ring. At either side of her, smoke
curled away like silk veiling blown out by the swift pace.

"Oh, she's burning!" cried Gwendolyn, in a panic of sudden distress.

The Doctor bent down. "That's money," he explained; "--burning her
pockets."

"She can't see anything but the bee. She can't hear anything but the
bee." It was Gwendolyn's father, murmuring to himself.

"_The bee!_"

Now the Bird came bouncing to Gwendolyn's side. "You've read that bees
are busy little things, haven't you?" he asked. "Well, this particular
so-cial hon-ey-gath-er-ing in-sect--"

"That's the very one!" she declared excitedly.

"--Is no exception."

"We must get it away from her," declared Gwendolyn. "Oh, how _tired_ her
poor feet must be!" (As she said it, she was conscious of the burning
ache of her own feet; and yet the tears that swam in her eyes were tears
of sympathy, not of pain.) "Puffy! Won't you eat it?"

Puffy blinked as if embarrassed. "Well, you see, a bee--er--makes
honey," he began lamely.

The figure had turned a corner of the Barn. Now, on the farther side of
the great structure, it was flitting past the openings.

Gwendolyn rested a hand on the wing of the Bird. "Won't _you_ eat it?"
she questioned.

The Bird wagged his bumpy head. "It's against all the laws of this
Land," he declared.

"But this is a _society_ bee."

"A bird isn't even allowed to eat a bad bee. But"--chirping low--"I'll
tell you what _can_ be tried."

"Yes?"

"_Ask your mother to trade her bonnet for the Piper's poke_."

Gwendolyn stared at him for a moment. Then she understood. "The poke's
prettier," she declared. "Oh, if she only would! Piper!"

The Piper swaggered up. "Some collecting on hand?" he asked. Swinging
as usual from a shoulder was the poke.

Gwendolyn thought she had never seen a prettier one. Its ribbon bows
were fresh and smart; its lace was snow-white and neatly frilled.

"Oh, I _know_ she'll make the trade!" she exclaimed happily.

The Piper considered the matter, pursing his lips around the pipe-stem
in his mouth; standing on one foot.

Gwendolyn appealed to the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "Maybe moth-er'll have to
have her ears sharpened," she suggested.

The little old gentleman shook his shaggy head. "_Don't let her hear
that pig!_" he warned darkly.

"She'll come round in another moment!" It was the Doctor, voice very
cheery.

At that, the Piper unslung the poke and advanced to the edge of the
road. "I've neve