THE LIFE OF A BEE 



impression that I had some honey in my sac. Nobody 

 had taught me how to unload it, but I went forward 

 to a cell. Imagine how downcast I was to find that not 

 an atom of honey had been left me! I was infuriated; 

 so resolved at once to try again. Hurriedly I went 

 to the place for another load, but found the bees had 

 nearly all gone. Once inside, I discovered that not a 

 drop of honey remained, hence the reason for their 

 leaving. I was wandering about when a poor crippled 

 bee approached. Could this be one of the rascals that 

 robbed me and who had suffered a worse fate? 



"Won't you have pity on me and let me go home 

 with you?" he said, sorrowfully. "I'm all alone in the 

 world." 



His tone and request cut me deeply; he was clearly 

 no robber, for I saw that he was broken-hearted and 

 had but five legs one of his basket-legs was missing. 

 And how wretched he looked! 



"Have you no home?" I asked, with compassion. 



"This was my home, but you and ten thousand like 

 you have destroyed it. There wasn't much left of it, 

 though, when our Queen-Mother died." 



I felt guilty as a thief caught red-handed. Remorse 

 was at my throat. 



"Yes," I said, "you may go home with me. But 

 tell me about your Queen-Mother. What became of 

 her?" 



Then he began a fascinating story which kept me 

 rooted to the place, desolate as it was. 



"Well, it was this way: One sunny afternoon, a 

 long time ago, our Queen-Mother went for a flight into 

 the outer world, a thing she did but rarely and never 



37 



