"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?"