40 THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW 
acquaintance with the lordly bee-master and _ his 
ways; now come and see how a woman manages.” 
We passed over to the singing lady in the veil, 
and—from a safe distance—watched her at her 
work. Each frame, as it was raised out of the 
seething abyss of the hive, was turned upside 
down and carefully examined. A little vortex of 
bees swung round her head, shrilling vindictively. 
Those on the uplifted comb-frames hustled to and 
fro like frightened sheep, or crammed themselves 
head foremost into the empty cells, out of reach of 
the disturbing light. 
‘“ That is a queenless stock,’’ said the bee-mistress. 
“It is going to be united with another colony, 
where there is a young, high-mettled ruler in want 
of subjects.” 
We watched the bee-gardener as she went to one 
of the neighbouring hives, subdued and opened it, 
drew out all the brood-combs, and brought them 
over in a carrying-rack, with the bees clustering in 
thousands all about them. Then a scent-diffuser was 
brought into play, and the fragrance of lavender- 
water cate over to us, as the combs of both hives 
were quickly sprayed with the perfume, then 
lowered into the hive, a frame from each stock 
alternately. It was the old time-honoured plan for 
uniting bee-colonies, by impregnating them with 
the same odour, and so inducing the bees to live 
together peaceably, where otherwise a deadly war 
might ensue. But the whole operation was carried 
through with a neat celerity, and light, dexterous 
handling, I had never seen equalled by any man. 
“ That girl,’’ said the bee-mistress, as we moved 
away, ‘‘ came to me out of a London office a year 
