84 THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW 
digested honey wherever ordinary sugar forms part 
of their diet. And did you ever try honey to 
sweeten tea or coffee? Of course, it must be pure, 
and without any strongly-marked flavour; but no 
one would ever return to sugar if once good honey 
had been tried in this way, or in any kind of cookery 
where sugar is used.” 
The bee-master ran his fingers through his hair, 
of which he had a magnificent iron-grey crop. 
The fingers were undeniably sticky; but it was an 
old habit of his, when in thoughtful mood, and the 
action seemed to remind him of something. His 
eyes twinkled merrily. 
“Now,” said he, ‘‘ you are a writer for the 
papers, and you may therefore want to go into the 
hair-restoring business some day. Well, here is a 
recipe for you. It is nothing but honey and water, 
in equal parts, but it is highly recommended by all 
the ancient writers on beemanship. Have I tried 
it? Well, no; at least, not intentionally. But in 
extracting honey it gets into most places, the hair 
not excepted. At any rate, honey as a hair-restorer 
was one of the most famous nostrums of the Middle 
Ages, and may return to popular favour even now. 
However, there is something there can be no 
question about.” 
He went to a cupboard, and brought out a jar 
full of a viscid yellow substance. 
“ This,’’ he said, ‘‘ is an embrocation, and it is 
the finest thing I know for sprains and bruises. It 
is made of the wax from old combs, dissolved in 
turpentine, and if we got nothing else from the 
hives bee-keeping would yet be justified as a 
humanitarian calling. Its virtues may be in the 
