They gathered about him.
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz, Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzrf!”
They were enchanted.
“Oh, do it again,” they begged. He did. With a gracious smile Hervey Deyo acceded to their request. He glowed. He was tasting the heady draught of sudden popularity. Late arrivals at the tea were told of his accomplishment; they insisted on hearing it.
“Bzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzrf!”
Quite casual acquaintances came up to invite him to their homes, to teas, to dinner parties. He smiled and promised to come. From the corner of his eye he could see that Miss Low was regarding him with something very like interest.
He went to a dinner party at the home of Professor and Mrs. Murgatroyd; he had been stuffing an emu (Dromaeus Irroratus) and it had so absorbed him that he was late. He entered with the fish course and the guests beamed expectantly.
“Oh, here is Mr. Deyo,” cried his hostess. “We were so afraid you’d disappoint us. I’ve been telling everyone about your perfectly delicious imitation of a bee.”
He obliged them.
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzrf!”