“This way,” cried Violetta, waving her feeler, and pointing to a little round hole in the post, which Honeyball had not noticed before. It looked gloomy, and dark, and strange to the bee; but Violetta, who took some pride in her mansion, requested Honeyball to step in.
“You cannot doubt my honour,” said she, observing that the hive-worker hesitated, “or be suspicious of a cousin?”
Honeyball assured her that she had never dreamed of such a thing, and entered the hole in the post.
For about an inch the way sloped gently downwards, then suddenly became straight as a well, so dark and so deep, that Honeyball would have never attempted to reach the bottom, had she not feared to offend her new acquaintance. She had some hopes that this perpendicular passage might only be a long entrance leading to some cheerful hive; but after having explored to the very end, and having found nothing but wood to reward her search, she crept again up the steep narrow way, and with joy found herself once more in the sunshine.
“What do you think of it?” said Violetta, rather proudly.
“I—I do not think that your hive would hold many bees. Is it perfectly finished, may I inquire?”
“No; I have yet to divide it into chambers for my children, each chamber filled with a mixture of pollen and honey, and divided from the next by a ceiling of sawdust. But the boring was finished to-day.”
“You do not mean to say,” exclaimed Honeyball in surprise, “that that long gallery was ever bored by bees!”
“Not by bees,” replied Violetta, with a dignified bow, “but by one bee. I bored it all myself.”
The indolent Honeyball could not conceal her amazement. “Is it possible that you sawed it all out with your teeth?”