hter. Henry and Rollo looked upon him with an expression of
ludicrous gravity and perplexity.

"What are you laughing at?" said Rollo.

Jonas could hardly control himself sufficiently to speak; but presently
he succeeded in asking Rollo if he supposed that bees would make honey
there.

"Certainly I do," said Rollo, with a positive air. "Why should they not?
They don't care what shape their hive is, or what it is made of, and this
flower-pot is as good as any thing else. There! there! see, Henry," he
exclaimed, interrupting himself, and pointing down to the flower-pot,
"one is coming out."

Henry and Jonas both looked, and they saw a poor, forlorn-looking bee
cautiously putting forth his head at the hole, and then slowly crawling
out. He came on until he was fairly out of the hole, and then, extending
his wings, rose and flew away through the air.

Here Jonas burst out again in a fit of laughter.

"You needn't laugh, Jonas," said Rollo; "he'll come back again; I know
he will. That's the way they always do."

"And you suppose that the bees will fill up the flower-pot with honey?"
said Jonas.

"Yes," said Rollo; "and then I shall take it away without killing any of
the bees. I read how to do it in a book."

"How shall you do it?" said Jonas.

"Why, when this honey-pot is full of honey, I shall get another, and put
on the top of it, bottom upwards. Then the bees will work up into that,
and come out at the upper hole. When they get fairly at work in the
upper hive, then I shall get Henry to hold it, while I slip the lower
one out, and put the upper one down in its place."

[Illustration]

As Rollo was speaking these words, in order to show Jonas more exactly
how he meant to perform the operation, he took hold of the flower-pot
with both his hands, and slid it suddenly off of the seat. Now it
happened that the poor bees that were inside, chilled with the dampness
and cold, were nearly all crawling about upon the seat; and when Rollo
suddenly moved the flower-pot along, forgetting for a moment what there
was inside, the rough edges of the flower-pot bruised and ground them to
death, and they dropped down upon the walk, some dead, some buzzing a
little, and one trying to crawl.

"There now, Rollo," said Henry, in a tone of great disappointment and
sorrow, "now you have killed all our bees!"

Rollo looked astonished enough. He had no idea of such a catastrophe;
and he and Henry both at the same instant took up