"They are wasps, Aunt," said George bluntly.
"Are they the things that turn into butterflies?" gasped Miss Yard, rising from her chair and showing signs of distress.
"Don't worry, dear. They are quite harmless. Come and lie down, and I'll bring you something to wash out your mouth," said Nellie; and she carried off the old lady. While George, always ready to play emergency-man, rushed into the kitchen, acquainted Kezia with what had happened owing to her gross carelessness in putting away the honey pot with the lid off, and ordered her to despatch a telegram to the doctor. Then he went into the parlour and observed consolingly:
"People can live a long time with bullets inside them. Wasps can't be worse, especially as they must be digestible."
"I am afraid of the stinging parts," said Nellie.
"Perhaps they are worn off," he replied.
Miss Yard lay upon the sofa breathing peacefully, thankful she had made her will, but looking wonderfully healthy. She complained, however, of drowsiness, whereupon Bessie, who had rushed across the road at the first alarm, and was then standing in the parlour armed with the brandy bottle and blue bag, exclaimed incautiously, "That shows they'm stinging her. Robert ses his father wur bit by a viper, and he drank a bottle of brandy and lay unconscious vor twenty-four hours."
"Was it really a viper?" groaned the sufferer.
"I don't think they will do her any harm," said George. "In some countries the people live on frogs and slugs."
"And St. John the Baptist always had grasshoppers with his honey," added Bessie reverently.