"I can get it quite easily, thank you, father," said Bee, bending the bough which broke suddenly with a sharp snap, disturbing a wasp that had just settled comfortably on one of the twigs. With an angry buzz the insect darted at the girl's hand, and thrust its sting into the offending member.
"Oh!" she uttered, letting the branch fall and clasping her hand quickly.
"You are stung," cried Doctor Raymond. "Give me your hand. At once!"
He caught up some of the damp earth and clapped it on the wound, holding the mud in place.
"Does it hurt so much now?" he asked after a moment, binding his handkerchief closely about the hand.
Beatrice's eyes shone through her tears. He cared because she was hurt. A warm glow suffused her being, and nestled comfortingly about her heart. She looked up and smiled.
"Hurt?" she exclaimed. "Nonsense! what is an old yellow jacket but a bee gone into athletics!"
An expression of pleased surprise shot athwart her father's face and his chuckle gave way to a peal of laughter.
"That is neat, child," he said. "Very neat! I like your way of taking this. You have the true spirit of a naturalist who accepts such happenings as a matter of experience. Are you fearful or timid? Do you get frightened easily?"
"I am not afraid of creeping things," answered Beatrice thoughtfully. "I don't believe that I know about other things. There has never been much to try me. At least, there never was anything until I saw those burglars the other night. I was scared then."