“Why is Daisy like a bee?” cried Nat, who had been wrapt in thought for several minutes. “Because she is queen of the hive,” said Dan. “No.” “Because she is sweet.” “Bees are not sweet.” “Give it up.” “Because she makes sweet things, is always busy, and likes flowers,” said Nat, piling up his boyish compliments till Daisy blushed like a rosy clover. “Why is Nan like a hornet?” demanded Tommy, glowering at her, and adding, without giving any one time to answer, “Because she _isn’t_ sweet, makes a great buzzing about nothing, and stings like fury.” “Tommy’s mad, and I’m glad,” cried Ned, as Nan tossed her head and answered quickly-- “What thing in the china-closet is Tom like?” “A pepper pot,” answered Ned, giving Nan a nut meat with a tantalizing laugh that made Tommy feel as if he would like to bounce up like a hot chestnut and hit somebody. Seeing that ill-humor was getting the better of the small supply of wit in the company, Franz cast himself into the breach again. “Let’s make a law that the first person who comes into the room shall tell us a story. No matter who it is, he must do it, and it will be fun to see who comes first.” The others agreed, and did not have to wait long, for a heavy step soon came clumping through the hall, and Silas appeared, bearing an armful of wood. He was greeted by a general shout, and stood staring about him with a bewildered grin on his big red face, till Franz explained the joke. “Sho! I can’t tell a story,” he said, putting down his load and preparing to leave the room. But the boys fell upon him, forced him into a seat, and held him there, laughing and clamoring for their story, till the good-natured giant was overpowered. “I don’t know but jest one story, and that’s about a horse,” he said, much flattered by the reception he received. “Tell it! tell it!” cried the boys.