the
bees, not him. An' you've got no quarrel with him because that Blanchard
have. After what Will done against you, you needn't be so squeamish as
to make his enemies yourn."

"My business is with the bees--as you say, mother," he answered slowly,
repeating her words.

"Coourse 'tis! Who knaws a half of what you knaw 'bout 'em? That's my
awn braave Clem! Why, there might be a mort o' gude money for a man like
you at the Red House!"

"I'll go. My business is with the bees. You walk along slowly, or sit
down a while and get your breath again. I'll hurry."

She praised him and blessed him, crying after him as he
departed,--"You'll find all set out for 'e--veil, an' gloves, an' a
couple of bee-butts to your hand."

The man did not reply, but soon stumbled down the steep hill and
vanished; then five-and-twenty minutes later, with the implements of his
trade, he stood at the gate of the Red House, entered, and hastened
along the newly planted avenue.

John Grimbal had not yet gone into residence, but he dwelt at present in
his home farm hard by; and from this direction he now appeared to meet
the bee-keeper. The spectacle of Grimbal, stern, grave, and older of
manner than formerly, impressed Hicks not a little. In silence, after
the first salutation, they proceeded towards an adjacent orchard; and
from here as they approached arose an extravagant and savage din, as
though a dozen baited dogs, each with a tin kettle at his tail, were
madly galloping down some stone-paved street, and hurtling one against
the other as they ran.

"They can stop that row," said Hicks. "'Tis an old-fashioned notion that
it hurries swarming, but I never found it do so."

"You know best, though beating on tin pots and cans at such a time's a
custom as old as the hills."

"And vain as many others equally old. I have a different method to hurry
swarming."

Now they passed over the snows of a million fallen petals, while yet
good store of flowers hung upon the trees. June basked in the heart of
the orchard and a delicious green sweetness and freshness marked the
moment. Crimson and cream, all splashed with sunlight, here bloomed
against a sky of summer blue, here took a shade from the new-born leaves
and a shadow from branch and bough. To the eye, a mottled, dimpled glory
of apple-blossom spread above grey trunks and twisted branches, shone
through deep vistas of the orchard, brightened all the distance; while
upon the ear, now growing a