-bushes, the notary's garden of Eden. These trifles make the best
part of my life. The Halictus sees in the same way the blade of grass
whereon she rested in her first flight, the bit of gravel which her claw
touched in her first climb to the top of the shaft. She knows her
native abode by heart just as I know my village. The locality has become
familiar to her in one glad, sunny morning.

She flies off, seeks refreshment on the flowers near at hand and visits
the fields where the coming harvests will be gathered. The distance does
not lead her astray, so faithful are her impressions of her first trip;
she finds the encampment of her tribe; among the burrows of the village,
so numerous and so closely resembling one another, she knows her own.
It is the house where she was born, the beloved house with its
unforgettable memories.

But, on returning home, the Halictus is not the only mistress of the
house. The dwelling dug by the solitary Bee in early spring remains,
when summer comes, the joint inheritance of the members of the family.
There are ten cells, or thereabouts, underground. Now from these cells
there have issued none but females. This is the rule among the three
species of Halicti that concern us now and probably also among many
others, if not all. They have two generations in each year. The spring
one consists of females only; the summer one comprises both males
and females, in almost equal numbers. We shall return to this curious
subject in our next chapter.

The household, therefore, if not reduced by accidents, above all if not
starved by the usurping Gnat, would consist of half-a-score of sisters,
none but sisters, all equally industrious and all capable of procreating
without a nuptial partner. On the other hand, the maternal dwelling is
no hovel; far from it: the entrance-gallery, the principal room of the
house, will serve quite well, after a few odds and ends of refuse have
been swept away. This will be so much gained in time, ever precious
to the Bee. The cells at the bottom, the clay cabins, are also nearly
intact. To make use of them, it will be enough for the Halictus to
polish up the stucco with her tongue.

Well, which of the survivors, all equally entitled to the succession,
will inherit the house? There are six of them, seven, or more, according
to the chances of mortality. To whose share will the maternal dwelling
fall?

There is no quarrel between the interested parties. The mansion is