"Well, by--" he stopped and came closer and asked. "What's happened?" "Bee stung me," I answered. "Where did ye find so much honey that ye could go swimmin' in it?" he asked. I heard the door of the house open suddenly and the voice of Aunt Deel. "Peabody! Peabody! come here quick," she called. Uncle Peabody ran to the house, but I stayed out with the dog. Through the open door I heard Aunt Deel saying: "I can't stan' it any longer and I won't--not another day--ayes, I can't stan' it. That boy is a reg'lar pest." They came out on the veranda. Uncle Peabody said nothing, but I could see that he couldn't stand it either. My brain was working fast. "Come here, sir," Uncle Peabody called. I knew it was serious, for he had never called me "sir" before. I went slowly to the steps. "My lord!" Aunt Deel exclaimed. "Look at that lip and the honey all over him--ayes! I tell ye--I can't stan' it." "Say, boy, is there anything on this place that you ain't tipped over?" Uncle Peabody asked in a sorrowful tone. "Wouldn't ye like to tip the house over?" I was near breaking down in this answer: "I went into the but'ry and that pan jumped on to me." "Didn't you taste the honey?" "No," I drew in my breath and shook my head. "Liar, too!" said Aunt Deel. "I can't stan' it an' I won't." Uncle Peabody was sorely tried, but he was keeping down his anger. His voice trembled as he said: "Boy, I guess you'll have to--" Uncle Peabody stopped. He had been driven to the last ditch, but he had not stepped over it. However, I knew what he had started to say and sat down on the steps in great dejection. Shep followed, working at my coat with his tongue. I think that the sight of me must have touched the heart of Aunt Deel. "Peabody Baynes, we mustn't be cruel," said she in a softer tone, and then she brought a rag and began to assist Shep in the process of cleaning my coat. "Good land! He's got to stay here--ayes!--he ain't got no other place to go to." "But if you can't stan' it," said Uncle Peabody. "I've got to stan' it--ayes!--I can't stan' it, but I've got to--ayes! So have you." Aunt Deel put me to bed although it was only five o'clock. As I lay looking up at the shingles a singular resolution came to me. It was born of my longing for the companionship of my kind and of my resentment. I would go and live with the Dunkelbergs. I would go the way they had gone and find them. I knew it was ten miles away, but of course everybody knew where the Dunkelbergs lived and any one would show me. I would run and get there before dark and tell them that I wanted to live with them, and every day I would play with Sally Dunkelberg. Uncle Peabody was not half as nice to play with as she was.