"Have you ever raised bees?" he asked him, over the counter. "No, Mr. Hummel," replied he; "how could I manage it?" "You are not very enterprising," continued Hummel, reproachfully. "Why should you not give yourself this pleasure?" "I live in a garret, Mr. Hummel." "That does not matter. By the new inventions you may keep bees in a tobacco-box. You put the swarm in, open the window, and from time to time cut your honey out. You might become a rich man by it. You will say that these insects might sting your fellow-lodgers and neighbors; do not mind that; such views are old-fashioned. Follow the example of certain other people, who place their bee-hives close to the street in order to save the expense for sugar." The book-keeper seemed to wish to comply with this proposition. "If you mean----" he replied humbly. "The devil I mean, sir," interrupted Hummel; "do not think of coming to my office with a swarm of bees in your pocket. I am determined under no circumstances to suffer such a nuisance. I am Bumble-bee enough for this street and I object to all humming and swarming about my house and garden." In the afternoon, when he was taking a walk in the garden with his wife and daughter, he suddenly stopped. "What was it that flew through the air?" "It was a beetle," said his wife. "It was a bee," said Hummel. "Are this rabble beginning to fly about. If there is anything I detest, it is bees. Why there is another. They annoy you, Phillipine." "I cannot say so," she replied. A few minutes after, a bee flew about Laura's curls, and she was obliged to protect herself with a parasol from the little worker, who mistook her cheeks for a peach. "It is strange; they were not so numerous formerly," said Hummel, to the ladies; "it seems to me that a swarm of bees must have established itself in a hollow tree of the park. The park-keeper sleeps out there on a bench. You are on good terms with the man; call his attention to it. The vermin are insufferable." Madam Hummel consented to make inquiries, and the park-keeper promised to look to it. After a time he came to the hedge, and called out, in a low voice: "Madam Hummel." "The man calls you," said Hummel. "They come from the garden of Mr. Hahn," reported the park-keeper, cautiously; "there is a beehive there." "Really?" asked Hummel. "Is it possible that Hahn should have chosen this amusement?" Laura looked at her father anxiously. "I am a peaceful man, keeper, and I cannot believe my neighbor would do us such an injury." "It is certain, Mr. Hummel," said the park-keeper; "see, there is one of the yellow things now." "That's so," cried Hummel, shaking his head; "it's yellow." "Don't mind, Henry; perhaps it will not be so bad," said his wife, soothingly.