of the house,
and scattering in all directions such bold bees as had ventured out to
ride down the boisterous breeze to the honey-filled meadows below.

Janet was as warmly welcomed as Oliver, and they were both bidden to
come in and sit down beside the table where Polly was sorting the
little wooden boxes in which the bees build the honeycomb.

"We were just going to begin a story," said the Beeman. "Polly has
been clamoring for it for half an hour."

"But I wanted to ask you something," broke in Oliver, too much excited
for good manners. "Couldn't you wait?"

"I believe," said the Beeman slowly, giving him an odd glance that
seemed to carry a message of complete understanding, "I believe that
sometimes it is better, when you are troubled about something, to cool
off and settle down, and come at an affair slowly. And I think this is
one of the times."

Oliver nodded. He felt quite sure that the Beeman was right.

CHAPTER V

THE GHOST SHIP

Cicely Hallowell sighed deeply as she pushed away the heap of papers
before her and brushed back the hair from her aching forehead. She was
weary of her task and the room was growing dark and cold. She was
beginning, moreover, to be uneasily conscious that the two men at the
far end of the long table had forgotten her presence behind the pile
of great ledgers and were talking of things that she was not meant to
hear.

Half an hour earlier her brother Alan had rushed in to see whether she
were not ready for their afternoon ride and had been disappointedly
impatient when she shook her head.

"It is a glorious day, so cold and the roads so deep in snow. The
horses are like wild things, and will give us a famous gallop up the
valley. Oh, do come, Cicely."

But no, she must stay in the big gloomy countinghouse, to finish the
letters that she had promised to copy for her father, while Alan had
flung off, saying over his shoulder, as he departed to take his ride
alone:

"It is very wrong to miss fun and adventure by toiling and moiling
here. Think how the sea will look and how the blasts will be blowing
over our Windy Hill!"

The place seemed very cheerless and empty after he had gone. The long
windows gave little light on that gray winter afternoon, and the big
fireplace with its glowing logs was at the far end of the room. There
were shadows already on the shelves of heavy ledgers lining the walls,
and on the rows of ship's models all up and down the sides of th