the age-old instinct of loyalty and devotion towards the Hive
made the sound bees do this, though their reason told them they
ought to slip away and unite with some other healthy stock in the
apiary.

"What, about seven and three-quarter minutes' work now?" said
Melissa one day as she came in. "I've been at it for five hours,
and I've only half a load."

"Oh, the Hive subsists on the Hival Honey which the Hive
produces," said a blind Oddity squatting in a store-cell.

"But honey is gathered from flowers outside two miles away
sometimes," cried Melissa.

"Pardon me," said the blind thing, sucking hard. "But this is the
Hive, is it not?"

"It was. Worse luck, it is."

"And the Hival Honey is here, is it not?" It opened a fresh
store-cell to prove it.

"Ye-es, but it won't be long at this rate," said Melissa.

"The rates have nothing to do with it. This Hive produces the
Hival Honey. You people never seem to grasp the economic
simplicity that underlies all life."

"Oh, me!" said poor Melissa, "haven't you ever been beyond the