He lifted his bright eyes from the page he had been reading and caught her own questioning gaze. “Out with it, my dear, out with it! How have I surprised you?”
The young secretary hesitated, then answered frankly, “I did not see the connection between my ‘treasure’ and your science.”
“If you are not a deal more stupid than I have taken you to be, you will see it within the next few hours. And you need not fear, I am all right mentally, my dear; thank God, quite sound-minded, if I am an octogenarian.” And the queer old gentleman crossed the room, laughing so mischievously that Bonny was forced to join him, though believing that she was making mirth at her own expense.
Mr. Brook came back to his own table beside that of his secretary, bearing an open case of what she considered very uninteresting “dried bugs,” and placing the case before her pointed to one and another of the objects therein with kindling enthusiasm. “These are different specimens of the Apis, in perfect forms, in abnormal ones, in portions, and groups. Every organ is here represented; this minute affair, for instance. Ah! you cannot see it as it is, even with your young eyes. Take the magnifier. See? Isn’t it wonderful?”
Beatrice took the magnifying-glass and examined the speck of insect anatomy which her employer had designated. “Why, it looks like a little saw!”
“Exactly, exactly. A saw so tiny, yet so thorough in its work that it can pierce a heavy buckskin glove if the mechanic who wields it so desires. Ah! I have been studying these little fellows for many years, yet I am freshly amazed each time I see them.”
The enthusiasm was inspiring. Bonny took up the different cards from the case, and began to examine them through the microscope. She had always loved to watch living creatures, but dead ones had heretofore held little interest for her. She found her ideas rapidly changing. “Has this queer little saw a name, a common name, that would mean something to me?”
“Certainly. It is a sting, a bee’s sting. Apis mellifica is honey-bee.”
“And it is that mite of a thing which hurts?”
“Exactly. A point so small that the finest cambric needle is larger, yet look! Here are the two hollows between the saws which, lying face to face, form a pipe for the poison to flow through. This is the poison bag. These curious little affairs are the handles which pump the sting, the saws, down into the flesh. One side first, making a wedge-like opening, through which the other saw is promptly forced. Then by another motion down goes the fluid which poisons, or the sac itself is pushed into the wound. Talk about guns and cannons! Here you have something far more complete than either, and in proportion to its size far more dreadful in its effects. Why, one of these stings has sometimes killed a man, though I did not mean to refer to that! Such cases are rare, indeed. And usually a bee-sting amounts to very little.”