"Bees," said Darby, "don't swarm in October."
"The two hives is beyant on the steps," remarked Dayly the chauffeur, as he nursed a stung cheek drearily. "I sees them."
Basil Stafford, skirting the sunk fence, believed that they had all gone away and called out loudly. His fevered imagination even sprung to the chance of Germans having really come and being in full occupation of Castle Freyne.
"Hello—what!" He struck an insect from his nose. The bees saw new worlds to conquer. He beat his ears. It is lamentable to add that young England's manhood sprang yelling from the saddle, leaped the sunk fence, and was into the laurels on to Dearest George's body.
"Bees!" howled Stafford. "Swarms!"
"In October," wailed Freyne, dabbing his swelling nose and nursing a trampled-on leg.
"And both the horses have gone off their heads," said Gheena. "They have simply flown away. You will go at once to catch them, Dayly."
"I would be afeard, Miss," said the chauffeur simply. "They are terrible sot agin horses any times, them bays."
At this point the dining-room window was opened very cautiously.
"The first of them," quavered Phil's voice dramatically, "It was thruth. They are lurkin' in the bushes. I hears them."