"Well, never mind the houses, and all the other queer things," said Harry. "Not just now, I mean; I want to know about the candy too."
Uncle Ben settled himself back in his chair, crossed his legs, and prepared for a story; while Willie hung to his knee on one side, and Harry stretched himself in the grass on the other, and Roger, the dog, went off on a butterfly hunt. He evidently was not interested in natural history.
"Ants are not the only animals that live on candy," said Uncle Ben, as he pinched Willie's ear. "There are bees, and wasps, and butterflies. And even such great creatures as bears. For bears sometimes break into bees' confectionary shop, and gulp down all its contents."
The two boys looked at each other dubiously. What in the world could Uncle Ben mean?
"It isn't honey you mean?" asked Harry, wonderingly. "That isn't candy."
"It is not cooked candy, I will admit," replied his uncle. "But it is flower candy. It is the candy that Nature makes, and lays up in her pretty blossom cups to feed insects that have a sweet tooth."
"But ants don't make honey-comb," cried Willie. "It is the bees do that. Nobody ever heard of an ant honey-comb."
"Don't be too sure of that, my boy; some folks have heard of many things that have never travelled to your ears. Why, there is an ant out West that makes a living honey-comb. Some of the ants themselves are turned into honey-combs to feed the others during the long winters."
Harry rose to his feet. He could not continue to lie down lazily when such marvellous stories as these were afloat.
"Living honey-combs!" he ejaculated.