And she hummed to her guards, and they answered low, For she knew if the old queen happened to know, Oh! what a crowd of loyal bees Murmuring round her, under the trees Clustering thick in the sunshine warm, With a noise like the rush of a sudden storm, A sugary hive turned upside down, Invites the bees within; And a small bell rings in a tinkling tone, And they hum to the music of the bell, So her majesty flies from the woodbine bower, And into the hive she dips, And they bicker and buzz in and out for an hour, A thick cloth over the hiving bees, Then sets a new company under the trees, And now on the bowery bench behold, Close under the jasmine wall, The new swarm humming in peace with the old, Edmund. It is not right after all. GERDA FAY. It is the old queen who bounces out in a rage when she is not allowed to kill the young one. Aunt C. So I have always been told, and I believe it is so. Grace. But the other way is much the prettiest. Alice. How do they know the queens apart? Aunt C. That I cannot tell; but I am afraid the fact does not agree with the poetry. Nautilus, Aunt? Alice. That we may Learn of the little Nautilus to sail, Use the light oar, and catch the driving gale. Edmund. I don't fancy that anyone did. Aunt C. Any more than they learnt of the bee to build, which no one ever did. Edmund. It would be as awkward to put to sea in a boat like that, as to live in a six-sided cell without doors or windows. Aunt C. And now we must give the Nautilus his poem, written by Charlotte Smith, a married lady of the end of the last century, who wrote novels and verses. |