CHAPTER II. 



FEBRUARY AMONGST THE HIVES. 



The midday sun shone warm from a cloudless sky. 

 Up in the highest elm-tops the south-west wind kept the 

 chattering- starlings gently swinging, but below in the 

 bee-garden scarce a breath moved under the rich soft 

 light. 



As I lifted the latch of the garden-gate, the sharp 

 click brought a stooping figure erect in the midst of the 

 hives; and the bee-master came down the red-tiled wind- 

 ing path to meet me. He carried a box full of some yel- 

 lowish powdery substance in one hand, and a big pitcher 

 of water in the other; and, as usual, his shirt-sleeves were 

 tucked up to the shoulder, baring his weather-browned 

 arms to the morning sun. 



" When do we begin the year's bee-work? " he said, 

 repeating my question amusedly. " Why, we began on 

 New Year's morning. And last year's work was finished 

 on Old Year's night. If you go with the times, every day 

 in the year has its work on a modern bee-farm, either in- 

 doors or out." 



" But it is on these first warm days of spring," he con- 

 tinued, as I followed him into the thick of the hives, 

 " that outdoor work for the bee-man starts in earnest. The 

 bees began long ago. January was not out before the 

 first few eggs were laid right in the centre of the brood- 

 combs. And from now on, if only we manage properly, 

 each bee-colony will go on increasing until, in the height 

 of the season, every queen will be laying from two thou- 

 sand to three thousand eggs a day." 



He stopped and set down his box and his pitcher. 



"If we manage properly. But there's the rub. 

 Success in bee-keeping is all a question of numbers. The 

 more worker-bees there are when the honey-flow begins, 

 the greater will be the honey-harvest. The whole art of 

 the bee-keeper consists in maintaining a steady increase in 

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