ummer burrows. How cleverly the rascals ply their trade! How well aware
are they of the guard who keeps watch at the Halictus' door! There is
no foul deed possible nowadays; and the result is that no Fly puts in an
appearance and the tribulations of last spring are not repeated.

The grandmother who, dispensed by age from maternal bothers, mounts
guard at the entrance of the home and watches over the safety of the
family, tells us that in the genesis of the instincts sudden births
occur; she shows us the existence of a spontaneous aptitude which
nothing, either in her own past conduct or in the actions of her
daughters, could have led us to suspect. Timorous in her prime, in the
month of May, when she lived alone in the burrow of her making, she
has become gifted, in her decline, with a superb contempt of danger and
dares in her impotence what she never dared do in her strength.

Formerly, when her tyrant, the Gnat, entered the house in her presence,
or, more often, stood face to face with her at the entrance, the silly
Bee did not stir, did not even threaten the red-eyed bandit, the dwarf
whose doom she could so easily have sealed. Was it terror on her part?
No, for she attended to her duties with her usual punctiliousness; no,
for the strong do not allow themselves to be thus paralysed by the weak.
It was ignorance of the danger, it was sheer fecklessness.

And behold, to-day, the ignoramus of three months ago knows the peril,
knows it well, without serving any apprenticeship. Every stranger who
appears is kept at a distance, without distinction of size or race.
If the threatening gesture be not enough, the keeper sallies forth and
flings herself upon the persistent one. Cowardice has developed into
courage.

How has this change been brought about? I should like to picture the
Halictus gaining wisdom from the misfortunes of the spring and capable
thenceforth of looking out for danger; I would gladly credit her with
having learnt in the stern school of experience the advantages of a
patrol. I must give up the idea. If, by dint of gradual little acts of
progress, the Bee has achieved the glorious invention of a janitress,
how comes it that the fear of thieves is intermittent? It is true that,
being by herself in May, she cannot stand permanently at her door:
the business of the house takes precedence of everything else. But she
ought, at any rate as soon as her offspring are victimized, to know
the parasite and give