Belton desired to make the speech of his life the next day, and had retired to rest early so as to be in prime nervous condition for the effort.  His room-mate stole to the wardrobe and stealthily extracted the silk handkerchief and put these dirty socks in its stead.  Belton was then asleep, perhaps dreaming of the glories of the morrow.

Thursday dawned and Belton arose, fresh and vigorous.  He was cheerful and buoyant that day; he was to graduate bedecked with all the honors of his class.  Mr. King, his benefactor, was to be present.  His mother had saved up her scant earnings and had come to see her son wind up the career on which she had sent him forth, years ago.

The assembly room was decorated with choice flowers and presented the appearance of the Garden of Eden.  On one side of the room sat the young lady pupils, while on the other the young men sat.  Visitors from the city came in droves and men of distinction sat on the platform.  The programme was a good one, but all eyes dropped to the bottom in quest of Belton’s name; for his fame as an orator was great, indeed.  The programme passed off as arranged, giving satisfaction and whetting the appetite for Belton’s oration.  The president announced Belton’s name amid a thundering of applause.  He stepped forth and cast a tender look in the direction of the fair maiden who had contrived to send him that tiny white bud that showed up so well on his black coat.  He moved to the center of the platform and was lustily cheered, he walked with such superb grace and dignity.

He began his oration, capturing his audience with his first sentence and bearing them along on the powerful pinions of his masterly oratory; and when his peroration was over the audience drew its breath and cheered wildly for many, many minutes.  He then proceeded to deliver the valedictory to the class.  After he had been speaking for some time, his voice began to break with emotion.  As he drew near to the most affecting portion he reached to his coat tail pocket to secure his silk handkerchief to brush away the gathering tears.  As his hand left his pocket a smile was on well-nigh every face in the audience, but Belton did not see this, but with bowed head, proceeded with his pathetic utterances.

The audience of course was struggling between the pathos of his remarks and the humor of those dirty socks.

Belton’s sweetheart began to cry from chagrin and his mother grew restless, anxious to tell him or let him know in some way.  Belton’s head continued bowed in sadness, as he spoke parting words to his beloved classmates, and lifted his supposed handkerchief to his eyes to wipe away the tears that were now coming freely.  The socks had thus come close to Belton’s nose and he stopped of a sudden and held them at arm’s length to gaze at that terrible, terrible scent producer.  When he saw what he held in his hand he flung them in front of him, they falling on some students, who hastily brushed them off.