Wasps and Ants 37 



the whole summer through. It was a cedar 

 floor trig and tight, laid down rough but worn 

 smooth by uncounted scrubbings. The posts 

 were also of cedar, with rails of seasoned pop- 

 lar running between. There was no ceiling 

 — nothing overhead but rafters and roof. 

 The roof was sharply pitched, of hand-drawn 

 oak shingles that had been on twenty years, 

 yet seemed good for twice as many more. 

 Space underneath them was curiously divided 

 between winged tenants. The red-wasp zone 

 came at the very tip-top, in the keen angle of 

 roof and house-wall. Fruit-wasps, brown, 

 gold-banded gentry, ravagers of orchards and 

 vineyards, came next lower, but their nests 

 were invisible — they crawled behind the 

 weather boards, and burrowed into the daub- 

 ing of the log walls. Any way they were not 

 plenty enough to fill a whole zone. The 

 daubers more than made up for that. Their 

 zone indeed threatened to become a continent. 

 Left to themselves they would no doubt have 

 overrun the whole space, but since they built 

 low enough to be within reach of a broom, 

 betwixt Mrs. Baker below, and the red wasps 

 above, they were held within reasonable 

 bounds. 



Joe cared least of all for the red wasps. It 

 was not only because of their ill-temper — 

 they stung upon occasion or without it — they 



