HAPPY 



alarmed at the news of the worms, had fallen upon it 

 and borne it all away. 



Almost without thinking, I moved slowly toward the 

 door of the hive, for the afternoon was sultry and 

 there now seemed nothing to do. Indeed, when I 

 reached the outside the bees were heaped on the board, 

 and they clung in great masses to the front of the hive. 



"What idlers!" thought I. But I quickly realized 

 that there was nothing in the fields to gather, and 

 further, I knew that our hive was well stored with 

 bread and honey against any possible contingency. 



I made my way through the crowd, and presently I, 

 too, was seized with the fever of sleep, and, taking my 

 place among a group that clung to the uppermost 

 front of the hive, I soon fell asleep. 



How long I slept I know not, but when again I 

 roused myself a summer moon was streaming above 

 us, big and gloriously bright. The little dots of stars 

 that glinted through were almost lost in the sea of 

 light. I could hear the night hymn of the hive clearly, 

 just as long ago I heard it for the first time. It was 

 the low, murmured music of a thousand voices. This 

 hymn of the night was like the throbbing of a muf- 

 fled ^Eolian harp. Mingling with its harmonies rose 

 the dull whirring of many wings set to the task of 

 driving the sweet night air into the heart of the hive, 

 . to render it tolerable for the little ones dreaming 

 in their cells against a day of awakening, and for our 

 precious Queen-Mother, brooding through her watches 

 without end. 



Late in the night the air grew chilly, and one by 

 one we drifted inside. I had been one of the first, for 



74 



