“My papa says they won’t sting you if you don’t bother ’em.”
“Aha, yo’ pa tole de trufe—’cep’n sometimes. Bees is cur’us creeturs, I tell yer dey is. Dey ain’ nuthin’ but er passel er fokes wid wings on ’em. Ole Miss Queen Bee settin’ up dar, make ’em walk er chalk line, she do. She de law—she sho’ is. Ef she say fight,—dey fights. Ef she say, ax der pard’n,—dey axes hit. But,—” and she hesitated, rubbing her arm, “dey is sometimes whin bees gits jes’ like crazy fokes an’ loses all der senses.”
“That’s when they swarm, ain’t it, Mammy?” suggested Willis authoritatively.
“’Tain’t no sich er thing,—You done give out all de knowin’ you know’d ’bout bees. Set still an’ lis’n ter sumbody else,” reverting to her subject. “Dis time I’m talkin’ ’bout wus whin triberlashun ’pon triberlashun hap’n ter Miss Queen’s fokes.
“One day Miss Queen Bee’s chillun was gittin’ honey out’n de clov’r wid Miss Black Bee’s chilluns. De Bizzy Bees notice Miss Black Bee’s fokes doan seem ter be totin’ much honey back and furrards, but dey ain’ got no time ter confab, so dey doan say nuthin’. Bimeby, Miss Queen Bee see one de Black Bee fokes come in wid her chillun, an’ she notice he ain’ brung no honey in wid him, but she do notice dat he tak’n considerbul out wid ’im.”
“Mammy, my papa says they ain’t any little bees that don’t work except the drones,” corrected the little boy.
“Lemme tell yer sump’in, yo’ pa know mo’ ’bout pol’tics dan he do ’bout bees. ’Caze I knows whin bees starts ter stealin’, dey’s de bigges’ rogues in de woel. An’ dese black bees whut I’m talkin’ ’bout, wus scan’lus steal’rs, too. Bimeby, hyah come sum mo’, an’ mo’, tell Miss Queen holl’r out fur her fightin’ squad! Dem Bizzy Bee boys swarms quick whin dey heahs de war holl’r, an’ ’tain’ long ’fo’ de Bizzy Bees an’ de Black Bees wus er buzzin’ an’ er clippin’ at one nuth’r’s wings, tell de wings wus fallin’, ’round thick es gnats. I tell yer Miss Queen Bee’s chillun had er mouty hard fight ter keep der honey, but bimeby dey run all de Black Bees off ’cep’n dem whut dey kilt.”
“The Black Bees didn’t hurt any of Miss Queen’s children, did they?” asked Mary Van.
“’Cose some uv ’em got hurt’d, an’ some uv ’em wint so far es ter git kilt, but—”
“Wasn’t Miss Queen mighty sorry for ’em?” sympathized the little girl.