Sign Here ____________________
Crabby Jacobs
Wow! You should have seen Crabby’s face when he gets through reading this! It’s a fiery red and he’s jumping about on the front porch, waving his arms as agitated as a kernel of pop corn that’s getting ready to pop.
If Crabby could have caught us right then he’d have broken all the resolutions we’d made out for him at once. He’s wise enough to know, though, that we must be peeking at him from some place, so he goes to each end of the porch and shakes his fist at the empty air, hoping he’s shaking it in our direction. Then he stamps back to the door, tears the sign off and takes it inside, slamming the door after him so hard it’s a wonder he don’t jerk it off the hinges.
“Well,” says Pete, when the eruption is over, “I guess we’ve fixed things now.”
“Yes,” says Dill, mournfully, “and just think what’s going to happen to that sign I took so much pains lettering. All my beautiful art work ruined!”
“On top of that,” adds Rod, “he’s probably making up a resolution all his own.... ‘I hereby resolve to shoot every member of the gang on sight’!”
“Maybe so,” I admits, “just the same I’m not sorry we did what we did. Crabby at least knows right where we stand.”
“And meanwhile,” moans Pete, “we’ve got to sit through this swell sliding weather....”
“Which we’d have had to do anyhow,” I reminds. “You guys wait a little while. Don’t jump on this idea too quick. Give those resolutions time to bump around inside Crabby’s head. You can’t tell ... he might all of a sudden get magnanimous.”