CHAPTER XIV.APIS MELLIFICA.
“GOOD-MORNING, my dear, good-morning. I am pleased to see you so punctual.”
Bonny looked up brightly. There was surely nothing stern or forbidding about the fine old face which smiled genially upon her from the museum window, and she was instantly ashamed of her earlier “dread” concerning the new task that day to be begun. “Good-morning, Mr. Brook. Of course I would be punctual this first day. The trouble will be to keep it up. I’m a lazy sort of a girl.”
“Humph! I’ve seen no evidence of it heretofore, and I shall not watch for faults. How is the good little mother this morning?”
“Well; really growing stronger, thank you. I have her own word for it.”
“Then we can get to work with a light heart. I’ve laid out a pile of it, I assure you. Like many other people who defer what they should not till over-late in life, now I’ve set myself thetask I am all impatience to get through it. Come in, please.”
Beatrice knew the way well enough. Till that morning the great apartment had been a fascinating wonderland to her, with its rows of shelves and cases, each filled with creatures curious, ugly, or beautiful; and the thought that she was now to learn all about them in a business way did appear quite formidable. However, she reminded herself of her mother’s frequent advice, “Take one thing at a time,” and found comfort in the knowledge that she could write of only one insect at one instant. Collectively they might be something dreadful; individually they were poor little dried-up affairs!
Then her eye fell upon the table by the opposite window and her face brightened. “The typewriter! When did it come?”
“Last evening. The man brought it down from Newburgh and put it into working order for you. I am anxious to see you use it. He did so for a moment, but I did not like to detain him. It is a wonderful instrument, is it not?”
“I suppose so. Anyway I am very fond of using it.” The girl sat down before the firm little table which the machine agent had prepared for her, and, placing a sheet of paper in position,clicked off Mr. Brook’s name and address with a rapidity and correctness which delighted him.
“Really, my dear! That is fine! If you can do as well with the rest as with that, you will be a grand success, you will, indeed.”
“But I shall not be able. We may as well face that matter first as last. At the beginning I shall be very stupid. I shall spell every Latin name wrong, perhaps, and not know the difference.”
“Ah, my dear! Do you think I have not prepared for that? Why, you must know that the change of a single letter in some names or descriptions would result in the utmost confusion; and in any scientific work perfect orthography is absolutely necessary. But I have picked up a few little primers on the subject of our task, and you are to consult them continually. You will soon see that there is a general principle in the construction of all terms, and that spelling Latin is, after all, easier than spelling English. It is to me. I frequently have to pause to think out an English word, oftentimes the simpler the more puzzling, but a Latin one never.”
“Happy mortal—I mean, sir! I fear I shall be a terrible trial to you. And you must know that you can send me about my business at the firstblunder, if you feel so inclined. Dear me! That doesn’t sound right! What I want to say, only I am such an old stupid, is: Please do not let your friendship for us prevent your dismissing me if I don’t suit you.”
“Why! Why, my dear!” exclaimed Mr. Brook, very much surprised. “I thought you were a girl whose vocabulary did not contain the word ‘fail.’”
“It used to be that way. But now—I guess I’m not as conceited as I was awhile ago. The older I get the less I feel that I know. And—”
“Tut, tut! Though that is an excellent state of things, too. There is hope of a person conscious of his own deficiencies. But all this in due time. By the way, have you yet discovered the secret of the linden-trees, the source of your wealth that is to be?”
Beatrice opened her eyes widely at this abrupt change of subject, but answered promptly: “Oh, no, indeed! I had almost forgotten that! But what lovely trees they are! They will soon be in bloom!”
“So I suppose, so I suppose. Therefore we will make our first lesson, or our first day’s work, upon theApis mellifica. You are upon my mind; after I get your affairs settled more satisfactorily,I shall be better able to attend to my own. Yes, yes, that matter first; the other in due time.”
Bonny could not conceal her astonishment. How Mr. Brook’s talk did wander, from technical and scientific terms to a fable of hidden wealth in a row of old trees! She wondered if her mother had ever observed anything like this, and if that were what she meant when she so earnestly counselled patience. Was her beloved old friend in his second childhood?
He lifted his bright eyes from the page he had been reading and caught her own questioning gaze. “Out with it, my dear, out with it! How have I surprised you?”
The young secretary hesitated, then answered frankly, “I did not see the connection between my ‘treasure’ and your science.”
“If you are not a deal more stupid than I have taken you to be, you will see it within the next few hours. And you need not fear, I am all right mentally, my dear; thank God, quite sound-minded, if I am an octogenarian.” And the queer old gentleman crossed the room, laughing so mischievously that Bonny was forced to join him, though believing that she was making mirth at her own expense.
Mr. Brook came back to his own table beside that of his secretary, bearing an open case of what she considered very uninteresting “dried bugs,” and placing the case before her pointed to one and another of the objects therein with kindling enthusiasm. “These are different specimens of theApis, in perfect forms, in abnormal ones, in portions, and groups. Every organ is here represented; this minute affair, for instance. Ah! you cannot see it as it is, even with your young eyes. Take the magnifier. See? Isn’t it wonderful?”
Beatrice took the magnifying-glass and examined the speck of insect anatomy which her employer had designated. “Why, it looks like a little saw!”
“Exactly, exactly. A saw so tiny, yet so thorough in its work that it can pierce a heavy buckskin glove if the mechanic who wields it so desires. Ah! I have been studying these little fellows for many years, yet I am freshly amazed each time I see them.”
The enthusiasm was inspiring. Bonny took up the different cards from the case, and began to examine them through the microscope. She had always loved to watch living creatures, but dead ones had heretofore held little interest forher. She found her ideas rapidly changing. “Has this queer little saw a name, a common name, that would mean something to me?”
“Certainly. It is a sting, a bee’s sting.Apis mellificais honey-bee.”
“And it is that mite of a thing which hurts?”
“Exactly. A point so small that the finest cambric needle is larger, yet look! Here are the two hollows between the saws which, lying face to face, form a pipe for the poison to flow through. This is the poison bag. These curious little affairs are the handles which pump the sting, the saws, down into the flesh. One side first, making a wedge-like opening, through which the other saw is promptly forced. Then by another motion down goes the fluid which poisons, or the sac itself is pushed into the wound. Talk about guns and cannons! Here you have something far more complete than either, and in proportion to its size far more dreadful in its effects. Why, one of these stings has sometimes killed a man, though I did not mean to refer to that! Such cases are rare, indeed. And usually a bee-sting amounts to very little.”
“Well, but you need not reassure me, dear Mr. Brook! After this exhibition I shall not interferewith any bees whose acquaintance I may chance to make.”
“Don’t be too positive, my dear, don’t be too positive. You may have to change your mind.”
“Why, I thought our work lay among dead things, all these of your collection. I did not know that we were to hunt amongnewfields.”
“Weare not; butyoumay, of your own accord, before I have done with you. I hope so. Yes, I foresee that you will often leave me in the midst of a very busy day just because of my friendApis, alive and buzzing.”
Again that gay laugh, and again Beatrice’s utter mystification.
“Well, well, well. Suppose we read a bit of natural history this morning; or, rather, I will dictate to you and you take down what I have to say. I am writing a little treatise on the fellowApis,—something quite apart from the collection, as a whole. I mean to publish it for the benefit of just such bright girls and boys as you and your brothers. Yes; I’ll give you a chapter now.”
There was more business in this arrangement, and it was business which Bonny had come for; so she rapidly made ready, and with fingers poisedabove the keys of her machine waited for the opening sentence.
“‘Foods for the Honey-bee.’ That is the chapter title, and its number is seven. The other half-dozen are already prepared, though in my own handwriting. You will have to copy them sometime, before publication; but—ready?”
“Quite.”
The dictation began. Mr. Brook found it a little difficult to keep his current of thought as clear as usual, for the racket of the typewriter was so foreign to his accustomed quiet; and besides this the frequent liftings of the typewritist’s head, the amused glances of her dark eyes, were so distracting to the lover of young folks that he felt more than half inclined to give up the task for a while and go out upon a search for the new “subjects” they two might find together. However, he did his best, and at the end of a few paragraphs Bonny sprang up from her chair in a state of great excitement.
“Oh! I’ve guessed it, I have, I have! I know what my ‘source of wealth’ will be!”
“Hoity, toity! I thought you were writing from dictation!” returned her old patron, smiling quite as brightly as herself.
“Yes, sir. Oh, yes, in a minute. Just,please, let me ask you one or two things. May I? Can I?”
“How am I to prevent a headstrong young woman like yourself?”
“Do you believe I could manage them all myself?”
“Manage what? Here, Joanna, please!” called the pleased old gentleman to his sister crossing the veranda.
Miss Brook came and leaned upon the window-ledge, and smiled in upon them. “Well, I must say I don’t know which is the more enthusiastic! Brother, dear, how old are you? Do you contemplate going into the business for yourself?”
“Eighty, my dear, eighty, if a day! But look at the child! Hear her ask me, ‘Can she? May she?’ when already she is feeling herself a millionaire.”
“‘Let me ask you one or two things. May I?’”
All this time not a word which an outsider could have understood had been spoken; and as this thought flashed over Bonny she laughed again. “Dear Mr. Brook, I thought at first that you were ‘not quite yourself’ this morning! Beg pardon, but I did. And now I am as bad. Maybe, after all, we are not talking about the same thing.”
“Maybe not! Oh! I dare say not,” repliedthe merry old gentleman, pacing rapidly back and forth.
“And quite difficult for me, I think!” added Miss Joanna, smiling too.
“Will you please tell meyourthought, Mr. Brook?” asked Beatrice, eagerly.
“With pleasure. I would have done so long ago, only you didn’t ask it. I think the scheme I have formulated—”
“But I have not heard it in words, Brother!”
“The scheme I have formulated, Joanna, will keep this growing girl out of doors, as she should be, and make a wise recreation after her hours of labor here. It will teach her more of real natural history than I can preach to her, and will make her far more interested in my work. It will fill her small pocket with some needed extra cash. Last, but not least, it will give that unquiet small brother of hers a chance to get rid of his surplus energy in a legitimate way. He can do all the tree-climbing, for which I should, if I were a girl with such an irrepressible relative, give him a small share in the business. It— Go on, Miss. How can you wish to interrupt such a flow of argument?”
As if he had been the grandfather he had himself suggested, Bonny crossed swiftly to her employer’sside and laid her hand upon his shoulder. “Because I thank you for showing me how to help myself. The one word which will tellmythought is—”
At that moment Mr. Dolloway’s solemn face appeared above Miss Joanna’s own with such suddenness that Bonny’s “word” waited for his. He had evidently come freighted with ill news.
“Oh, sir, what is it? Is my mother—”
Mr. Dolloway shook his head dolefully, but a genuine distress was in the gesture. “’Tain’t your mother, Miss Beatrice. It’s that pesky, dear little brother of yours.”
“What’s happened him? Anything new? The hens?”
“Hens! If it was only hens! But hens it isn’t this time. It’s roofs an’ cisterns an’ bangs an’ black-an’-blues. If he ain’t dead—”
Poor Bonny did not pause to remember that she was a salaried employee, but, without leave or license, darted from the house and across the fields with an aching heart.