At first thought, I intended to go over the play with him and correct it and make a suggestion here and there. Then another idea struck me. What if this young man were out in the country, would it be possible for him to have anybody go over a play he had written there? Just about that time I made a trip east and read the play to several audiences. It met with a hearty reception wherever read. After a talk with a great many playwrights, authors, and men of affairs, I came to the inevitable conclusion that the best thing to do was to bring the play back and let the author stage it just as he had written it. This was done. Within several weeks the play was presented in the theater. A full house greeted the performance. Men and women from all over the state were present to witness the production. Everybody said it was the best thing they had ever seen. Rural workers in the audience claimed it was one of the finest arguments in favor of country life that they had ever heard. The author took the part of Hiram Johnson, the philosopher. His make-up was remarkable. He did it himself. After the play several persons suggested that the thing for him to do was to go away and take some courses in writing plays. This did not appeal to him, as he loved the farm and wanted to return to it. What he really found out was that he could express himself. To-day he operates nearly four hundred acres of land. He has forty head of cattle, eight of which are registered short-horns. He is a successful farmer in every respect. During his spare moments he takes part in home talent plays. He loves the drama. He is married and has a family. “A Bee in a Drone’s Hive” is the product from the mind of a farmer who actually farms and lives on the farm. Following is the play in full form just as he wrote it and as it was produced. [Illustration: SCENE—“A Bee in a Drone’s Hive” _By Cecil Baker_] ACT I. _Scene_: _Benson’s home in the city. Room lavishly furnished. Ethel at desk writing, Mr. Benson sitting in easy chair reading, and Mrs. Benson darning socks._ MRS. BENSON Ethel, who are you writing to? ETHEL Oh, I was just dropping a line to brother Harry. Thought he would be glad to know how we were getting along in the city by now. You know I promised him I would write often and let him know how you and father took to city life. He said you would never like it here after the novelty of it wore off. MRS. BENSON Tell him I would write some, too, only I’m such a poor writer and it hasn’t been long since I did write. You know people like to get letters often, so if you write now, and then me after while, he may like it better. I want to read what you have written when you get through. ETHEL