essed 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.

All eyes were turned upon Strout, who, seeing that he had nothing to
gain by objecting, cried out, "Oh, go ahead; what do I care about such
nonsense!"

Tilly then read with much dramatic expression the following poetical
effusion:

"How does the wicked bumblebee
Employ the shining hours,
In stinging folks that he dislikes,
Instead of sipping flowers."

Another loud laugh greeted this; largely due to the comical expression
on Tilly James's face, which so far upset Quincy's habitual gravity that
he was obliged to smile in spite of himself.

If Strout felt the shot he did not betray it, but turned to Huldy, who
stood at his right, and said