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Updated: May 13, 2025
"We thought we must find out what the storm had done to our hives," the Beeman said. "Only three were blown over, but there must have been a great commotion. Now we have everything set to rights and we are not in the mood, to tell the truth, for a great deal more work to-day." "Are you too tired," Janet asked, "for for a story?"
"It won't do," thought Oliver determinedly, "he must have some one to help him, some one that knows more about this wretched business. There is that Cousin Tom he talks about, Eleanor's father. I can't think of any one else. I will send for him." If he could only have found the Beeman! He even searched the telephone book for the name of Marshall, but found none.
The session in the study was prolonged so late that in the end Janet and Oliver abandoned their sleepy effort to wait until Anthony Crawford should depart, and went dispiritedly upstairs to bed. "I have made up my mind to one thing," said Oliver firmly, as they reached the top of the stairs, "I am going to ask the Beeman what we ought to do.
"We can't do much with the bees for an hour or two," observed the Beeman, sitting down in the corner with his pipe. "Now tell me what you saw on the river, Oliver. I noticed your sail and knew that you were out." Oliver made his report upon the scouring banks while the Beeman listened and nodded gravely. "That is something we must look into," he declared. "It is like Anthony to have let things go.
For Helen Rayner that brief, dark period of expulsion from her home had become a thing of the past, almost forgotten. Two months had flown by on the wings of love and work and the joy of finding her place there in the West. All her old men had been only too glad of the opportunity to come back to her, and under Dale and Roy Beeman a different and prosperous order marked the life of the ranch.
What could you do with no men to fight for your property?" "But, surely, some of the men will stay with me?" "I reckon. But not enough." "Then I can hire more. The Beeman boys. And Dale would come to help me." "Dale would come. An' he'd help a heap. I wish he was here," replied Carmichael, soberly. "But there's no way to get him. He's snowed-up till May."
The boy, looking up quickly at his broad, friendly smile, realized that the man believed neither the old superstition, nor that Oliver entertained any evil feelings. "Perhaps," went on the Beeman, "the bees were in some danger that first day. You had it in mind, then, to go away for good, I think." Oliver nodded. He wondered how he could ever have made that selfish resolution to run away.
With a wild-rose color suffusing her face, she swiftly bent over him, kissed him, and flashed away into the house. Her laugh pealed back, and it thrilled Helen, so deep and strange was it for the wilful sister, so wild and merry and full of joy. It was then that Roy Beeman recovered from his paralysis, to let out such a roar of mirth as to frighten the horses.
Propbridge did not succeed in getting her hand free from his grasp until he had uttered the final "well." "You have the advantage of me," she said. "I do not know you. I am sure I never saw you before." At this his sudden shift from cordiality to a look half incredulous, half embarrassed was almost comic. "What?" he demanded, falling back a pace. "Surely this is Mrs. Beeman Watrous of Wilmington?
After more days of riding the grassy level of that wonderfully gold and purple park, and dreamily listening by day to the ever-low and ever-changing murmur of the waterfall, and by night to the wild, lonely mourn of a hunting wolf, and climbing to the dizzy heights where the wind stung sweetly, Helen Rayner lost track of time and forgot her peril. Roy Beeman did not return.
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