“Well,” said grandmamma, “there really is no danger, if you will all keep perfectly still.  It is easy to hive them from a branch, but needs a great deal more care if they swarm upon the ground.  If any bees should settle on you, you must let them stay till they fly off of their own accord.  If you try to brush them off, they will be nearly sure to sting you.”

“I am almost afraid to let little Annie go, lest she should be frightened.”

“I will take care of Annie,” said grandpapa.—­“You won’t be afraid in my arms, will you, my little pet, even if some bees do settle on you?  Yes, yes, you shall come,” he said; for he could not bear to have her disappointed.

“If they cover me,” said Jack, “I won’t touch one of them!”

So all but grandmamma started off for the garden; and sure enough there was hanging from one of the lower branches of the plum-tree a huge bunch of bees; it was wonderful how they managed to keep together.

“They’ll hive easy,” said the gardener.

Bob held the new hive directly under the cluster of bees, and the gardener gently shook the bough on which it was hanging, when the bees fell into it.  Numbers, however, flew about hither and thither in a state of great commotion.

“Don’t be frightened, Annie dear,” said grandpapa; “they won’t hurt you—­keep quite still.”

A few bees settled on Jack and Mary, many more on the gardener and Bob, but only two or three on grandpapa and Annie, for he was a little farther off than the others.

By-and-by all the bees flew away into the hive after their queen, and no one was stung.  The hive was then placed upon a board on the ground and left there.

In the evening, when all was quiet, the gardener took up the hive and set it by the side of the other bees.

After the children had gone back to the house, Mary asked grandmamma why she did not come to see the bees hived.

“My dear, it is no new sight to me.  Why, I hived the very first swarm we ever had myself.”

“You hived them, grandmamma?  Do tell us about it.”

“It was a year or two after we were married, and a friend had given us a hive of bees in the spring.  They swarmed one sunny day when your grandpapa had gone to London, and the only man handy was the gardener.  He had not been with us long, and he stayed but a very short time, as he did not suit us.

“I saw the swarm myself hanging on to a red-currant bush, and I asked the gardener if he could hive the swarm.  He said he didn’t know anything about bees, and he didn’t care to meddle with them.

“I didn’t care to ask for any help from him, so I went into the kitchen and said to one of the servants, ’Ann, would you be afraid to help me hive the bees, for they have swarmed?’

“‘Not at all, ma’am,’ she said.

“So I told her to draw a pair of stockings over her hands and arms, and to tie a thin shawl over her head and neck; then, when she was ready, we went into the garden.”