“Don’t wheel your cart over toward the children,” warned Mr. Watson, as he climbed down out of the tree. “Some of the stray bees may sting them.”
“I’ll be careful,” said the bee-man. He puffed into the air around the hive some smoke from the smoker, and this served to drive away the humming bees that, after circling about for a while, flew off in the direction of the orchard.
“They’ll go back to the old hive,” Mr. Watson said, as he took off his veil and gloves, for there was no longer need of them. “And the bees and the queen in this new hive will start making the wax cells into which they will put honey a little later. I’m glad you saw this swarm and came to tell me, boys,” he said to Sam and Bert. “It’s worth quite a few dollars, or will be this fall when the hive is filled with honey.”
“I like honey,” remarked Freddie, looking carefully at Mr. Watson to make sure no bees had followed him. But none had.
“Well, I’ll send you some when you get back home,” promised the peach-grower.
“That was very interesting,” said Mrs. Bobbsey as she turned to take the path across the fields to Cloverbank. “Bees are very smart little creatures.”
“And they’ll make you smart if they sting you!” said Bert.
“Oh, that’s a good joke!” exclaimed Nan, with a laugh. “I’m going to put that in my composition.”
“You can put in about your brother catching a big fish, too,” said Sam. “He got the biggest one of the lot.”
“Oh, did you?” cried Nan. “I’m glad of that. And I can write about it. Oh, I do hope I win that prize!” she went on.