She said any old bee could attend to our babies, and some
day old bees would. That isn't true, Melissa, is it? No old bees
can take us away from our babies, can they?"
"Of course not. You feed the babies while your heads are soft.
When your heads harden, you go on to field-work. Any one knows
that."
"We told her so! We told her so; but she only waved her feelers,
and said we could all lay eggs like Queens if we chose. And I'm
afraid lots of the weaker sisters believe her, and are trying to
do it. So unsettling!"
Sacharissa sped to a sealed worker-cell whose lid pulsated, as
the bee within began to cut its way out.
"Come along, precious!" she murmured, and thinned the frail top
from the other side. A pale, damp, creased thing hoisted itself
feebly on to the comb. Sacharissa's note changed at once. "No
time to waste! Go up the frame and preen yourself!" she said.
"Report for nursing-duty in my ward to-morrow evening at six.
Stop a minute. What's the matter with your third right leg?"
The young bee held it out in silence--unmistakably a drone leg
incapable of packing pollen.
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