'Won't he get stung?' asked Peggy, who thought he looked far too near to the swarming hives for safety.
'No, dearie. I think they know me and Willie now, though they'd attack a stranger as soon as not.'
'I was dreadfully stung once,' confided Peggy. 'I lifted off the little box on the top of one of the Rectory hives, just to see how the bees were getting on, and they all came rushing out and settled on me. Mr. Howell seized me, and put my head under the pump, and Father was ever so cross, for he said I shouldn't have meddled with them.'
'The bees don't like to be interfered with,' said Mrs. Davis. 'You should never touch them in the daytime. Always take the honey at night.'
'Joe says you must tell them if there's a death in the house, and tie a piece of crape on the hive, or they'll all fly away.'
'Well, I don't quite hold with all folks say about them, but they are strange creatures, with queer ways of their own. They seem quiet just now, so I think I might leave them for a few minutes. I have a pot of honey I should like to send to your aunt, miss, if you would kindly take it to her. I'll go inside and fetch it. No, Willie, my pretty, you can't come. Granny's going up the ladder into the loft.'
'I'll take care of him. Come with me, Willie dear—come and see the pretty flowers.'
And Peggy seized the stolid infant by his disengaged hand.
Willie did not look enthusiastic about the attractions of the flowers, but he allowed himself to be led away, staring at his new guardian with round eyes of solemn distrust, and solacing himself with his thumb.
'We'll build a little house,' said Peggy, anxious to prevent the suspicious twitching of her charge's mouth from developing into a roar, and taking up some bricks and loose stones which lay under the wall. 'See, we'll make a kitchen and parlour, and put down leaves for a carpet. Here's a little round stone for a table, and the pansy-flowers will do for dollies. They've such funny little faces. We'll make them skirts out of laurel leaves, and put them to bed in the corner.'