Quincy’s speech was received with applause.  The hot coffee had arrived and was soon circulating in cups, mugs, and tumblers.  Everybody was talking to everybody else at the same time, and all petty fueds, prejudices, and animosities were, apparently, forgotten.

The young fellows took the cue from Quincy, who, as soon as he had finished his little speech, began filling the plates with the good things provided, and passing them to the ladies, and in a short time all had been waited upon.  When both hunger and appetite had been satisfied, Quincy again addressed the company.

“In those small paper boxes,” said he, “you will find some little souvenirs, which you can keep to remind you of this very pleasant evening, or you can eat them and remember how sweet they were.”  A general laugh followed this remark.  “In making your selection,” continued Quincy, “bear in mind that the boxes tied up with red ribbon are for the ladies, while those having blue ribbons are for the gentlemen.”

A rush was made for the table, and almost instantly each member of the company became possessed of a souvenir and was busily engaged in untying the ribbons.

Again Quincy’s voice was heard above the tumult.

“In each package,” cried he, “will be found printed on a slip of paper a poetical selection.  The poetry, like that found on valentines, is often very poor, but the sentiment is there just the same.  In the city the plan that we follow is to pass our own slip to our left-hand neighbor and he or she reads it.”

This was too much for the Professor.

“I don’t think,” said he, “that we ought to foller that style of doin’ things jest because they do it that way in the city.  We are pretty independent in the country, like to do thing’s our own way.”

“Oh! it don’t make any difference to me,” said Quincy; “in the city when we get a good thing we are willing to share it with our partners or friends; you know I said if you didn’t wish to keep your souvenir, you could eat it, and of course the poetical selection is part of the souvenir.”

A peal of laughter greeted this sally, which rose to a shout when Strout took his souvenir out of the box.  It proved to be a large sugar bee, very lifelike in appearance and having a little wad of paper rolled up and tucked under one of the wings.

As Strout spread out the slip of paper with his fingers, loud cries of “Eat it!” “Read it!” and “Pass it along!” came from the company.  The Professor stood apparently undecided what course to pursue, when Tilly James, who was standing at his left, grabbed it from his fingers, and running to the end of the table, stood beside young Hill with an expression that seemed to say, “This is my young man, and I know he will protect me.”

Loud cries of “Read it, Tilly!” came from all parts of the table.

“Not unless Professor Strout is willing,” said Tilly with mock humility.