Upon hearing the mystic word Madame crept stealthily a pace or two nearer to the door, while the Prophet exclaimed,—
“The dressed Crab?”
“Ah, what do you think? Not a wink of sleep and thought every minute’d be ‘er next.”
“Good Heavens!”
“She says she’d never go near a crab again, not if it’s ever so.”
“You are sure?” said the Prophet, eagerly. “You are positive she said that?”
“I’d stake my Davy, and I wouldn’t do that on everything. There ain’t a man living as’ll ever get her to go within fifty miles of a crab this side of Judgment.”
At this point in the colloquy the curiosity of Madame overcame her, and she protruded her head suddenly beyond the edge of the doorway.
“Ulloh!” exclaimed the voice. “Why, what’s ‘a’ you got there?”
Madame hastily withdrew, and the voice continued,—