In those far-off days she had
planted a lilac bush and a cluster of prickly pear. Grandpa did not like
the prickly pear, but he had let it grow all these years because his
little girl had planted it.
"Isn't the grass nice and soft here?" said Don. "It feels just like a
velvet carpet. Watch me turn somersaults on it."
With that, he began to turn somersaults, going in the direction of the
prickly pear. Joyce called to him to be careful, but it was too late;
he came down right in the middle of the cactus plant. The long thorns
pierced him like sharp needles; and although he tried to be brave, he
could not keep back the tears.
There was nothing to do but pull out the thorns one by one, and it took
Grandma quite a while to do that. And although Don turned many somersaults
afterward, he was always careful to keep away from the prickly pear.
When story time came, Grandma, gently rocking back and forth, began: "I
shall tell you tonight about a bee that it is very necessary to have in
the home; and it is also much needed by those who have anything to do
with animals. Its name is Bee Gentle. Have you ever noticed how gentle
Grandpa is with all his animals?"
"Yes, I have noticed it," said Joyce.
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