"Do something, keeper, to preserve peace between neighbors," continued Hummel. "Take my compliments to Mr. Hahn, with the request from me that he will remove his bees, so that I may not be obliged to call in the police again."
"I will tell him, Mr. Hummel, that the bees are disagreeable to the neighborhood; for it is true the gardens are small."
"They are so narrow that one could sell them in a bandbox at a Christmas fair," assented Hummel. "Do it out of pity to the bees themselves. Our three daffodils will not last them long as food, and afterwards there will be nothing for them but to gnaw the iron railings."
He gave the park-keeper a few coppers, and added, to his wife and daughter:
"You see how forbearing I am to our neighbor, for the sake of peace."
The ladies returned to the house, depressed and full of sad forebodings.
As the park-keeper did not appear again, Mr. Hummel watched for him on the following day.
"Well, how is it?" he asked.
"Mr. Hahn thinks that the hives are far enough from the street; they are behind a bush and they annoy no one. He will not give up his rights."
"There it is!" broke out Hummel. "You are my witness that I have done all in the power of man to avoid a quarrel. The fellow has forgotten that there is a Section 167. I am sorry, keeper; but the police must be the last resort."