"What's snake law?" he tried to assist her. "Snake law is sin law, doan you nuv'r fergit dat," she smoothed her apron out, and adjusted the little boy's blouse, "an' whin you gits ter be er big man like yo' pa, jes' recoleck whut yo' Mammy tole yer, dat law whut ain't right right, is snake law, an' dem whut foll'rs 'long b'hime hit has got ter go in er crook'd track. 'Memb'r dat long es you live, Mammy's man." Willis again begged to show Mary Van the green snakes, when Phyllis exclaimed, "Sakes er live, look at de peaches dat nigg'r Zeek is got." XV MISS QUEEN BEE "Keep way fum dem bee hives, yer hyah?" admonished Phyllis from her old rocking chair under the cherry tree, where she alternately dozed and kept watch on the children playing around her in the yard. "Mammy, the bees are all crawling out of the hive," exclaimed Willis. "Lawdy mussy, dem bees fixin' ter swarm!" then raising her voice, "Zeek'l,--ah Zeek!--come quick, yer bees fixin' ter swarm!" Zeek came running up through the garden, with a tin pan and stick in hand calling, "Which way'd dey go?" But the bees answered the question themselves, for at that moment they started in the direction of the garden. Zeek began to beat furiously upon the tin pan, while the children screamed in excitement as they beheld the bees hover a moment above Zeek's head, then descend one and all upon his hat. Many straggling ones crawled about his face, one in its distraction landed upon his eyelid, closing the eye. Zeek walked steadily without batting the open eye, until he reached an empty gum. There with the assistance of Phyllis, he carefully relieved his head of its dangerous burden. "Whew!" he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his head, "dat's de out-bangin'es' hivin' I ev'r done in all m' life, an' dat hive in dat ole gum ain't wurth er cent," he ended reflectively. "Howcum yer sayso?" "Lawd, Phyllis," he replied pushing his hat on the back of his head and folding his arms across his chest, "you'se he'rd er menny time dat "'De bees dat swarms in May, Is wurth er load er hay, De bees dat swarms in June Is wurth er silv'r spoon; Dem dat swarms in July Ain't wurth er house fly.' An' dem bees er swarmin' hyah in Argus' ain' wurth nuthin' but ter show you whut er bee-hiv'r I is." "Hit show pertic'ler you ain' nuthin' ter make honey out'n," Phyllis laughed. "I ain' notice none uv 'em smackin' der mouf' ov'r you yerse'f, Sis' Phyllis," he retorted grinning. "Bees don't eat people, Uncle Zeek," Mary Van endeavored to explain, "they just sting them like hornets do." "Does dey, honey? Well, I boun' none uv 'em ain' gwine wase er sting on dat ole black bag er salt ov'r yond'r," pointing at Phyllis. "My Mammy's not any old black salt either!" And Willis squeezed her around the neck. "She's er ole black nigg'r, dat's whut she is," teased Zeek. "She's not black!--and she's not a nigger either!" and he began to kiss her face.