"It was a beetle," said his wife.
"It was a bee," said Hummel. "Are this rabble beginning to fly about. If there is anything I detest, it is bees. Why there is another. They annoy you, Phillipine."
"I cannot say so," she replied.
A few minutes after, a bee flew about Laura's curls, and she was obliged to protect herself with a parasol from the little worker, who mistook her cheeks for a peach.
"It is strange; they were not so numerous formerly," said Hummel, to the ladies; "it seems to me that a swarm of bees must have established itself in a hollow tree of the park. The park-keeper sleeps out there on a bench. You are on good terms with the man; call his attention to it. The vermin are insufferable."
Madam Hummel consented to make inquiries, and the park-keeper promised to look to it. After a time he came to the hedge, and called out, in a low voice:
"Madam Hummel."
"The man calls you," said Hummel.
"They come from the garden of Mr. Hahn," reported the park-keeper, cautiously; "there is a beehive there."
"Really?" asked Hummel. "Is it possible that Hahn should have chosen this amusement?"