e. The queen's work,
however, was really done; for, though for a day or two, till their
cuirasses and wings hardened, these new young worker-wasps only did
light labor, acting as nurses to the others that were following, and so
on, they quickly took upon their own shoulders the whole of the work of
the city: the nursing and feeding of the young, the hunting, the
building, the scavenging, and the waiting upon and feeding the
queen-mother herself completely, so that she should henceforth labor
not, nor fight, nor waste herself in the chase, but should keep at home
and lay countless eggs, and eggs, and always nothing but eggs, for the
workers to rear for the benefit of the State.

* * * * * *

To-day that city has a population of nearly 60,000, and contains over
11,000 cells; and the queen is still there, laying eggs, eggs, and
again eggs, till--

IV

NINE POINTS OF THE LAW

Sharp's the word with her.--SWIFT.

Some people never know when they are well off. It is a complaint which
afflicts cats, you may have noticed, and gets them into much trouble
that their contemptuous temper might otherwise leave them free from.
The silver tabby would have done better if she had remained asleep upon
Miss Somebody's arm-chair, instead of squatting, still as marble, out
in a damp field on a damp night, watching a rabbits' "stop"--which is
vernacular for a bunnies' nursery--and thinking how nice raw, pink
baby-rabbit would taste if she got the chance to sample it. She
didn't. At least, she hadn't for an hour and a half; but, then, what's
an hour and a half to a cat? Apparently the silver tabby could wait,
just like that, utterly inert, till the crack of doom--or dawn.

Mind you, she was not alone. She had company. One always has in the
wild at night, or nearly always. You couldn't see that company, but I
don't know whether the silver tabby could. Who can tell how much a cat
sees, anyway? Nor do I think the company could see her, she being
still, and wild eyes not being good at picking out the still form.
Neither could they hear her, for she said nothing; neither did she
purr. They must have smelt her, though. Anyway, she seemed to be a
little island in the mist--the faint, faint, ethereal dew-mist--where
nobody walked. You could hear them--a rustle here, a squeak there, a
thud somewhere else, a displaced leaf, a cracked twig--this only
once--a drumming, a patter, a sniff, a snu