Jiggins nodded mournfully.
“And plenty, too.”
Another nod.
“Very well. You’ll have it hot and heavy, mind I tell you. Pat will be beginning to feel quite comfortable just as you begin to get took.”
“But—but,” ‘said Jiggins, rousing himself despairingly, “I thought—that is, I always heard—that clams were good stewed—and I never heard that even raw clams were bad, except when you took too many of them.”
“Shows how your parients neglected your edication,” said Mrs. Pratt, loftily. “They didn’t understand the natur’ of the clam, certain. It isn’t the cooking, or the not cooking, of the clam that makes it so dangerous; it’s the clam itself—or rather, the clam at this season of the year. That’s what makes it dangerous.”
“This season of the year? Why, what’s that got to do with it?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of that? Dear! dear! dear! An’ yet you go to the Academy, and don’t know about clams. Dear! dear! dear!”
“They don’t teach about clams there,” said Jiggins, morosely.
“So you don’t know the danger there is in eating them now.”