CHAPTER VII. 



DISCONTENTED WHISPERS. A STORMY DISPUTE. 

 THE MA.SSACRE OF THE DRONES. 



N the following morning, the 

 hive seemed to Buz very in- 

 conveniently crowded ; and not 

 being in the best of tempers, 

 she was disgusted to find the 

 passage along which she was 

 hurrying between the combs, 

 nearly blocked by a lot of 

 drones. 



" Bother the lazy things," 

 said she to herself, as she 

 pushed past them ; " I've no patience with them." 



