"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
Gate?"
"Certainly not. A fool's eyes are in the ends of the earth. Mine
are in my head." It gorged till it bloated.
Melissa took refuge in her poorly paid field-work and told
Sacharissa the story.
"Hut!" said that wise bee, fretting with an old maid of a
thistle. "Tell us something new. The Hive's full of such as
him--it, I mean."
"What's the end to be? All the honey going out and none coming
in. Things can't last this way!" said Melissa.
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