Here Jonas burst into a loud, and long, and apparently incontrollable fit of laughter. Henry and Rollo looked upon him with an expression of ludicrous gravity and perplexity.
“What are you laughing at?” said Rollo.
Jonas could hardly control himself sufficiently to speak; but presently he succeeded in asking Rollo if he supposed that bees would make honey there.
“Certainly I do,” said Rollo, with a positive air. “Why should they not? They don’t care what shape their hive is, or what it is made of, and this flower-pot is as good as any thing else. There! there! see, Henry,” he exclaimed, interrupting himself, and pointing down to the flower-pot, “one is coming out.”
Henry and Jonas both looked, and they saw a poor, forlorn-looking bee cautiously putting forth his head at the hole, and then slowly crawling out. He came on until he was fairly out of the hole, and then, extending his wings, rose and flew away through the air.
Here Jonas burst out again in a fit of laughter.
“You needn’t laugh, Jonas,” said Rollo; “he’ll come back again; I know he will. That’s the way they always do.”
“And you suppose that the bees will fill up the flower-pot with honey?” said Jonas.
“Yes,” said Rollo; “and then I shall take it away without killing any of the bees. I read how to do it in a book.”
“How shall you do it?” said Jonas.