“So they do!” called Bill, gaily, as Mona, after this parting shaft, fled upstairs.  “Do I understand, little Apple Blossom,” he observed, gently, “that you’re really going to cook this elaborate luncheon all yourself?”

“Yes, sir,” said Patty, looking very meek and demure.

“Can you do it?”

“Yes, sir.”  Patty dropped her eyes, and drew her toe along a crack in the floor, like a bashful child.

“You little rascal!  I believe you can!  Well, then, you can be chef and I’ll be assistant.  I was going to arrange it the other way.”

“Oh, no, sir!  I’ll give the orders.”  And Patty looked as wise and dignified as a small bluebird on a twig.

“You bet you will, my lady!  Now, first and foremost, shall I pare the potatoes?”

“Oh, Billee, there must be a scullery maid or something for that!”

“Don’t see any, and don’t want any!  I’m not afraid of staining my lily-white fingers.  You’d better put those sweetbreads in cold water to blanch them, and cut up some bread to dry out a little for the squab stuffing.”

“For goodness gracious sake!  Do you know it all?” exclaimed Patty, looking at him in amazement.

“Yes, I know everything in all the world.  I’m a terrible knower!”

“You are so!  How did you learn it all?”

“Born so.  Are you going to have that sort of a grape fruit muddle in glasses?”

“Yes; with candied cherries in it.  Don’t you love it?”

“Yes, if you do.  What thou lovest, I will love, and thy discards shall be mine also.”

“Amiable boy!  Now, don’t talk to me, I have to measure these things very carefully.”

“Oh, I say!  Let me make the salad dressing.  I’m a hummer at it, and I don’t measure a thing.”

Patty looked at him coldly.

“If you turn out to be a better cook than I am,” she said, “I’ll never speak to you again!”

“Oh, I’m not!  I’m a fearful cook!  I spoil everything I touch!  Don’t ask me to make that dressing!  Don’t!”

Patty couldn’t help laughing at his foolishness, and the work went merrily on.

But picking out the crabs was a tedious task.  It was easy enough, and Patty was deft and dainty, but it took a long time, and the sharp shells cut her fingers now and then.

“Let me do it, dear,” said Farnsworth, quietly, and he took from her the fork she was using.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, gratefully.  “You are a help, Little Billee.”

“I’m always ready to help you, Patty girl; call on me any time, anywhere; if ever you want me,—­I’m right there.”

“I think somebody else might have helped us with these crabs, anyway.”

“They would, if we asked them.  I like it better this way.  Alone with thee,—­just you and me,—­the crabs to free,—­is bliss for we!”

“Speak for yourself, John!  I don’t see any bliss in picking out crabs.  I’ve cut and scratched every single solitary finger I possess!”