She smiled and nodded as she put a drop of honey on Sally's upper lip.
She held up her hands while her lips moved as if she were blessing us.
"I suppose it will not save me if I brush it off," said Sally.
We went on and in a moment a bee lighted on the honey. Nervously she struck at it and then cried out with pain.
"The bee has stung you," I said.
She covered her face with her handkerchief and made no answer.
"Wait a minute—I'll get some clay," I said as I ran to the river bank.
I found some clay and moistened it with the water and returned.
"There, look at me!" she groaned. "The bee hit my nose."
She uncovered her face, now deformed almost beyond recognition, her nose having swollen to one of great size and redness.