“I’m ready,” answered Miss Gardener; “ready for anything; but please, where are you, who are you, and what am I to be ready for?” And again the buzzy voice spoke: “Ready to go with me?” Miss Gardener looked around toward where the buzzy voice seemed to come from. There, sitting on a rose nearby, was a honey bee. “Oh,” gasped Miss Gardener, “I’m—that is—I——” “You’re afraid!” buzzed the bee, coming near her. “You’re afraid I’ll sting you!” She laughed. “We never sting unless we think we need to take care of ourselves or our lovely children.” “Oh,” apologized Miss Gardener, “I—that is, I—I’m ready, Mrs. Bee.” “All right, then,” buzzed the bee, flying nearer. “Are you certain you’re not afraid?” “I’m not,” declared Miss Gardener; but she said a little shiver went down her spine. “Very well,” buzzed the bee, coming straight at her and hitting her between the eyes. Miss Gardener tried to scream; before she could do so she had the queerest sensation. Before she could think whether the bee had stung or not, she began to sink down, down, down, down, down, down, until she was just the size of the bee. “You’ve wondered so long,” said the bee, “about what a beehive was like inside, I am going to take you on a visit to ours. But we must hurry, or I shall not get my duty to the hive people done. Besides, you cannot enter without some pollen or nectar; so here, stop and get a bit.” “How can I?” began Miss Gardener. “Fly over to that rose I was on,” said the bee. Miss Gardener flew and gathered some pollen, and, together, Mrs. Honey Bee and she winged their way over to the hive. CHAPTER XX THE STORY OF THE HONEY BEE “NOW,” began her strange little friend, “I shall tell you about the honey bees. There are two thousand different kinds of bees known at the present time, but the most useful and best understood are the honey bees. The homes (usually wooden boxes) furnished by man for bees are called hives, but the wild bees live ordinarily in hollow trees or caves. The prettiest and gentlest family of the honey bees are the Italian Bees. Perhaps you think you lead a busy life. If you worked from earliest morning to dark you could not be busier than good Mrs. Honey Bee, for she never trifles nor wastes a minute. Perhaps you think she goes leisurely from flower to flower, sipping the sweet nectar, and has a very delightful time simply enjoying herself. You are mistaken, then, for the worker honey bee is not thinking of herself at all, except to eat just enough to keep her well. She is working for the good of the whole Bee family, and especially for the little Baby Bees. You begin to see in all your studying, that almost all living things seem to live with the purpose of helping baby things like themselves to live.