“Oo-oo-ee-ee! They’re all out! The whole dozen! Oh, Miss Cooke, scramble up here, for your life!
“Cissy Gay, if you get up here, too, this table will break down! Get on the big table; never mind the eggs. Will you look at those awful beasts! They’re all over the floor. Oh, I’m so frightened! I wish Roddy Dow had come in with me! I wish Mr. Willing was here. I even wish I had that Pittsburg man to take care of me! Let’s all scream, and maybe the Janitor will come. Oh, there you are! Please, Janitor, brush up these crabs somebody spilled, won’t you?
“Well! I never saw a man afraid, before! Get down off that chair, Dolan! What do you mean? I’ll report you to the owner of this building! No, they won’t hurt you! You just pick ’em up by one hind leg, and they can’t bite. I’d do it myself,—only I’ve just been manicured.
“Talk about new-fangled housekeeping devices,—what is most needed is a crab pick-upper. That would fill a longer felt want than all their fireless napkins and paper cookers.
“You know, they cook now in paper bags. No, I don’t know much about it, but I’m going to learn. They say it’s a great time-saver. I suppose they just take the paper bags of rice or beans or anything, as they come from the grocer’s, and put them on to boil. I expect they take the strings off before they send the bags to the table. It’s largely theoretical, of course. All these new movements are.
“But I’m for ’em! This cooking class, now; I only wish I could have brought Mr. Dow.
“Sitting this way, cross-legged on a kitchen table, with a frilly, bibby apron on, I know I look exactly like a Gibsty picture. And it’s all wasted on you girls!
“Crabs all corralled? Thank you, Dolan. Now, Miss Cooke, shall we go on with the lesson?
“Oh, you’re sorry, but the time is all used up!
“Well, never mind, Cooksy-Wooksy. I think they must have been suffragette crabs,—they agitated so terribly.