"Then call them May-bees," laughed Burt.
"The kind of bees that Virgil wrote about were undoubtedly their
ancestors," resumed Webb, smiling at Burt's sally, "for bees seem to change
but little, if any, in their traits and habits. Centuries of domestication
do not make them domestic, and your swarm, if not hived, would have gone to
the mountains and lived in a hollow tree. I have a book that will give you
the history and characteristics of the Italians, if you would like to read
about them."
"I certainly should. My mind is on bees now, and I intend to follow them up
until I get stung probably. Well, I've enjoyed more honey this morning,
although I've not tasted any, than in all my life. You see how useful I
make the opera-glass, Webb. With it I can even gather honey that does not
cloy."
CHAPTER XXXII
BURT BECOMES RATIONAL
Burt had expended more on his present for Amy than had any of the family,
and, while it had been acknowledged most cordially, he was a little
disappointed that his choice had not been so happy as Webb's. Therefore
after dinner he said: "I feel almost envious. I wish I could give you a
great deal of pleasure also to-day. How would you like to go in a row-boat
to Constitution Island, and make that visit to Miss Warner of which we
spoke last winter? It's warm, but not sultry, and we would keep in the
shadow of the mountains most of the way down."
She hesitated a moment.
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