"That old loft is roaring
full of bees. We've got to do something with them, or there won't be any
speaking here to-day."
We thought of stopping up the cracks, but there were too many of them to
make that practicable. To dislodge the swarm from the loft, too, would
be equally difficult, for the more we disturbed the bees the more
furious they would become.
At last we thought of the old Squire's bee smoker with which he had
sometimes subdued angry swarms that were bent on stinging.
"You drive home as fast as you can and get the smoker and a ladder,"
Addison said, "and I'll stay here to watch the fire in the stove."
So I drove old Nance home at her best pace. When I got there I looked
for the old Squire to tell him of our trouble, but found that he had
already driven to the village to meet Senator Hamlin and the other
speakers of the afternoon. Grandmother and the girls were too busy
getting ready for the distinguished guests, who were to have supper with
us, to give much heed to my story of the bees. So I got the smoker, the
box of elm-wood punk and a ladder about fourteen feet long, and with
this load drove back at top speed to the meetinghouse.
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