”“What of my Uncle Caleb, has he been kept on as steward and bailiff?”John shook his head, smiling. “No, but your uncle has moved into a diffe...ent occupation, that of a publican.”Uncle Caleb had bought a half share in the Beehive Tavern, situated on Castle Gate in Grantham. The tavern’s sign was a working beehive, and honey from the bees was used to make mead. The Beehive was owned by Dobie and Abigail Lines; Dobie Lines was a great bear of a man, with little patience and large appetites,. She smiled. Taking my fork, I stabbed one of the buttered shrimp and moved it to her mouth. Looking into my eyes, she parted her lips and welcomed the food. Chewing, her eyes partly closed, “Delicious, Master”. I took a shrimp for myself and had to agree. The juicy morsel was perfectly seasoned and the sweet butter dripped fragrantly from each piece. Again, I offered a shrimp and she accepted, this time some butter escaping from her lips. Before she could respond, I leaned in and gently licked. More

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