THE LIFE OF A BEE 



"He has been dreaming in his rose-garden," com- 

 mented Crip, when the Master had nearly finished his 

 examination. "That is the reason he has neglected 

 us of late. He did not know there had been a great 

 flow of honey." 



We were talking among ourselves, when up came 

 Buzz-Buzz, angry from the smoke in his eyes. 



"A fine lot this fellow," he growled. 



"You don't like him?" I asked. 



He just looked at us. He was too irritated to speak. 



"He'll get over it," mused Crip. 



We were still holding converse when again the top 

 came off and one by one the Master lifted out our 

 combs and robbed them of their honey. They were 

 battered and broken and empty when he restored 

 them to us. We were all infuriated, and for a while 

 flew madly about him and about the Little Master 

 the dog kept at a respectful distance straining every 

 effort to drive them away. But the Little One only 

 smoked us the more, while the Master went on with 

 his work. He was careful to kill no bee, brushing off 

 every one of them before taking away the combs of 

 honey, and while returning them. 



Quickly it was all over. When he had gone we at 

 once took stock and found that he had left us quite 

 enough to carry us through the winter, barring acci- 

 dent. But almost before the appraisal had been made 

 a catastrophe was upon us. The honey from a broken 

 comb had flooded the bottom-board, and began to 

 pour out through the entrance onto the ground, and 

 robber bees were shortly upon it. We summoned all 

 our guards fpr our protection, but the robbers in 



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