“How in the world is he going to pick out a queen bee from the million or more that must be in the swarm?” “I don’t know,” answered Russ. “Let’s go out and see how he does it,” proposed Laddie, always ready to do something. “Maybe I could think of a riddle about bees if I went out there.” “Most likely you’d be thinking about their stings if you went out there,” laughed Mr. Bunker. “You children stay here where you can watch Farmer Joel, and I’ll tell you what he is doing and how he can, perhaps, get back his fifty dollar queen, and I’ll tell you a little about how bees make honey.” By this time Farmer Joel was out among his bees. The dark cloud of the swarming hive was right over his head, moving slowly along like some great bubble—only it was a bubble full of life. In the middle of the swarm was the queen bee and all her court was following, going wherever she went. “How is he going to catch them?” asked Russ. “He ought to have a butterfly net, or something like that,” said Rose. “Farmer Joel isn’t exactly going to catch the bees,” explained Daddy Bunker. “All he can do is to follow them until the queen bee lights on a tree branch, or some place like that. When she does, all the other bees will cluster around her, as thickly as possible. Then, if Farmer Joel is lucky enough to find them, he can take an empty hive, put it on the ground under the queen bee and the bunch of worker bees, jar them off into the hive, clap the cover on, and bring it back to his apiary.” “What’s an ap—an ap—ap—?” began Violet. “An apiary means a place where bees are kept,” explained Mr. Bunker. “It comes from the Latin word _apis_, which means bee. Now while we are waiting to see what happens I’ll tell you a little about bees and why they swarm.” The six little Bunkers looked at Farmer Joel, with his smoking machine and his mosquito netting hat, still following the slowly moving swarm of bees toward the woods, and then they turned to their father who had promised to tell them something better than a story. “Bees are of three kinds,” said Mr. Bunker. “There is the worker bee, of which there are thousands in every swarm, or hive. The drones are the father bees, and, I am sorry to say, they are a lazy lot. They never work, and they eat lots of honey, and sometimes, when too many drones, or father bees, get into a hive, the worker bees sting them to death, for they can’t afford to feed too many lazy bees that won’t work. Then, most important of all, is the queen bee.” “How can you or Farmer Joel tell one bee from another?” inquired Violet, and this time the other children were glad she had asked the question, for this was something they wanted to know.