Suddenly from the entrance of one hive near Mr. Clifford, which
she happened to be covering with her glass, she saw pouring out a perfect
torrent of bees. She started back in affright, but Mr. Clifford told her to
stand still, and she noted that he quietly kept his seat, while following
through his gold-rimmed spectacles the swirling, swaying stream that rushed
into the upper air. The combined hum smote the ear with its intensity. Each
bee was describing circles with almost the swiftness of light, and there
were such numbers that they formed a nebulous living mass. Involuntarily
she crouched down in the grass. In a few moments, however, she saw the
swarm draw together and cluster like a great black ball on a bough of a
small pear-tree. The queen had alighted, and all her subjects gathered
around her.
"Ah," chuckled the old gentleman, rising quietly, "they couldn't have been
more sensible if they had been human--not half so sensible in that case,
perhaps. I think you will have your swarm now without doubt. That's the
beauty of these Italian bees when they are kept pure: they are so quiet and
sensible. Come away now, until I return prepared to hive them."
The young girl obeyed with alacrity, and was almost trembling with
excitement, to which fear as well as the novelty of the scene contributed
not a little. Mr. Clifford soon returned, well protected and prepared for
his work. Taking an empty hive, he placed it on the ground in a secluded
spot, and laid before its entrances a broad, smooth board.
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