erful things about them. He was blind, you
know, and as I am not blind, I ought to find out a lot more than he
did!' Olive finished up, complacently.

Charlie, however, far from being impressed with this speech, only burst
out laughing. 'You _are_ conceited!' he exclaimed; 'to think that you,
at twelve years of age, are going to beat Hueber, who spent a life-time
in studying bees! However, there is no doubt you _will_ learn something
from them, and by the time you have been well stung you will be able to
describe some of their habits,' and he laughed again.

'I shall not be stung,' said Olive calmly; 'bees are wonderfully
intelligent little creatures'--here she was again quoting from the big
book--'and they will understand that I have no wish to hurt them, but am
only studying their ways.'

'And one of their ways is to sting inquisitive folk,' said Charlie. 'Let
me advise you to have Mary's blue-bag handy--the thing she uses on
washing-days, you know. Nothing like it for the sting of an angry bee!'
and picking up his fishing-rod, Charlie walked away to the river.

It was the first summer that Olive had spent in the country, and all its
sights and scenes were new to her. So now, rejoicing in the freedom of
being able to roam about without her hat or jacket, she ran lightly out
of the low French window of the sitting-room, and down the path towards
a large clump of lemon-coloured foxgloves.

'The bees were in and out of these foxgloves yesterday,' she said, as
she stooped over the bed. 'Ah, yes! here is one--buried quite deep in
the flower. I must have that bee,' and taking out her handkerchief, she
threw it over the flower, and caught the bee in its folds, carrying it
in triumph towards the hives, which stood on a shelf under a sunny wall
by the high garden gate.

'Now then, dear bee,' said Olive, loosing the bee with all the calmness
of ignorance, 'here is your hive; let me see you go in with your load of
honey.'

Bees, however, are not creatures to be trifled with, and this one did
not mean to go to its hive with its honey-bags only half full. Instead,
it turned fiercely on Olive and stung her sharply on the hand.

'Oh! oh! it hurts!' she screamed, and hurrying away, she accidentally
upset the straw cover of a hive. Instantly, scores of angry bees came
buzzing round her, and Olive ran as she had never run before. But she
did not escape without several severe stings, and she was all but
fainting with pain and t