change, the houses had the look of needing paint,
the weeds were taller along the fences, and there were no silos nor
tractors to be seen. As they neared John Massey's house, the road came
close to the river, with the high, grass-covered bank of earth that
was the dike rising at their left as they drove along.

They were obliged to stop where some horses were walking in the road
ahead of them and seemed slow in making way. The big gray and brown
creatures were dragging huge flat stones, each hooked to the traces
with an iron chain, scuffling and scraping along in the dust.

"I'm sorry," said the sunburned man who drove the last team, looking
back to where the car waited in the road. "We'll make room in a
minute, but the horses are doing all they can."

"We are in no hurry," responded Oliver. "Where are you taking the
stones and what are they for?"

"To mend the dike, quite a way downstream. It takes a lot of patching
to keep banks like these whole and strong, but they guard some
valuable land. The dike looks as though it needed repairs up here at
this end, but nobody does much to it. Mr. Peyton has us go over his
section of the banks every year."

The horses moved forward, leaving room for them to pass, and the car
went on.

John Massey's house was the last one at the end of the road, a little
place with a roof that needed new shingles and with sagging steps
leading up to the door. Oliver, with some difficulty, squeezed the big
car through the gate and followed the rutty driveway to the open space
behind the house. There was a stretch of grass, a well, two straggling
apple trees, and a row of beehives. An inquisitive cow came to the
gate of the barnyard and thrust her head over it to stare at them with
the frank curiosity of a country lady who sees little of strangers.

"Here is John Massey," said Polly, as a rather heavy-faced, shabby man
with kindly blue eyes came out of one of the barns. "My father gave
him some of these beehives and taught him how to make new ones. He is
very clever at it, and it means a good deal to him to make ours, for
he is very poor. He works very hard on his farm, but it never seems to
be much of a success."

The hives were brought out and paid for and stowed in the back of the
car. Oliver was just making ready for the somewhat difficult feat of
backing the car around in the narrow space between house and barn,
when there came a rattling of wheels through the gate and a loud,
rasping