“Ye‑es,” returned Eugene, disparagingly, “they work; but don’t you think they overdo it? They work so much more than they need⁠—they make so much more than they can eat⁠—they are so incessantly boring and buzzing at their one idea till Death comes upon them⁠—that don’t you think they overdo it? And are human labourers to have no holidays, because of the bees? And am I never to have change of air, because the bees don’t? Mr. Boffin, I think honey excellent at breakfast; but, regarded in the light of my conventional schoolmaster and moralist, I protest against the tyrannical humbug of your friend the bee. With the highest respect for you.”

“Thankee,” said Mr. Boffin. “Morning, morning!”