"Yes; with candied cherries in it. Don't you love it?"
"Yes, if you do. What thou lovest, I will love, and thy discards shall be mine also."
"Amiable boy! Now, don't talk to me, I have to measure these things very carefully."
"Oh, I say! Let me make the salad dressing. I'm a hummer at it, and I don't measure a thing."
Patty looked at him coldly.
"If you turn out to be a BETTER cook than I am," she said, "I'll never speak to you again!"
"Oh, I'm not! I'm a FEARFUL cook! I spoil everything I touch! DON'T ask me to make that dressing! DON'T!"
Patty couldn't help laughing at his foolishness, and the work went merrily on.
But picking out the crabs was a tedious task. It was easy enough, and Patty was deft and dainty, but it took a long time, and the sharp shells cut her fingers now and then.
"Let me do it, dear," said Farnsworth, quietly, and he took from her the fork she was using.