“The larvæ do not like to be disturbed!” cried Silverwing, anxious for her charges, and placing herself between them and the intruder.
“Like! I daresay not,—but who cares what they like! Get out of the way; I’ll prick them up a little!”
“You shall not come near them!” hummed the little nurse, resolutely keeping her place.
“I say that I shall,—who shall hinder me? Get out of my way, or I’ll let you feel my sting.”
Silverwing trembled, but she did not stir, for she was a faithful little bee. As the hen is ready to defend her chickens from the hawk, and even the timid wren will fight for her brood, so this feeble insect would have given up her life rather than have forsaken the little ones confided to her care.
But she was not left alone to struggle with her assailant. Two of her winged companions came to the rescue; and Stickasting, who had no wish to encounter such odds, and was fonder, perhaps, of bullying than of fighting, no sooner saw Waxywill and Honeyball on the wing, than with an angry hum she hurried out of the hive.
