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AROMA OF A SPIRIT AND A FLOWER
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I had better remain in the same kind of air and sunshine that seems to be working the miracle that I need to make a whole man of me.”

Slowly the Bee Master assented.

“Yes,” he said, “I think you’re right. I think you’re right. I think you can find even a greater amount of interest in the intricate and delicate life processes of a bee than in work with the insensate trees that grow because they must, for however interesting they may be, and however beautiful they may be, the fact remains that they are not carrying out life processes that border so nearly on thinking and on reasoning as do the bees.”

“I have quite decided,” said Jamie, “that I am going to study hard. I am going on carefully and if you give me the opportunity, I will make my work among the bees.”

“About the location, now,” said the Bee Master. “How do you feel about my location?”

Jamie smiled.

“I know the Atlantic seaboard and quite a bit abroad. I’ve seen the coasts of England and France, and I’ve gone all the way across this continent. The bay below your place constitutes my whole experience with the Pacific, but I am fairly sure that in all this world there is nothing to be found much lovelier than your garden of perfect blue. You remember that the ancient Chinese called blue the ‘perfect colour’?”

The Bee Master nodded corroboratively.

“There have been days in that azure garden, laddie,”