"Oh, I don't sting my friends! I'm a honey-bee. A dear, little,
busy, buzzy honey-bee!" And she kept on dancing around and buzzing
till Patty put out her hand as if to brush her away.
"Buzz away, Bee, but get a little farther off,--you drive me
distracted."
"That's the way she always acts," said Marie, with a sigh; "we can't
do anything with her! It's a pity she was ever nicknamed Bee, for,
when she begins buzzing, she's a regular nuisance."
"Sometimes I'm a drone," Bee announced, and with that she began a
droning sound that was worse than the buzzing, and kept it up till
it set their nerves on edge.
"Oh, Bee, dear!" Marie begged of her, "WON'T you stop that and be
nice?"
Bee's only answer was a long humming drone.
Patty looked at the girl kindly. "I want to like you," she said,
"and I think it's unkind of you not to let me do it."
Bee stopped her droning and considered a moment. Then she smiled,
and when her elfin face broke into laughter, she was a pretty
picture, indeed.
"I DO want you to like me," she said, impulsively, grasping Patty's
hands; "and I will be good. You know I'm like the little girl,--the
curly girlie, you know,--when she was good she was awful drefful
good, and when she was bad she was horrid.
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