"You may have my share, I can't eat creatures I have seen squirm," said
Nattie.
"Ah, you fastidious young woman! what shall I ever do with you, if you are cast away on a desert island with me?" exclaimed Clem, in mock despair.
"Set up a telegraph wire, and then she would need nothing more," insinuated Cyn.
"And get snubbed for my pains!" muttered Clem, sotto voce. But Nattie caught the words, and an expression of distress passed over her face.
"This reminds me of that feast!" Cyn declared, as they sealed themselves wherever convenient, with a dish of whatever was handy.
"Only more so," added Clem.
"What feast?" asked Celeste, curiously.
"One we had once," Cyn replied evasively, glad there was something Celeste did not know about. In fact, in the matter of curiosity, Celeste was an embryo Miss Kling.
"I am sorry we have no Charlotte Russes to-day, Quimby," remarked Clem, with an expression of transparent innocence.
Quimby could only reply with a groan. The recollections awakened were too much.