"Set up a telegraph wire, and then she would need nothing more," insinuated Cyn. "And get snubbed for my pains!" muttered Clem, _sotto voce_. But Nattie caught the words, and an expression of distress passed over her face. "This reminds me of that feast!" Cyn declared, as they sealed themselves wherever convenient, with a dish of whatever was handy. "Only more so," added Clem. "What feast?" asked Celeste, curiously. "One we had once," Cyn replied evasively, glad there was something Celeste did not know about. In fact, in the matter of curiosity, Celeste was an embryo Miss Kling. "I am sorry we have no _Charlotte Russes_ to-day, Quimby," remarked Clem, with an expression of transparent innocence. Quimby could only reply with a groan. The recollections awakened were too much. "What is the matter now, Ralfy?" asked the loving Celeste. Again Quimby muttered something about "that tooth." "Oh!" said Celeste, tenderly, "you really must have it out, Ralfy!" The possibility of being obliged to part with a sound tooth in self-defense, restored him for the time being. But he was not the only one to whom the retrospect brought a momentary pain. Nattie sighed as she looked back to the day that had brought Clem, but not restored as she then supposed, but taken away, her "C." "The salubrious air and the invigorating odor of the forest adds immeasurably to the natural capacity of the appetite!" commented Jo, gravely, as he passed his plate for the seventh fish. "Ah!" sighed Celeste, who prided herself on her delicacy, "I never could eat more than would satisfy a mouse, and since my engagement," simpering, "I cannot swallow enough to scarce keep me alive!" Quimby looked up eagerly. "I--I beg pardon, but if the--if the engagement weighs upon you, I--I am willing to release you, you know!" he exclaimed, hopefully. "You jealous creature!" replied Celeste, archly. "You know, Ralfy, that no consideration could make me release you!" Quimby knew it only too well, and sighed as he picked a chicken bone. "A great objection to dining in the woods is that one is apt to find his food unexpectedly seasoned!" said Clem, as he captured a six-legged bug of an adventurous spirit, that had sought to investigate the contents of his plate. "Isn't it strange that bugs don't seem half so bad in our food here as they would at home!" said Mrs. Simonson. "Oh! we can get used to anything, if we only think so!" said Cyn, bringing her cheery philosophy to the front. "Yes!" assented Quimby, mournfully, "I--I am used to it, you know!" Cyn laughed, and then proposed the health of the betrothed pair, which was drank in lager beer, and to which Quimby, bolstered up by Celeste, attempted to respond, but collapsed in the middle of the third sentence, and with the words, "Thank you! and I--I am used to it, you know!" sat down, wiped his forehead on his napkin, and looked intensely miserable.