That pleased Don, and he began at once to fill the trough which Grandpa had placed in the pen.
That evening, Grandpa and Grandma and the children sat on the porch, listening to the chirp of the katydids and the call of the whippoorwills.
"Grandma," said Don, "what kind of bee will you tell us about tonight?"
"Bee Sleepy, and go to bed," said Grandpa, with a wink at Grandma.
The children laughed. "No," said Don, "I don't want to hear about that bee—not yet."
"All right," said Grandma, "we'll have our story first; but we must begin right away, because it is almost bedtime. The bee I am thinking about tonight comes often to us all—especially to little children.
"Once there was a boy named Alfred who was the only child in his home.
He was very selfish; and often he was determined to have his own way.
But he had his good points, too.
"Alfred lived in the country; and during the Christmas holidays, he visited a friend of his who lived in the city. Then his friend in turn visited him during the summer vacation.
"As soon as his company came, Alfred thought it was quite too much for his mother to ask him to help her. He forgot how very ill she had been, and how frail she still was. Indeed, it was hard for him to think of anything but having a good time with his friend.
"The two boys had planned to spend a certain day at the creek, fishing. Of course they were eager to start as early as they could that morning. After they had gathered together everything that they needed for their trip, they went out to the kitchen and found Alfred's mother packing a lunch for them.