sisters. 
 
 Miss Wilder roused herself with an effort: "Now, 
 Evelyn, you don't know but he will lose the stone be 
 fore he reaches Chicago. How could you let such a 
 beautiful thing go out of your hands?*" 
 
 Miss Searle laughed lightty, thinking perhaps she 
 had made an undue difficulty over a trifle. Mr. Kirke 
 saw his advantage, and was not slow to press it : so 
 it came to pass that the beautiful moss agate, half 
 against her will, went over to Evelyn's possession. 
 
 This episode, trifling in itself, made a marked im 
 pression upon Miss Wilder, who sat looking silently 
 down at the dark water. "Where doves are, doves 
 come," thought she. Gifts were always showering upon 
 Evelyn, unsought. Her friends seemed of one mind in 
 their desire to enrich her, as if unable to denj- them 
 selves so great a pleasure. Miss Wilder did not expect 
 such offerings herself, nor had she any mean envy of her 
 more popular friend. She was not thinking now so
 
 146 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 much of Mr. Kirke's gift, as of the soulful earnestness 
 that went with it. 
 
 " Where doves are, cloves come," she repeated, 
 gazing steadfastly into the water. "To him that hath 
 shall be given ; and I charge you to remember, Theo- 
 date Wilder, that it is all of the Lord. He oft'ers to 
 one a full cup, to another a scanty drop ; to one a 
 sweet draught, to another a bitter potion ; and who 
 is he that replieth against the Lord? " 
 
 " What do you see down there? " asked Ozro, lean 
 ing his head on his arm and staring down too, while 
 the iridescent drops trickled from his suspended oar. 
 
 Theodate made a laughing reply, not liking her 
 friends to think her dull. It chanced, however, that 
 Evelyn was thinking very little about her at that 
 moment ; and as for Mr. Kirke, she might have fallen 
 asleep, with her head inclining over the boat, without 
 attracting his attention. If an instantaneous photo 
 graph could have been taken of the minds of the 
 part}', the record might have read somewhat as fol 
 lows : 
 
 Miss Wilder (sadly but resolutely) : "Well, I have 
 to accept myself as I am : I can't make one hair white 
 or black." 
 
 Mr. Kirke (delighted) : " How gracefully she yielded 
 at last ! I'd be perfectly happy if it had been a set of 
 turquoise." 
 
 Miss Searle (fluttered) : " I think I never saw a 
 youug man with just that manner, so deferential and 
 courtly. There is certainly a charm in such a manner." 
 
 Ozro (flippantly): "There ought to be an asylum 
 for lovers. How much I stood from Fiske, and now
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 147 
 
 here's Kirke ! Hope I haven't got to follow 'em 
 round all summer ; but they seem to expect it." 
 
 " What wonderful shadows those trees give ! " said 
 Miss Wilder, breaking the silence. 
 
 " Almost tangible, as if }'ou had only to put out 
 your hand and grasp them," said Miss Searle. " The 
 illusion is very much like those memories of the past 
 that come before us with such tantalizing vividness 
 sometimes, the beautiful past, though it is out of our 
 reach forever." 
 
 "But you wouldn't live it over if you could, Eve- 
 lyn." 
 
 "Indeed I would." 
 
 "Then it is just possible you may," remarked Mr. 
 Kirke with a mysterious smile from under his hat-brim. 
 
 " Please explain." 
 
 " Why, the past is somewhere, Miss Searle. It is 
 not gone, that is, not gone out of the universe, 
 is it?" 
 
 She regarded him with a puzzled look. 
 
 " Events that are quite forgotten on earth may be 
 just looming up to view on one of the fixed stars, you 
 know." 
 
 "Provided they have suitable telescopes," struck in 
 Ozro. 
 
 " Well, but what have we to do with the fixed stars? " 
 asked Evelyn. 
 
 " Nothing, as yet ; but we may have a good deal to 
 do with them ages hence. They may be our future 
 homes, for aught we know," replied Mr. Kirke, who 
 enjoyed watching her face as a new idea swept swiftly 
 over it.
 
 148 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " Oh, I understand ! We may look down from those 
 awful spaces on this ' wild balloon,' the earth, and 
 see what happened a thousand years ago, as if it were 
 passing now. It will have just reached us. Is that 
 what you mean?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, I'm in for it," said Ozro. " Is that origi 
 nal, Mr. Kirke?" 
 
 "No," with a strong stroke of the oar. " I believe 
 the theory was offered forty years ago by some fanciful 
 Englishman." 
 
 " At any rate, it opens up a vista of strange specu 
 lation," said Evelyn dreamily. "Maybe the ideal is 
 just a hint of light from the future : who knows? " 
 
 " However that may be, I think we might get a 
 good moonlight view from the top of this hill," sug 
 gested Theodate. " Suppose we land and try it." 
 
 They beached their boat and sauntered up the bank, 
 Ozro wondering that Theodate should seize upon his 
 arm before he thought of offering it ; amused, too, by 
 the deferential manner in which Mr. Kirke assisted his 
 agile cousin, who never needed any help in climbing a 
 hill when she walked with him. 
 
 " I'm getting tired of this," thought the boy, yawn 
 ing. " Theodate doesn't take the least pains to in 
 terest me, and here are the other two dropping their 
 voices sometimes so that I can hardly catch a word. 
 They'd better be careful, or I shall cut them entirely."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 149 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Wilt thou m ix hellebore, who dost not know 
 How many grains should to the mixture go ? " 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 IT was the third day of a hearty rain, which, as Mr. 
 Crabtree said, " had broken the drouth, and would 
 prove an excellent thing for the fall feed." It was 
 Sunday evening, dark and gusty, and the lamps had 
 been lighted early at Violet Hill. There was also a 
 small fire upon the hearth, sending up playful tongues 
 of flame, as if not more than half in earnest, but mean 
 ing it chiefly for good cheer and fellowship. Miss 
 Searle had not been quite well for a few days ; but now, 
 declaring herself "much better of her poorliness," 
 had donned her white wrapper, and was seated in the 
 Elizabethan chair, with her little slippered feet upon 
 the brass fender, looking, so Rosa declared, " very 
 saintish indeed." Miss Wilder had been reading to 
 the invalid from Longfellow's " Golden Legend ; " but 
 now both the young ladies were chatting in low, pleas 
 ant tones, while Miss Searle held in her hand a bunch 
 of nasturtiums, and picked off one by one their orange 
 hoods. The kitchen-door was ajar; and they could 
 hear the faint " under-song" of the tea-kettle, mingled 
 with the monotonous sound of Rosa's voice as she read 
 aloud to herself a letter from Peter, who had gone to
 
 150 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 Bangor to buy a horse for his master. Rosa could 
 never " seuse " either a written or a printed page 
 unless she read the words audibly. 
 
 " Nature has been rather economical with that child 
 in the way of brains," remarked Miss Wilder, rising 
 to close the door. 
 
 " She is very proud of Peter's letter," said Miss 
 Searle, "and admitted to me to-day that she 'likes 
 him quite well ; ' though how much that means, I'm sure 
 I don't know." 
 
 " Nor does she know, poor thing. Isn't love always 
 a puzzle?" returned Miss Wilder, picking up a brand 
 and laying a fresh stick on the fire before she took her 
 seat again. 
 
 " Yet love is supposed to be a necessity of a woman's 
 life," said Miss Searle, watching the leaping flames 
 dreamily. 
 
 " Can 3-011 call it a necessity, dear, when so many 
 women live without it? " 
 
 "I suppose not; they get on so very comfortably, 
 too." 
 
 " Yes, apparently," said Miss Wilder, rising again 
 and going to the window. " I believe this is the clear 
 ing-off shower. A love that is perfect and satisfying, 
 Evelyn, do you believe it is common? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! Nothing perfect is common in this world. 
 Doesn't it seem as if half the married people we see 
 are making pitiful attempts to keep up appearances ? 
 But then," added Evelyn with sudden humility, " what 
 do 3'ou and I know about it, who only look on from the 
 outside, we, the unchosen ones?" 
 
 " TFe, the unchosen ones ! The sweet little hypo-
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 crito," thought Miss Wilder grimly. Then aloud, 
 " Evelyn, when I think of Joe Fiske, and how he tried 
 to call you down to him, I have no patience with his 
 presumption. But if some one else, if " : 
 
 It was not common for Miss Wilder to talk so dis- 
 jointedly ; and Miss Searle asked, "What do you 
 mean, Theodate? " as the sentence still hung in the air. 
 
 " I believe it is this howling wind that makes me so 
 nervous," said Miss Wilder. " I hope 1 don't remind 
 you of that partially insane lawyer we were talking of 
 yesterday, who felt constrained to whirl around three 
 times before he could sign his name." 
 
 Here she sprang up, and set her chair against the 
 wall. "But what I was trying to say was this" 
 Another pause. "If the time should ever come, Evelyn, 
 when you feel that some one else is more to you than 
 I, let all our protestations be forgotten, let them die 
 like empty breath." 
 
 "Why, Theodate, what has come over you? I've 
 certainly given you no cause to say any thing like 
 this," protested Evelyn, grieved and amazed. But the 
 light falling on her face showed it curiously disturbed : 
 her mouth trembled, and there was a flash of some 
 sort of fire in her eyes. Was it the fire of righteous 
 indignation ? 
 
 That she considered herself indignant, there could 
 be no reasonable doubt. It was unjust and unkind in 
 Theodate to speak to her in this way. What had she 
 ever said or done which could bo construed into 
 disloyalty to this dearest and best of friends? If 
 Theodate meant Mr. Kirke as the "some one else" 
 who might possibly come between them, and Evelyn
 
 152 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 would not pretend, even to herself, that she did not 
 mean Mr. Kirke, why, it was certainly most indeli 
 cate in Theodate. A comparative stranger, a man 
 whom neither of them had seen or heard of two months 
 ago. A friendly person, to be sure ; an agreeable com 
 panion, who had made the summer very pleasant for 
 them both, but who would go home and forget them, 
 and probably never set foot in Narransauc again. 
 
 " O Theodate, you have wounded me to the 
 heart ! " said Evelyn, pinching the pungent nasturtiums 
 together, and casting them into the fire. 
 
 Theodate sheathed her sharp eyes, and turned away. 
 She would not embarrass her friend by seeming to 
 watch her face ; nor had she, indeed, the moral courage 
 for her own sake to look at it ; for a feeling of dread 
 was upon her, almost as if the curtain which hides the 
 future were about to rise. 
 
 "Well," thought she, "I did not do it well; but 
 it is done. I have said all I meant to say, and now 
 I'll leave the subject with her." 
 
 This was Mr. Marsh's favorite remark after an 
 exhortation ; and at that moment the mellow sound of 
 the church-bell fell upon her ear, reminding her of the 
 evening meeting, which she had not thought of attend 
 ing. But now the wild impulse came upon her to flee 
 abroad, and breast the storm ; for to remain within 
 doors seemed intolerable. "Evelyn, dear, if I've 
 been talking nonsense, it's because I've been in the 
 house all day, and that always makes me morbid, you 
 know : so now, even if it does rain a little, I believe 
 I'd better go to church." 
 
 " Why, Theodate, it pours."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 153 
 
 But she had already gone to the kitchen to look for 
 the lantern ; and Evelyn knew better than to waste 
 words on the strong-minded young lady, when her 
 resolve was once fixed. 
 
 "'My bonnie wee croodlin doo'," said Theodate, 
 setting down the lighted toy-lantern on the hearth, and 
 going up to Evelyn with a face full of motherly tender 
 ness, tinged with a little remorse, " you look pale and 
 worn. I know you'll be easier and quieter all alone. 
 Go straight to bed, won't you, dear." 
 
 " Yes, I will. Was there any medicine to be taken 
 to-night?" 
 
 "To be sure. How could I have forgotten?" said 
 Theodate, fastening her gossamer with fingers that 
 trembled from suppressed excitement. "Affection is 
 the sweetest blessing the Lord has to bestow ; and who 
 am I, to demand the best gifts v All there is for us in 
 this twilight world is to trust and be quiet," said she 
 to herself over and over, as a sort of panacea for 
 heartache, while she went to the little medicine-closet, 
 called the end cupboard, for Evelyn's powders. 
 
 It was time to be starting for church ; the way was 
 long, and the walking execrable : but it would not have 
 occurred to Theodate that any one but herself could 
 perform this little office for Evelyn. " Here, darling," 
 said she, re-appearing in the parlor with cup, spoon, 
 and glass of water, which she set on the mantel. " I 
 am getting it all ready for you ; but you needn't take it 
 till the last minute, just as you go to bed. Now, don't 
 forget." 
 
 "No, I'll not forget," replied Evelyn languidly, 
 feeling her own health to be a matter of supreme iudif-
 
 154 DROA T ES' HONEY. 
 
 ference since she had given it unreservedly into the 
 hands of this competent keeper. Theodate detested 
 drugs, and disapproved of Dr. Stone, yet very incon 
 sistently allied herself with the enemy by always 
 administering his doses ; though she did it under a 
 vigorous protest, which served to ease her own con 
 science of the burden of responsibility. 
 
 " There, I'm afraid 1 shall be late. Good-by, dear. 
 Be asleep before I come home," said she, dropping a 
 light kiss upon her friend's pale cheek, as she rushed 
 out of the room with impetuous haste. No one ever 
 called Miss Wilder " nervous." It was the last word 
 that seemed appropriate to a person of her remarkable 
 repose of manner. But there were times, as now, when 
 an acute observer might have seen in her face a tense 
 look, as if she were holding turbulent emotions in 
 leash, and dared not relax her grasp for an instant. 
 
 " I send my shout into the abyss, and no answer 
 comes back," said she to herself; yet her lips were 
 dumb, and she seemed to be pursuing her way in utter 
 calmness against the rain, which was pouring diagon 
 ally from the north-east, when not diverted by sudden 
 gusts to the west and south. 
 
 Mr. Kirke stood by the parlor window of the hotel, 
 gazing out into space. The night had shut down in 
 tensely dark in the tree-shaded village street ; and he 
 could see absolutely nothing except for the few lan 
 terns which winked sleepily here and there, revealing 
 glimpses of the men who carried them, and of the mud 
 and water they were wading through. 
 
 " That lady looks verj T familiar to me," thought he, 
 watching a lonely figure making its difficult way down
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 155 
 
 the street. A sudden gleam of light fell upon her pale, 
 resolute face. It was Miss Wilder. What had called 
 her out in this storm? He remembered then that the 
 bell had rung for church, and exclaiming, " I'm going 
 with her." rushed for hat and umbrella, glad of any 
 sort of diversion, even in the teeth of the tempest, after 
 two hours' attendance on cross Tom. Miss Wilder 
 was glad to see him, or said she was. 
 
 " What a long, long, weary day it has been ! I staid 
 at home reading till my mind feels perfectly extin 
 guished, like the clinkers in old coal," said she, accept 
 ing Mr. Kirke's arm, and yielding him the lantern. 
 She was nearly breathless with her long, hard buffet 
 against the wind, and it was a relief to know she would 
 not have to return alone. 
 
 " How is Miss Searle? " 
 
 ' l Better, in spite of Dr. Stone." 
 
 " What, she has not been ill enough to consult him ? " 
 The tone was so full of real concern that Theodate 
 wondered to herself mischievousl}* how the J'oung man 
 would bear it to be told that Evelyn's case had been 
 considered grave enough to call for some of the strong 
 est drugs. He did not know, perhaps, that it was Dr. 
 Stone's way to resort to them on the slightest provoca 
 tion. 
 
 "Do you approve of Dr. Stone?" she asked ab 
 ruptly. 
 
 " I hardly know him. He is kind enough to allow 
 me a corner in his office, to look over his books ; but 
 he is seldom there himself." 
 
 " I am glad of that, for he might contaminate you 
 with some of his obsolete notions ; but his books are
 
 156 DRONES^ HONEY. 
 
 probably no worse than other people's. I think you 
 are pretty brave," she added, " to take up this new 
 study simply because you were made for it. That is 
 going straight to the heart of things in a way people 
 in general won't understand. What do you suppose 
 they will say to you for dropping a certainty for an 
 uncertainty?" 
 
 " They will say precisely what the}* please, Miss 
 Wilder; they usually do." 
 
 " Then you don't care. I thought you wouldn't." 
 
 " The hardest foes I shall have to meet will be those 
 of my own household," pursued the young man, with 
 a pugnacious clutch of the umbrella handle; "espe 
 cially my father, who will be likely to cut me off with 
 a shilling." 
 
 " Do you mean it, Mr. Kirke? " 
 
 "Yes; I shall be greatly surprised otherwise. He 
 has always wished to order my life for me. He has 
 never learned the art of letting me alone." 
 
 Miss Wilder was struck by the hardness of the 
 tone. The words seemed almost to come through 
 closed teeth. 
 
 " Did you ever hear of ' malignant kindness ' ? " he 
 asked with a forced laugh. " Yet he is one of the 
 best of men. The truth is, I am the only son, and 
 have been a means of discipline to him all along. 
 The hold he has had on me has been entirely through 
 my mother, and he knows it.'" 
 
 There was a long pause. "When I am a famous 
 physician, Miss Wilder, with a trans- Atlantic reputa 
 tion, you will remember that I owe it to you and Miss 
 Searle/'
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 157 
 
 "Yes, I'll remember," said she, wondering rather 
 bitterly what Miss Searle had had to do with it. It was 
 she alone who had spoken to him on the subject, yet 
 this he seemed entirely to forget. And why should 
 she care? He was not the only person who had felt 
 her influence without recognizing it, nor was this the 
 first time she had been dropped out of notice where 
 Evelyn was concerned. 
 
 " Evelyn is a sun, and all things revolve around her ; 
 while I am only a moon, shining by reflected light, 
 and giving no warmth that one perceives. Ah, well, 
 the moon has her quiet use, for all that, her small 
 place in the universe ; I hope the insignificant creature 
 knows and is glad she can control the tides, whether 
 the ocean ever thanks her for it or not." 
 
 It was with these and similar reflections, by no 
 means appropriate to the time and occasion, that a 
 little later on Miss Wilder sat in church looking over 
 the hymn-book with Mr. Kirke. It was a wild impulse 
 that had sent her forth that evening, and the turbu 
 lence had not yet subsided ; but ah, if she had known 
 what was passing all the while at Violet Hill ! 
 
 Aunt Ann Searle was sitting quietly in her library 
 reading, her husband reclining on the sofa, the rest of 
 the famih" chatting in the parlor ; when Rosa burst in, 
 wringing her hands, and crying out to them both to go 
 home with her and see what had happened to Miss 
 Evelyn. In trying to come out of her room a few 
 moments before, she had fallen to the floor insensible ; 
 and Rosa, all alone with her in the house, had dragged 
 her back to her bed, and managed to lift her upon it. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Ozro? Send him for the doctor,
 
 158 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 and you come quick. Come, come, come," wailed 
 Rosa, clutching at Mr. Searle's dressing-gown, as if 
 her entreaties were needed to move him. And, though 
 he and his wife set forth in all possible haste, the girl 
 lingered not a moment, but saying, " I'm going for 
 Miss Date," darted headlong into the darkness. 
 
 When the Searles reached Violet Hill, they found 
 Evetyn lying where Rosa had left her, utterly sense 
 less, but with a flushed face and fearfully labored 
 breath. Several of the neighbors were in the house, 
 having been startled by the incessant screams of 
 Rosa, as she tore madly down the hill. No less than 
 three boys had been despatched for Dr. Stone, and 
 one for Dr. Cargill of Latium ; and meanwhile all was 
 confusion. Everybody was running up or down stairs, 
 begging of somelxxly else to be told what to do. 
 
 " A hot foot-bath and hot soapstones ! " cried one. 
 " It is apoplexy." 
 
 " No, no ! Fan her, fan her! It's syncope," cried 
 another. 
 
 "Oh, wake her! do wake her!" begged a third. 
 "It's catalepsy." 
 
 " You're all wrong," said her uncle, with glaring 
 eyes bent upon the lifeless figure : " it's poison." 
 
 Horrible words ! Absurd ! Incredible ! Yet Mr. 
 Searle had no sooner spoken, than a conviction flashed 
 on everj' mind that he was right. A cup, spoon, and 
 glass stood upon a light stand near the bed, till this 
 moment quite unnoticed. But now all eyes were 
 turned to these mute objects ; they had suddenly as 
 sumed a terrible significance. Wild thoughts surged 
 through the brains of Mrs. Crabtree, Mrs. Simpson, and
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 159 
 
 old Mrs. Putnam, which they would not have uttered 
 aloud for worlds. Thoughts like these : 
 
 ' ' Could Theodate have done it ? She had such a dark 
 complexion, almost like an Indian. She loved Evelyn 
 as she did her life, or pretended to : how did you 
 know? Or there might have been a quarrel. But, oh, 
 to think of it, killing her friend and benefactor, the 
 beautiful, innocent Evelyn, and then running away ! 
 Her running away was certainly very much against her." 
 
 " I suppose this is her regular medicine? " spoke up 
 aunt Ann Searle, taking the cup in her hand, and hold 
 ing it critically to the light. "Theodate will be here 
 in a few minutes, and then we shall know what it was. 
 There has been some frightful mistake." 
 
 "Where is the doctor?" cried one and another. 
 " If he should be laid up now, I'd never forgive him." 
 
 There were one or two medical works in the library ; 
 and Mr. Searle and Mr. Crabtree seized upon them as 
 a forlorn hope, turning to this, that, and the other 
 antidote for poison. But which antidote would meet 
 this unknown case? Had she swallowed opium, strych 
 nine, or arsenic. Who could tell? And would the 
 doctor ever come ? 
 
 Hot and cold remedies were applied, and the win 
 dows raised. The patient was kept constantly in 
 motion. There was no change, except that the breath 
 seemed farther drawn and more difficult. 
 
 Would the doctor never come? 
 
 Yes ; here he was at last, driving up with despera 
 tion. Long as the delay had seemed, he had wasted 
 not a moment on the road, though none of the mes 
 sengers had told a coherent story. He had not the
 
 160 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 usual appliance for poison, a stomach-pump, and 
 bad telephoned to Latium for one. 
 
 " I know no more than the rest of yon what has 
 been given to her," said the old doctor with dreadful 
 candor, "and I can't say whether I'm too late or 
 not ; but all of you leave the room but the Seaiies. 
 We will do what we can with hypodermic injections of 
 brandy ; and God help us." 
 
 The neighbors, their number constantl}* increasing, 
 paced the rooms down-stairs, their hearts sinking 
 again ; for Dr. Stone's manner, far from re-assuring, 
 had filled them with even deeper despair. u That dear 
 girl, that sweet girl, oh, we can't let her die ! " And 
 one woman related to another, with falling tears, some 
 story of Evelyu's wonderful goodness to her or hers, 
 which rendered it highly improbable to her own mind 
 that so angelic a being would be permitted to die. 
 
 "Oh, but she's wanted in heaven, you may depend 
 upon it ; and that's what frightens me ! " said the timid 
 dressmaker, wiping her eyes. 
 
 "We don't know any thing about that: it's the 
 Lord's business," said the milliner, in a rebuking 
 whisper ; for no one ventured to speak aloud. 
 
 " Well, the Lord doesn't willingly afflict the children 
 of men ; I pin my faith on that," said Mrs. Crabtree 
 with an outburst of sunn}' piety, clouded immediately 
 by the darker views of Mrs. Putnam, who reminded 
 her that the Lord moves in a mysterious way. " Didn't 
 he allow Lincoln to be assassinated, and Garfield? " 
 
 Here Miss Wilder 's voice sounded in the hall, as she 
 rushed in, in advance of Mr. Kirke. No one had ever 
 seen her face otherwise than colorless before ; but now
 
 DRONES' HONEY. l6l 
 
 it was deeply flushed, even to the eyeballs, which 
 seemed on fire with inward heat. 
 
 "What is it? Where is she? "she cried. "Get 
 me the box." And on she sped breathless through the 
 crowd, which made way for her; and reaching the 
 mantel, on which stood the little box of powders, she 
 seized upon the box in a sort of fury. "Gray powders, 
 white powders ; look quick, Mr. Kirke, for Heaven's 
 sake, quick. Is there a gray powder in that box?" 
 
 She spoke with great difficulty, her hand pressed 
 upon her side. Mr. Kirke opened the papers one by 
 one ; there were three of them, of equal size. " These 
 are all white," applying one to his tongue; "I think 
 they are calomel." 
 
 "Then I gave her the atropine," gasped Theodate 
 with a dry sob, clutching Mr. Kirke fiercely by the arm. 
 " I have killed her ! I'm a murderer ! I've killed her !" 
 
 "Hush, child. There, there; hush, child. Who 
 knows but we can save her yet ? ' ' said Mr. Kirke 
 soothingly. 
 
 He understood it all. She had explained on their 
 way home that a paper of atropine had been lying 
 on the cupboard shelf, from which she sometimes gave 
 Evelyn minute doses ; and to-night she had inadvertently 
 taken up the atropine first, but immediately returned 
 it, as she supposed, to the shelf. She remembered her 
 own agitation, her impatience to be gone ; no doubt, in 
 her haste, she had put the atropine into the box, there 
 must have been at least half a grain of it, and out 
 of the four papers lying there, Evelyn had chosen the 
 fatal one. Theodate was aware of the deadly nature 
 of the drug ; she knew there was small hope of the 
 dear girl's life.
 
 1 62 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " The less hope, the more faith." 
 
 KlNGSLET. 
 
 " The greatest prayer is patience" 
 
 BUDDHA. 
 
 rpHEODATE flew up-stairs with Mr. Kirke. Thank 
 J- God, there was a sound of breathing yet ! With 
 a cry of, " Oh, my love, my blessed dear ! " she threw 
 herself on the bed beside her friend, clasping her with 
 both arms, and pressing her hot face against the sense 
 less cheek. 
 
 Yet she lost not a word or motion of the dark group 
 about the bed. She heard Mr. Kirke's word "bella 
 donna," and the doctor's rapid question, "Do you 
 know what you say? " 
 
 41 Yes ; have you tried the antidote, morphine? " 
 
 44 No, good heavens ! I've been working in the dark. 
 Is there morphine in the house, liquid morphine? " 
 
 "There is," replied Miss Wilder, flying out of the 
 room and returning with a little phial, thankful for 
 once that the end cupboard contained a murderous drug. 
 There was silence as Dr. Stone carefully measured out 
 a portion of the liquid into the tiny silver syringe and 
 applied it to her arm. Then in an excited tone to Mr. 
 Kirke, 
 
 41 If my stomach-pump had only been in order !
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 163 
 
 I depend on Dr. Cargill to bring one ; and I give him 
 half an hour, from the start, to get here." 
 
 ' ; And what if he should fail us ? " thought Theodate, 
 her glance sweeping by Dr. Stone, and resting with 
 fearful eagerness upon Mr. Kirke. The young man 
 was gazing intently at the mute figure hovering uncon 
 sciously between the two worlds. His expression was 
 one of deep solemnity and awe ; but, beyond that, Theo 
 date could read nothing. His face was on guard, and 
 evidently he did not mean to meet her eye. But even 
 from this very neutrality and reticence, Theodate gath 
 ered a faint hope. 
 
 " All is not over, or he would give some sign. He 
 could not look like that, for he loves her," she thought. 
 
 " Brandy," said Dr. Stone, in a low, sharp tone. 
 
 And aunt Ann, with steady hand, refilled the tiny 
 syringe ; then resumed the monotonous motion of the 
 fan. Not for an instant had she or her husband or 
 the doctor remitted their arduous efforts ; yet Dr. 
 Stone, who stood sentinel over the patient's pulse, 
 could see no improvement. 
 
 "A little quieter just now, breathing easier," had 
 been the answer once . or twice to the messengers who 
 came to the door. But there was despair in Dr. Stone's 
 eye, as he motioned Mr. Kirke to come forward and 
 apply his finger to the delicate wrist. It was then, 
 perhaps, that the full terror of the situation was re 
 vealed to the young man. How could blood course 
 through mortal veins with such terrible speed ? It was 
 like the mad rush of a swollen cataract, like the incon 
 ceivable velocity of globes of fire-mist whirling through 
 space. And then suddenly, without the slightest warn-
 
 1 64 DROXES* HONEY. 
 
 ing, the infuriated tide would come to a dead stop, 
 freezing his heart with terror ; till just as suddenly it 
 would begin again its frightful race. The speed was 
 actually increasing, the respiration growing less fre 
 quent, unconsciousness more profound, the face assum 
 ing a deeper hue of purple. 
 
 " Is there a chance?" asked the doctor, turning to 
 his student with an appealing look which would have 
 been absurd at a less serious moment, but was now 
 appalling, as it implied that his own skill was ex 
 hausted, and all hope gone unless this young tyro, 
 who had not yet learned the alphabet of medical sci 
 ence, might perchance by a lucky hit evolve some 
 scheme for saving the dying girl. 
 
 For a second Mr. Kirke stood speechless, while the 
 eyes of all the four attendants were fastened upon 
 him by a common impulse, as if on his untried skill, 
 his mere mother-wit, hung the momentous issue. " Try 
 oxygen," said he tentatively. 
 
 "Oxygen? " 
 
 " Yes. I brought a rubber bag of it to your office 
 yesterday, ready for use. Shall I go, or you? " 
 
 " I. Do you take my place," exclaimed the doctor 
 with a flash of reviving hope, and hurried down-stairs 
 to his gig. 
 
 It was easier to go than to stay. 
 
 After this, until his return, the minutes were hours. 
 Theodate held the fan, and waved it incessantly, 
 though scarcely taking her eyes from the little lever- 
 clock on the mantel, whose minute hand seemed par 
 tially paralyzed, scarcely able to creep around its 
 narrow circle.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 165 
 
 The storm had ceased ; the moon was breaking 
 through the clouds, and now looked in at the window 
 dispassionatel} 7 , like the Brahmin's god, to whom life 
 and death are equal. Mr. Kirke had assumed Dr. 
 Stone's place, holding the same strict watch over the 
 patient's pulse, as if watching could avail ! and 
 uttering no word beyond the occasional demand for 
 brandy or morphine. What were his thoughts, none 
 could tell. But once or twice a convulsive shudder 
 crept over him ; and great beaded drops gathered, and 
 fell unheeded from his brow. 
 
 In the deep, awful hush of that room, God knew 
 that every breath of those waiting friends was a 
 fervent prayer. In Benjamin Kirke's soul, the prayer 
 took the form of a vow: " Strong Son of God, im 
 mortal Love, give back this waning breath, and I vow 
 my life to thee." 
 
 " Be merciful to me a sinner," implored Theodate, 
 with the anguish of unspeakable remorse. 
 
 If Evelyn should die, could she, a murderer, permit 
 herself to live? She thought of the stern old Romans, 
 who had not scrupled to seek death for a far lighter 
 cause than hers wo - \ld be ; and then she rebelled wildly 
 against the Christianity which would not permit her 
 to court the same relief. 
 
 The sound of wheels broke the silence. 
 
 Dr. Cargill entered the chamber with a delusive look 
 of wisdom which gave a moment's hope. But, alas, 
 he had not brought the expected instrument ! He had 
 come all the waj r from Latium to say that it was 
 broken, and that he did not know what could possibly 
 be done without it.
 
 1 66 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 He was deeply regretful, adjusted his spectacles 
 thoughtfully, looked at the patient, and, not forget 
 ting to be technical, pronounced the deep color " cya- 
 notic ; " but this, which was all he could do, was 
 but idle mockery to the watchers by that bed. And 
 Theodate, in the midst of her anguish, was stirred by a 
 dull feeling of impatience and contempt. 
 
 Yet the man was certainly not to blame. He fell in 
 at once with the idea of the oxygen experiment. It 
 was worth trying, he said ; though, as a conscientious 
 physician, he would hold out no assurance of success. 
 
 By the time Dr. Stone returned with the apparatus, 
 Evelyn's respirations were only four to the minute. 
 She was so evidently sinking that the two physicians 
 exchanged solemn glances, which seemed to say, " It 
 is a foregone conclusion ; still we will administer the 
 oxygen, to satisfy the friends." 
 
 " How long will it be before we can see any effect? " 
 asked Theodate ; her glance, as usual, ignoring the 
 doctors and resting on Mr. Kirke. 
 
 "At least an hour," was his repby. 
 
 Theodate hurried out of the room. She could bear 
 this slow torture no longer. On the stairs she found 
 Rosa, who was hysterical unless kept busy, and ap 
 pointed her a messenger to hear and report every five 
 minutes the progress of the experiment. 
 
 "No worse, a bit better," were the bulletins. 
 Later: " They can't tell till midnight. If she's alive 
 then " And again the girl broke into wild laughter. 
 
 Midnight came at last. Theodate had been stand 
 ing in the hall a quarter of an hour watching the tall 
 eight-day clock, which had always seemed like a living
 
 DRONES' HONEY. l6/ 
 
 presence in the house, and which Evelyn wound every 
 Sunday morning as regularly as the morning came. 
 To-day, perhaps for the first time since her father's 
 death, she had forgotten her task ; and, though the 
 ticking of the clock still went on, it was growing every 
 moment fainter, or was this Theodate's fancy ? And 
 now on the stroke of twelve it hesitated, caught its 
 breath, seemed undecided whether to finish ringing out 
 the hour or to relapse into silence. Theodate listened 
 with a superstitious thrill. "If it stops now, there is 
 no hope for Evelyn," she said to herself, and began 
 with nervous haste to wind up the striking-weight. 
 The faithful old clock rallied, new life inspired its 
 lungs ; and clearly, distinctly, with no uncertain sound, 
 it rang out nine, ten, eleven, twelve, every note a peal 
 of joy to Theodate's heart. 
 
 "Alive yet, but very weak. If she can possibly 
 survive till two o'clock, we may hope," was now the 
 message from little Rosa, too worn out and perplexed 
 for either laughter or tears. 
 
 Hope ! " Despair is a free man, Hope is a slave," 
 says the Koran, that strange medley of Judaism and 
 Christianity : meaning probably that real Despair is not 
 tortured by fluctuations, but lies stern and silent in the 
 darkness ; while Hope creeps in, timid and faltering, 
 afraid of its own shadow. 
 
 Theodate went up-stairs now, dragging the chain of 
 Hope. Still that group of waiting figures about the 
 bed, silent save when some low order was issued by 
 one of the doctors. Two o'clock. 
 
 " Alive yet, thanks to the Searle constitution," cried 
 Dr. Stone radiantly.
 
 1 68 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " She has a nature of extraordinarily high potency, 
 or it would not have responded so readily," said Dr. 
 Cargill, indulging himself in grand words, which irri 
 tated nobody, for nobody listened. 
 
 All were watching the patient. Her respiration was 
 almost normal now, her natural color gradually return 
 ing. She made an ineffectual effort to open her eyes, 
 and soon fell into a quiet, refreshing slumber. 
 
 " Please the Lord, she's going to pull through," 
 said Mrs. Crabtree, who stood by the kitchen table 
 pouring her husband a cup of coffee, with something 
 that almost dared to be a smile. But the next bulletin 
 was less favorable. " Be not too sanguine," said Dr. 
 Stone, appearing in the kitchen at three o'clock for a 
 little needed refreshment. '"She has had a sinking 
 attack quite unexpectedly, and another may occur and 
 prove fatal." 
 
 From that time till five, however, the news was inva 
 riably good. Iii another half hour she had moaned, 
 joyful sound from lips that seemed closed forever, had 
 fully opened her eyes and gazed around. Life and 
 partial consciousness were returning to the benumbed 
 brain ; and Dr. Stone called Miss Wilder out of the 
 room, and announced to her with much feeling that 
 Evelyn was now out of danger. 
 
 "That is, with proper care," he added cautiously, 
 as if that could dishearten Theodate, or as if she 
 needed to be reminded of her duty. 
 
 She made no reply to the doctor in words ; but her 
 eloquent face said plainly enough, 
 
 " Don't yon know I would lay down my life for my 
 friend ? Have you lost faith in me because of my care-
 
 DROA 7 ES' HONEY. 169 
 
 lessness? Then so be it, good sir; but my own con 
 science stabs deeper than your words." 
 
 " Don't let her be excited. Don't tell her of the 
 belladonna. Lie to her, if necessary, but keep her 
 calm." 
 
 It may be that Dr. Stone was not unwilling to lecture 
 Miss Wilder. He had always considered her rather 
 "strong-minded;" and it is possible, too, that he 
 owed her a grudge for her slighting opinion of his 
 medical skill. 
 
 " I will remember," said Theodate, her eyes sinking 
 under his glance. 
 
 The neighbors all went to their several homes, rejoi 
 cing ; and aunt Ann, with the help of the joyful and 
 partially sane Rosa, had prepared an early breakfast 
 for the family. 
 
 Theodate went back to the chamber to summon Mr. 
 Searle and Mr. Kirke ; but the latter would not leave 
 his post beside the patient, who had fallen again into a 
 natural sleep. 
 
 " Very well," replied Theodate, dropping into a chair 
 by the window. 
 
 He had certainly saved Evelyn's life ; and, if he 
 wished to be the first person she should see on awaken 
 ing, who could wonder at it or deny him the privilege? 
 Not Theodate, humbled as she was by remorse. 
 
 " He would stand all day with that ecstatic look 
 on his face, and never know he was tired ; and yet he 
 is no happier than I. That is impossible. If I ever 
 forget the mercies of this night, may the Father above 
 forget me ! ' ' 
 
 The sleeper stirred slightly. At that moment it
 
 170 DRONES" HONEY. 
 
 occurred to Theodate that Mr. Kirke should have been 
 sent away. How disastrous it might be if Evelyn 
 should waken to her full reason and find him there ! 
 But it was too late now. She had opened her eyes, 
 blazing with unearthly splendor, but full of a strange 
 pathos impossible to describe. It was almost like the 
 startled, hunted look of some beautiful wild creature 
 pursued by its enemies. She gazed first at Mr. Kirke 
 in surprised recognition, as if vaguely wondering how 
 he happened there, though hardly caring to know. And 
 Theodate, why was she sitting in that chair, looking 
 like a phantom in a dream ? 
 
 It was of no importance, however. Phantoms are 
 not worth regarding. All one has to do is to close 
 one's eyes, and they will quietly steal away. Nothing 
 was of real interest to Evelyn except a peculiar sensa 
 tion of dryness in her tongue, a most absorbing experi 
 ence. It seemed to fill her whole being, and leave no 
 room for any other thought or emotion. Possibly 
 there was a remedy, if she could only think what it was. 
 
 Yes, she remembered now : it was water. It would 
 be a great effort to speak the word, but she must 
 try. Instantly, as her lips began to move, Mr. Kirke 
 had raised her head with the utmost gentleness, and 
 was bending over her with a glass of cold water, 
 fresh from the ancestral well. Nothing was ever like 
 it. Was it gold and silver and diamonds, all fused 
 together in one delicious draught? Or did it come 
 straight from the Pierian Spring? Only there was not 
 enough of it ; there never could be enough. Though 
 all the precious things in the world should flow forever 
 over her tongue, still she should forever thirst.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 171 
 
 She thought she would say this to Mr. Kirke, it was 
 something so very strange ; and then it occurred to her 
 that it would be unkind. He had probably taken infi 
 nite pains to provide a nectar worthy of the gods ; and, 
 unsatisfactory though it was, she must be grateful. 
 
 "Thank you," said she, looking up at him, and 
 summoning a smile which would have repaid him a 
 thousand-fold if he had dissolved- his whole fortune for 
 her in that brimming glass. 
 
 "It is good," said she sweetly; and then truth, 
 crushed to earth, rose again, as she added with a piteous 
 sigh, 
 
 "But it does no good. I want it always, more, 
 more, more ! " 
 
 Theodate came forward now ; she could not help it. 
 But Mr. Kirke need not have held up a warning finger. 
 She knew enough to keep back the tide of joy from 
 her face ; she could manage her looks at least as well 
 as he did, the beaming, blissful, beatified wretch ! 
 She spoke to Evelyn calmly, almost plaj*f ully ; kissed 
 her cheek, drew up the silken coverlet, and smoothed 
 the sheet over it. 
 
 " Good-morning, dear. I hope you have slept well. 
 Aunt Ann would insist upon coming up here to get 
 breakfast, so Mr. Kirke is going down now to eat it." 
 
 It was the first thing that occurred to her to say ; 
 but Evelyn revolved it in her mind, after they were 
 alone together, in a bewildrcd way. This was not a 
 dream. She was quite sure Theodate could not caress 
 her cheek with that palpable touch in a dream. No ; 
 nor would her hand tremble so, and feel so cold. 
 
 " Aunt Ann breakfast I don't understand."
 
 172 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " I believe Rosa did not sleep quite well : you know 
 Rosa is a queer child." 
 
 Evelyn was looking her friend full in the face now, 
 and there was the clear light of reason in her resplend 
 ent eyes. 
 
 " O Theodate, I have been ill ! " 
 
 "We thought so at one time, Evelyn. Yes, you 
 did seem ill. I fancy you had bad dreams. But you 
 are better now ; and, if }'ou want to please me, you'll 
 go to sleep. Won't yon try, dear? " 
 
 " I think I can never sleep again," replied Evelyn, 
 looking restlessly about the room. 
 
 Where was the glass of water that had tantalized 
 her so? 
 
 " Oh, thank yon, Theodate, thank you ! " said she, 
 feeling like the baked earth in a drought, but little 
 better for the rain. 
 
 And then her troubled eyes rested longingly upon her 
 favorite picture, which hung on the wall at the foot of 
 the bed ; a deep leafy forest, with harts slaking their 
 thirst at a brook among the cool shadows. Would 
 that she, too, could flee away and drink forever at that 
 running stream ! 
 
 "An empress, too," she murmured ; "unhappy crea 
 ture, drinking, drinking, drinking." 
 
 " Evelyn, those are deer. Look, and try to remem 
 ber." 
 
 The pathetic tone aroused her. 
 
 "Oh, yes! Ton painted that from a copy of the 
 picture in the chapel tomb of Galla Placidia. Still, 
 she was an empress," said Evelyn, rationally enough. 
 
 But next moment she was talking with strong ex-
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 173 
 
 citement and wild gestures about the silver-mounted 
 horses, and the chariots full of people, that passed in 
 review before her eyes. 
 
 44 Why do they come and come? Look at me, Theo- 
 date. Don't you see I am not delirious? " 
 
 44 Oh, any thing but that! " said Theodate re-assur- 
 
 "But what does it mean? I was never like this 
 before, to see visions coming like panoramas. But 
 I am not cheated by them. I can read between the 
 lines. Do you know," looking around fearfully, 44 it 
 does seem as if something has happened to me since 
 since What made you go away in the rain, Theo 
 date?" 
 
 44 What, indeed? How it did pour last night, Eve 
 lyn!" 
 
 44 Was it last night? And you say I was not ill? I 
 believe you, of course. How could I doubt you, Theo 
 date, of all the world? "
 
 1/4 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "A murd'rous f/vilt shows not itself more soon 
 Than love that would seem hid." 
 
 gUAKSPEARE. 
 
 ON the second day Evelyn was calmer. She felt 
 quite well, she said, though evidently depressed, 
 and was able to go down-stairs and sit in the easy- 
 chair by the parlor window. Theoclate had hardly left 
 her side since Monday morning, and looked strangely 
 wan and worn, as if years had passed over her instead 
 of hours. 
 
 " It refreshes me to get into our little world again, 
 where every thing goes on in the old way," said 
 Evelyn with a sigh of content. " It hasn't seemed 
 natural, Theodate, your sitting up-stairs without your 
 work, and waiting upon me so, when I'm quite well, 
 all but this odd feeling," she added. 
 
 She looked disturbed whenever she alluded to the 
 " odd feeling." 
 
 " Oh, why can't I tell her the truth, when I know it 
 would be the safer and wiser way?" thought Theo 
 date. "It is part of my punishment that I must obey 
 the orders of a doctor who does not know how to deal 
 with the minds of his patients any more than their 
 bodies. But here he comes now : I will not see him." 
 
 He dropped in by chance, so he said ; but as the
 
 DROA r ES' HONEY. 1/5 
 
 same chance had occurred twice 3 7 este/day, and he 
 was not in general a social man, Evelyn looked 
 thoughtful. 
 
 "Oh, yes, doctor, I am well, strangely well! But 
 something," here she lowered her voice tragically, 
 44 something has happened to me. Let me ask you 
 about it before Theodate comes back." 
 
 44 Tut, tut ! Don't be nervous, my child." 
 
 44 But, doctor, when I woke yesterday morning, I 
 found Theodate and Mr. Kirke both watching over 
 me, and looking, oh, I cannot tell you how they 
 looked ! but as if they were rejoicing, as if O 
 doctor, there were certainly tears in their eyes ! Tell 
 me, what had happened?" 
 
 44 Happened? Nothing that I have heard of," re 
 plied the old Jesuit, with a conscience void of offence. 
 41 If you had been sick, they would naturally have sent 
 for me, wouldn't they? " 
 
 "It was not that, doctor; Theodate assures me it 
 was not that." 
 
 She hesitated, and averted her 63*68. How could 
 she ask him if he had ever heard of a case of insanity 
 in any branch of her family? It was too horrible. 
 But something must have happened to her during that 
 blank in her life last Sunday evening after she went 
 up-stairs, something which nobody was willing to 
 speak of. Was it mere unconsciousness? She had 
 never been known to faint. Was it delirium? or, oh, 
 was it possibly madness? The doctor might clear up 
 this difficulty, if she could but ask the simple, dreadful 
 question. She looked out of the window, as if appeal 
 ing to the strength of the hills, and saw some one
 
 1/6 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 turning in at the path. It was Mr. Kirkc. She could 
 not have spoken another word now ; indeed, she was 
 trembling so much that the pink fan in her hand shook 
 visibly. But the doctor good, undiscerning soul 
 saw nothing of her agitation, congratulated her on 
 looking so well, and told Mr. Kirke, as he met him 
 on the piazza in going out, 
 
 " Our patient is all right, head clear, nerves sound 
 as a nut." 
 
 Mr. Kirke chose to judge for himself ; and he cer 
 tainly did not agree with the doctor, when he entered 
 the parlor, and " our patient " rose to greet him, with 
 a strikingly pale face, and something of the troubled 
 splendor of yesterday in her eyes. 
 
 But as she offered him her hand with a cordial, " I 
 am very glad to see you, Mr. Kirke," and he retained 
 it a little longer than usual, finding it hard to let it go, 
 her pallor gave place to a warm flush of crimson ; and 
 she went on with painful agitation, 
 
 "And will you pardon me if I talk to you rather 
 unconventionally? I must speak to some one; and 
 Theodate only laughs, and the doctor calls me ner 
 vous. But you will listen, I know you will, and 
 answer me, Mr. Kirke? " 
 
 "With all my heart," the young man replied ear 
 nestly, drawing his chair near hers ; but it is not to be 
 denied that he felt a slight chill of disappointment. 
 He had been greatly elated by her unusual and unre 
 served pleasure in meeting him ; and now it turned out 
 that any other person would have been equally welcome, 
 any one who would listen to her and not laugh. 
 
 But how beautiful she was, sitting so near him, with
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 177 
 
 the tender glow of the evening sky illumining her face, 
 that face on which the shadow of the long night 
 had so lately almost fallen ! If he had been a Roman 
 ist, he could easily have knelt before her, as before a 
 saint called back from the gate of heaven. He under 
 stood now this invocation of the saints ; it should be 
 henceforth a part of his religion. 
 
 "I feel so uncertain of myself," said Miss Searle, 
 clasping and unclasping her hands; "perhaps this 
 matter on which I am going to speak is rather too per 
 sonal, you are only a recent friend, Mr. Kirke ; but 
 you have been so good to us, that I hardly ever think 
 of you in that light. I forget that you have come into 
 our life so lately: it seems as if you had always been 
 here, as if we had always known you." 
 
 " Thank you for that, Miss Searle, for I know I 
 originated in Narrausauc ; my first incarnation was 
 here." 
 
 She laughed, and ventured to look at him. " At any 
 rate, you are my friend and Theodate's." 
 
 " Yes, you may believe that. And isn't that the right 
 sort of friendship, into which one can carry one's whole 
 nature without any reserves? If you hesitate to confide 
 in me, I shall think you count me less than a friend." 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Kirke ! It is only because I fear you 
 may not understand." 
 
 " Try me and see." 
 
 "Well, then, for the past few daj'S," her voice 
 faltered, but she forced herself to go on, "for the 
 past few days I have been in the most singular frame 
 of mind, Mr. Kirke." 
 
 A smile flickered about his mouth. He thought he
 
 178 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 could suspect, now, the mighty secret she was hying 
 to reveal. 
 
 " It has seemed to me, sometimes, that I was losing 
 my I will not say my reason, for that has been as 
 clear as ever but the control of my reason. I am 
 haunted by visions of ineffable beauty ; they actually 
 possess me, perhaps I should say obsess me, and I 
 can no more dispel them, than I can ' shoot the moon 
 with a silver arrow.' ' 
 
 "No?" sympathetically. 
 
 " Think of my will so powerless, like a ship sailing 
 wild ! " 
 
 " Did you never feel in this way before? " 
 
 " Never." She paused, waiting for her voice to 
 grow steadier. It was delicate in Mr. Kirke not to 
 look at her, she thought. " I bore it tolerably yester 
 day, for I often fell asleep; but to-day it is oh, so 
 wearisome ! " 
 
 " Are the visions still beautiful? " 
 
 " Not alwa3's." 
 
 " Grotesque, perhaps? " 
 
 "Yes, grotesque. But don't speak in that tone, 
 Mr. Kirke, as if we were discussing a mere question in 
 metaphysics. Can't you understand that this is life 
 or death to me? " 
 
 " My dear Miss Searle ! " 
 
 " Oh, you do not mean to be light ! I know you pity 
 me ; but, consider, what does it signify whether I see 
 angels or demons, when both are signs of a disordered 
 brain, when I am just as powerless over one as the 
 other?" 
 
 He would have interrupted her, but she went on with 
 the eloquence of despair.
 
 DROMES' HONEY. 179 
 
 " Think what it would be to you, Mr. Kirke, to lose 
 the empire of your mind, yourself dethroned, and 
 hordes of shadows, mere chaotic shadows, rushing in 
 wildly to take control." 
 
 " But, my dear girl ! " 
 
 " You, a rational being, at the mercy of an army of 
 ghosts! " 
 
 44 Miss Searle, may I talk to }*ou, and try to relieve 
 your mind? I do not like to see you tremble so," said 
 he, taking her hand quietly in his own. 
 
 She seemed scarcely aware of the movement, and 
 suffered it to lie there ; while she regarded him with 
 anguish in her face, and yet a dawning hope. 
 
 41 Oh, did you ever know a sane person afflicted so 
 before?" 
 
 44 Certainly ; these are opium fancies, my friend." 
 
 44 Now you are trifling with me, Mr. Kirke, for I 
 never took a particle of opium in my life." 
 
 4 ' Begging your pardon, Miss Searle, morphine was 
 given you last Sunday night." 
 
 She gazed at him with a look of puzzled terror. 
 There it was again, that mysterious blank in her 
 life. 
 
 " Oh, I must know about that! Tell me what hap 
 pened Sunday night." 
 
 "I will," he replied fearlessly, determined to brave 
 Dr. Stone's disapproval, and give her a hint of the 
 truth : any thing must be better than this groundless 
 agony. " There was a mistake made in your medicine, 
 Miss Searle ; you took belladonna, and to counteract 
 it morphine was required. So do not be anxious 
 another moment. Can't you see for yourself, that, with
 
 l8o DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 both those drugs playing upon your brain, 3-011 would 
 naturally be subject to hallucinations? " 
 
 " O Mr. Kirke, is that all, is that positively all? " she 
 cried, so immensely relieved to find her reason safe, 
 that she had no room for any other thought. " And I 
 shall soon be myself again ? ' ' 
 
 Mr. Kirke felt a profound satisfaction in watching 
 the happy play of her features, and seeing the frozen 
 terror melt into joy ; though at the same moment he 
 lost his hold upon the little hand, which she hastily 
 withdrew from his clasp, in some confusion. 
 
 "0 Mr. Kirke, if you had not told me, I don't 
 know what would have become of me ; it was very kind 
 of you to tell me. But Theodate" 
 
 " You must not blame her," he broke in, wishing to 
 end this colloquy as soon as possible. 
 
 " Oh, I do not blame her ! It was kind in her to try 
 to shield the doctor. It was rather strange the doctor 
 should have made that mistake; don't you think so? 
 Belladonna, did you say, Mr. Kirke ? Not belladonna ! 
 Why, it might have killed me ! " 
 
 She uttered the words without emotion, entirely un 
 conscious that she was speaking the literal truth ; but 
 as he looked into her dear, living face, and contrasted 
 it with the same face he had seen on that fearful night, 
 as senseless as the pillow it pressed, the soul gone out 
 of it, God only knowing whether it would ever return, 
 the image and the recollections that arose with it were 
 more than he could bear. He drew a deep, shuddering 
 breath, exclaiming involuntarily, "Merciful heavens! 
 I knew then how I loved you." 
 
 If the marble Clytie on the corner bracket had broken
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 181 
 
 into speech, it would hardly have startled Miss Searle 
 more than these words from Mr. Kirke, who, to say 
 the truth, was quite appalled himself. Of the making 
 of love, like the making of books, there is no end, 
 nor any end of methods and devices : but surely this 
 could not be called love-making ; this outbreak of feel 
 ing, without purpose or design, this merely instinc 
 tive cry of the soul. If any one had warned the young 
 man, five minutes ago, that he was in danger of such an 
 involuntary disclosure, he would not have believed it. 
 
 He was the last person to do an impulsive thing ; he 
 was slow, cold, deliberate, not like that fire-breathing 
 Joe Fiske, thank Heaven. He could be depended upon 
 to weigh a sentiment in the balance of judgment ; and, 
 if he should ever play the part of a lover, it would 
 be that of a philosophical lover, well-bred, sedate, 
 clear-headed ; choosing the proper time and season, 
 and by no means making the fatal mistake of speaking 
 too soon. This point had been settled long ago. He 
 was a person who shrank from the faintest semblance 
 of repulse ; he must be sure beyond the security of 
 other men, before he would bend his proud neck to the 
 yoke. 
 
 And now, what had he done? Why, it was only 
 yesterday that his own feelings had been revealed to 
 him ; and he knew no more about Evelyn's than about 
 the politics of the people in Sirius ; yet here, in a brief 
 moment of madness, he had staked all at one throw of 
 the die ! 
 
 If Evelyn had looked at him, which of course 
 she did not, she would have seen him blushing like a 
 girl, and dropping his head in his hands.
 
 1 82 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 She could not have spoken ; nor was there any thing 
 to be said, so far as occurred to her. He had asked 
 no question, urged no claim, made no plea ; he had 
 simply soliloquized into the air. 
 
 One does not know what to say to a soliloquy, or 
 how to answer a question that has not been asked ; and 
 Mr. Kirke ought to have understood her silence, would 
 have understood it if he had been the philosopher he 
 claimed to be. It was downright imbecility to fancy 
 she could be offended with him for making a bare 
 statement of facts, that called for no reply. 
 
 Where was his courage, that he did not go on after 
 this bold beginning, and draw her to the confessional, 
 and so make an end of it, like a sensible man? He 
 was not especially noted for humility ; what was there 
 in Evelyn Searle to unnerve him like one " chased by 
 the sound of a shaken leaf " ? 
 
 There may be some excuse for him in view of the 
 stress of feeling he had lately undergone ; and perhaps, 
 too, she seemed to him more like an angel brought 
 back from the portals of heaven, than like a mortal 
 woman to be wooed and won. But true it is that 
 there he sat, speechless and shame-faced ; and there 
 sat Evelyn, regarding the moon, quite oblivious of her 
 late escape from death, which indeed she had not 
 comprehended yet ; and there they might both have 
 remained to this day, if Theodate had not come in and 
 broken the spell. 
 
 At sight of her, Evelyn sprang up in relief, exclaim 
 ing, as if she had been thinking of it all the while, 
 though in truth it had quite gone out of her mind till 
 that moment,
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 183 
 
 "O Theodate, Mr. Kirke has told me the whole 
 story, about the belladonna and all ; and you didn't 
 mean I should know." 
 
 She spoke lightly, in her ignorance, and was not pre 
 pared to see Theodate grow so serious ; nor could 
 she in the least understand what the girl meant by 
 clasping her arms around her neck, with the tragic 
 cry, 
 
 " Say this minute you forgive me, dear." 
 
 Did she refer to the unaccountable lies she had been 
 telling? Lies are always atrocious, the whitest of them ; 
 but it was hardly in good taste to make a scene before 
 Mr. Kirke. 
 
 " Why, Theodate, don't," she implored with her 
 lovely, comforting smile. "I own I did feel a little 
 annoj'ed once or twice ; but knowing your motives 
 There, there, pray don't for a mere trifle like 
 that! " 
 
 "Do yon call murder a trifle?" laughed Theodate 
 tearfully. 
 
 Mr. Kirke interposed : " You perceive, Miss Wilder, 
 I omitted some of the particulars." 
 
 "Oh, of course! Why didn't I think? I am so 
 obtuse." 
 
 " What particulars, Theodate? " 
 
 " There, I shall have to tell her now. O Evelyn, 
 you'll try not to be excited, since it's all so happily 
 over? It was I who made the mistake with the medi 
 cine." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, I, Theodate Wilder ; not the doctor. Dense 
 as he is, he could hardly have blundered like that."
 
 1 84 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 "Oh, well, never mind!" replied Evelyn with an 
 other smile, bent upon solacing Theodate, who seemed 
 unduly sensitive over a small affair. "The doctor 
 gave me the antidote, and that made it all right." 
 
 " What, that man? Never! Not he ! " exclaimed 
 Miss Wilder vehemently ; "it was Mr. Kirke who 
 saved your life." 
 
 " Oh, was it like that? " murmured Evelyn, a shiver 
 thrilling through her whole frame. 
 
 She looked with dilating eyes at Mr. Kirke. She 
 was intensely, thoroughly alive now, grasping the truth 
 at last. And what soul would not be filled with awe 
 on finding it had drawn so near the borders of the 
 unseen world without a moment's warning or a con 
 scious thought? 
 
 " O Father, what is death? We sport at eve; 
 A playmate's lips grow pale, the game stands still, 
 He goes away in silence." 
 
 For a little while no one ventured a word. Mr. 
 Kirke withdrew somewhat into the shade, where he 
 could watch Evelyn without being seen, and felt in 
 wardly vexed with Miss Wilder for her ill-timed confes 
 sion. On general principles he had little patience with 
 people who speak unadvisedly ! 
 
 "And I did not know it," Evelyn was saying to 
 herself. "I should never have known it till I woke 
 on the other side." 
 
 The lace curtains stirred in a light breeze ; some 
 thing in the aimless motion fixed her gaze. She re 
 membered how those same curtains had stirred while 
 her mother lay dying.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 185 
 
 u I watched them theii ; they rose and fell like her 
 breath. She went away in silence, my blessed mother ; 
 and in silence I was going, too. How strange ! Yet it 
 is the way we all must go some day. AVas she hover 
 ing over me ? Should I have seen her if I had waked 
 outside?" 
 
 " I knew then how I loved you." Hush, those were 
 not her mother's words ! And Evelyn tried to think 
 how sometimes during the past year she had almost 
 longed to wake "outside" in light and freedom, 
 where she should see that angel face she had " loved 
 long since and lost awhile." 
 
 And now that she had been so near the joy, was she 
 sorry to have missed it? 
 
 No, oh, no ! She was too young for that ; life was 
 too sweet. 
 
 " 1 knew then how I loved you." 
 
 Why would those words insist upon returning, like 
 a ritouruelle? They were absurdly out of place just 
 now, amid her solemn, unspoken thoughts of the un 
 known. 
 
 Still, was love ever out of place? How could it be? 
 What has one to look to, here or beyond, but love 
 human or divine ? And behold a devotion all new to 
 her, a sympathy she never dreamed of, had gone side 
 by side with her down to the chill ford ; ay, and had 
 called her back as her feet were entering the dark 
 waters. 
 
 " It was Mr. Kirke who saved your life." 
 
 Wonderful ! How should she speak her gratitude ? 
 But still greater was the wonder of his love. She 
 could not choose but dwell upon it ; though she had
 
 1 86 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 no thought as yet of what it might involve to her or 
 him, or the faiutest sense of any personal responsi 
 bility in the matter. 
 
 "Evelyn," besought Theodate, "are you never 
 going to speak again? After all the trouble you have 
 given us, you bad little woman, and all the fright, you 
 might at least say something, I should think." 
 
 This serio-comic speech aroused Evelyn from her 
 re very. 
 
 "O Theodate!" bending with pity and contrition 
 over her friend, who sat on an ottoman at her feet ; 
 "O Theodate, how you have suffered! I am glad 
 for your sake that I lived." 
 
 Theodate answered in jest, sternly resolved not to be 
 tragic ; and Evelyn recovered herself, and tried to look 
 as if poisoning were a common experience : yet for all 
 that it was a most affecting scene, and Mr. Kirke felt 
 that he had no right there at such a moment. He rose 
 slowly from his chair, in doubt how to make his exit, 
 when Miss Searle extended her hand to him, 
 
 " Don't go, Mr. Kirke. You wouldn't go till I 
 have thanked you ? ' ' 
 
 Her voice was indescribably sweet ; and her eyes 
 blazed out radiant with a light that fairly dazzled him, 
 and seemed to fill the very room with ecstasy. Was it 
 all gratitude? She must remember the bold confession 
 he had just made : had it offended her, if she could 
 look at him like this? 
 
 He held her hand in a lingering clasp, but for a 
 moment dared not trust his voice to speak. He must 
 tear himself away ; to stay longer now was hardly the 
 way to justify her good opinion.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 1 87 
 
 " Good-night, Miss Searle. Good-night, Miss Wild 
 er. May I call again to-morrow? " 
 
 And only waiting for another enigmatical look from 
 Evelyn, he was gone. 
 
 But what right have any of us to reckon upon 
 to-uaorrow ?
 
 1 88 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " The Destinies ride their horses by night." 
 
 KORAN. 
 
 "T ET'S see. Your name is Kirke, Benjamin Kirke? 
 J-J Yes, I thought so. Kind of lucky you happened 
 over here in the nick of time so," said the telegraph- 
 operator, looking up from his table, and speaking 
 briskly through the open door. He knew Mr. Kirke 
 perfectly well, having received several telegrams be 
 fore to his address ; but this was an important one, 
 and he was glad to deliver it immediately. Moreover, 
 it was not of a pleasant nature ; and, being a kind- 
 hearted man, he liked to temporize a little in such 
 cases. It was not at all surprising that Mr. Kirke 
 should be at the station at that particular moment ; for 
 he often strolled in on his way to the doctor's office, 
 after an early dinner, finding a languid interest in 
 watching the coming in and going out of the trains, 
 which was the nearest approach to excitement of any 
 thing the little town afforded. 
 
 The telegraph-operator put his pen into a tin}' hole 
 in the inkstand, partly rose from his chair, with one 
 hand pressed upon the table, and seemed to expect 
 Mr. Kirke to come forward and receive the despatch ; 
 which he did most promptly. The ink was hardly dry
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 189 
 
 upon it, and it had not been placed in an envelope or 
 even folded. 
 
 CHICAGO, Sept. 5. 
 Father very ill. Come at once. 
 
 GEETKUDE KIKKE. 
 
 News like this is always a shock, come when it may ; 
 always, for the moment, incredible. Yet in some cases 
 we are able to say, upon reflection, "Wiry should it 
 have surprised us so much, after all? There were 
 reasons why it was to be anticipated." But no one 
 could say this in regard to such news from Judge Kirke. 
 No one expected any thing of him, but health and 
 strength and length of da} 7 s. He had never been 
 known to swerve a hair's-breadth from the most monot 
 onous well-being, to indulge in the slightest vagary of 
 the nerves, even to the extent of a mild headache. 
 Ben would as soon have felt anxious about the Egyp 
 tian obelisk as about his adamantine parent. 
 
 He read the despatch three times before he actually 
 had faitli in it. If it had only been his feeble mother ! 
 But unless the wires had gone mad, it certainly was 
 not his mother ; and it must be admitted that this, 
 even in his real distress, was a distinct relief. He 
 knew his mother's life hung by a thread, but the 
 snapping of that thread would have unmanned him. 
 
 He respected his father, and had a certain latent 
 affection for him, which now asserted itself with entirely 
 new force; yet if the worst should come, he was 
 very sure it would not, yet if it should, and his 
 father were not to recover, he could not look upon it 
 as his own so much as his mother's grief. He did not 
 think of himself so much as of her.
 
 190 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 Holding that message in his hand, and still poring 
 over it, a vivid impression came to him, such as he had 
 never had before, of the closeness and tenderness of 
 the marriage tie, of his mother's clinging trust in her 
 husband, her absolute dependence upon him ; and the 
 thought of her possible widowhood was a cruel stab. 
 
 " She will turn to me ; I will be her support," thought 
 lie, longing to take the gentle being into his strong 
 arms that moment, and shield her against the very 
 fear of ill. 
 
 He looked at the clock on the wall. It was usually 
 wrong. He took out his watch, which was always 
 right. He had not wasted a whole minute over the 
 despatch, yet there were not six minutes to spare before 
 train-time. How was he to get to the Druid, collect 
 his effects, and prepare for a journey ? It was not to 
 be done. But here, as it chanced, were the landlord 
 and Tom close at hand. 
 
 Nothing could exceed Mr. Simpson's devotion to 
 Tom, whom he jolted about the village in all weathers, 
 under the impression that fresh air was a panacea for 
 broken limbs. 
 
 Mr. Kirke went out to them, wallet in hand, and 
 made known the emergency. " You would not have 
 thought I had run away, Mr. Simpson, if you had not 
 seen me again?" 
 
 "You? You? Reckon I know when a man's to 
 be trusted," said Mr. Simpson, pocketing the offered 
 bank-notes with the air of disdaining this substantial 
 appeal to his good opinion. " I'm sorry enough for 
 your bad news, though ; and my wife, I know she'll 
 cry her eyes out to lose you. But you'll be coming 
 back right away, I hope? '*
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 191 
 
 " If I can," said Mr. Kirke sincerely, and turned 
 white to the lips. He had a reason for wishing to 
 come back, a strong reason ; and it pressed upon him 
 with prodigious force. But here he was, involved in 
 an inevitable network of fate, and could see at a 
 glance that the meshes were not going to yield to his 
 will. They would soon dissolve of their own accord ; 
 they would not hold him long, at the longest, so he 
 hoped. Yet when was he to see Evelyn again? When 
 could he learn from her own lips how she had borne 
 his stupid confession of last night? And what would 
 she think of his flight? 
 
 Wait, he would send her the telegram, and let her 
 see for herself what had called him away. Hastily 
 enclosing it in an envelope, with a pencilled word of 
 good-by, he intrusted it to Mr. Simpson's care. 
 
 " Keep up your courage, Tom. I'll see you again 
 in a few days," said he, stroking the poor fellow's 
 shoulder, as Tom looked up at him beseechingly. 
 
 Wasn't there something he could do for Mr. Kirke, 
 some little thing? He'd got so kind of used to him, 
 and knew where his things were, and all. 
 
 " Yes, I'll tell you, Tom, what you can do. You 
 know there's an old wreath in my room, on the wall, 
 and I happen to have a fancy for it. Just box it up 
 carefully, will you? " 
 
 " And send it after J T OU, sir? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; merely to save it from Nancy's broom ! I 
 expect to be back before long. And the machine, 
 Tom, that's yours for kindling-wood ; or, stay, you 
 can sell it to that tinman, Andrew ; I find he's sim 
 pleton enough to want it."
 
 1 92 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " What, not leaving us, Mr. Kirke?" said one and 
 another of the men about the station, with an appear 
 ance of regret. The Latium driver left his horses, to 
 advance and shake hands, and hoped they should see 
 him back again soon. It was evident that the}* had 
 all come to look upon Mr. Kirke as a resident. 
 
 The whistle sounded. " Good-by, Tom. Good-by, 
 Mr. Simpson. My regards to your good wife." 
 
 " Well, well, but she'll cry her eyes out," repeated 
 the old gentleman benevolently, with a parting wave 
 of his bandanna, feeling that he had paid the } T oung 
 man the highest of compliments, and hoping it would 
 cheer him on his way. 
 
 And so Benjamin Kirke was turning his back upon 
 Narransauc in this abrupt fashion ; and hours might 
 pass before the people at Violet Hill would hear of it. 
 
 The last face he saw at the station was that of 
 Jimmy Skillings, who wistfully threw a bunch of pan- 
 sies into the window. In response to the gift, Mr. 
 Kirke cast a silver dollar toward the donor, pretty sure 
 he would pick it up wherever it might chance to fall. 
 He felt a certain attraction toward the little ragamuffin, 
 as Miss Searle's protege; and besides, if the pausies 
 came from her garden, as he had good reason to sup 
 pose, they were low at any price. 
 
 " He is the roughest little gamin living; but Evelyn 
 seems to doat on him, as she does on ' all things, both 
 great and small, which suffer life,' " said he, placing 
 the pausies reverently in the buttonhole of his coat, and 
 looking back at the village whose outlines were slightly 
 blurred in a September haze. Was it becoming a little 
 nebulous already, this strangely quiet, dull village,
 
 DROA'ES' HONEY. 193 
 
 whose inhabitants seemed to live the dreamy life of 
 memory ? As the train passed a bend in the river, a 
 bird sailing overhead cast upon the smooth water so 
 clear an image of itself, that he queried for a moment 
 whether there were two birds or only one. 
 
 And next moment the river was gone, the pictured 
 houses were swept out of sight, and they were coming 
 in view of the mountains and Violet Hill. Whose 
 figure was that far away, by the sunny front-door? 
 It was clad in white, and must be Evelyn's ; and she 
 was certainly watching the winding train. With a joy 
 ful impulse, he took off his hat to her from the car- 
 window. She did not know it, but they were looking 
 toward each other ; and there was something in that, 
 even though the glances of both were lost in space, like 
 the smiles which angels lavish, perhaps, on blind, un- 
 recognizing mortals. 
 
 After this he sank back in his seat, and realized 
 that the summer was over. He remembered that he 
 had heard the crickets last night "singing spin, spin, 
 under the leaves, and by the well." It was the fifth 
 of September, and he had spent a long season at 
 Narransauc, and this was the end of it. He did not 
 care to look at the mountains, though they were to be 
 had for the asking : he was in no rnood for mountains 
 this afternoon. They recalled to him what might be 
 termed the Jehovah side of the Almighty, and sug 
 gested the inexorableuess of law ; and he shrank from 
 the thought of law, now he was about to meet the 
 workings of it face to face in a battle for life or 
 death. 
 
 He could not forget the errand which was calling
 
 I 4 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 him home ; but he tried his best to be an optimist, 
 drowning his fears as well as he could, by saying over 
 and over that his father was strong, and had perhaps 
 thrown off the ailment, whatever it might be, by this 
 time, and was calling Gertrude to account for wiring 
 Ben home so tragically for naught. Above all, he 
 would not think of the slight altercations he had some 
 times had with his father. Possibly he had been in 
 the wrong now and then, and there was a doubt 
 whether he had been always duly respectful. These 
 things do not look quite the same in the clear, unspar 
 ing light of an awakened conscience, and he really 
 dared not review them to-day. 
 
 As for dropping law for medicine, he was sure he 
 was right there, and whatever came should never regret 
 it. He saw now that he had meant all his life to do 
 this thing ; and his coming to Narransauc had onty 
 aroused the dormant purpose, and hastened a step that 
 was inevitable. But he would not say any thing about 
 this to his father while he was ill ; perhaps it was as 
 well not to mention it, at present, even to his mother. 
 
 But there was one thing he should say to his mother, 
 and he found great solace in thinking of it : he should 
 talk to her of Miss Searle. He knew how interested 
 she would be, and how pleased, like any girl, to hear 
 him say that Evelyn reminded him of herself, and that 
 it was this resemblance which had attracted him at 
 the first. 
 
 "I do not know how I shall describe her, except to 
 say she has sunshine in her hair and in her heart, and 
 a rare, fine face, ' a face to lose one's life for ; a}*, 
 and more, to live for.' No rhapsodies, I despise
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 195 
 
 them. I will be careful not to betra}- my real feelings 
 to mother; I'll wait for that till I've been back to 
 Narransauc and learned my fate." 
 
 He looked at the moment as if he had small fear of 
 his fate. At this distance from Evelyn, and no longer 
 oppressed by dumb diffidence, he carried a bold heart. 
 He reviewed her words and looks, and thought she had 
 given various slight, intangible signs which were very 
 hopeful. And the more he dwelt upon them, the more 
 hopeful they grew. True, he had no right to aspire to 
 such a peerless woman ; nor would he presume to do it 
 if she knew her own worth, which providentially she 
 did not. The most remarkable thing about her was 
 her humility, and this emboldened him. Then, too, 
 she was so charitable, kindly overlooking everybody's 
 shortcomings, even Joe Fiske's ; and, if she was so 
 gracious to poor Joe, what might she not be to a 
 person of really sound mind ; a young man, for ex 
 ample, who had tastes in harmonj^ with her own, and 
 was really capable of appreciating her, in fact, did 
 appreciate her to the very depths of his soul, and 
 had ventured to say so, but who had at the same time 
 the delicacy to refrain from pressing his suit till she 
 gave some response? 
 
 When Mr. Kirke's hopes had soared so high as this, 
 it was time for them to sink a little, as they did when 
 he called to mind sundry pin-thrusts Miss Wilder had 
 given him concerning idleness. Did Miss Searle dis 
 approve of him, too, in her gentle, pitying wa}*? He 
 threw up the window with a sudden feeling of oppres 
 sion. He had been a graceless idler ; he admitted it. 
 But a new purpose was stirring within him ; he was
 
 196 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 trying to reform, and she had seen that he was trying. 
 She might not consider him in every way admirable ; 
 yet was that the point, after all? Had he not read 
 somewhere, that " love does not ask for perfections, it 
 asks for its own "? If that is so, and he felt that it 
 must be so, the question was simply, Did they belong 
 to each other? And here his heart went up again at a 
 bound ; for what lover ever doubts his own intuitions 
 in this regard? Yes, they surely belonged to each 
 other; and, though she might not know it 3~et, the 
 knowledge would not fail to come. 
 
 It is noticeable in these ruminations, which lasted 
 through the whole journey, that he did not dwell upon 
 the fact of having saved her life. The scenes of that 
 terrible night were ever before him, but he never mag 
 nified the part he had played ; and, as for presuming 
 upon it as a passport to her favor, the idea was unim 
 aginable. Some young men might have reflected that 
 a young lady is naturally grateful for being rescued 
 from the grave, and that gratitude may lead to a 
 warmer sentiment ; but this would not have occurred 
 to Ben Kirke, or, if it had, he would have scorned him 
 self for it. He was not shrewd or calculating or mer 
 cenary ; he could not traffic in a sentiment. Besides, 
 what did he want of a sentiment that could be bargained 
 for? Away with a love that was not spontaneous. 
 
 He thought of Kate Stanley, and smiled to remember 
 that the time had been, and that only two months ago, 
 when he considered these things only matters of opin 
 ion and circumstance, when he challenged himself be 
 cause he could not be duly impressed by the suitable 
 young lady whom the family had ordained for him.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 197 
 
 Well, he knew better now. But Kate was a pretty 
 girl, a very pretty girl ; and, if he should meet her 
 to-morrow at his own house, he should not be annoyed 
 as heretofore, by her too evident admiration for 
 Lucy. 
 
 But now, after two nights spent on the train, here 
 he was almost at the station. They could not have 
 looked for him quite so soon, or they would have sent 
 the carriage. He entered a hack, and carefully avoided 
 thinking of his father. He assured himself that he 
 should probably be in Chicago only a few days, that 
 is, if all went well at home, only a few days just 
 now ; and then he would return to Narransauc for an 
 interview with Evelyn before beginning in earnest his 
 future studies, either in New York or Philadelphia. 
 He would go to Maine next week, yes, surely by the 
 last of the week. 
 
 He kept declaring this to his throbbing heart with 
 more and more emphasis the nearer he approached his 
 home. But what an endless distance it seemed from 
 the station ! He could not say he did not dread alight 
 ing from the coach. Ah, there was Caligula dancing 
 down the path to meet him ! 
 
 Good heavens ! what did he see fluttering at the 
 front door ? Not crape ? 
 
 " O Benjamin, my son, my son ! " said the pale little 
 mother, sinking into his arms as he entered the hall. 
 " Before the despatch reached you, it was too late."
 
 198 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " So Heaven but thy cup fill, 
 Be empty mine unto eternity." 
 
 R. \V. GILDER. 
 
 is one of the lost da3's," said Evelyn to 
 herself. "It looks back at me, and says re 
 proachfully, 'Why did you let me go?' : She was 
 in the garden, watching a gorgeous crimson and gold 
 butterfly, as it stooped to embrace a blossom of red 
 clover, hovered lovingly over it, and. then fickly flew 
 awa}\ The tender green ferns planted near the old 
 willow were neglected ; so was the waving grass with 
 its delicate, feathery top. No, back comes the but 
 terfly to kiss the grass ; it is the sweet clover-tops that 
 are neglected now, and the moon-faced daisies. One 
 can never predict of these airy, coquetting butterflies 
 where they will finally alight. 
 
 " I believe there is a faint shining at the tips of the 
 grass, the autumn-shine which usually comes toward 
 the last of September. I have hardly thought before 
 that the summer is really going ; it has been such a 
 short summer, so brilliant too ; and there has been 
 so much in it to divert one's thoughts. O Theo- 
 date ! " said she aloud, as her friend approached and 
 playfully threw a light shawl over her shoulders, " it 
 is not late enough in the season for shawls, I hope ;
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 199 
 
 or am I growing old, do you think, with a latent ten 
 dency to rheumatism? " 
 
 Theodate, who had not outgrown the gratitude and 
 joy of Evelyn's recovery, bent impulsively and kissed 
 her. Why would not the dear girl submit to being cared 
 for, when it was her own supreme joy to find little 
 ways of serving her? 
 
 "You look pale to-night, Evelyn. I am sure these 
 callers have been very wearing ; but the whole town 
 is so glad I did not succeed in destroying you, that 
 they will come, and keep coming ; I don't see how we 
 are to help it." 
 
 " Oh, how should I feel if they didn't want to come? 
 What would life be to me if nobody cared whether I 
 lived or died?" said Evelyn with feeling. "Only, 
 1 must say, I haven't accomplished much for a whole 
 week. One can't, you know, with so many people 
 coming and going. Four quarters do not make a 
 whole hour, Theodate, to a writer. The pieces can't 
 be joined together, you know." 
 
 "Very true; they fray shockingly at the edges. 
 But, Evelyn, you are not well yet. Why will you 
 persist in writing now? Why not wait till cooler 
 weather, and take these beautiful days for rest? " 
 
 "Perhaps I might as well," was the plaintive re 
 sponse. "I own I was discouraged when the mail 
 came last night, and " 
 
 " We ought to have had more letters ; there were 
 some strange omissions," said Theodate, thinking to 
 help Evetyn over a hard place ; for she wished, without 
 doubt, to speak of Mr. Kirke, and found it difficult. 
 
 But Evelyn had no intention of alluding to that
 
 200 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 vagrant 3*oung man. She "steered her course, the 
 woman's diagonal," quite away from Mr. Kirke. 
 " The truth is, Theodate, I know you will be sorry, 
 and I hardly like to tell you, but oue of my stories 
 came back last night." 
 
 " Oh, that was too bad ! Which one ? " 
 
 " ' The Christmas Rose,' that cost me so much 
 labor, and seemed to both of us oue of my best. It 
 came back without a word, except that dreadful death- 
 warrant of a printed circular." 
 
 " The story was too good for them, my dear." 
 
 " But they sent one back in April." 
 
 " Well, I suppose they had editorial toothache, then, 
 or neuralgia from the spring winds. Try a more dis 
 cerning editor next time," said Theodate stoutly. 
 
 She often despaired of her own pictures, but her 
 faith iu Evelyn's stories was sublime. 
 
 " You dear little bird of paradise ! I never saw you 
 so low before over a rejected manuscript." 
 
 The bowed head was raised now, and Evelyn re 
 torted with some spirit, " But you feel it, Theodate, 
 when your pictures are criticised ; you feel it deeply." 
 
 " Yes; for I'm the great-granddaughter of Lucifer, 
 fearfully proud and ambitious. And fortunately per 
 haps," added Theodate to herself with comp: eased 
 lips ; " for what would be left to me, a lone woman, in 
 case Evelyn should go out of my life? What, indeed, 
 but my absorbing interest in art? " Then, turning to 
 Evelyn, " You were with Mrs. Simpson a long while 
 this afternoon. What did she say of Mr. Kirke? " 
 
 " Oh, it was just as we heard at first. He was sum 
 moned home very suddenly."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 2OI 
 
 " Still, Evelyn, it is strange he should not have sent 
 us some word." 
 
 " Rather. But his father may be very low ; and in 
 that case he has had no time, even if he has thought 
 of us at all." 
 
 And then she deftly changed the subject to some 
 defaulted bonds, which she had scarcely thought of in 
 a month. Theodate's face was sure to take on a look 
 of helpless dismay at the least financial allusion ; and 
 Evelyn liked to call up that look sometimes, when 
 Theodate had worsted her in an argument, or when, 
 as now, she tried too curiously to read her thoughts. 
 Jt was the only cruelty in which Evelyn ever indulged 
 towards this superior young woman. 
 
 "Defaulted? Yes; you said equipment bonds. Let 
 me see, that means oh, yes, your uncle spoke of 
 4 watered stock,' and a a per cent ! Don't laugh, 
 and don't explain. Please don't explain ; you know it 
 makes me feel that 4 1 wish I was a washwoman.' ' 
 
 This was the favorite plaint of their neighbor Mrs. 
 Skillings ; and it happened somewhat curiously that 
 at this very moment she was making it to her son 
 Jimmy, having fallen into her usual s^pugh of despond 
 over mending with a strip of calico his otherwise una 
 vailable jacket. "Oh, hum! I wish I was a wash 
 woman ! Why, what's this, you good-for-nothing boy? 
 Who's this letter to, and how came it a-mellowin' in 
 your pocket? " 
 
 Jimmy clutched at it with surprise, and even a glim 
 mer of remorse, unwilling to confess that it was for 
 Miss Searle, and had been intrusted to his heedless 
 hands by Mr. Simpson. But his mother could read
 
 202 PRQNES* HONEY. 
 
 writing, being of a literary turn ; far too literaiy indeed 
 for a woman with aspirations toward the laundry, as 
 two or three yellow-covered pamphlets on the floor 
 bore witness. 
 
 " 'Twas wrote in pencil, and is 'most rubbed out; 
 but that letter is for Evelyn Searle, the best friend 
 you've got, and how you came by it is more'n I 
 know." 
 
 " Mr. Simpson give it to me at the decp-o t'other 
 day," spoke up Jimmy, frightened into the truth, or 
 rather the truth frightened out of him, by the pelting 
 of his mother's thimble on the organ of conscientious 
 ness. 
 
 " Don't see what he was a-writin' to her for," said 
 Mrs. Skillings, turning the dingy, battered letter over 
 and over in her. hands, in search of a weak place where 
 she could peep in without breaking the seal. 
 
 "Mr. Simpson didn't write it," pursued truthful 
 Jimmy ; " 'twas that tall man that goes to see her so 
 much, the one that give me the dollar," he had 
 nearly added ; but this was a secret shared only with 
 his alternate friend and foe, Bob Short, and by uo 
 means intended for his mother's ears. 
 
 "That tall man? What! you don't mean that 
 pretty Mr. Kirke? Well, I never! And she haint 
 seen it yet, and don't know he wrote it. Why, you 
 miser'ble, wicked bo}'," with another application of 
 the thimble, and still another, appalled by the thought, 
 "Maybe he's broke up a match;" for, though " dis- 
 espoused " herself by the desertion of the recreant Mr. 
 Skillings, she still held romantic views of marriage ; 
 and her gratitude toward Evelyn took the form of a
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 203 
 
 desire to help on a possible love-affair, that would 
 "read off like a story in a book." "Do you wash 
 your face this minute, James Skilliugs," a ceremony 
 rarely observed on week-days; "and put on Bub's 
 jacket and his straw hat ; and do }'ou march up that 
 hill as quick as you can fly, and tell her you lost the 
 letter in a mud-puddle, and I found it for you. Now, 
 mind." 
 
 And having done her very best to repair the mis 
 take, which might have ended in Evelyn's " mishiat- 
 ing away" to a love-lorn skeleton, and dying at last 
 in single misery, the good woman dropped a few 
 indiscriminate boxes on the ears of her children, and 
 stood with hands on her hips to watch the reluctant 
 Jimmy out of sight. 
 
 " I dunno but I'd ought ter gone myself. What if 
 he should go and hide the letter, and then have the 
 brass to lie to me about it ? " 
 
 But, to do Jimmy justice, such an alternative did 
 not occur to him. He made excellent speed, only 
 pausing once to throw stones at a cat, thus showing 
 himself the superior animal, the cat being unable to 
 retaliate, and was at Violet Hill in one-third the 
 time his corpulent mother would have required for 
 the journey. 
 
 " Look here," said he, presenting the letter to Eve 
 lyn with a look of injured innocence, " I should have 
 give it to you at the time of it, only Bob Short's davvg 
 I never see such a dawg, always getting things and 
 rolling round with 'em in the dirt. I tell ye it's awful 
 about that dawg." 
 
 They were all in the garden, and the sun was setting.
 
 204 DRONES' HOA'EY. 
 
 Evelyn held out her hand for the soiled missive, 
 wondering who could have sent it ; while Theodate 
 prepared to administer a rebuke to Jimmy for making 
 a scapegoat of the " dawg." By that time the letter 
 had been opened. 
 
 "Nothing but the despatch which Mr. Kirke re 
 ceived last Wednesday," said Evelyn, passing it over 
 to Theodate. The words, u I leave immediately, will 
 write you soon. Good-by," were hastily scrawled on 
 the margin. 
 
 Verily this is a relative world, in which all things 
 take their meaning from the mind of the beholder. 
 This piece of yellow paper, which had struck a chill 
 to Ben Kirke's heart, awoke a glow in the heart of 
 Evelyn Searle. Strange that bad news, and a few 
 words written in the flush of distress, should become 
 a message of healing. Evelyn did not acknowledge 
 to herself that she cared for Mr. Kirke, but she wished 
 at least to respect him ; and his sudden, silent de 
 parture had seemed very much against him. 
 
 " Well, I am glad to do him tardy justice," said 
 Theodate, giving back the note to Evelyn. 
 
 But her voice broke off sharp and cold. The yellow 
 paper was no message of healing to her, but the sign 
 and seal of something sorely to be dreaded, some 
 thing she had fondly hoped might never occur. She 
 had begun to think Mr. Kirke had no serious interest 
 in Evelyn ; and if the dear girl should chafe a little 
 now under his unkind neglect, and suffer a few twinges 
 more or less of wounded pique, it would be a blessed 
 mission for Theodate to heal the trivial wounds. 
 
 But if he really cared, if he should persist, what then ?
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 205 
 
 "This despatch sounds very alarming," said Eve 
 lyn with a misty brightness in her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, very," echoed Theodate. And then the sud 
 den sensation came over her that one has in taking 
 ether, like going giddily down a precipice ; and she 
 leaned against the oak-tree for support. She had been 
 very languid since the late tragedy ; for, brave as she 
 was in spirit, she could ill bear any strong emotion. 
 There was a physical cause for this, or Theodate would 
 have despised herself. Her doctors assured her her 
 mind was not weak, but she suffered from a weak action 
 of the heart ; and this restored her self-respect. 
 
 Jimmy, after waiting a reasonable time for his usual 
 carrier's fee of a penny, grew discouraged and walked 
 away with speechless indignation, making all the noise 
 he could through a hollow pumpkin-vine. And present 
 ly, as twilight was falling, the young ladies walked into 
 the house together, but not arm in arm. It seemed to 
 Theodate that that vague something, so greatly to be 
 dreaded, had almost taken tangible shape, and stepped 
 bodily between them, and would keep its place between 
 them forevermore. Well, she could bear it, and she 
 would bear it, only give her time ; she must have time. 
 
 " I believe there is a September chill in the air," 
 said Evelyn ; merely, it would seem, to break the 
 silence ; and Theodate replied, " Yes, I feel a chill." 
 
 Rosa was coming now with the mail. She had 
 another letter from Peter, which she held smilingly 
 between her teeth, and would read aloud in the kitchen 
 presently, two letters for Miss Date, and one for Miss 
 Evelyn. How could it have concerned Theodate, that 
 one letter to Evelyn, when she had her own to open
 
 206 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 and read? Why need she have taken note of the 
 dashing superscription, in the moment it flashed before 
 her eyes? And how could she recognize it as Mr. 
 Kirke's, when she did not know his hand? "Was it a 
 thing to wonder at, that he should have written to 
 Evelyn and not to herself? Alas and alas ! Must she 
 still contend with that wild illusion ? There had been 
 no idea more central to her mind for weeks than this 
 of Mr. Kirke's preference for Evelyn. She had forced 
 herself to dwell upon it, had tried to familiarize herself 
 with it, setting aside all unworthy thought of self. In 
 her secret heart she had fancied but that now seemed 
 very long ago that she understood him better than 
 Evelyn did ; and that he was dimly conscious of it, 
 and instinctively turned to her rather than to Evelyn 
 for sympathy and counsel. 
 
 " Yes, for sympathy and counsel. It was only a 
 mistake of mine," thought Theodate, crushing her un 
 opened letters in her hand. "We must have illusions 
 of some sort to keep us alive, and that was one of my 
 illusions. Yet was it a very strange one, after all? 
 If I had had Evelyn's face and figure, her charm of 
 manner," looking at her from under her eyelashes, 
 "would it then have been strange? Would anybody 
 have blamed me then for the thought ? No. Theodate 
 Wilder in a finer garment of flesh would have been 
 love-worthy. Theodate Wilder as she now is, plain, 
 brusque, angular, is unwinsome to the last degree. 
 
 "This is a point I never understood," she thought 
 sorrowfully, "why one's dearest happiness should turn 
 upon a minor point like beauty. It seems unjust. 
 And it is not only one's dearest happiness that turns
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 2O/ 
 
 upon it, it is one's destination for life, yes, one's 
 destination for life." 
 
 Evelyn read her letter in her chamber, and the two 
 friends did not meet again till she came down-stairs to 
 say good-night, with a new look was it joy, or only 
 perplexity ? upon her face. 
 
 "There is something I would like to say to you," 
 said she hesitatingly; "something that will surprise 
 you, I know." 
 
 " Is Judge Kirke worse? " 
 
 "He is not living." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it. Is that what you wanted to 
 tell me?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " So I thought. But wait till to-morrow, dear. I 
 would rather not hear it to-night." This with a warm 
 kiss upon the hesitating, trembling lips. And then, as 
 they parted at the door of Evelyn's chamber, Theodate 
 added, "I wish you to understand, little one, that I 
 am not near-sighted in my affections, any more than 
 you are. I know you would be glad if some beautiful 
 thing were to happen to me : so why shouldn't I rejoice 
 if a beautiful thing were to happen to you? " 
 
 " Oh, but, dear" 
 
 " Only wait till to-morrow, and you may tell me all. 
 I will listen then with my whole heart." 
 
 Truly Theodate was brave, after all, and her pressed 
 grapes yielded red wine.
 
 208 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " It is easier to be altogether silent than not to speak a word too 
 
 much." 
 
 THOMAS A KEHPIS. 
 
 A MAN having drawn a pail of water from a well, 
 by means of a long pole, now sits on the well- 
 curb lost in thought ; while the water in the pail may 
 be supposed to behold with surprise the blue sky it has 
 never seen before, gradually losing all its zest and 
 sparkle, however, as the surprise dies away to tame 
 familiarity ; a reflective tub, also looking upward at 
 the sky ; two well-loaded apple-trees with gnarled 
 branches, presenting the appearance of playing calis 
 thenics ; glimpses of damp white clothes drying in 
 zigzag lines, all these objects in the background : 
 in the foreground, a luxurious patch of clover, and a 
 beautiful white and bronze-red calf disporting gayly 
 therein. This is the picture which Theodate has out 
 lined upon her canvas with much spirit, and which she 
 is finishing now rather slowly and laboriously. She is 
 in the attic with her easel, sitting under the skylight, 
 where she likes to sit when the weather is not too 
 warm. 
 
 The sun is flooding her blue-black hair with a white 
 light ; she wears her usual " business apron " of black 
 cambric, fantastically besprinkled with every shade of 
 color.
 
 HONEY. 209 
 
 Evelyn comes in with the preface of a little knock, 
 but hardly waits for an answer. She is lovely even in 
 that plain print wrapper. What a soft, fair, infantile 
 complexion ! Theodate turns her head with a smile 
 of welcome, but does not miss the stroke she is giving 
 the nose of her calf. Ah, that stroke tells ! Now the 
 pretty creature seems to sniff the clover in those happy 
 nostrils. How thoroughly alive he is ! Perhaps, 
 though, there is not enough of the " morning dazzle " 
 in those young, mellow eyes. 
 
 "Well, Evelyn?" 
 
 "Yes, Theodate." There is a lingering sweetness 
 in Evelyn's tones, which savors of reluctance. 
 
 " Take this chair by me." 
 
 Evelyn first removes several color-tubes, a palette- 
 knife, and other artist properties, and seats herself 
 slowly. The chair is a confessional, Theodate is the 
 priest. Theodate is not regarding her, her eyes are 
 on the calf ; but she listens well while she works, and 
 Evelyn considers it an advantage to be able to talk 
 without her friend's eyes upon her. On second 
 thought she rises, places the chair at the right of 
 Theodate, and farther back. This gives her a better 
 view of the picture. 
 
 " Have you found a name for it yet? " 
 
 " Yes, Living in Clover.' " 
 
 "Excellent." 
 
 " Well, go on. I am listening." 
 
 It was nothing extraordinary that Evelyn had to say : 
 just the old story of a man who lays his heart at a 
 woman's feet, uncertain of her royal favor; and it was 
 given hesitatingly, as one translates a poem from a
 
 210 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 foreign tongue. A trite tale, and poorly told ; but 
 Theodate listened reverently, as if it were a new thing 
 fresh out of heaven. She waited for some hint of 
 Evelyn's own feelings, but none was given ; the girl 
 kept strictly to the point. 
 
 " I thought you ought to know this, Theodate." 
 
 Theodate thanked her ; and then she set a star in the 
 calf s forehead, bent her head backwards, half closed 
 her eyes, and scanned him with -the rapt, admiring 
 gaze of the working artist. 
 
 "You will not answer in haste, Evelyn? When is 
 he coming back? " 
 
 " Not very soon, there is a great deal there demand 
 ing his attention. I'm sure he would not have written 
 just yet if it had not been for something he said to 
 me the night before he went away," a pause, 
 "something which would naturally lead me to expect 
 him to say more," she added, blushing daintily behind 
 Theodate's back. 
 
 But Theodate was left to imagine what he had said. 
 For that matter, she had been left to imagine most of 
 his letter. Evelyn had really told her very little ; and 
 perhaps, when carefully condensed, there was not very 
 much to tell. His father's death had been a grievous 
 blow ; and his mother was utterly crushed, requiring 
 his whole attention, and scarcely allowing him out of 
 her sight. 
 
 "I am glad for her," said Theodate, "that she 
 has such a son. I remember his calm strength, how- 
 good it was to lean on last week, when my heart was 
 failing me for fear. Oh, won't yon come here, little 
 one, and give me a kiss? There is no paint on my
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 211 
 
 cheek ; and it is so refreshing to feel that you are 
 alive." 
 
 Evelyn stole softly to her friend's side, put both 
 arms round her neck, kissing her again and again with 
 unusual fervor. Theodate set down her palette and 
 her brush, and laid her hand silently on the golden 
 head that was level with her own. 
 
 " Shall I not call on Heaven to bless her, my one ewe 
 lamb?" said she to herself, "my one ewe lamb that 
 has been spared me in mercy? And shall I harbor any 
 regret at giving her away to a dearer, stronger friend, 
 who has saved her life ? God forbid ! And now tell 
 me, Evelyn," she asked, " what does your heart say? " 
 
 Evelyn moved away, half frightened, though she 
 affected a gay tone. 
 
 "It says three words, Theodate." Their glances 
 met then, and the solemn eyes of Theodate held some 
 thing in their depths that Evelyn could not see. 
 
 " I suppose I know them, dear. The three words 
 are, ' I love him.' ' 
 
 " No, oh, no ! " vehemently. " They are, ' I do not 
 know.' " 
 
 " That makes four words, Evelyn. Have you for 
 gotten how to count? " laughed Theodate with a sud 
 den feeling of relief. Then added jocosely, " But love 
 knows no arithmetic, they say." 
 
 " Theodate, you speak as if I had a right to a a 
 sentiment. What do you mean ? There are things to 
 be thought of other things ; first of all, that compact 
 you and I made when we began to live together." 
 
 " Not first of all, Evelyn. You would not consider 
 that first of all?"
 
 212 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 "Why should I not, Theodate? Do you call that 
 promise mere child's play? For my part, I meant it in 
 good faith, and I gave ni}- hand upon it to keep it 
 while I lived." 
 
 " But I absolved you from your promise, Evelyn, a 
 week ago last Sunday night. Don't you remember it? 
 I granted you absolution before your death," said 
 Theodate ; and a great shudder ran over her. How 
 could she have uttered that last word? She often 
 shocked herself by the levity with which she treated 
 serious subjects. But, in truth, it was her sole defence 
 against the intolerable weakness of tears. 
 
 Evelyn did not reply at once. She was thinking of 
 that dread scene which would never seem quite real to 
 her, and of Mr. Kirke's part in it ; and it moved her 
 deeply. Yes, waver as she might, one thing at least 
 was secure, her gratitude to him for having saved 
 her life. 
 
 " Theodate ! " She looked flushed and uncertain. 
 
 " Well? " returned her friend, with shining eyes and 
 rather overdrawn composure. 
 
 "Theodate, you need not have been in such haste 
 to absolve me. You might have waited at least till 
 you were asked." 
 
 Theodate smiled and nodded. 
 
 " It was my far-seeing heart, dear." 
 
 " I don't know what you saw or could have fancied," 
 went on Evelyn hurriedly, her color deepening; "but 
 your speaking in that way hurt me a little at the time, 
 as if you thought I were longing to break away from 
 you, as if" 
 
 "You shall have no restrictions, Evelyn."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 213 
 
 "But I want them, I cry out for them. Stand by 
 me, Theodate." 
 
 " Verily, I will, while yon need me." 
 
 " O my better self, I shall always need you ! " ex 
 claimed Evelyn with a fervor which almost shook her 
 friend's calmness. " Have we not been sufficient to 
 each other heretofore? Have you ever tired of our 
 compact, Theodate? " 
 
 " Never, ma'am ! ' An' I had but one penny in the 
 world, thou should have it to buy gingerbread,' " quoted 
 Theodate quickly. 
 
 "And if this no, not this, but something like it 
 were to come to you, would you set me one side, 
 Theodate, and settle the question without a thought 
 of me?" 
 
 There was a scarcely perceptible pause before the 
 answer came, 
 
 " I hope I should behave like a sensible being, Evelyn 
 Searle. But how can I tell without the trial? And 
 I shall always be mercifully spared the trial." She 
 laughed lightly. " You know as well as I do, Evelyn, 
 that friendship yields the right of way to love." 
 
 "You talk without any reason, Theodate. A friend 
 ship like ours, that has been tried and proved, would 
 you compare it for a moment with the the other sen 
 timent, so very precarious and foolish, that turns the 
 heads of young girls? Only think how suddenly it 
 springs up, how swiftly it may go." 
 
 " I will not listen to that, child. 
 
 'Ye do him wrong, ye do him wrong: 
 Love will stay for a whole life long.' "
 
 214 "DRONES* HONEY. 
 
 " Yes, the real, the heaven-born will stay, no doubt ; 
 but how is one to recognize him? " asked Evelyn, rais 
 ing her perplexed eyes to the rafters, along which an 
 enterprising spider was weaving a festoon. 
 
 " I admit he may come in disguise," said Theodate 
 archly. 
 
 " Yes, or he may be a counterfeit ; there's the danger : 
 so one's only safety is in keeping him awa}' altogether." 
 
 " Oh, you lovely, pusillanimous creature ! " mused 
 Theodate, watching the play of Evelyn's mobile face. 
 " I'm in full sympathy with Ben Kirke, and in his 
 place I know I should have loved you to distraction. 
 But what my chances would have been, Heaven only 
 knows. Evelyn Searle," waving her brush toward 
 her, " if I should cut into you anywhere, I believe there 
 wouldn't a drop of blood flow ! What are you made 
 of, lilies and roses ; or swan's down and snow? " 
 
 Evelyn laughed. 
 
 " I am a stranger to myself, Theodate. All I know 
 for a certaint^y is, that I'm idling away the morning, 
 and that it will never do. Good-by ; " and she rose, 
 and went away without so much as a glance at the 
 calf, who had been growing apace on his luscious diet 
 of clover. 
 
 "Well, I didn't show the white feather, did I?" 
 thought Theodate, and dropped her brush with a heavy 
 sigh. " It's always one thing for me, never any 
 other. It's renunciation from the cradle to the grave." 
 She looked white and worn. Her persistent work dur 
 ing the warm weather was telling upon her, but she 
 would not admit it. Like M. Michel, when she was 
 ill, she "turned her face to the wall."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 21$ 
 
 " Perhaps I take this too seriously. She does not 
 care for him yet, and why should I forbode?" She 
 did not resume the brush, but leaned back wearily in 
 her chair, with her left hand pressed against her side. 
 "I told her yesterday I was ambitious, and I hope I 
 am. We free women are so very free," resting her 
 "homeless eyes" on her canvas. "We need to be 
 tied to something, like this little calf, which I have 
 half a mind to tether to a crow-bar. Yes, we all need 
 some sort of tethering, or we ma\- rush away in a wild 
 scamper. That is what I dread for myself by and by, 
 the wide stretch of freedom, the embarrassment of 
 space. I need a crow-bar with a chain, or I need a 
 fence. In other words, I must be persuaded definitely 
 of what I ought to do, and then be compelled to do it. 
 Welcome, art ! Courage, my soul ! It was not for 
 you that the world was made. It was not for you that 
 the sweetest friend on earth was born." 
 
 After this there was scarcely any conversation be 
 tween the two friends regarding Mr. Kirke. Theodate 
 only knew that Evelyn was still a " stranger to her 
 self," and that he intended to see her again face to 
 face before she gave her answer. 
 
 Early in December they sent Rosa home to her 
 mother, and they both went to Boston for the winter. 
 In a few days Mr. Kirke came there on a flying 
 visit. 
 
 "Ah!" said Mrs. Freeman, their old landlady, 
 sagely; and "Ah?" said the old boarders curiously. 
 And then somebody ventured to wonder what had be 
 come of Mr. Fiske. Theodate held her peace, being 
 prudently blind and deaf.
 
 2l6 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 Mr. Kirke came and went daily ; and his frank, re 
 spectful face, which had attracted Theodate from the 
 first, was illumined now by a hope, if not a joy, which 
 made it dangerously pleasing to look upon, or it 
 might have been dangerous once. But, fortunately, 
 no one knew this but Theodate herself. No one would 
 imagine how near she had come only last summer to 
 falling into the " bottomless pit of nonsense." Well, 
 she had been rescued from that most effectually, and 
 they were certainly the very best of comrades and 
 friends. 
 
 As for Evelyn, she no longer said to Theodate, " I 
 don't know." On the contrary-, she simply said noth 
 ing. When Theodate remarked that he was improving, 
 she asked demurely, " In what respect? " 
 
 " Why, he has a settled aim in life now. It was all 
 he ever needed ; for you know he always thought 
 rightly, and felt delicately. It was his only fault that 
 he was too much of a dreamer." 
 
 "Perhaps so. He seemed to be talking to you with 
 great animation to-day," said Evelyn, in an inquiring 
 tone. 
 
 Theodate broke forth into the gayest laughter. " Do 
 you know, he was explaining his business affairs." 
 
 Evelyn joined in the laugh. " How much of it did 
 yon understand? " 
 
 "Now and then a word. But I looked wondrous 
 wise. Pray tell me, Evelyn, is he reduced to pov 
 erty?" 
 
 " Not quite that ; but, to the great surprise of the 
 family, they find the judge had met with heavy losses, 
 and not much is left but the small property that was
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 21 7 
 
 made over to his wife. So far as Ben is concerned, I 
 am glad of it ; for it is the greatest blessing that could 
 have happened to him," said Evelyn with a quaint, 
 unworldly air. " At the best, his father's estate could 
 not have been settled under a year ; but, instead of 
 being at the best, it is at the very worst, fearfully 
 involved ; and this is largely due to bondsmen's debts. 
 You know what bondsmen's debts are, Theodate? " 
 
 "Oh, dear no! " 
 
 " Never mind. I ought not to have expected it of 
 you,'.' returned Evelyn indulgently. " But they are 
 very trying debts to bear with, and to have to pa}* ; 
 and they practically ruined Judge Kirke." 
 
 " What a pity ! " said Theodate ; but the undercur 
 rent of her thoughts ran joyfully. "Then there can 
 be no marriage at present, no marriage at least for a 
 year." 
 
 Would there be one at all ? Who could say ? 
 
 Evelyn came up-stairs that evening remarkably late 
 from church, and confessed, with a comically demure air 
 of penitence, that she had allowed Mr. Kirke to talk a 
 great deal. 
 
 " About his business affairs, I suppose? " 
 
 " Now, Theodate," said Evelyn deprecatingly ; and 
 then they both laughed. 
 
 " I did not mean to be inquisitive, child, and I don't 
 like to make suggestions. Still I own I should be 
 better pleased if you knew when your hands and feet 
 were warm, and if you had the prudence not to stand 
 in the hall door in a draught." 
 
 Evelyn took not the slightest notice of this remark. 
 "My dear, my dear," said she, dropping her head
 
 218 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 between her hands, " he is going in the morning, and 
 I am sending him away without an answer." 
 
 "Evelyn! " 
 
 " Theodate, you have been trying all along to drive 
 me to the wall. You have no pity on my vacillation." 
 
 "Who would?" 
 
 "Ah, if it could be always as it was last summer, 
 when we were all friends together, and there was no 
 question to decide ! ' ' 
 
 " Let me hear no more of such idiocy," said Theo 
 date severely. " You have no right to play with him 
 in this way. Haven't you any pity for a man who has 
 been ' smiled upon by misfortune' ? Do you know, 
 child, you are downright cruel? " 
 
 Evelyn swayed a little, as if she had received a 
 physical blow, but kept her face in her hands. 
 
 "And do you know, furthermore, that some men 
 would set you down as a mercenary woman, for hesi 
 tating now, just now after these reverses? " 
 
 " "What can you mean, Theodate, and why should I 
 care what ' some men ' would think? He knows better 
 than that," cried Evelyn, raising her flushed face and 
 speaking vehemently. "I am not afraid of his mis 
 apprehending me, a noble, high-minded man like Mr. 
 Kirke." 
 
 "So you do appreciate him? I rejoice in your 
 consistency." 
 
 ' ' Indeed I appreciate him ; but he is not as old and 
 tried a friend as you, Theodate. I knew you first. 
 You and I are one, and what God hath joined together 
 let no man put asunder." 
 
 Theodate, much moved, pressed the bright head
 
 DROA T ES' HONEY. 219 
 
 against her shoulder caressingly. " If I did not feel, 
 dear, that you might some time be sorry for .this, I 
 would respond with all my heart, Amen ! But I declare 
 to you, Evelyn Searle, if you let me stand in your way 
 in this thing, I will never forgive you as long as I 
 live." 
 
 "You don't quite understand," whispered Evelyn, 
 nestling still closer, and veiling her face in Theodate's 
 falling hair. "It is not you who stand in the way : 
 it is myself, my slow, cautious nature. I suppose I 
 am naturally what would be called a cold woman ; am 
 I not, Theodate?" 
 
 " You are not impulsive, certainly." 
 
 "Some women's hearts are like the Lia Fail I have 
 somewhere read about, that always vibrated when the 
 true king stood on it to be crowned," said Evelyn, in 
 a wistful tone. "It must be a blessing to be like that, 
 to ' know past all doubting, truly.' But Mr. Kirke says 
 he is willing to wait. He is not like you : he does not 
 blame me, Theodate." 
 
 A jealous pang seized Miss Wilder, of a different 
 nature from any she had yet experienced. 
 
 "Is it possible," she thought, "that he under 
 stands her better after all than I, who have known 
 her so much longer ? Has love a truer insight than 
 friendship ? Who knows but it is so, and his patience 
 may win her in the end ? 
 
 " And what then ? Hush ! Who am I, that I should 
 grudge him his reward." 
 
 When she spoke again, it was almost meekly. 
 
 " How long will he wait for your answer?" 
 
 " A year, Theodate. Remember, last June I had
 
 220 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 never even heard his name. He will wait a year, and 
 I have told him he may write ; and I hope, by that time, 
 we shall have revealed ourselves to each other. At 
 any rate, I can act no differently in a matter so serious 
 as this, affecting his whole future life and mine." 
 
 Evelyn stood erect now, and calm and self-assured. 
 
 " And when I give him my answer, Theodate, it will 
 be once for all." 
 
 Theodate looked at her humbly and admiringly, and 
 wondered why Heaven had not made all women like 
 her, so cool and consistent, and so sweetly reasonable. 
 
 " You are right, Evelyn. You are right now and 
 always."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 221 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " / would it were not as I think. 
 I would I thought it were not." 
 
 SIR TIIOMAS WYATT. 
 
 IN February Mr. Kirke set off with his invalid 
 mother for Drogheda, in Southern California, to 
 pursue his medical studies there with the eminent Dr. 
 Palmer, formerly of Chicago. The next September, 
 at the expiration of a year's mourning for their father, 
 both the sisters married, and each of them claimed the 
 widowed mother. But she expressed the wish, very 
 gratifying to Ben, to "be with my son," wherever lie 
 might choose to go. It looked now as if he would 
 choose to regain in California. The year was pass 
 ing, and October had come. 
 
 The " young ladies " and Rosa were no longer 
 "three lone women :" for Rosa had taken to herself 
 for life Peter, the enemy of rabbits, and brought him 
 home to Violet Hill ; and there the four lived on to 
 gether " in laughing comfort." 
 
 The permission which Evelyn had given Mr. Kirke 
 to write was freely interpreted to mean a frequent 
 and voluminous correspondence. His letters showed 
 him very enthusiastic over his studies. He was thank 
 ful, he said, to have escaped the " wasting confusion " 
 of trying to adapt himself to the law, a profession he
 
 222 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 had always disliked, and in which he never should 
 have succeeded. 
 
 ''Ah, well," laughed Theodate, "it will not be his 
 fault, Evelyn, if you two do not become thoroughly 
 acquainted ! " 
 
 But, in spite of herself, the days when letters came 
 from Drogheda were sad days for Theodate. Was 
 she sinking to the second place in her friend's affec 
 tion ? If she had needed stern lessons in humility and 
 self-effacement, she was receiving them now. 
 
 "Self-effacement!" The word came to her so 
 forcibly one day, as she sat in the attic painting a land 
 scape, that she swept her brush over the foreground 
 and blotted it out ; feeling that she must illustrate the 
 idea in some way, to see what it stood for. A neutral 
 tint? Very well; she could accept that instead of 
 rose-color. She could stand one side, and be content 
 with borrowed happiness, satisfied to subserve in all 
 patience and good cheer the destin}' she could not 
 change. All she asked was to have a reasonably clear 
 forecast of that destiny ; and she thought it was high 
 time to have it. 
 
 But Evelyn remained quietly reserved and inscruta 
 ble. Uncertainties were grievous to Theodate ; the} 7 
 tried her nerves, and wore upon her health. 
 
 " If only this had been settled when Mr. Kirke was 
 in Boston last winter," she said to herself, little dream 
 ing that the time was soon to come when even she 
 would rejoice that it had not been settled, when she 
 would agree with Evelyn that it is well for a woman 
 to move slowly in an affair that involves her life's 
 happiness.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 223 
 
 Thus far Mr. Kirke seemed to be fulfilling every 
 expectation of his friends ; and Mr. Scarle was fond 
 of repeating what the Danforths of Boston had said of 
 him last spring ; how promptly and manfully he had 
 risen to the occasion when his father died, and he was 
 left administrator of a badly involved estate. He 
 might find legal affairs irksome ; but he certainly under 
 stood them well enough for all practical purposes, and 
 was still engaged, in the intervals of his studies, in 
 looking over accounts ; would come to Chicago in No 
 vember for a final adjustment ; and in December 
 Evelyn assured Theodate it would not be a day sooner 
 he was to visit Narransauc, and receive the fateful 
 answer from her lips. 
 
 "Six weeks longer! But, if he can wait, surely I 
 can wait," thought Theodate. 
 
 There had been no especial changes in the village 
 for the past year, except that a few of the residents 
 had dropped quietly away, among the number good, 
 unamiable aunt Ann Searle, and the others were all 
 growing older. Ozro was in college. He had passed 
 through the haziugs, active and passive, broken a finger 
 or two at base-ball, and was gradually developing some 
 humility, and respect for those inferior people, his elders. 
 
 And now we come to a sudden break in the quiet 
 tenor of our story. It was a mild day in October, 
 when the silver poplars on the bank were half turned 
 to gold, and the bright maple-leaves were dropping in 
 tha sun like gold-dust. Evelyn, in the arm-chair by 
 the south window, looked up from the book she was 
 reading, "The Life of Mme. de Stael," saying to 
 Theodate, " I dare not read another word, for fear of
 
 224 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 committing a murder in my heart. I am fairly trem 
 bling with rage against Napoleon Bonaparte." 
 
 She remembered this speech afterward, in the long 
 days when she was no longer able to forget herself in 
 a book. 
 
 As she looked up, her eyes rested on the bass-wood 
 tree near the window. Two birds were clinging to a 
 nearly leafless bough, and the wind rocked them ; but 
 there was no motion otherwise, except the quiet twin 
 kling of their small eyes. Then Theodate began to 
 talk of the photograph of Mr. Kirke's mother, which 
 he had sent, and laughed a little at the young man's 
 harmless delusion in thinking it resembled Evelyn, the 
 two faces being unlike in every particular ; and Evelyn 
 laughed, too, with careless mirth. 
 
 " And now how shall I frame this for the parlor? " 
 went on Theodate, holding up a water-color picture of 
 violets. "Would you approve of an oak frame, with 
 a coat of gilding, and around the violets a deep mat, 
 postal-card color? " 
 
 Evelyn meekly assented, with restful confidence in 
 Theodate's judgment ; though the confidence would have 
 been the same under any combination of colors. 
 
 Then Mr. Searle came in, his face lighting up as 
 Evelyn rose to greet him. Had she been to tea, and 
 would she like to walk out with him and see the sunset 
 from the " crest " ? Oh, yes, she had had her tea, and 
 would like the walk ; for " sunsets are joys that never 
 grow old ' ' ! 
 
 This reminds Theodate to look at Mr. Searle, and 
 observe regretfully that his hair and beard are fast 
 whitening with the " snow that never melts."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 22$ 
 
 He has mourned for his wife more than might have 
 been anticipated, considering the wreck she made of 
 his life. But he thinks of her now as the ideal love 
 of his youth ; and is he wrong? There was something 
 at the very root of her being that was revealed to him 
 as to no other; and his heart responded to it, and knew 
 it was not deceived. She had her uncomfortable faults ; 
 but more and more he forgives the weakness of the 
 flesh, and more and more he remembers that " spirit is 
 always lovely." 
 
 Evelyn was in a happy mood this evening, as she 
 put on her hat and walked up the well-worn hill path 
 with her uncle. He depended more than ever upon 
 her society of late ; and she often fancied, that, when 
 he seemed unusually depressed, her own spirits rose 
 inversely. 
 
 As they passed the back-door, she "smiled one of 
 those smiles" on Rosa and Peter, who stood watching 
 a squirrel on the lightning-rod, making a dainty meal 
 of pig-weed seed. In her sweet benevolence she was 
 glad that the little red squirrel should enjoj* Violet 
 Hill, as well as the phebes and sparrows, and Peter 
 and Rosa. A lean and hungry cat issued from the 
 stable, and crept abjectly after her. The poor thing 
 had "adopted her," Evelyn said; and though she 
 assured him he was "not welcome," and admonished 
 him as sternly as she could to go away, he construed 
 her gentle tones into an invitation, and only drew 
 still nearer his "adopted" friend, rubbing his cheek 
 against her dress, till Rosa came, laughing, and took 
 him away. 
 
 Mr. Searle looked on amused ; and then the thought
 
 226 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 arose in his mind, was this lovely woman destined to 
 spend her whole life in this simple way, blessing and 
 sweetening the atmosphere of home, but never extend 
 ing her influence beyond the narrow round of Violet 
 Hill and the neighboring village? He had had am 
 bitious hopes for her, and not long ago had been well 
 pleased to watch what he considered a growing attach 
 ment between herself and Ben Kirke. But this had 
 come to nothing so far as he knew, and perhaps after 
 all it was quite as well. He did not hold the stereo 
 typed notion that marriage is the only good for woman, 
 and that without it her life is perforce a dismal failure. 
 He was an enlightened person, who could appreciate 
 high character in a young lad}', and still say to himself 
 inquiringly, 
 
 " Would she have walked more nobly, think, 
 
 With a man beside her to point the way, 
 Hand joining hand in the marriage link ? 
 Possibly yes; it is likelier nay. 
 
 And dreads she never the coming years ? 
 
 Gossip, what are the years to her ? 
 All winds are fair, and the harbor nears, 
 
 And every breeze a delight will stir. 
 
 She reads the Hereafter by the Here, 
 
 A beautiful Now and a better To Be. 
 In life is all sweetness, in death no fear: 
 
 Ye waste your pity on such as she." 
 
 Still, he would not have quoted these lines as apply 
 ing to his niece, he could not have told you why ; 
 he would have thought them more appropriate to Theo- 
 date, for whom he had always felt the highest admira 
 tion, amounting almost to reverence.
 
 DRONES 1 HONEY. 22/ 
 
 "Evelyn," said he, after the sun had finally disap 
 peared from view, with its lingering pageant of glory, 
 and they were descending the hill toward the village, 
 " Evelyn, I saw Mr. Danforth the other day, in Boston, 
 and he spoke of our old friend Mr. Kirke." 
 
 "Ah!" said Evelyn with a pretty, rising color. 
 Her uncle seldom alluded to the young man, and might 
 or might not be aware of her correspondence with him. 
 But, at any rate, he was too formal and too well-bred 
 to condescend to rally her on the subject. 
 
 ' ' Yes ; and they sa}' Ben is getting a good deal of 
 what you ma}' call surreptitious practice already among 
 Dr. Palmer's old patients ; for the doctor is failing in 
 health, and Ben has gained their confidence by some 
 pretty good work he has done there. Let's see, what's 
 the name of the place? Drogheda? Well, Mr. Dan 
 forth says he has performed some rather remarkable 
 surgical operations out there. He gave me the par 
 ticulars, which wouldn't interest yon, of course ; but 
 I assure you, Evelyn, I was astonished, yes, fairly 
 astonished." 
 
 "I am very glad," said Evelyn with a shy smile 
 of pleasure. " You remember we thought he did won 
 derfully when Mr. Simpson's Tom met with that acci 
 dent, and we said then he was meant for a doctor." 
 
 "Certainly we did; and we said it again with still 
 more conviction afterward, when you at the time he 
 saved your life, my dear," said Mr. Searle, his voice 
 low with emotion. " I admit I did not like his throw 
 ing up law : it struck me as disrespectful to the profes 
 sion ; but he was right, as it has proved, perfectly 
 right. He talked with me about it at the time, and
 
 228 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 seemed to look at the thing in all its bearings ; and I 
 respected him for his courage. He had started wrong, 
 he said, and the only thing he could do was to begin 
 anew and start right. But he did not realize then how 
 hard it was going to be for him financially," continued 
 Mr. Searle, who seemed to have the conversation most 
 ly to himself. " You see he had a very advantageous 
 position with Mr. Randall, one of the best technical 
 lawyers anywhere, and they could easily have led the 
 profession in Chicago, if he had not made this change 
 of base before he knew how things were going to turn 
 with his father." 
 
 " I wonder," said Evelyn reflectively, "if he had 
 not made the change before his father's death, would 
 he have made it at all ? " 
 
 "I have thought of that myself," returned Mr. 
 Searle. " It takes courage, at any time, to leave a 
 certainty for an uncertainty ; and when he had that 
 worm-eaten estate on his hands" He shook his 
 head slowly, b}' way of finishing the sentence. 
 
 Evelyn looked thoughtful. Perhaps she had never 
 comprehended fully Ben Kirke's difficult position and 
 the struggle he was making. She had been very glad 
 that he held to his resolution, and she had told him 
 so ; but it had probably cost him more than she knew ; 
 and she meant to say in her next letter that he rose 
 higher in her esteem when she thought how much he 
 had sacrificed for conscience' sake. 
 
 " He has made no moan, so far as I know ; and I 
 like that in him," pursued uncle Mellen. "He was 
 born to a fortune, and that is a state of things neither 
 you nor I can very well appreciate."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 229 
 
 " No, we were not born to fortunes, uncle, we 
 Searles." 
 
 " And to lose it at a stroke was severe for Ben. 
 Think of Ozro under the same circumstances." 
 
 " Oh, Ozro ! " said Evelyn with a sort of mild con 
 tempt. 
 
 " Ozro would probably have done as well as the 
 average young man," responded the proud parent 
 quickly; " but he wouldn't have faced the situation 
 without some grumbling, I assure 3*ou." 
 
 Evelyn quite agreed that he would not ; and then she 
 fell into a brown study over Ben's last letter. There 
 had been an allusion in it, almost for the first time, to 
 his narrow fortunes, and the tedious delays of study. 
 Had he ever repented leaving Mr. Randall, and begin 
 ning the world anew at the very foot of the ladder? 
 She had asked this question before ; and now she pon 
 dered it again, walking on in silence till they were 
 passing the Druid, when she paused and said, 
 
 "Suppose we go in here a moment, uncle Mellen? 
 I am under a solemn promise to Rosa to beg Mrs. 
 Simpson's recipe for imperial cake." 
 
 So they went in. Mrs. Simpson was glad to see 
 them, and asked them into the back parlor, where the 
 old piano stood, that always so excited Evelyn's imagi 
 nation. She liked to turn back the faded cloth cover 
 and touch the sallow keys, calling" forth the thin, re 
 gretful melody of other days ; and Mrs. Simpson said 
 it was " reviving to hear her : it brought up her girls, 
 more particularly Betsey." " Would Evelyn take off 
 her bonnet?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" Mr. Simpson said. "Why not stay
 
 230 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 awhile? Tom was in the office, and on duty ; and they 
 could have a social evening all by themselves." 
 
 And partly from good-nature, partly from the lack 
 of any real excuse for going, they both lingered. 
 Evelyn laid aside her hat, and fell into light discourse 
 with Mrs. Simpson ; while her uncle discussed graver 
 matters with the host. 
 
 In the midst of some animated remarks from the old 
 lady, concerning the imperial cake, Evelyn heard Mr. 
 Simpson, who seemed abnormally wide-awake, say to 
 Mr. Searle, 
 
 " I got all kind of nerved up to-night by a paper 
 that came to me from Californy. Wife, where's that 
 paper ? ' ' 
 
 In vain were conjugal glances of warning and en 
 treaty, in vaiif the attempt to divert Mr. Simpson's 
 attention to other matters : he still clamored for the 
 " Californy paper." And Evetyn wondered a little at 
 first, and presently a good deal, why Mrs. Simpson 
 should be so slow and reluctant about producing it. 
 She finally found it under the piano-cover, where 
 Evelyn could not but think she had hurriedly placed 
 it when they first came in, for the purpose of conceal 
 ment. 
 
 " I never had any thing stir me up so," pursued Mr. 
 Simpson, " not since that scrape of Martin Field's ; " 
 and his eyes fairly snapped with excitement as he 
 opened the paper and ran up and down several columns 
 with his finger. " Let's see, 'twas marked with red 
 ink. Oh, I've got the wrong page ! I always set by 
 that fellow Kirke ; as likely a fellow as ever breathed, 
 I thought he was. There, I've found it: here it is."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 231 
 
 " Not Ben Kirke of Chicago? What has he done? " 
 exclaimed Mr. Searle. 
 
 Evelyn instinctively drew back into the shade. 
 " Dear me. I was of mid there was something 
 between 'em," thought Mrs. Simpson. " How pale 
 she is, poor lamb ! I hope she ain't going to 
 faint." 
 
 The newspaper was the " Drogheda Pioneer," and 
 it contained the following startling announcement : 
 
 "A DARK TRANSACTION. 
 
 " A bold attempt to raise money by forgery has just been 
 discovereJ. Mr. James Hall of Maysville, four miles from 
 Drogheda, recently bought from B. I. Kirke of this city Dr. 
 Palmer's medical student a promissory note for two thousand 
 dollars, signed by John Harris and Peter Small of this city. 
 When Mr. Hall presented the note at the Farmers' Bank, some 
 doubts were expressed as to its genuineness; and Harris was 
 telephoned, who came in, and, on being shown the note, at once 
 pronounced it a forgery. Small afterwards denied his signature, 
 also. Mr. Kirke has been hitherto much respected; but his 
 guilt admits of no doubt, and he was immediately arrested, and 
 remains now in close confinement."
 
 232 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XX. 
 
 " I will rise, 
 
 God helping me, to higher life, and f/uin 
 C'onruf/e and strength to i/ivc thee in thy pain, 
 year not, dear love : thy trial hour xhall be 
 The dearest bond between my heart and thee." 
 
 " TTTHOSE saying was that, ' Every man has his 
 W price' ?" asked Theoclate of Mr. Searle, as 
 they sat next evening by the open fire in the back 
 parlor. Evelyn had sent her love to her uncle, and was 
 sorry not to see him ; but she had suffered all day from 
 a headache, which did not " go down with the sun." 
 
 " Wai pole, I think," replied Mr. Searle with a 
 pained frown between the eyes. "A hard and bitter 
 saying it is, too ; I never indorsed it." They had been 
 discussing Ben Kirke's alleged crime, which Miss 
 Wilder vehemently declared " incredible," and which 
 Mr. Searle admitted was "staggering." 
 
 " What a signal mercy that Evelyn was not inter 
 ested in the fellow ! " he thought, though this he did 
 not say to Theodate. 
 
 " It is an acute disappointment to me that Judge 
 Kirke's son should turn out a villain. I knew the judge 
 well, and he was certainly the soul of honor." 
 
 tfc And I had faith in Ben, and would have gone to 
 the stake on it," returned Miss Wilder, sitting very 
 erect in her chair. 
 
 " Yes, to be sure. And it was only last week that
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 233 
 
 the Danforths were lauding him to the skies. Well, 
 well, I hate to give up the boy," said Mr. Searle with 
 an outward wave of both hands, as if regretfully 
 flinging him away. 
 
 Theodate sighed, and gazed into the fire. A large, 
 wicked-looking red brand, about to fall headlong upon 
 the hearth, personated Mr. Kirke on the way to ruin. 
 
 " He promised well," said Mr. Searle, " but was 
 not sound at the core. He could not stand the test of 
 sudden poverty." 
 
 " Yet," contended Theodate, " I never saw any one 
 who seemed to care less for money." 
 
 The lawyer smiled slowly and sagely. "When you 
 knew him, he had not learned the value of money. 
 He had all he cared for then, and much more than he 
 needed. It was only after he went down in the world 
 that he fell into temptation." 
 
 " Still, I can't understand it, Mr. Searle. To say 
 nothing of his principles, he certainly has excellent 
 sense ; and that forgery was so sure to be found out. 
 Why, how dared he?" 
 
 " It was foolish, but forgeries are usually foolish. 
 I suppose he had no idea that the note would be 
 presented at the bank in Drogheda." 
 
 " Do you know any one in that city, Mr. Searle? " 
 
 ' ' No ; why do you ask ? ' ' 
 
 " If there were only some person there you could 
 write to. Isn't it barely possible this may be a mis 
 take?" Theodate looked up wistfully. Only yester 
 day Mr. Kirke had been in a sort her natural enemy, 
 the one being in the world she had cause to dread. 
 To-day he was beneath contempt ; but, strange to say,
 
 234 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 she would have laid down her life to give him back the 
 power to make her unhappy. The reason of this was 
 not far to seek. She knew now, by Evelyn's silent 
 anguish, that her heart had been given to the keeping 
 of this villain. 
 
 "A mistake? I am afraid not," returned Mr. 
 Searle with a decisive shake of the head. " A man 
 isn't apt to be arrested for forgery by mistake. Ben 
 is well known in Drogheda by this time, and his iden 
 tity cannot be questioned. I am sorry to say there is 
 a moral certainty of his guilt." 
 
 Mr. Searle was a lawj^er of judgment and experi 
 ence, not a person to leap to hasty conclusions ; and 
 Theoclate sighed again, and looked into the fire. 
 
 But there was an element of strong persistency in 
 her character ; and, without saying more to Mr. Searle, 
 she wrote that very night to the " Postmaster, Drog 
 heda," asking the simple question, whether the item 
 which she quoted from the "Drogheda Pioneer" was 
 true or false. If false, how she should rejoice to say 
 so to Evelyn, poor, pale child, who kept about her daily 
 tasks with pathetic patience, and had but once men 
 tioned the name of Ben Kirke, and that was when she 
 told Thcodate the shameful story. 
 
 Many days elapsed, and Theoclate began to think 
 the postmaster had not received her letter, or, if he 
 had, did not mean to reply. But finally an answer 
 came, extinguishing the last faint ray of hope. " The 
 item quoted was true in every particular," he said. 
 That was all, but it was more than enough. Theodate 
 never told Evelyn that she had written. 
 
 Evelyn said one day, in a low voice, averting her
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 235 
 
 head, " I think it is time I should return Mr. Kirke's 
 letters." 
 
 It was now November, a month before he was to 
 have received his final answer. 
 
 "Yes," responded Theodate. 
 
 What an immense package the letters made, and now 
 how worthless ! Evelyn had not trusted herself to look 
 them over, and wished to forget that they were going 
 to a man who occupied a prisoner's cell. 
 
 Some time after this, Theodate saw her remail a 
 fresh letter from Mr. Kirke, unopened, but nothing was 
 said. It was not Evelyn's way to chatter upon a sub 
 ject which lay so near her heart. She was learning 
 now, when all was over, that Ben Kirke, with many 
 minor faults, had been after all her ideal of a true and 
 noble man, the man she could honor and let us say 
 it clearly love. 
 
 She put away this ideal reverently, as one buries 
 the dead ; but the real Ben Kirke, the unprincipled 
 being living in California and committing cold and 
 shameless crimes, what had she ever known of him? 
 He was a stranger. It had pleased him to masquerade 
 at Narrausauc ; and he had masqueraded cleverly 
 she would give him credit for that. It was a cruel 
 game, but common, she believed, with " men of the 
 world." Atj least, this was what she had alwa3's 
 heard ; she knew very little herself of what the world 
 really is. He had masqueraded, and completely de 
 ceived her and all the other simple people of the town. 
 The worst anybody had ever said of him was that he 
 was " a drone ; " and she smiled to think how even that 
 had vexed her, and how resolved she had been not to
 
 236 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 care for him unless he should rouse himself and go to 
 work. 
 
 As for his integrity, she had never even questioned 
 it. That goes without the saying among decent peo 
 ple, she thought ; forgetting, alas, that defaulting and 
 forger}' are the crimes of the educated, rather than the 
 ignorant ! And she had come so fearfully near accept 
 ing his light love ! She was thankful now for the slow 
 reserve and coolness of her nature, which had saved 
 her from that utter wreck. 
 
 She felt no resentment toward him : he was more 
 to be pitied than blamed ; born probably with a total 
 lack of moral sense, like Martin Field, that handsome, 
 plausible young man who superintended the Sabbath 
 school at Latium, and was arrested as he came out of 
 prayer-meeting for a sly piece of swindling. She 
 could not hate Mr. Kirke. Nothing he could ever do, 
 or fail to do, would take from her the overpowering 
 gratitude she felt to him for having saved her life. 
 Life was dear, though it must be admitted it did not 
 seem to her just now the priceless boon she had been 
 wont to regard it. No, she could not hate the man 
 who had saved her life. Besides, he loved her : she 
 never doubted that ; not very deeply or very worthily, 
 merely in the careless, shallow fashion of men of his 
 sort. But no woman ever quite scorns the man who 
 loves her. What she had to do now was to put him 
 out of her thoughts. She would not discuss him with 
 any one, least of all with Theodate, whose eyes flashed 
 dangerously at the chance mention of his name. Theo 
 date was naturally hard upon sinners ; and Ben Kirke 
 was an unspeakable sinner, who had aspired what
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 237 
 
 sacrilege! to the hand of Evelyn Searle. His crime 
 of forgery was black enough in an}* light, but tenfold 
 blacker when you connected him in your mind with 
 that spotless, radiant woman. Theodate could for 
 give royally an injury to herself, that is, upon the 
 offender's showing due repentance, but an injury to 
 Evelyn was another matter : she had no intention of 
 even trying to forgive it. 
 
 Moreover, a certain feeling of self-blame intensified 
 her bitterness. If she had not espoused the young 
 man's cause so warmly, perhaps Evelyn would have 
 forgotten him long ago, and so have escaped this fiery 
 trial. 
 
 "Was I born to commit blunders?" thought poor 
 Theodate. 
 
 Though Evelyn never alluded in the most distant 
 manner to Mr. Kirke, her silence regarding him was 
 eloquent, and appealed to Theodate's heart. In one 
 thing, if in no other, the two friends were alike, they 
 were not given to idle complainings and weak tears. 
 
 Evelyn made a thousand excuses for her pre-occupa- 
 tion and sadness. Either the weather was oppressive, 
 or her brain was tired, or her stories " would not write." 
 And, try her best, Theodate found she had lost the 
 power of re-assuring her. When she begged her not to 
 fret over a rejected manuscript, for she " had noticed 
 that articles which had met with reverses in their youth 
 were apt to turn out brilliantly," Evelyn said " In 
 deed ! " with quiet irony. 
 
 " Why, yes. Don't you remember your 'Christmas 
 Rose ' ? The great American traveller, we called it ; 
 but, when it found a home at last, how much it was
 
 238 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 admired and copied ! Have faith in yourself, dear, 
 if you cannot in man," she added mentally. " Think 
 of the praise you have received from the very highest 
 sources." 
 
 Evelyn drew the fleecy shawl about her, she wore 
 that shawl now when the weather had the slightest 
 chill, and recalled the words she had lately read of 
 Mme. de Stael : " Fame for woman is only a splendid 
 mourning for happiness." 
 
 Not that Evelyn expected ever to know any thing 
 of fame from her own experience. She could only 
 imagine what it might be like by the frequent tokens 
 of appreciation which came to her from admiring 
 strangers, chiefly enthusiastic, fresh-hearted girls ; and 
 these tokens always pleased her. Still, she knew that 
 the same thing, immeasurably increased and infinitely 
 repeated, could never fill her life or satisfy her heart. 
 
 "What do I care for praise, Theodate? A mere 
 breath that blows warm to-day and cool to-morrow," 
 
 The weary tone touched Theodate, who turned her 
 head awa}', saying to herself in the words of stanch old 
 Mother Bickcrdyke : "Poor thing! But she has two 
 friends, God Almighty and me." And when she spoke 
 again it was to relate an absurd little story, which she 
 told capitally ; though Evelyn rather failed to see the 
 point, and hoped Theodate was not falling into the anec 
 dotal habit, which is so tedious when carried to excess. 
 
 For the first time in all their acquaintance, Evelyn 
 was now and then a little irritable, suffering keenly 
 afterward for any slight petulance toward Theodate, 
 who for her part never heeded it in the least. She 
 was absolutely " uuwouudable," or so she would have
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 239 
 
 it appear. In her continual care for Evelyn, and her 
 desire to drown for her the sorrow which they could 
 not call by name, Theodate thought seriously of a 
 trip to Europe. By strict economy it might be managed, 
 she believed, and a year's stay abroad would work 
 marvels for the child. As for herself, if she had 
 stopped to think of herself, this would be her joy of 
 joys. She could not remember the time when she had 
 not had a more or less lively longing to cross the sea 
 for study. But whenever she ventured in a tentative 
 way to speak of Europe, Evelyn's response was always 
 a shudder and a gentle shake of her head. "Oh, that 
 dreadful ocean ! You are not serious, Theodate? " 
 
 "Do you expect me always to be serious? Can't 
 we have our little jests? " smiled Theodate, concealing 
 her disappointment and crushing back her unruly wish, 
 as if it had been a deadly sin. She might go abroad 
 alone or with some one else ; she had friends in Bangor 
 who were making up a party. But she would not go 
 and leave Evelyn. Evelyn needed her. 
 
 Theodate always knew infallibly what to do. She 
 would stay where she was needed. 
 
 A year passed, nearly two years. It was some 
 times remarked that Evelyn was less lively than for 
 merly, and that Theodate did not look well. Yet no 
 one ever heard Miss Wilder complain ; and if asked 
 about her health, she seemed surprised. 
 
 " What did they mean? Oh, to be sure, she tvas ill 
 a few days last week ; but that did not signify ! She 
 had been subject to trifling attacks of the sort from a 
 child." 
 
 She answered, " Oh, no! " to the query, " Did she
 
 240 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 come of a consumptive family ? " And this relieved the 
 friendly anxiety of the neighbors, who held the theory 
 that a New Englander with sound lungs is entitled to 
 a long life, unless taken off by accident. 
 
 If she had once hinted that these " trifling attacks " 
 concerned that vital organ the heart, Evelyn would 
 have suffered great alarm ; and what was the need of 
 that, when, as Theodate trusted, God would spare her 
 life for many years to come? " I will not be mourned 
 and buried till 1 die," she thought; "and I shall die 
 but once." 
 
 She was usually in fine spirits, the life of the house, 
 Evelyn declared gratefully ; but nobody suspected how 
 restful she would have found it to lie down after her 
 day's work sometimes, and only close her e3 - es, or at 
 most open them to look at the stars, without the effort 
 of speaking. But it was always in the evening that 
 their little strolls were taken out of doors, with plenty 
 of pleasant chat ; or old friends dropped in, and Theo 
 date would never leave the burden of their entertain 
 ment upon Evelyn. Evelyn admired and wondered at 
 her vivacious friend, and leaned upon her unconsciously 
 more and more. 
 
 "I'm getting on in years," said she playfully, as 
 they sat one night at tea. " As we grow older, I think 
 we recede within ourselves, like dim pictures. At least, 
 it is so with me ; but as for you, Theodate, you are 
 perennial." 
 
 " If you are growing dim, my dear, you need to be 
 retouched," said Theodate with a professional look; 
 " retouched and freshened, say, by sea-air. Take my 
 advice, and run away to the islands with your uncle."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 241 
 
 " But it is you who are ill, Theodate. Will you go 
 too?" 
 
 "I? Oh, not at present! " with calm decision. 
 
 A half smile crossed Evelyn's face. 
 
 " Now, Theodate, tell me truly, do you mind that 
 foolish gossip about you and uncle Mellen? " 
 
 tk Not one bit; do you? People ought to know I 
 wouldn't marry Mr. Searle without his consent," replied 
 Theodate with her wholesome, inspiriting laugh. 
 
 She had never stood much in awe of Mrs. Grundy ; 
 and if that amiable creature chose to chatter and sur 
 mise because Mr. Searle kept on calling at Violet Hill 
 since his wife died just as he had called there before, 
 why, then, so much the worse for Mrs. Grundy. 
 
 " No, Evelyn, it is these slow pictures. I cannot 
 take them, and I will not leave them. Only think, 
 how that miserable bit, ' Drones' Honey,' has clung to 
 my hands." 
 
 4 1 A painting with such a name is doomed from the 
 beginning ; throw it awa3'," said Evelyn, with a sort of 
 contemptuous pity for herself as she remembered the 
 happy day when she and Mr. Kirke had discussed the 
 meaning of those words, which now served Theodate 
 as a text for one of her rustic sketches. 
 
 Poor, unprincipled Mr. Kirke ! His whole life had 
 been an irregular, idle quest for drones' honey, which 
 had proved a bitter morsel to his tongue at last. 
 
 " Theodate, your industry is something appalling ; 
 and you are not well, though you will never let me say 
 so," said Evelyn, looking anxiously across the table at 
 her friend's face. 
 
 During the past year its dark pallor was more
 
 242 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 noticeable than ever ; and her ears, alwa}'s very white, 
 had now the translucence of thinnest porcelain. 
 
 "It is you, Theodate, who need the change, not I," 
 removing the napkin from a glass of delicate orange 
 jelly, and passing the glass to her friend with a winsome 
 smile. 
 
 Theodate had been making a mere pretence of eat 
 ing, but the jelly was an agreeable surprise. 
 
 "Thank you, dear, it is delicious. How can you 
 always be thinking to do such pleasant little things ? 
 Last night it was broiled pigeon, and the day before it 
 was lemon jelly with rose-flavored custard. It is beau 
 tiful of you, but rather absurd since I am so very well, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes, I know how well you are. I never saw any 
 one so superlative!}' well in all my life. It is remarked 
 upon throughout the village," said Evelyn dryly, but 
 with such tender solicitude in her tones that Theodate 
 could easily have dropped her head in her hands and 
 wept from sheer love and gratitude. But that would 
 never do, she told herself ; she hoped she was not such 
 a weak bit of flesh as that. 
 
 " Oh, fie ! I am over- petted, that is all," said she 
 presently, dipping her spoon into the jelly with great 
 composure. "Beside, I intend to meet you at the 
 islands by and by. I only want you to go first and 
 pave the way." 
 
 "But why," asked Evelyn, chafing against this 
 steady persistence, and all the more since she knew it 
 was sure to win in the end. " Why should I go first? 
 Why should I not wait till you are ready, may I ask?" 
 
 " Because, for one thing, you are better without me
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 243 
 
 for a little while," declared Theodate, in measured 
 tones, but smiling cheerily. 
 
 " What can you mean, Theodate? " 
 
 " Only that we are too much shut in, dear, to our 
 selves, with very little from outside to divert us. We 
 re-act upon each other, and reflect each other's moods ; 
 and though we are both remarkably brilliant and origi 
 nal," with a droll face, " our mental health requires 
 that we should separate, now and then, for a season." 
 
 "Thank you," returned Evelyn, in a pretty, half- 
 petulant way. " And it is I who must go? " 
 
 " It is you who write stories, little girl. Don't you 
 always say you find an inspiration in new scenes and 
 new people? " 
 
 Evelyn did not respond for a moment. She was 
 thinking of a rock near Dillon's Island, dashed upon 
 at high tide by the rising spra}*, and thinking what a 
 good type it was of Theodate withstanding the feeble 
 pleadings of Evelyn. An unselfish, grand, and every 
 way estimable rock was Theodate ; but the plaj'ful, 
 futile waves might as well consider that it was low tide 
 now, and subside with quiet grace. 
 
 " Very well, you have extinguished me this time, 
 Miss Date ; but I hope you will allow me to say you are 
 not in the least capable of taking care of yourself, 
 and my heart will ache for you all the while I am gone. 
 You will order the kitchen fire out, and subsist upon 
 crackers and milk, for aught I know," said Evelyn, in 
 a quivering voice. 
 
 This was the last sally of the loving, ineffectual 
 spray, as it sank to dead low tide. It was to be, and 
 she accepted it. It was one of the things marked out
 
 244 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 from the beginning, that she should go away from 
 Violet Hill and leave Theodate, who was really ill and 
 needed her care. 
 
 But how little do even the tenderest friends know 
 of each other, after all ! What would have been 
 Evelyn's surprise on her first evening with her uncle at 
 Dillon's Island, if she could have looked in at her own 
 home and seen Theodate dispose herself upon the sofa, 
 languidly fold her hands, and say pathetically, 
 
 " Oh, it is sweet to be alone, and dare to feel 
 tired!"
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 245 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " And then he will search Jerusalem with lamps, and the hidden 
 thin(/s of darkness Khali be brouaht to liaht, and the arguments of 
 
 touyues shall be hashed." 
 
 THOMAS A KEMPIS. 
 
 U /^\YSTERS on the half -shell; bottle of lager," 
 
 ^-^ ejaculated Mr. Fiske to the colored waiter, 
 before fairly seating himself at the little oval table. It 
 was his favorite restaurant in the heart of New York 
 city ; and the servants had learned, by experience, that 
 delays were dangerous when serving this brisk little 
 patron, who ordered his dinners as breathlessly as a 
 broker screams out the rise and fall of stocks on Wall 
 Street. 
 
 Nimble young John shot across the hall like a ball 
 from a gun ; but before he could possibly return even 
 empty-handed, the very unreasonable customer was 
 seated on the edge of his chair, twirling his hat, and 
 meditating a scathing rebuke for the delay. 
 
 " By all the powers ! " he cried next moment, spring 
 ing out of his chair and darting forward, as a tall, large 
 gentleman walked leisurely down the hall. " Kirke, is 
 that you ? ' ' 
 
 Dr. Kirke smiled in reply, and offered his hand. 
 " Glad to meet you, Joe. I was going to look you up." 
 
 " Sit down here, old man, and let's have a chat. I've 
 nothing under the sun to do for au hour. Why, where
 
 246 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 did you drop from? How natural you look ! " passing 
 him the menu. 
 
 " I've been in Chicago a day or two, and came here 
 on a little matter of business," replied Mr. Kirke, 
 taking the vacant chair opposite his friend, and deposit 
 ing his hat on the floor. " How fares it with you, Joe? 
 1 hope you are well ; " for the young man was slighter 
 than ever, if possible, and was developing a tendency 
 to baldness, while a sharp groove had settled in his 
 forehead between the eyes. 
 
 "Oh, I'm well! So you're here at last, John? 
 Have some Baltimore oysters, Kirke? They roast 
 them here to a turn." 
 
 Dr. Kirke gave his order to the boy, with a look 
 which recognized him as a human being, and stirred 
 his heart with gratitude. Whatever Ben Kirke might 
 lack in sound principle, he had one claim to nobility : 
 he was always a gentleman to his inferiors. 
 
 "Yes, I'm well," repeated Joe. as they pursued 
 their little dialogue, undisturbed by the clatter around 
 them. 
 
 " And doing well?" 
 
 "Fairly well. I have a chance to invest in lots of 
 schemes on commission." 
 
 " Why, I thought you were an editor, Joe." 
 
 " So I am, and a little of every thing else. Fact 
 is," with a burst of confidence, " I've made most of 
 in} 7 money shaving notes." This with a covert glance 
 at his companion out of the side of his eye. 
 
 There was no impropriety in the shaving of notes ; 
 but the time had been when Joe would hardly have 
 confessed such a thing to Ben Kirke, whose supposed
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 247 
 
 ideals were rather too lofty for that sort of business. 
 What a prig Ben used to be ! But, like most prigs, he 
 had shown his true colors at last ; and one need not 
 scruple now to talk with him openly about little mat 
 ters of sharp practice. Joe had never pretended to 
 be virtuous above his fellows ; neither, on the other 
 hand, had he ever committed a crime. 
 
 He had been studying Ben ever since he came in, 
 and could not see but he was as easy and self-pos 
 sessed as ever. What was he made of? Well, it 
 might not have injured his prospects so much, after 
 all, that trifling irregularity of forging a note. People 
 in those new countries slide over such things pretty 
 easily ; they are willing to let you live down your sins 
 and mistakes. Very kind of them, too. Joe would 
 certainly have expected to see Ben present a somewhat 
 abject appearance. He must be poor, and ought to 
 look shabby : but here he was, as well clad as ever ; 
 and instead of stooping, as had been his habit, his 
 shoulders were now well squared, increasing his appar 
 ent height, and he had the alert, earnest air of a man 
 who has enlisted on the right side, has no past to 
 be ashamed of, and sees a grand future before him. 
 
 "Can't understand it," commented Joe mentally, 
 with decided disapproval. 
 
 "My mother? Oh, she died, poor thing, a year 
 ago ! I tell you, Ben, I felt that, though I never said 
 much about it. One can't, you know. Yes, my sister 
 is married and off my hands ; married to Russell Bar- 
 bour. You remember Russ? 
 
 "What, / married? No, sir. That's a luxury that 
 can't be afforded, my boy," said Joe, dropping his
 
 248 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 eyes. He was not the romantic youth of three years 
 ago, and was wont to make merry over most of his 
 juvenile absurdities. But perhaps the time would 
 never come when he would cease to feel uncomfortable 
 at the thought of his moou-struck behavior at Narrau- 
 sauc. 
 
 " And now, Kirke, let me ask you a few questions. 
 Turn about is fair play. Married?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I rather wonder at that. Like me, you can't 
 afford it, eh?" 
 
 There was no answer to this, and Joe proceeded : 
 " Did you stick to medicine?" 
 
 "Yes," laconically. 
 
 " Well, T wasn't at all sure you would. Do you 
 know, I considered you a mild kind of idiot for 
 leaving Randall. Why, he's the leading lawyer in 
 Chicago." 
 
 " So I hear." 
 
 "Well, are you doing much? Come, now, be as 
 frank as I have been." 
 
 "Yes; I had the advantage of fledging under Dr. 
 Palmer's wing, and was well started in practice before 
 he died." 
 
 " I'll warrant it. You always were the luckiest 
 dog," muttered Joe with a rising of the old envy. 
 " And now you're carrying all before J T OU? " 
 
 "As you say of j r ourself, I am doing fairly well," 
 was the modest reply. 
 
 And Mr. Fiske, knowing Ben of old, needed no 
 other assurance that he had had exceptional success. 
 So the Drogheda people, bad luck to them ! not only
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 249 
 
 tolerated swindlers, but received them into the bosom 
 of their families on confidential terms. And here was 
 he, Joe Fiske, a very white sinner by comparison, but 
 how hard life had gone with him ! Abominable, con 
 sidering the pains he had taken never to lie or cheat 
 without the law on his side. 
 
 " I've had some hard lines, though," continued Dr. 
 Kirke, laying down his fork and preparing to be 
 communicative, as he saw that Joe was not satisfied 
 with his meagre disclosures. " I had a tough experi 
 ence, the first year I was out there, with a sharper." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 ' ' A fellow of precisely my size and figure happened 
 along ; and, when he saw me, he set to work to victim 
 ize me." 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 " Why, he did me the honor of pretending to be Ben 
 Kirke ; that is, he posed in that wa}* before a few peo 
 ple in the next town, who barely knew me by sight." 
 
 Joe had set down his glass, and was staring hard 
 across the table at his friend, who went on, serenely 
 unconscious. 
 
 " The miserable rascal drew up a note for two thou 
 sand dollars, running to me, and signed by two of the 
 citizens of Drogheda. He copied their names from a 
 couple of signs on the street, I believe. And then he 
 took the note to Maysville, and sold it to an old farmer 
 for part of a share in a gold-mine." 
 
 "That sounds rather thin," faltered Joe. "No 
 farmer of common-sense would take a note in that way 
 from a stranger." 
 
 "Oh, he thought he knew the man well enough !
 
 250 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 He had seen me once or twice at the doctor's office, 
 and the resemblance was really very striking," 
 
 " But did he give the deed without verifying? " 
 
 "To be sure. He was an honest, simple-minded 
 old man, and I suppose it never occurred to him to 
 doubt the identity. And he didn't present the note at 
 the bank for some weeks, and by that time the scamp 
 had absconded." 
 
 " Well? " Joe's voice was rather faint. 
 
 " Oh, I had a pretty hard time of it for a while, a 
 pretty hard time ! I was kept under guard for some 
 w r eeks, till the affair was cleared up satisfactorily. 
 But, Joe, there was one good thing about it. It brought 
 me hosts of friends. I never shall forget Hie people 
 who rallied round me in my hour of need, never, I 
 assure you." There was moisture in Ben's eyes, but 
 he dashed it away hurriedly. "Well, well, I don't 
 know when I've thought of this before ; but our talk 
 had a tendency to make me reminiscent," said he, roll 
 ing up his napkin, and apparently the subject with it, 
 and laying them both on the table. 
 
 "Glad you told me. It was quite thrilling," re 
 marked Joe ; and then fell into a fit of abstraction. 
 
 Never once had he thought, before this, of doubting 
 Ben's guilt ; but it was all clear enough now. Ben was 
 not only innocent, but profoundly ignorant that the 
 story had ever travelled outside of Drogheda. 
 
 The "Drogheda Pioneer" was a local paper of 
 small circulation. How had Joe Fiske happened to 
 spy a copy of it at the precise date of that unfortunate 
 affair? Joe was always spying " items ; " he was espe 
 cially constituted for it. It was one of the gifts that
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 251 
 
 
 
 marked him off for editorship. Here a little and there 
 a little, not usually the whole of a thing, not the rights 
 of a thing or the depths of a thing, but some salient 
 point of it he was apt to seize upon and " work up." 
 He had seen about half a dozen copies of the "Pio 
 neer," the paper had died out long ago, and one 
 of these copies, the fatal one, he had sent forthwith to 
 Narransauc. And why not? Joe had not "the art 
 of letting people alone." Ben Kirke was his rival; 
 aud, if his rival had committed iniquity, it should be 
 proclaimed from the house-tops. If Evelyn Searle 
 cared for the man, she should be rescued. Not that 
 he had any positive knowledge that she did : only a 
 dark and haunting suspicion of it, which caused him to 
 mail the paper in furious haste. He had Ben Kirke 
 under his heel for once ; and, in spite of old friend 
 ship, it was a satisfaction to crush him, knowing of 
 course that he deserved to be crushed. 
 
 Joe had intended to return to Narransauc some time, 
 and let Miss Searle know of his chivalrous defence of 
 her. What a triumph it would be ! How sweetly she 
 would welcome him as her protector, her tutelary 
 saint, her guardian angel ! But somehow he had never 
 pressed his advantage, he hardly knew why. He was 
 not a sensitive person ; but he could not forget his 
 own foolish behavior that dreadful summer, and the 
 difference it had made in her manner toward him. So 
 it happened that as yet he had not found the courage 
 to go back to Narransauc, or even to address Miss 
 Searle by letter. 
 
 Moreover, though he still considered his love for her 
 the grand passion of his life, it must be admitted that
 
 252 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 
 
 he had since had half a dozen similar affairs, more or 
 less thrilling, and had hardly thought of Miss Searle 
 for months until to-day. But this breath from the past 
 had blown aside the ashes and stirred to life a few 
 buried coals of the old feeling ; and now he was 
 prepared to make oath that he had loved her without 
 ceasing, and her only, and should continue to love her 
 while the lamp of life held out to burn. 
 
 Under these circumstances it was pretty hard for 
 him, he thought, to find out that he had made an 
 egregious mistake, and sent her a piece of false infor 
 mation. The role of guardian angel, on which he had 
 plumed himself, turned out to be a ridiculous farce ; 
 and he fairly tingled to his fingers' ends at the thought 
 of it. 
 
 The two young men left the saloon, and walked 
 together toward Broadway. 
 
 " Fine weather we're having now," chirped Mr. 
 Fiske gayly. "Going into the country this summer, 
 Ben?" 
 
 " No ; I must rush back to Drogheda." 
 
 " Ever hear any thing these days from Narran- 
 sauc? " pursued Joe cautiously. 
 
 "No; do you?" 
 
 The tone was quiet, and one might fancy rather 
 constrained. 
 
 " Not I," said Joe, affecting a jocose manner. 
 " Why, you wouldn't expect me to hear, after the 
 impression I made up there three years ago ! Whew, 
 wasn't I a young scatterbrains ! But those were fine 
 girls on Violet Hill ; I've never seen their equals, 
 Ben."
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 253 
 
 " Fine girls," echoed Dr. Kirke, breaking step with 
 his companion, and walking on with long strides. 
 
 Joe hurried after him. He was not destitute of a 
 conscience; and, though devoted to his own interests, he 
 did know he had wronged his friend, and he did regret 
 it. Ben had suffered ; there was no question about that. 
 He was too proud to make a sign ; but the square set 
 of his lips, and the firm clinching of his hands, showed 
 that Joe had just touched a live nerve, and that further 
 allusion to Violet Hill would be intolerable. 
 
 "What shall I do?" thought Joe, positively dis 
 tressed. 
 
 He would have liked to make reparation ; but how ? 
 Should he tell the whole truth? What, and implicate 
 himself, call down a shower of maledictions on his own 
 head ? 
 
 Ben would never have informed against him ; he 
 would have scorned to play the part of a spy and a 
 gossip. Joe felt guilty, and wanted to be forgiven ; 
 but confess he could not, and would not. It was more 
 than human nature could endure. 
 
 " Let bygones be bygones. Besides, an explanation 
 might bring Ben and Evelyn together again ; and I 
 would rather see him lying dead at my feet," thought 
 the tragic swain, who was now suffering the pangs of 
 an ill-used, faithful, breaking heart. 
 
 "Well, Kirke," with great cordiality, "I was in 
 luck to-day meeting you. It has set me up for a week. 
 Walk along to my rooms, won't } T ou? " 
 
 " Thank you, no. I am to meet a man at Chambers 
 Street at two," looking at his watch. 
 
 " But sha'u't I see you again, Ben? "
 
 254 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 " I'm afraid not. I leave to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Too bad ! We haven't told half. But any way, 
 Ben, I'll be on hand at the station to-morrow morn 
 ing." 
 
 "All right. I'll give you a quarter of an hour 
 there. But in case we shouldn't meet," said Dr. 
 Kirke, taking both Mr, Fiske's hands, and wringing 
 them, while he looked down on him with a face that 
 fairly radiated good- will, "if we shouldn't meet, 
 remember, Joe, I always felt, and always shall feel, 
 the warmest interest in you, as Art's brother." 
 
 The last three words were spoken involuntarily, for 
 truth's sake. His interest in Joe was a sort of post 
 humous friendship for Arthur, and he had never pre 
 tended otherwise. He found him a very disappointing 
 3'oung fellow, in himself considered, but never forgot 
 that he had survived one of the best of brothers. 
 
 "Thank you, Ben," said Joe, gyrating lightly on 
 his left heel, but not raising his eyes. " Good- by. 
 See you to-morrow." 
 
 Whether that last warm speech of Ben's served to 
 thaw the crust of ice around his worldly heart, or 
 what other influences were at work upon Joe, I cannot 
 pretend to say ; I will only state that the next morning, 
 after Mr. Kirke had waited the promised quarter-hour 
 at the station, and was about walking in through the 
 opened gate, to take his seat in a car for Buffalo, the 
 tardy youth rushed up breathless, thrust a paper into 
 his hand, with a " Good-by, old boy, take that ; and be 
 sure you send me an answer," and was off like a rocket. 
 
 Mr. Kirke opened the paper before entering the car, 
 and read :
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 255 
 
 "Don't disown me, Ben; but the truth is, I knew something 
 about that forged note before you told the story yesterday. I 
 saw the ' Drogheda Pioneer' at the time of it, and sent it to 
 Narransauc from a stern sense of duty. You may imagine how 
 relieved I was yesterday to find you innocent, but it cuts me up 
 tremendously to think I have spread the story. I hereby own, 
 up. Will you forgive uie ? 
 
 JOE." 
 
 " The meddlesome monkey ! " 
 
 I am obliged to quote these as the first words that 
 rose to Dr. Kirke's lips. They seemed very personal 
 to the old lady who was just then brushing his elbow 
 with her bird-cage, and she turned upon him an indig 
 nant, reproachful look ; but he saw neither the look 
 nor the lady. 
 
 "So they have heard that at Narransauc." He 
 dimly remembered that there had been a " Drogheda 
 Pioneer," but it seemed incredible that so feeble a sheet 
 could have travelled so far. That abominable slander ! 
 Why, not one of his friends outside of California had 
 ever heard of it till he told it himself ! It was such an 
 old story now, that he had almost forgotten it. It was 
 the merest chance, his rehearsing it yesterday to Joe ; 
 and Joe The fire within him broke out into sparks 
 as he glared at the note in his hand. In all the pain 
 he had suffered from Evelyn's cold withdrawal, and 
 a man could hardlj- have felt it more, he had never 
 suspected this cause. She had said he should have 
 his answer in a year ; and he had had it a fortnight 
 sooner than that, the brief, irrevocable sentence, 
 " Please consider that all is over between us." Noth 
 ing in their correspondence had led up to it, or given 
 him cause to expect the cruel blow. On the contrary,
 
 256 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 she had been writing him all along in a very frank, 
 delightful vein ; and he had begun to count the days 
 till they should meet as more than friends. When he 
 begged an explanation, his letter came back unopened. 
 It was very strange, and very hard to bear. He was 
 conscious of no offence toward her, except that of 
 loving her too well ; and, if she must dismiss him, he 
 thought he had reason to expect her to do it in a very 
 different way from this. 
 
 Was there something objectionable in the last letter 
 he had written? If so, what was it? Her behavior 
 was a deep mystery ; but he had finally settled down 
 to the surmise that a certain pla3'ful speech in his last 
 letter must have displeased her. It was an absurd 
 solution, but the best he could frame ; and though 
 he would hardly admit that she was capricious, the 
 woman he had " honored this side of idolatry," the 
 resentment he could not but feel toward her had helped 
 him not a little in rallying from his disappointment. 
 
 But here was the key to the dark puzzle ; here was a 
 vindication of her conduct. Who could blame Evelyn 
 Searle, or any other self-respecting woman, for dis 
 carding a man she believed to be a villain ? He won 
 dered at her sweet charity in sending him even that 
 one little sentence in her own hand, when blank silence 
 would have been more than he deserved. Dear Evelyn ! 
 And was it possible that she had suffered, too? 
 
 In the rush of these entirely new thoughts, he forgot 
 his anger, forgot Joe, forgot every thing but the joy 
 of his grand discovery. It was a " royal hour, the top 
 of life." He understood every thing now, and what a 
 dunce he had been not to understand it before ! That
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 257 
 
 poor little newspaper ! Some boy must have sent it up 
 for a kite : otherwise it never could have gone out of the 
 State. When could he see Evelyn? Where was she? 
 He did not know ; but he would know, and that right 
 soon. 
 
 The train was moving. Very well, he was not going 
 to California. He turned aside to the telegraph-office, 
 and despatched to his mother at Drogheda : 
 
 " I go East; will write to-morrow."
 
 258 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 "Paradise is under the shadow of swords." 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 " ' T ET'S hear no shouts before victory,' the kittle 
 -LJ is yet to win," thought Dr. Kirke, alighting 
 at Narransauc with head proudly erect, but a humiliat 
 ing consciousness that he was coming back a disgraced 
 man. He did not know where to seek Miss Searle, or 
 whether she would consent to see him. But one thing 
 was sadly certain, he could expect nothing more than 
 coldest courtesy from her or any other citizen, till he 
 should produce his credentials. He had " endured 
 hardness like a good soldier," but the thought of 
 appearing among his former friends as a suspected 
 criminal was well nigh intolerable. He had little for 
 bearance toward Joe Fiske when he thought of the 
 mischievous part he had played in his life. But then, 
 it had never been expected of Joe that he would really 
 confine himself to his own affairs. 
 
 Well, here they all were, the station agent and other 
 officials. They could not pretend not to know Mr. 
 Kirke. 
 
 "Why, where did you hail from? Going to stop 
 long? " they inquired. But not one said, " I'm glad to 
 see you back," not even Tom of the Druid, adoring 
 Tom ; and Dr. Kirke felt the omission keenly, as he
 
 DRO.VES' HONEY. 259 
 
 contrasted it with the sincere regrets and good wishes 
 on his departure three years ago. 
 
 He went to the Druid ; but Mrs. Simpson feigned 
 not to see his outstretched hand, as he followed her 
 into the back parlor, where her husband was asleep 
 upon the sofa, with cheeks distending and collapsing 
 like the sails of a ship in a breeze. 
 
 " Mrs. Simpson, my good friend," said the young 
 man, stepping forward and confronting her, "do not 
 turn away from me. The charges you have heard 
 against ;ne are false." 
 
 The worthy woman raised her dim old eyes, and 
 looked him through and through with a kindty but 
 searching gaze. 
 
 " Mr. Kirke, you was always a great favorite of 
 mine. I want to believe you," she said, her lilac- 
 colored cap-strings vibrating, as well as her broken 
 voice. 
 
 He had thought he should scorn to do it, but it was 
 with real satisfaction that he now drew from his breast 
 pocket a document duly signed and stamped with red 
 seals. Though lie had abandoned the law, he did not 
 despise its forms ; and he had despatched to friends in 
 Droghecla for this paper attesting his innocence, and 
 had waited in New York until its arrival. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson received it with trembling hands, put 
 on her spectacles, and read it through slowly, her face 
 softening and lighting all the while ; though she waited 
 to spell out eveiy name, and to turn the paper over and 
 look on the blank side, before the case seemed to her 
 finally settled. Then with the joyful exclamation, 
 u Bless the Lord ! " loud enough to waken Mr. Simp-
 
 260 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 son, she gave both her honest hands to the young 
 man ; and when he stooped over her, which of the two 
 was guilty of the tear which wet her cheek it would be 
 impossible to say : for after it she certainly wiped her 
 spectacles ; and he just as certainly, though rather more 
 slyly, wiped his eyes. 
 
 It was some seconds before Mr. Simpson could be 
 made to take in the situation ; but, when he did, there 
 followed a scene which reminded Ben of the father's joy 
 over the return of the prodigal sou, a scene he had 
 not anticipated and was not prepared for. He objected 
 seriously to "breaking down and making a fool of 
 himself," but the sacred jubilee of this warm-hearted 
 old couple did touch a very tender chord. And when 
 Tom was sent for and came in, full of boisterous 
 delight, Dr. Kirke was ashamed that he could not meet 
 him with dry eyes and a steady voice. 
 
 The parade of dainties on the tea-table that evening 
 was simply bewildering, and the supper turned out an 
 impromptu festival ; for in some mysterious way the 
 news had aroused the whole village, and the neighbors 
 came dropping in one after another, to offer congratula 
 tions, and drink a cup of kindness with the hero of 
 the hour. 
 
 "Takes the shine all off our golden wedding," said 
 the smiling Mr. Simpson, polishing his pink crown. 
 
 "What do golden weddings amount to, or you either, 
 Simpson ? You never did any thing you was ashamed 
 of," returned Mr. Crabtree ; adding with a resounding 
 laugh, as he shook Ben's hand for the seventeenth time, 
 " "We can't rejoice so much over good folks as we do 
 over sinners, and there's no use talking about it.."
 
 DRONES' HONEY, 26 1 
 
 Dr. Kirke had already made inquiries concerning 
 "the young ladies," and learned to his regret that 
 Miss Searle was at Dillon's Island with her uncle, and 
 Miss Wilder had not been well enough as yet to join 
 her. 
 
 "Date looks rather slender," Mrs. Crabtree had 
 said; and her husband had amended it, "Yes, amaz 
 ing slim." 
 
 Mrs. Simpson thought " Theodate undertook too 
 much trying to have the liter'y club meet there while 
 Evelyn was gone. Right in the midst of it, Wednes 
 day, she went off in a dead faint or worse, and didn't 
 come to for twenty minutes." 
 
 "I've heard lately," said Mrs. Putnam, "that 
 there's heart trouble in her family, and most of her 
 folks have gone that way." 
 
 " You'd better go up and see her, Mr. Kirke," ad 
 vised Mrs. Simpson later on, when the guests had 
 nearly all dispersed. 
 
 " Yes, do. It will kind of cheer her up," said 
 Mr. Crabtree ; adding, as the young man promptly dis 
 appeared, " There's no change in him, except for the 
 better. He's filled out some, and seems more kind of 
 dignified." 
 
 Miss Wilder had not heard of Dr. Kirke's arrival. 
 She was on the lounge in the back parlor when he 
 walked up to the open front door and rang the bell. 
 A vacant rocking-chair on the piazza was rocking 
 slowly in a breeze, as if it held a spiritual guest. A 
 handful of withered golden-rod lay on the door-sill, 
 left there by the very " Mamie " who, as a baby, had 
 coveted his watch on his first journey to Narransauc.
 
 262 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 It was the same quiet, beautiful place, guarded by the 
 same everlasting hills. It was the same bright-eyed 
 Rosa who came to the door with a cold welcome. 
 
 But it was not the same Miss Wilder. This he said 
 to himself with sorrowful surprise when she entered the 
 parlor, after receiving his card and the document. 
 
 Her greeting was cordial, even penitential ; but how 
 wasted she looked, how colorless ! Usually so self- 
 poised, she was unable now, from sheer physical weak 
 ness, to control her agitation. She said over and over, 
 with her hand pressed against her side, " 80 it was all 
 a mistake. Oh, I am so glad, so glad ! " But she 
 drew her breath with difficulty ; and Rosa, who seemed 
 to have been waiting in the hall for that very purpose, 
 came in presently with a glass of water and a pair of 
 pillows, and urged her to recline upon the sofa. 
 
 Dr. Kirke was much perturbed, and blamed himself 
 for having intruded upon her too abruptly. He might 
 have sent a note in advance to prepare her for his call 
 ing to-morrow, if he had really been aware that she 
 was so seriously indisposed. He waited only till she 
 was calmer, and, after a few remarks on indifferent sub 
 jects, hastened to take his leave. But this she would 
 not permit. 
 
 " I was strangely out of tune a few days ago, and 
 am hardly recovered yet," said she, trying to rise, but 
 sinking back to her half-recumbent position. "And 
 your coming was a surprise. There, I'm better now. 
 Pray stay and talk to me." 
 
 " May I monopolize the conversation, Miss Wilder? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is just what I want ! Sit down again, 
 Mr. Kirke. Tell me how it all happened. Ah, but
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 263 
 
 yon need not have sent me this paper ! A word from 
 your lips would have sufficed." 
 
 "Thank you for that," said he gratefully. And 
 then he began at the beginning, and told the simple 
 story in a few words. 
 
 " Rather humiliating, Miss Wilder, that I should 
 have to come back to Narransauc bringing a certificate 
 of good moral character." 
 
 " Like a coachman? yes." 
 
 " I never knew till last week that this miserable 
 slander had reached you. But, when I heard of it, I 
 resolved to come and contradict it. My friends here, 
 at least two of them, are too precious to lose." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad you came ! We shall both be so 
 glad." Theodate was no longer pale ; and Dr. Kirke 
 looked disapprovingly, and with some anxiety, at the 
 deep flush which had centred in each cheek. 
 
 " It was ver} r kind of you to come. You cannot 
 think how hard this has been for us, Mr. Kirke no, 
 Dr. Kirke." She smiled up at him as she spoke, and 
 he smiled in reply. They were both thinking how much 
 had happened since they parted. " We could not bear 
 to believe it of you. I wish we had trusted to our 
 instincts, which told us better than to believe it. In 
 fact, Dr. Kirke, I did go so far as to write to the post 
 master at Drogheda, hoping he would tell me that it 
 was a mistake." 
 
 " Bless you, Miss Wilder, my true friend ! " 
 
 "But he only confirmed the report; and then what 
 chance was left for doubt? " 
 
 "None to J T OU." 
 
 "And you can't blame us?"
 
 264 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 "For what? For casting me off? How could 3*011 
 have done otherwise? Still, Miss Wilder, if I hud 
 only had a hint, some little word!" He sprang im 
 pulsively to his feet, stung by the recollection of the 
 needless anguish he had suffered. 
 
 "It was cruel," said Theodate. "But how could 
 Evelyn how could either of us, suspect you needed a 
 hint? Criminals generally know but too well their 
 own guilt." 
 
 " True ; very true." He reseated himself. " I keep 
 forgetting what a villain I am," said he, laughing 
 somewhat bitterly. " You must forgive me. It takes 
 some time to adjust myself to the situation." 
 
 " Dr. Kirke, who sent that newspaper to Mr. Simp 
 son ? I know, without your telling me : it was Bryant 
 Fiske." 
 
 " Did she know this by one of her shrewd intui 
 tions? " Ben wondered ; but he did not reply. 
 
 Theodate sat upright, and fanned herself with energy. 
 Words seemed feeble at the moment. 
 
 " It was sent in good faith, Miss Wilder." 
 
 " Yes, from pure benevolence. I understand it all," 
 she cried. 
 
 "I met Joe last week in New York," went on Dr. 
 Kirke, " and that was the way it came out. He need 
 not have confessed to sending the paper, but he did 
 confess voluntarih*. He is not bad at heart." 
 
 " What less could he have done, if he was human? " 
 exclaimed Theodate, her eyes flashing. "I hope he 
 fell on his knees and begged your pardon in face of 
 the whole congregation." 
 
 Dr. Kirke would have enjoyed this outburst of wrath,
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 265 
 
 if he had not feared that Miss Wilder was becoming 
 unduly excited ; for she was evidently much weaker 
 than she wished to acknowledge. 
 
 He began, as soon as possible, to talk of other mat 
 ters, of the fine climate of Drogheda, its luscious 
 fruits, its dreary lack of grass. By degrees he arrived 
 again at Narransauc and Violet Hill, and ventured an 
 inquiry as to Miss Searle. She was still at the islands, 
 Miss Wilder said. Her uncle had come home three 
 days ago, and left her there. 
 
 " She does not know your state of health, perhaps? " 
 
 " She does not know I am worse, or she would be 
 here on the wings of the wind. I was not well when 
 she left home, and that was why I sent her away." 
 
 Dr. Kirke looked his surprise. 
 
 " She was always anxious, always watching me. I 
 could see it tired her." 
 
 " But she ought to know the truth, Miss Wilder." 
 
 " What is the truth?" asked Theodate with a look 
 he could not quite fathom. kt Do you thiuk me so very 
 ill?" 
 
 He evaded a direct reply. How much did she under 
 stand of her true condition, this unselfish woman, 
 who had deliberately chosen to suffer alone? 
 
 " You have a physician? " 
 
 " Yes, Dr. Cargill of Latium ; not Dr. Stone," she 
 replied with something of her old force of manner. 
 
 Dr. Kirke smiled faintly. He remembered that old 
 prejudice, and he remembered also that he had thought 
 Dr. Cargill a man of more pretension and less brains 
 than Dr. Stone. 
 
 " When you come next time, Dr. Kirke, I'd like to
 
 266 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 talk with you, and see if you and Dr. Cargill agree 
 about ni}- case." 
 
 "Very well," he said, restraining his professional 
 impulse to take her wrist, and question its still small 
 voice. " When I come again, we will have a long talk ; 
 but now I really ought to go. And may I ask you 
 Miss Searle's exact address? " he said with some em 
 barrassment. 
 
 "Just the Dillon House. So you are going down 
 there? That is right. " 
 
 " Do you think she would refuse to see me? " 
 
 "Oh, no, no fear of that!" said Miss Wilder 
 promptly, but added in a qualifying tone, "that is, if 
 you send her a note of explanation. I did not need 
 it, but she may. She is more prudent than I, more 
 consistent." 
 
 " So I fear," thought Dr. Kirke. " And what mes 
 sage shall I bear from you ? ' ' 
 
 " None ; except my dearest love." 
 
 "But, Miss Wilder" 
 
 "Please don't remonstrate with me, Dr. Kirke. I 
 am sure you think me worse than I am ; and it is quite 
 natural, seeing me for the first time after such a long 
 interval. For I know I have changed. But I am not 
 likely to die to-day or to-morrow," looking up brightly. 
 " So don't ask me to call Evelyn home." 
 
 " Still, if she wishes to come? " 
 
 "Then forbid it, from me. Tell her I charge her to 
 stay through August." 
 
 Dr. Kirke had risen to go, but lingered, looking 
 down in pity and wonder at the resolute figure upon 
 the sofa. "You mystify me, Miss Wilder. We
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 267 
 
 generally want our best friends about us when we 
 are ill." 
 
 "Not if it is going to terrify them," she returned 
 with a faint, yearning smile. " For several days, I 
 have been simply dreadful to behold. But I'm gaining 
 now, and I take such care of myself ! Why, I've 
 felt wonderfully better all day ; and in another week 
 I may be quite bright, almost myself, you know. At 
 any rate, she must wait a week. It is for her own 
 sake, Dr. Kirke." 
 
 He did not answer. " Good-by, Miss Wilder. You 
 will let me come again? " 
 
 "Oh, do, pray do! I never was so happy in my 
 life. And to think of what this will be to Evelyn ! " 
 She checked herself, afraid lest she might reveal too 
 much of what she knew, or fancied, of her friend's 
 feelings. "Evelyn is always so glad to know that 
 people are better than they are represented, the dear 
 girl ! There is joy in heaven, you know." 
 
 After he was gone, she reclined in perfect quiet 
 for a full half-hour. 
 
 " Yes, joy, pure joy. This is more than I prayed 
 for," she murmured, folding her hands, with a smile 
 like moonlight on still waters. " All is well with her, 
 and she will not need me any more. Father, I am 
 read} T . I can bear to leave her now. Forgive me, 
 that, while I trusted thee for myself, I never fully 
 trusted thee for her." 
 
 Dr. Kirke passed out with a grave, thoughtful face. 
 
 Rosa was still lingering in the hall. He gave her a 
 meaning look ; and she slipped out at the back door, 
 and met him half-way down the hill, out of sight of
 
 268 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 the house. She went eagerly, for her old faith in the 
 man had been quite re-established by the conversa 
 tion she had just overheard between him and Miss 
 Date. 
 
 " Tell me all about it, Rosa. How long has she 
 been so ill? " 
 
 "Oh, sir," replied Rosa, in a frightened tone, "it 
 has been going on for weeks and weeks ! I knew of 
 lots of spells she had up in her room ; but she wouldn't 
 let me tell Miss Evelyn, for Miss Evelyn never would 
 have went off, if she had known it. And Miss Evelyn 
 went ; and Miss Date has fell away steady ever since, 
 and grows worse right straight along. Peter and me, 
 we feel scared." 
 
 "Well, go on." 
 
 "And she wouldn't hear to my writing to Miss 
 Evelyn, and wouldn't write herself. And Peter, he 
 goes one day to old Dr. Stone, and asks him to call ; 
 and Miss Date didn't like it much, and wouldn't tell 
 him what ailed her. He thought it was her liver, and 
 some of those things. And how Miss Date laughed 
 about it after he was gone ! Then she had Dr. Cargill ; 
 and he laughed, too, and said, ' We won't hunt for 
 butterflies while there's bears in the woods.' I don't 
 know what that meant, but it made Miss Date look 
 pretty sober." 
 
 " AVhat else did he say? " 
 
 " Well, he said she hadn't any lungs and livers and 
 things : 'twas her heart. And Peter says the heart is 
 the main art'ry," almost in a whisper. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Yes ; and that's why she has to sit kind of propped
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 269 
 
 \ 
 
 up, so as to keep the main, art'ry straight, or it will 
 stop the breath. That's what Peter says." 
 
 These lessons in physiology were heard with flatter 
 ing attention. 
 
 " Does she think Dr. Cargill helps her? " 
 
 " I don't know. But we think the new drops is 
 making her worse : that's what we think, Peter and me ; 
 and we wish Miss Evelyn was here. But Miss Date 
 won't let her come ; though it's Miss Evelyn's own 
 house, and she begs and begs to come. Oh, how I 
 wish she could ! Every thing's always so beautiful 
 when Miss Evelyn is here, and she can manage Miss 
 Date splendid," said Rosa, in a confidential tone. 
 
 " Rosa, I'm going to Latium to take the night train 
 for Portland. I think, as you do, that Miss Evelyn 
 ought to be here ; and, if possible, I will bring her home 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "O Mr. Kirke, to-morrow? Will Miss Date be 
 willing?" 
 
 " I have not asked her, but you may tell her what I 
 say. And tell her Miss Evelyn will certainly think it 
 very cruel, if she is kept away any longer." 
 
 " Oh, I will, Mr. Kirke ; and, if you fetch her home, 
 I'll bless you to the longest day I live ! "
 
 268 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 the house. She went eagerly, for her old faith in the 
 man had been quite re-established by the conversa 
 tion she had just overheard between him and Miss 
 Date. 
 
 "Tell me all about it, Rosa. How long has she 
 been so ill? " 
 
 "Oh, sir," replied Rosa, in a frightened tone, " it 
 has been going on for weeks and weeks ! I knew of 
 lots of spells she had up in her room ; but she wouldn't 
 let me tell Miss Evelyn, for Miss Evelyn never would 
 have went off, if she had known it. And Miss Evelyn 
 went ; and Miss Date has fell away steady ever since, 
 and grows worse right straight along. Peter and me, 
 we feel scared." 
 
 "Well, go on." 
 
 "And she wouldn't hear to my writing to Miss 
 Evelyn, and wouldn't write herself. And Peter, he 
 goes one da}- to old Dr. Stone, and asks him to call ; 
 and Miss Date didn't like it much, and wouldn't tell 
 him what ailed her. He thought it was her liver, and 
 some of those things. And how Miss Date laughed 
 about it after he was gone ! Then she had Dr. Cargill ; 
 and he laughed, too, and said, ' We won't hunt for 
 butterflies while there's bears in the woods.' I don't 
 know what that meant, but it made Miss Date look 
 pretty sober." 
 
 " What else did he say? " 
 
 " Well, he said she hadn't any lungs and livers and 
 things : 'twas her heart. And Peter says the heart is 
 the main art'ry," almost in a whisper. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Yes ; and that's why she has to sit kind of propped
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 269 
 
 \ 
 
 up, so as to keep the main, art'ry straight, or it will 
 
 stop the breath. That's what Peter says." 
 
 These lessons in physiology were heard with flatter 
 ing attention. 
 
 " Does she think Dr. Cargill helps her? " 
 
 " I don't know. But we think the new drops is 
 making her worse : that's what we think, Peter and me ; 
 and we wish Miss Evelyn was here. But Miss Date 
 won't let her come ; though it's Miss Evelyn's own 
 house, and she begs and begs to come. Oh, how I 
 wish she could ! Every thing's always so beautiful 
 when Miss Evelyn is here, and she can manage Miss 
 Date splendid," said Rosa, in a confidential tone. 
 
 " Rosa, I'm going to Latium to take the night train 
 for Portland. I think, as you do, that Miss Evelyn 
 ought to be here ; and, if possible, I will bring her home 
 to-morrow." 
 
 tk O Mr. Kirke, to-morrow? Will Miss Date be 
 willing?" 
 
 " I have not asked her, but you may tell her what I 
 say. And tell her Miss Evelyn will certainly think it 
 very cruel, if she is kept away any longer." 
 
 " Oh, I will, Mr. Kirke ; and, if you fetch her home, 
 I'll bless you to the longest day I live ! "
 
 2/0 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " God standing in the shadows, tukiny care of his own." 
 
 MISS SEARLE was standing on the island wharf 
 with several other people from the hotel, watch 
 ing the stately approach of the nine o'clock boat, which 
 was faintly outlined through a veil of mist. Evelyn 
 wore her yachting-suit of silver gray, with ribbons and 
 garniture of soft, bright blue ; and as the damp wind 
 lifted her tresses of crisped gold, and freshened the 
 faint wild-rose tint in her cheek, she looked this was 
 admitted privately by young Miss Parmenter to young 
 Miss Chase " not a day older than we do, Carrie; 
 though she must be quite an old maid, don't you 
 know?" 
 
 Little dreamed these girls of seventeen, secure in 
 their youthful charms, that Miss Searle was of a far 
 higher type of beauty than either of themselves, and to 
 thinking people vastly more attractive. If she had 
 ever suffered, the healing years had touched the wound. 
 If she had been in danger of " growing dim," the sea 
 air, new companionship, and fresh thoughts had fully 
 " restored " her. 
 
 But for all her bright looks and unwonted gayety, 
 which with a little effort would have made her prime 
 favorite in the little circle here, Evelyn had not been at
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 271 
 
 all content at the island, and would have gone home 
 gladly with her uncle. She not only longed constantly 
 for Theodate, but felt a growing anxiety about her, 
 and had firmly resolved never under any circumstances 
 to leave her again. 
 
 It might be absurd, but she hardly felt at liberty to 
 return to her own house when Theodate wrote so in 
 sistently, " I shall be wretched if you come." Why 
 should Theodate choose to stay alone when she was 
 ill? "'Her loneliness foldeth a wonderful loving,'" 
 thought Evelyn reverently. " I know she chooses 
 it for my sake ; yet I sometimes fancy there is a 
 deeper reason still, that she is afraid to lean too 
 much on human love. ' By so much the more does a 
 man draw nigh to God, as he goes away from all 
 earthly solace,' I heard her say once, with a rapt look 
 that touched me to the heart ; and I grew numb with a 
 sudden fear. What should I do without her, I, poor 
 I? That dreadful pallor she has sometimes is from 
 mere fatigue, I dare say ; but when I am away from 
 her I am haunted b}* it. Dear me, what is Mr. 
 Gourlay talking about? " 
 
 Mr. Gourlay, a Canadian gentleman who was bota 
 nizing at the island, was standing beside her, looking 
 out upon the water. " You expect a friend, Miss 
 Searle?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" a cloud floating over the summer sky 
 of her face, as she asked herself, Who was there now 
 to come ? for the circle of her closest friends had nar 
 rowed very much within the past few years ; and then 
 involuntarily the thought arose, that once she might 
 have been looking out for Mr. Kirke, whereas now she
 
 2/2 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 would never look for him again, or ever care to see his 
 face. 
 
 " No ; I am only expecting letters," she said. " One 
 always expects letters here, you know." 
 
 The rnist was creeping in from the sea, like unhappy, 
 haunting thoughts ; but the boat had swung clear of it 
 by this time, and was well defined, and drawing very 
 near the wharf. 
 
 Mr. Gourlay remembered that Miss Searle had a 
 sick friend from whom she was anxious to hear, and 
 this might account for her abstracted air, as the boat 
 stopped and the passengers began to land. She was 
 looking, probably, for that magical leathern purse of 
 P"ortunatus, the mail-bag, which some one was flinging 
 into a wheelbarrow over a pile of newly arrived gro 
 ceries. But her interest in the mail-bag could hardly 
 have caused her to turn her head away from it ; nor 
 was it to be expected that a young lady of her good 
 manners should whirl completely around while a gen 
 tleman was speaking to her, ignoring his remarks alto 
 gether. 
 
 Mr. Gourlay would have understood it better if he 
 had observed the tall young man who was coming 
 toward them, never once moving his eyes from the 
 figure in the silver-gray yachting-suit. Dr. Kirke had 
 recognized Evelyn from a long distance ; and, as he 
 stepped out upon the lauding, he saw at once that she 
 knew him, and wished to avoid a meeting. He could 
 not blame her, and under any other circumstances 
 would have passed on to the hotel and left her in 
 peace. But now this would not do. She had it in her 
 power to escape from him by going off in a yacht, or
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 2/3 
 
 fleeing to her room, or doing any one of fifty other 
 things ; and there was no time to lose. So, at the risk 
 of downright impertinence, he walked boldly up to 
 her, and said in courteous tones, but loud enough to be 
 heard by all, "Ah, Miss Searle, is it you? I have 
 an important message for you. Will you oblige me 
 by walking with me to the hotel? " 
 
 He knew her well enough to be sure she would not 
 make a scene. She only hesitated for an impercepti 
 ble second, and then said, "Thank you, Mr. Kirke. 
 I hope the message is not from Miss Wilder?" and 
 went on with him up the rising ground, quite as if he 
 were an old acquaintance from whom she had parted 
 only yesterday. 
 
 A bringer of bad news, Mr. Gourlay feared. But 
 the news, whatever it was, could wait ; it must wait, 
 at least, till this terrible barrier between them was laid 
 low. 
 
 " Miss Wilder sent no message but her love. She 
 declares she is better," said he, willing to temporize a 
 little. 
 
 " Oh, I am very, very glad ! " 
 
 "Miss Searle," he added, dropping his voice to a 
 low kej*, tremulous with feeling, " for Heaven's sake, 
 listen to me ! As the Lord lives, I am an innocent 
 man." 
 
 Till then she had not looked at him ; but she turned 
 quickly now, and cried, "O Mr. Kirke ! " with a 
 little, half-strangled sob. 
 
 " It was only a case of mistaken identit}'," he con 
 tinued eagerly. " The crime was committed by a man 
 who looked like me ; but it all happened so long ago
 
 2/4 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 that I had nearly forgotten it, when I met some one 
 last week in New York. I have papers in proof of 
 my innocence, Miss Searle, which I will show you 
 when we reach the hotel." 
 
 " Never mind that," said she brokenly. 
 
 His word was enough for her, his word and that 
 manly, earnest face. What cared she for proofs? 
 Theodate had quite overrated her " prudence and con 
 sistency," it seemed. 
 
 She would have given him her hand, only in their 
 agitation they had walked on in advance of the others, 
 and she was shy of observation. But she let him read 
 her eyes, which always showed the least pleasure so 
 quickly, and were radiant now with the iutensest joy 
 she had ever known. 
 
 "Can you ever forgive me?" She tried to speak 
 steadily, but her lips quivered and her voice died 
 away. 
 
 It was a moment of pure delight to Dr. Kirke. He 
 had staked all upon this meeting, yet had counted on 
 some delay from cautious doubts. Miss Searle was 
 unworldly, he knew, but not impulsive ; he had scarcely 
 hoped for such a ready assent to his bare word of 
 honor. 
 
 "It is no question of forgiveness," said he grate 
 fully. 
 
 She led him to the grape arbor, fortunately vacant, 
 where she knew they would be secure from intrusion. 
 There was nothing for her now in heaven or earth 
 but the knowledge that the man she had wronged was 
 worthy her esteem ; of her love she did not even think. 
 Whatever of a personal nature had passed between
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 275 
 
 them was over long ago. It was the vast injustice 
 she had done him, the reparation she would make, that 
 filled her thoughts. It was happiness enough to know 
 she need no longer shut him out of her heart, as a 
 warden turns a key relentlessly upon a felon. 
 
 It was a rustic arbor, and the grapes upon it would 
 be small and sour, if they ever ripened ; but on enter 
 ing Dr. Kirke removed his hat as if it were the Holy 
 Gate of Moscow. How long it seemed since he had 
 been granted the high favor of a tete-ti-tte with Eve 
 lyn ! And never had he seen her like this before. He 
 held out both hands to her appealingly. 
 
 " You do believe me? You take me back, at least 
 to the old favor?" 
 
 *' Yes, oh, yes ! How cruel I have been ! " 
 
 " To the old favor, Evelyn ; but may it not be some 
 thing more? " he asked huskily. 
 
 He was deathly pale, but his firm lips and resolute 
 eyes indicated a reserve of mental strength. " You 
 know by this time, or you surely ought to know, what 
 to say to me. I will receive your answer now, and 
 abide by it forever." 
 
 "O Mr. Kirke, I did not suppose you would care, 
 after all this." 
 
 Not that she meant to trifle with him ; but he had 
 taken her at unawares, and it was her nature to be 
 timid and reserved. She had not thought of him 
 in this light for a long while, and she had not her 
 answer ready. 
 
 " It is not that you doubt my innocence? " 
 
 "No; oh, no! oh, no! " taking one of his hands 
 warmly in both her own.
 
 2/6 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 The cold dignity which had suddenly appeared in his 
 manner melted at this. He bent toward her with an 
 indescribably tender motion. " Evelyn, is there any 
 thing I can say to you now, that I have not already said 
 by speech or written word, to prove my love? " 
 
 "No; oh, no! It is not that," said she hesitat 
 ingly- 
 
 "Then may I ask what stands between us? " He 
 spoke with bated breath. For all his apparent calm 
 ness, she knew the hour had struck when they must be 
 all or nothing to each other. If she had ever tried 
 him by her indecision, and she saw now that this 
 might be so, it was clear that he would brook no 
 more trifling. 
 
 The party from the wharf were strolling past the 
 arbor, and their gay voices floated over from the road 
 on the left. Evelyn and Dr. Kirke were still standing ; 
 but while he looked intently at her, she looked in per 
 plexity at the landscape. 
 
 "Wait a little, Mr. Kirke. I cannot be hurried. 
 It is once for all ; and remember I have to think of 
 Theodate." 
 
 " Why of her? " he asked earnestly. " That large- 
 souled, gracious, exalted woman is sufficient to her 
 self." Could this be all, he wondered, the sole cause 
 of her hesitation? 
 
 " Nevertheless, she would not leave Maine ; and how 
 could I leave her ?" said Evelyn, looking up half 
 afraid. What beautiful eyes he had, and how they 
 drew her ! Was it her dut} 7 to resist the attraction ? 
 
 He advanced a step nearer, and she would have re 
 treated, in loyalty to Theodate ; but something held her,
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 277 
 
 like a scrap of iron held by a magnet. "Was it because 
 she had wronged him, and her conscience would not let 
 her off till she had paid the uttermost farthing? Or 
 was there no choice left her? Was the will of the 
 magnet her law ? 
 
 " O Mr. Kirke," said she, in a soft, entreating voice, 
 though her pulses were throbbing to their utmost, 
 " don't you see I am ground between the upper and 
 nether millstones ? ' ' 
 
 " What millstones? " he cried exultantly, " myself 
 and Theodate ? Tell me, is that all ? " 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 "Evelyn, she would not ask you to think of her. 
 She is like one of God's angels." 
 
 His manner, rather than his words, startled 
 Evelyn. 
 
 " Oh, what do you mean? You have told me noth 
 ing yet. You do not think her very ill? " 
 
 " I cannot say till I have seen her again. She bade 
 me tell you she is better. Still, Dr. Cargill " 
 
 " I never knew she had called Dr. Cargill. O my 
 Theodate ! ' ' said Evelyn with a pathetic little cry ; 
 and, as he extended his arms, she sank into them, 
 scarcely knowing what she did, and let them fold her 
 round, as a grieved child accepts the haven of a 
 mother's breast. She was thinking at the moment only 
 of Theodate, who must be worse, and of the pain it 
 was to be shut away from her by Theodate's own de 
 cree. It did not occur to her that by tins involuntary 
 act she was mutely answering Dr. Kirke's question and 
 appeal. In another second she remembered, but it was 
 then too late. He said nothing to remind her that it
 
 2/8 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 was the supreme moment of his life. He knew she 
 had come to him " once for all," but he spoke only 
 of Theodate. 
 
 " She may not be so ill as she seems. She does not 
 want you to go to her, Evelyn ; still, I think she needs 
 you." 
 
 " I am going now, at once, in the next boat. I can 
 not help it if she objects. O Mr. Kirke," with a long- 
 drawn, tremulous sob, " you know better than anyone 
 else how hard it has been to stay here and wait for 
 letters, and feel that she might be worse and would not 
 let me know." 
 
 "She expects you back with me," said he. Still, 
 he gently detained her. 
 
 " Expects me? Is it possible? You prevailed upon 
 her, then ? How good of you ! ' ' 
 
 And with an exquisite little caressing touch of her 
 head against his shoulder, she broke from him and fled 
 away toward the house, to make read} 7 for the journey, 
 leaving him gazing after her as her graceful, retreating 
 figure grew shadowy in the shrouding mist. 
 
 But there was no obscurity for him now, or haunting 
 doubts : his life spread out before him like the varied 
 landscape of the island, a plan of God, most beautiful 
 and clear. The sea was creeping in wherever it could 
 find an inlet ; the road winding to the unknown was 
 fringed with grass, which, ubiquitous, like the ocean, 
 sought a foothold even in the highway itself. Afar off 
 he knew the air was sweet with wild roses, juniper, 
 and fern. Near him he saw broad meadows of mown 
 grass, the emblem of humility, and remembered that it 
 is sometimes a blessing to be cast down awhile when
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 279 
 
 one's estate has been too high. In this mood he could 
 even forgive Joe Fiske. Joe had brought him low 
 enough ; but, before and beyond all that, had he not 
 been the unconscious means of leading him to Evelyn? 
 " Perhaps I wronged the boy, Art's brother; but, if I 
 did, he has had his revenge, and we will call it even 
 and let it pass." 
 
 So he and Evelyn went together toward Narransauc, 
 and "love was answered and life was clear." And 
 he tried to banish his forebodings regarding Ttieodate. 
 After all, what did he really know of the case, and 
 why should he excite Evelyn to an alarm which might 
 be needless? 
 
 " I am so glad and thankful to be going home. 
 Why, my heart is lightened already of half its fears," 
 she said with a brilliant look. "I'm cowardly and 
 unreasonable when I'm away from her ; but when I 
 once get back where I can see her every minute 
 Oh, how kind it was of you, Dr. Kirke ! " 
 
 For him it was an enchanted journey, and Evelyn 
 could not have been more charming if she had spent 
 the past years in storing up lovely words and looks 
 against his return. There was atonement in this, 
 but there was something more. She had crossed, 
 " once for all," the debatable land between friendship 
 and love ; and he learned to his delight how differ 
 ent is a woman fully won from a woman only half- 
 persuaded. 
 
 Up to the last moment she had hesitated for Theo- 
 date's sake ; but now, having made a final surrender 
 of her heart to the man Theodate approved, it was 
 easy to assure herself that this was 110 wrong to her
 
 280 DRONES' HONEY. 
 
 friend, and that now, if Theodate would only improve, 
 all would go well. 
 
 " Listen," whispered Theodate. " Is that the 
 train?" 
 
 The faint rumble in the distance might have been 
 summer thunder, hut no one thought of doubting the 
 evidence of Theodate's quickened senses. She was 
 very ill indeed. There had been a great change for 
 the worse. 
 
 Dr. Cargill was standing by her bedside with his 
 finger upon her pulse, as he had stood by Evelyn on 
 that September night now nearly three years since. 
 He made the slightest perceptible shake of the head 
 when Mr. Searle looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 *' I hope I shall be here when she comes. Half 
 an hour," said Theodate, in a fainter whisper, as Mr. 
 Searle bent reverently over her pillow. 
 
 A white calm was on her face, without a shade of 
 fear or doubt. "But now she will not need me 
 any more," she said slowly; and her lips seemed 
 scarcely to move. 
 
 " Theodate, dear Theodate, how can we give you 
 up? " said Mr. Searle, his eyes suffused with tears. 
 
 u J am not needed any more," repeated the pale 
 lips with a restful smile. " God let me stay till " 
 She left the sentence, and added, " I am glad he let 
 me stay so long." 
 
 It was five o'clock. Outside, from the open window, 
 could be seen the green meadows and the soft sky. 
 From far away could be heard the " song-talk " of the 
 birds.
 
 DRONES' HONEY. 281 
 
 " Life is wonderfully interesting," thought Theo- 
 date, closing her eyes, was it for the last time? 
 " Only eight notes in the gamut, yet such a variety of 
 tunes." 
 
 She seemed sinking, but revived a little after a 
 draught the doctor gave her. Her left hand lay in 
 Mr. Searle's right. She raised her ej'es and looked at 
 him with a smile never while he lived to be forgotten. 
 " Tell Evelyn I loved her to the last," she said. 
 
 The words rang out loud and clear ; they seemed the 
 final effort of a passing soul. Then gradually her eye 
 lids drooped, and Dr. Cargill thought the} 7 would never 
 rise again. 
 
 But God was merciful to Evelyn. It was not at 
 that hour or on that day that her faithful friend was 
 " caught inward toward the eternal melodies," and 
 " entered into the mystery of glory."
 
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