She was still rather groggy from the effects of her long sleep and the
cold endured--it is a wonder how she had stood the latter at all--and
when, with a subdued inward sort of hum, she finally launched herself
in flight, she nearly fell to the ground before righting herself and
flying in a zigzag heavily across the lawn.

A cock-chaffinch up in the limes saw her, and condescending at last to
break his song, described a flashing streak of wine-red breast and
white wing-bars in the sun. He appeared to recognize her sinister
yellow shield in time, however, and returned to his perch with a
flourish, leaving the wasp to go on and begin dancing up the wall of
the house till she came to the open window. Here she vanished within.

The sunlight sat on the floor of the room inside, and the baby sat in
the sunlight; and the wasp, apparently still half-awake, went, or,
rather, nearly tumbled, and sat beside the baby.

They made an odd picture there--the golden sun, the sunny,
golden-headed baby, and that silent, yellow she-devil, crawling,
crawling, crawling, with her narrow wings gleaming like gems.

Then the child put out her chubby hand to seize that bright-yellow
object--how was she to know that it was the yellow signal of danger in
the insect world that she saw? And, of course, being a baby, she was
going to stuff it into her mouth. But Fate had use for that
wasp--perhaps for that baby. Wherefore there was a little scream, a
pair of woman's arms swept down and whisked that baby into the air, and
a high-heeled shoe whisked the astonished wasp into a corner. Here she
swore savagely, vibrating her head with tremendous speed in the
process, rose heavily and menacingly, made to fly out, hit the upper