sometimes i do a little work in the morning. doctors are agreed now that an occasional spell of work in the morning doesn't do me any harm. my announcement at breakfast that this was one of the mornings was greeted with a surprised enthusiasm which was most flattering. archie offered me his own room where he does his thinking; simpson offered me a nib; and dahlia promised me a quiet time till lunch. i thanked them all and settled down to work.

but dahlia didn't keep her promise. my first hour was peaceful, but after that i had inquiries by every post. blair looked in to know where myra was; archie asked if i'd seen dahlia anywhere; and when finally thomas's head appeared in the doorway i decided that i had had enough of it.

"oh, i say," began thomas, "will you come and—but i suppose you're busy."

"not too busy," i said, "to spare a word or two for an old friend," and i picked up the dictionary to throw at him. but he was gone before i could take aim.

"this is the end," i said to myself, and after five minutes more decided to give up work and seek refreshment and congenial conversation. to my surprise i found neither. every room seemed to be empty, the tennis lawn was deserted, and archie's cricket-bag and simpson's golf-clubs rested peacefully in the hall. something was going on. i went back to my work and decided to have the secret out at lunch.

"now then," i said, when that blessed hour arrived, "tell me about it. you've deserted me all morning, but i'm not going to be left out."

"it's your fault for shutting yourself up."

"duty," i said, slapping my chest—"duty," and i knocked my glass over with an elbow. "oh, dahlia, i'm horribly sorry. may i go and stand in the corner?"

"let's talk very fast and pretend we didn't notice it," said myra, helping me to mop. "go on, archie."

"well, it's like this," said archie. "a little while ago the vicar called here."

"i don't see that that's any reason for keeping me in the background. i have met clergymen before and i know what to say to them."

"when i say a little while ago i mean about three weeks. we'd have asked you down for the night if we'd known you were so keen on clergymen. well, as the result of that unfortunate visit, the school treat takes place here this afternoon, and lorblessme if i hadn't forgotten all about it till this morning."

"you'll have to help, please," said dahlia.

"only don't spill anything," said thomas.

they have a poor sense of humour in the admiralty.

. . . . . . .

i took a baby in each hand and wandered off to look for bees. their idea, not mine.

"the best bees are round here," i said, and i led them along to the front of the house. on the lawn was myra, surrounded by about eight babies.

"two more for your collection," i announced. "very fine specimens.

the word with them is bees."

"aren't they darlings? sit down, babies, and the pretty gentleman will tell us all a story."

"meaning me?" i asked in surprise. myra looked beseechingly at me as she arranged the children all round her. i sat down near them and tried to think.

"once upon a time," i said, "there was a—a—there was a—was a—a bee."

myra nodded approvingly. she seemed to like the story so far. i didn't. the great dearth of adventures that could happen to a bee was revealed to me in a flash. i saw that i had been hasty.

"at least," i went on, "he thought he was a bee, but as he grew up his friends felt that he was not really a bee at all, but a dear little rabbit. his fur was too long for a bee."

myra shook her head at me and frowned. my story was getting over-subtle for the infant mind. i determined to straighten it out finally.

"however," i added, "the old name stuck to him, and they all called him a bee. now then i can get on. where was i?"

but at this moment my story was interrupted.

"come here," shouted archie from the distance. "you're wanted."

"i'm sorry," i said, getting up quickly. "will you finish the story for me? you'd better leave out the part where he stings the shah of persia. that's too exciting. good-bye." and i hurried after archie.

"help simpson with some of these races," said archie. "he's getting himself into the dickens of a mess."

simpson had started two races simultaneously; hence the trouble. in one of them the bigger boys had to race to a sack containing their boots, rescue their own pair, put them on, and race back to the starting-point. good! in the other the smaller boys, each armed with a paper containing a problem in arithmetic, had to run to their sisters, wait for the problem to be solved, and then run back with the answer. excellent! simpson at his most inventive. unfortunately, when the bootless boys arrived at the turning post, they found nothing but a small problem in arithmetic awaiting them, while on the adjoining stretch of grass young mathematicians were trying, with the help of their sisters, to get into two pairs of boots at once.

"hallo, there you are," said simpson. "do help me; i shall be mobbed in a moment. it's the mothers. they think the whole thing is a scheme for stealing their children's boots. can't you start a race for them?"

"you never ought to go about without somebody. where's thomas?"

"he's playing rounders. he scored a rounder by himself just now from an overthrow, but we shall hear about it at dinner. look here, there's a game called 'twos and threes.' couldn't you start the mothers at that? you stand in twos, and whenever anyone stands in front of the two then the person behind the two runs away."

"are you sure?"

"what do you mean?" said simpson.

"it sounds too exciting to be true. i can't believe it."

"go on, there's a good chap. they'll know how to play all right."

"oh, very well. do they take their boots off first or not?"

twos and threes was a great success.

i found that i had quite a flair for the game. i seemed to take to it naturally.

by the time our match was finished simpson's little footwear trouble was over and he was organizing a grand three-legged race.

"i think they are all enjoying it," said dahlia.

"they love it," i said; "thomas is perfectly happy making rounders."

"but i meant the children. don't you think they love it too? the babies seem so happy with myra. i suppose she's telling them stories."

"i think so. she's got rather a good one about a bee. oh, yes, they're happy enough with her."

"i hope they all had enough to eat at tea."

"allowing for a little natural shyness i think they did well. and i didn't spill anything. altogether it has been rather a success."

dahlia stood looking down at the children, young and old, playing in the field beneath her, and gave a sigh of happiness.

"now," she said, "i feel the house is really warm."