E. E. shut down her parasol. Mr. Burke shut mine. "Now," says he, "for the lines."
With this he took up a lump of raw fish, gave it a swing and a splash into the water, and handed me the other end. Dempster gave another line and a chunk of fish to his wife, and then took one of the hang-bird nets and stood by as if he meant to do business.
By and by I felt a sort of hungry nibbling at the end of my line, and gave it a jerk just as if it had been a brook trout, hard to catch.
"Oh, goodness!" I just dropped the line and screamed like everything, scared half to death. If ever an innocent female caught a claw-footed imp, I came near doing it then. Why the animal, varmint, double and twisted serpent—I don't know what to call it—clung to the bait till I hauled him clear out of the water, and then fell back with a big sprawl and an awful splash, sinking down again like a great mammoth spider that made the water bubble with disgust.
"What was it? What was it?" I said, turning my scared face on Mr. Burke. "What kind of young sea-devil is this?"
He laughed, and laid down the net he had just taken up.
"You pulled too quick," says he. "Crabs are like women."
"Like women," I shrieked. "What, those horrid things? Sir, I thank you!"
My voice shook so I could hardly get the words out with proper irony. A generous rage in behalf of my sex possessed me.
"You did not hear me out," says he, pleasant as a sweet apple. "I was going to say crabs were like women in this respect. They must be led along, enticed, persuaded up to the bait."