she had finished. "It was always quiet there in my day," and she
topped off with two little pats of pollen for the babies.

She was met on the fourth brood-comb by a rush of excited sisters
all buzzing together.

"One at a time! Let me put down my load. Now, what is it
Sacharissa?" she said.

"Grey Sister--that fluffy one, I mean--she came and said we ought
to be out in the sunshine gathering honey, because life was
short. 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