thought (all bumble-bees do) that
anybody who agreed with him must be sensible. Then, turning to Mr.
Thompson, the bee murmured, in a more pleasant hum, "If you like honey,
try some of this." As he said it he alit on Mr. Thompson's lips, and
pressed some of the honey he had with him into his mouth.

Mr. Thompson began to grow smaller, and as he shrunk in size, his light
alpaca duster became gauzy, and formed itself into wings. Just as he had
begun to wonder how long it would take him to shrink into nothing, the
bee said, "There, I guess that will do."

Mr. Thompson stretched himself, and found to his surprise that he was in
reality nothing more than a large black bumble-bee. He shook his wings,
arose, and, flying around for a few moments, settled on the fence rail.
He has since told me that if it is true, as Mr. Darwin says, that men
were evolved from the lower orders of animals, they made the greatest
mistake of their lives when they left off their wings.

"Well," remarked the old bee, "you look quite presentable. Won't you
drop in and take dinner with me? My wife would be delighted to see you."

Mr. Thompson thought how much he resembled a certain highly respectable
old gentleman who was wont to invite his friends to his humdrum dinners,
and buzz them unmercifully in the same drowsy way. But as he did not
like to offend his new friend, he answered, politely, that he would be
most happy, and followed him under the rail into a round hole that was
the door of the bumble-bee's house.

They entered a long cylindrical corridor, or, as the old bee expressed
it, "arched at the top, sides, and floor." It was lined with the fibres
of the wood, and was as soft as velvet. After walking some distance
along the hall, they reached a part where it widened into a sort of
parlor. Here Mrs. Bumble-Bee was seated, resting from the labor of
bread-making.

"Well, you are home at last," she buzzed, angrily. "I'll be bound you
forgot the flour."

"Why, my dear, don't you see it? I have it here," answered Mr. Bee,
soothingly, pointing to two little yellow bundles on his legs.

After greeting her guest, Mrs. Bee excused herself on the score of
domestic duties, and busied herself in carrying the flour, or pollen,
into the corridor above. Soon she returned, and after they had made a
meal of bee-bread and honey, Mr. Bumble-Bee proposed to show his guest
through his mansion. They passed through several long corridors, so
constructed that