AXYWILL and Honeyball had both come to the assistance of Silverwing, and she buzzed her thanks in a grateful way to both, though different motives had brought them to her aid, for they were very different bees in their dispositions. Honeyball was a good-humoured, easy kind of creature. Very ready to do a kindness if it cost her little trouble, but lazy as any drone in the hive. Honeyball would have liked to live all day in the bell of a foxglove, with nothing to disturb her in her idle feast. It was said in the hive that[37] more than, once she had been known to sip so much, that at last she had been unable to rise, and for hours had lain helpless on the ground. Sipsyrup, who, like other vain, silly creatures, was very fond of talking about other people’s concerns, had even whispered that Honeyball had been seen busy at one of the provision-cells stored for the winter’s use, which it is treason in a bee to touch; but as those who talk much generally talk a little nonsense, we may hope that there was no real ground for the story.
Waxywill was one of whom such a report would never have been believed; there was not a more honourable or temperate worker in the hive. Yet Stickasting herself was scarcely less liked, so peevish and perverse was the temper of this bee. If desired to do anything, it was sure to be the very thing which she did not fancy. Were cells to be built—she could not bear moping indoors; if asked to bring honey—she always found out that her wings were tired. She could[38] not bear submission to the laws of the hive, and once actually shook her wings at the queen! When she flew to help Silverwing, it was less out of kindness to her than the love of opposing Stickasting. And yet Waxywill was not an ungenerous bee; she had more sense too than insects generally possess; she would have been respected and even loved in the hive, had not her stubborn, wilful temper spoilt all.
We will now follow Sipsyrup in her hasty flight, as, leaving both her friend and her charges behind, she made her retreat from Stickasting. How delightful she found the fine fresh air, after the heated hive! Now up, now down, she pursued her varying course, sometimes humming for a moment around some fragrant flower, then, even before she had tasted its contents, deserting it for one yet more tempting. Deeply she plunged her long tongue into its cup; her curious pliable tongue, so carefully guarded by Nature in a nicely fitting sheath.[39] “Sheathe your tongue!” was an expression which the gossipping little bee had heard more often than she liked, especially from the mouth of Waxywill. It might be an expressive proverb in other places than Bee-land, for there are tongues whose words are more cutting than swords, that much need the sheath of discretion.
The movements of the lively insect were watched with much interest by Spinaway the spider, from her quiet home in a rosebush. Sipsyrup, disdaining the narrow garden of the school, had winged her way over the wall, and turning into a narrow green lane that was near, was now sporting with the blossoms by Mrs. Wingfield’s porch. Spinaway was a clever, artful spider, somewhat ambitious too in her way. She had made her web remarkably firm and strong, and expected to be rewarded by nobler game than the little aphis, or bony gnat. She had once succeeded in capturing a blue-bottle fly, and this perhaps it was that raised[40] her hopes so high, that she did not despair of having a bee in her larder.
“Good-morning,” said Spinaway in a soft, coaxing tone, as Sipsyrup came fluttering near her. “You seem to have travelled some distance, my friend, and if you should like to rest yourself here, I am sure that you would be heartily welcome.”
Sipsyrup was a young, inexperienced bee, but she did not much fancy the looks of the spider, with her hunchback and long hairy legs. She politely, therefore, declined the invitation, and continued her feast in a flower.
“I am really glad to see a friend in a nice quiet way,” continued the persevering spider. “I find it very dull to sit here all day; I would give anything to have wings like a bee.”
Sipsyrup, who loved gossip, advanced a little nearer, taking care to keep clear of the web.
“I do long to hear a little news of the[41] world, to know what passes in your wonderful hive. I am curious to learn about your queen; your manner and style of dress is such, that I am sure that you must have been much about the court.”
Settling upon a leaf, still at a safe distance, Sipsyrup indulged her taste for chit-chat, glad to have so attentive a listener. Spinaway soon heard all the gossip of the hive,—how the present queen had killed in single combat the queen of another swarm, whilst the bees of both nations watched the fight; and how the hostile band, when they saw their queen dead, had submitted to the conqueror at once. How a slug had last morning crept into the hive and frightened her out of her wits, but had been put to death by fierce Stickasting before it had crawled more than an inch. Sipsyrup then related—and really for once her conversation was very amusing—all the difficulties and perplexity of the people of the hive as to how to get rid of the body of the intruder.[42] She herself had been afraid to venture near the monster, but Silverwing and the rest had striven with all their might to remove the dead slug from their hive.
“And did they succeed?” said Spinaway, much interested.
“Oh, it was quite impossible to drag out the slug! We were in such distress—such a thing in the hive—our hive always kept so neat and clean that not a scrap of wax is left lying about!”
“What did you do?” said the spider; “it really was a distressing affair.”
“Waxywill thought of a plan for preventing annoyance. She proposed that we should cover the slug all over with wax, so that it should rather appear like a piece of the comb than a dead creature left in the hive.”
“A capital plan!” cried Spinaway. “And was the thing done?”
“Yes, it was, and before the day was over.”
“So there Mrs. Slug remains in a white[43] wrapping,” laughed the spider; “a warning to those who go where they are not wanted. You were, I daresay, one of the foremost in the work.”
“Not I; I would not have touched the ugly creature with one of my feelers!”
“I beg your pardon!” said the spider; “indeed, I might have judged by your appearance that nothing but the most refined and elegant business would ever be given to you. You look as though you had never touched anything rougher than a rose.”
This speech put Sipsyrup in high good-humour; she began to think that she had judged the spider harshly, and that she really was an agreeable creature in spite of her ugly hunch.
“If you speak of delicate work,” observed the bee very politely, “I never saw anything so fine as your web.”
“It is tolerably well finished,” said the spider with a bow; “would you honour me by a closer inspection?”
[44]“Oh, thank you, I’m not curious in these matters,” replied Sipsyrup, still feeling a little doubtful of her new friend.
“You have doubtless remarked,” said Spinaway, “that each thread is composed of about five thousand others, all joined together.”
“No, really, I had no idea of that—how wonderfully fine they must be!”
“I am surprised that you did not see it; at least if the powers of your eyes equal their beauty. I never beheld anything like them before—their violet colour, their beautiful shape, cut, as it were, into hundreds of divisions, like fine honey-comb cells, and studded all over with most delicate hair. I would give my eight eyes for your two!”
“Two!” cried Sipsyrup, mightily pleased; “I have three more on the back of my head.”
“I would give anything to see them, if they are but equal to the faceted ones. No creature in the world could boast of such a[45] set! Might I beg—would you favour me?”—
Silly Sipsyrup! foolish bee! not the first, however, nor, I fear, the last, to be caught by sugary words. Blinded by vanity, forward she flew—touched the sticky, clammy web—entangled her feet—struggled to get free—in vain, in vain!—quivered her wings in terrified efforts—shook the web with all her might—but could not escape. Her artful foe looked eagerly on, afraid to approach until the poor bee should have exhausted herself by her struggles. Ah, better for Sipsyrup had she kept in her hive, had she spent all the day in making bee-bread, to feed the little larv? in their cells!