Said.Gramma returned and told Granddad. “Let’s go these young folks need to solve their own messes by themselves, hell most of them are old enough...to know better anyway.”“But ... but,” Granddad stuttered.“I said let’s go we got enough going on between us, to let their mess get tangled up in ours.” Gramma stated. Granddad got up and left without further comment.“Be on your toes as I would bet our vacation is over, so pack your stuff so when we leave we won’t have to come back here.” Dad said.. Not surprisingly the customers of the Beehive were few and far between.“Your Uncle Caleb has made a huge difference to the tavern.” John said. “He contracted the Windmill brewery in Sleaford to take their entire output each week. He then engaged half a dozen comely tavern wenches from Lincoln, and now, with the excellent ale, friendly and agreeably formed serving maids, and the tasty food cooked by Abby Lines, the place is bursting at the seams of an evening.” John winked. “It is rumoured Caleb. More

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