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 drew back his toes because they happened to be particularly sore and tender and he did not want them stepped on.

The youngster stopped and looked at Jamie, from the crown of his tired, sick head to the soles of his very badly swollen feet, and an expression of wonderment crossed the small face, but there was not the slightest sign of fear and there was no backward movement. Ground attained was firmly held.

“Oh, hello!” said the child.

“Hello!” said Jamie, as cordially as he could say it in a voice that had so recently been roughened with the emotion of self-pity.

“Where’s the Bee Master?” asked the small person.

Jamie hesitated. He was near enough now to look to the depths of the eyes trained on him, and it struck him that they had more depth, more expression, more comprehension, than any pair of eyes that he had ever seen on a person of anywhere near that age. There were things lying away back in the depths of the brownish grey eyes meeting his that awoke Jamie to caution.

“He went away for a few days and left me in charge,” he answered.

“Oh! But we don’t know you," objected the small person.

“But I’m here,” said Jamie.

“So you are,” said the small person, “and you prodibly wouldn’t be here if the Bee Master hadn’t said you might, and whatever he says, goes!”

With that “goes” both hands were spread out on a