“Suppose you pick him up and throw him out, if there’s nothing to be afraid of,” suggested Patricia.
“No—o; but, there! I’ve set my bag on him. He’ll be quite dead in a minute, then I’ll pick him up,” offered Katharine.
“Most any one of us would be willing to pick up a dead bee,” offered Jane.
Presently Katharine lifted the bag; but the action was followed by a squeal from Anne, who announced that he was just as much alive as ever.
Katharine thumped her bag down again while Jane laughed breathlessly.
Ten minutes later, Katharine again peered at her victim; and again he showed very definite signs of life.
“Talk about cats having nine lives,” she commented.
“Set that bag down,” begged Anne, “and leave him alone. If he’s not dead, he’s at least out of mischief.”
“Toughest bee I ever saw,” commented Katharine, thumping the bag again on the unlucky insect. “There you stay until we get to our destination.”
Mrs. Randall was on the porch waiting for them when the car pulled up at the steps.