Then Grandpa took some thin boards and whittled out darts. He took a
short stick, and tied a string to it; and then he fitted the string in
a notch which he had cut in one end of the dart. He threw the dart up
in the air, ever so high. It came down just a few yards from Don. The
sharp end stuck fast; and there it stood, upright in the ground.

Don was as much pleased with this as he would have been with a kite that
would fly. Soon he and Joyce were shooting darts into the air, to see
whose would go the highest.

They had so much fun that the afternoon flew by very fast. It was nearly
suppertime when Don gathered up the darts and took them to the house
with him. He carefully put them away in the little trunk, saying, "I'll
show the boys how to throw darts when I get home."

That evening, as they sat on the porch in the quiet twilight, they heard
the faint tinkle of a cowbell in the distance. They talked a while, and
then they sang some songs together.

"It's story time, isn't it?" said Grandpa by and by. "And who is going
to get stung tonight?" he asked, winking at Joyce.

"I hope _I_ don't," she laughed, remembering the time the bee had stung
her on the first day of her visit.

"No one shall be stung tonight," said Grandma. "I have a very sweet
little bee to tell you about. And because the little girl in my story
listened to its buzz, it made honey for her all her life. Its name is
Bee Loving; and it can do things that nothing else in the world can do.