The two boys now busied themselves with scraping off the dried wax from the outside of the caps, and, as each one was finished it was placed in a pasteboard box, labelled with the contents "White clover honey," and with Mr. Kimball's name and address. "Dad's got a good honey crop this year," commented Adrian. "Plenty of white clover, which sells better than buckwheat, though I don't like it so well as the dark honey." "What do they call it buckwheat for? Because it's made from buckwheat flour?" "Land no. Because it's from the sweet juices of the buckwheat flowers. Lots of people say buckwheat honey is too strong for 'em, but we all like it better than clover, which is made from clover blossoms. Buckwheat seems to have a sort of 'whang' to it, dad says." "Wa'al, boys, how ye makin' out?" asked a deep voice from the doorway, and Mr. Kimball entered the storeroom. "All right, I guess," answered Roger. "Glad t' hear it. We'll make a reg'lar bee-farmer out a' ye 'fore ye git home." He carefully inspected the boys' work and seemed satisfied with it. "I guess that'll do fer this trip," he remarked to Adrian, counting the caps. "Say, Ade," he went on, "how'd you 'n' Roger like t' take a load a' grapes over t' Tully t'-morrow? Andrews wrote me he could use some." "I thought you were going to take the horses to the city with your load," replied Adrian. "So I be, but I'll borrow Truem Wright's hoss 'n' wagon ef ye think ye kin git over Tully hill 'ith th' rig. I'd send Jim, th' hired man, only I want him t' pick grapes t'-morrow when I'm gone. What d' ye say? Want t' go?" "Do you?" asked Adrian of Roger. "I think it would be lots of fun," replied the city boy. "I'll be glad to go along." "All right, dad; you go and ask Truem for the horse, and to-night Roger and I'll load up the wagon so's to start early in the morning," said Adrian. "Aren't you boys hungry?" asked some one standing in the doorway, and they all looked up to see Clara with a big plate of freshly baked molasses cookies. "Hungry? Well, I just guess we are," exclaimed Adrian, as he held the plate and passed it to Roger, who took a cake. Adrian helped himself to two, and Mr. Kimball was not satisfied with less than three, which he munched successively with every indication of satisfaction. "No use talkin'," he said, looking at Roger with a twinkle in his blue eyes, "your aunt does bake the best cookies in Onondaga County," and he took a fourth one, while Clara laughed merrily to see her father's enjoyment of the little lunch she had provided. "They are certainly fine," agreed Roger, finishing his second one. The plate was soon emptied, and Clara offered to go for more, but they all voted they had enough for the present. Then Mr. Kimball cut open one of the caps of honey, and he and the boys ate the sweet stuff, which, a short time before had been in the hive. "Don't you want some?" asked Roger of Clara, offering her a thick slice of the comb.