"Bless my soul!" said Mr. Black, striding kitchenward, "here she is, knitting like any old lady. Aren't you coming in here to eat apples with the rest of us?"
"Can't," mumbled Mabel.
"What's the matter, grandma?" teased Mr. Black. "Rheumatism troubling you to-day?"
"Nope," returned Mabel.
"Lost all your teeth?"
"Nope."
"Are you knitting me a pair of socks or is it mittens?"
"Just a chain," replied Mabel, suddenly beaming. "But, Mr. Black, does it really look as if I were knitting?"
"Precisely," smiled Mr. Black. "So much so that you remind me of the story of the woman who sat on the trap door and knitted—By Jove! That is a trap door! Here's the ring sticking up."