Rollo held the flower, with the bee imprisoned in it, safely in his fingers.
“O, I can catch plenty more. I could catch a whole hive of them, in time.”
“But I don’t believe they will stay and work in your hive,” said Henry. “They will all fly off and go home to where they belong.”
“No,” said Rollo, “I will plug up the hole, and keep them shut in until they get used to it. When they get wonted to the new hive, they will stay there, after that, I know. That’s the way they do with doves.”
“But you won’t have any queen bee,” said Henry. “Bees won’t work without a queen bee. I read it in a book.”
“Well, perhaps I can catch a queen bee, some day,” said Rollo, rather doubtfully.
Rollo was so much interested in his plan, that he was determined not to see any difficulties in the way of it; and yet he could not help feeling that there was some uncertainty about his succeeding in entrapping a queen bee.
However, just at this point in the conversation, he suddenly stopped, and pointed down to a flower-pot, which stood bottom upwards, upon a seat, near where they were walking.
“There,” said he, “that will do for a bee-hive.”
“Ho!” said Henry, “that is not a box.”