Uncle Zed rambled on reminiscently until Mrs.Trent suddenly arose, spoke sharply to Carlia, and lifted the basket of picnic on to the table.
"We'll have our refreshments now," she said, "and then we must be going.
Uncle Zed goes early to bed, and so should we." The table was spread: roast chicken, brought by Carlia; dainty sandwiches, made by Mildred; apple pie from Mrs.Trent's cupboard; a jar of apricot preserves, suggested by Dorian.

Uncle Zed asked a blessing not only on the food, but on the kind hands which had provided it.

Then they ate heartily, and yet leaving a generous part to be left in Uncle Zed's own cupboard.
Then Dorian had a presentation to make.

He took from the basket a small package, unwrapped it, and handed a book to the man who was seventy-five years old.
"I couldn't do much by way of the eats," said Dorian, "so my present is this." "'Drummond's Natural Law in the Spiritual World'" read Uncle Zed.

"Why, Dorian, this is fine of you.