Honeybee Mystery by Gertrude Chandler Warner Page B

him. “It’s the only thing he’s talked about all week.”
    The other children laughed. “He’s honey happy!” Benny said with a grin.
    James Alden smiled at his grandchildren’s good-natured teasing. “I have to admit, Mr. Sherman, I’ve never had honey as good as yours. I think it would be safe to say it’s my favorite honey in the world.”
    Mr. Sherman nodded and smiled. “Well, what can I say to that? I certainly can’t disappoint one of my most loyal customers, now, can I?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Henry asked.
    Mr. Sherman turned away, motioning for the Aldens to follow. “Come on inside the house. I’ve got something I think you’ll like.”
    â€œIs it honey for Grandfather?” Benny asked excitedly.
    Mr. Sherman looked back at the boy with a gleam in his eye.
    â€œMaybe.”
    The Alden children lived happily with their grandfather in his home in Greenfield, Connecticut. But they hadn’t always enjoyed such a happy life. Their parents died when they were younger, and they soon found themselves with nowhere to go. So they journeyed into some nearby woods, where they eventually came upon an abandoned boxcar. They made it their new home. It was very old, but they cleaned it and brightened it up with flowers. But they couldn’t live there forever.
    One day their grandfather came looking for them. But they didn’t know him then, and they thought he didn’t like them. So they hid, hoping he would eventually give up looking for them and leave.
    But their grandfather was very determined, and once the children realized what a kind person he was, they happily agreed to live in Greenfield with him, along with their beloved dog, Watch. Grandfather even set up the boxcar in his backyard so they could play in it anytime they wished. It was a reminder of the hard life they once had, and the happy one they had now.
    The kitchen in the Shermans’ farmhouse was very similar to the Aldens’ kitchen — large and airy, with lots of sunlight. Mr. Sherman invited the Aldens to sit around a wooden table in the center of the room. His wife, Dottie, joined them, too. She was a tall, silver-haired woman with bright eyes and a lively smile. The children liked her immediately. Jessie and Violet were particularly drawn to her. They would soon discover she did as much to help run the farm as her husband did.
    â€œSo, what exactly happened with the bees?” Jessie asked, using a straw to swirl a glass of lemonade Dottie had poured for her. The ice cubes jingled musically against the glass.
    Clay Sherman threw his hands up in frustration. “I have absolutely no idea! Dottie and I have been doing this for going on thirty years now, and we’ve never seen anything like it!”
    Grandfather took a bite from a piece of honey-coated toast. His gift from the Shermans for being such a faithful customer was, as Benny had guessed, a jar of last year’s honey. It tasted just as good as ever.
    â€œDo the bees seem to be acting any differently?” Grandfather asked.
    Dottie shook her head. “No, not really.”
    â€œEverything had been going just fine,” Clay said. “We did the same things we do every year. The wildflowers in the back field were growing normally; the weather has been okay. Sometimes bad weather can throw the bees off a bit, especially if there’s a lot of rain. But there wasn’t too much this year. In fact, I told Dottie that this looked to be one of the best honey seasons we’ve ever had.”
    Dottie nodded, remembering this.
    â€œAnd then …?” Henry asked.
    â€œThen …” Clay put his hands up again. “Who knows? I can’t explain what’s been happening out there. The bees aren’t making any honey. They’re just making this whitish liquid instead. It looks a little like milk with water added to it. It’s almost like … like honey