“Dust that big one; that big fat one!� Patsy whispered excitedly.
The bee buzzed and flirted its wings, and flew away from what must have seemed to it an avalanche of white dust. Anne and Patsy, on tiptoe to follow, watched eagerly to see the direction of its flight. It circled aimlessly about, and then buzzed back to the clover blossoms. The girls selected another fat bee and dusted it liberally; it flew off, buzzed about the clover field, and came back to sip the sirup.
“It’s all nonsense!� Patsy said crossly. “Let’s give up.�
“I don’t want to give up,� said Anne. “I reckon Amos did something Emma doesn’t know about. I wonder——�
“We certainly can’t chase all the bees in the field,� said Patsy. “We might as well be trying to follow Dick. Come on! I want to scold Emma for sending us on a wild-goose chase.�
“Wild-bee chase,� corrected Anne, laughing.
Patsy was too warm and tired and cross to laugh. She went to the kitchen door and said sharply: “Emma, what made you tell us that foolishness about following bees to a tree? We’ve tried it, and the bees don’t go anywhere; they just buzz around on the clover and come back and eat some more sirup.�
“Ump-mm, Miss Patsy. You just ain’t done it right. Maybe you was coursin’ a bumbler or de wrong kind o’ bee.�
“It was a honey bee. Don’t you reckon I know honey bees?� Patsy replied indignantly. “Come out here and I’ll show you the kind it was. There! It was like that.�
“Um-hmm! Dat big fuzzy-end bee; dat’s a droner. You’ve got to chase a honey-maker. Thar’s one, Miss Anne; dat little fellow. Dust it wid de flour. Now you follow it.�