"Fish!" said Dabney. "Clams, oysters, crabs, lobsters."
Dick Lee had gazed in absolute silence up to that very moment; and all he could say now was,—
"Ah-h-h! O-h-h-h! Jes' ain't dey fine!"
"Boys," said Dab, with a sort of loving look at the contents of that box, "do you suppose we can eat those fellows?"
"Eat 'em!" exclaimed Ford. "Why, after they're cooked!"
"Well, I s'pose we can; but I feel more like shaking hands with 'em all around, just now. They're old friends and neighbors of mine, you know."
"Yes; but I guess we'd better eat them."
"Cap'n Dab," said Dick, "dey jes' knock all de correck pronounciation out ob me, dey does."
"Ford, Frank, I'll ask Mrs. Myers and Almira up here right away. Those oysters and clams have got to be eaten this very evening."
They did not need twice asking; and there was a thoughtful expression on the face of Mrs. Myers when she looked from one box into the other. It was fairly on her tongue's end to suggest what share of those luxuries should be taken at once to Deacon Short's or Mrs. Sunderland's; but she stopped in time, for that thought was followed by another,—