Patty's Butterfly Days Part 37

"Well, I suppose you don't want a man's. I'll find you one of Marie's."

"I don't care whose it is, if it's big. Skip, now!"

Mona vanished, and Patty jumped out of bed, and dressed for her new work. She chose a pink-sprigged dimity, simply made, with short sleeves and collarless neck. A dainty breakfast cap surmounted her coil of curls, donned, it must be confessed, because of its extreme becomingness. Mona provided a large, plain white ap.r.o.n, and going to the kitchen, Patty considered the situation.

The viands for the luncheon had arrived, but were not in the least prepared for use. A large basket showed a quant.i.ty of live crabs, which lay quietly enough, but a twitching claw here and there betrayed their activity.

"Mercy!" cried Mona, "let's throw these away! You can't do anything with these creatures!"

"Nonsense," said Patty, "I'm versed in the ways of crabs. I'll attend to them. What else, Mona?"

"Oh, here are some queer looking things from the butcher's. I don't know what they are. Can they be brains?"

"No, they're sweetbreads, and fine ones, too. And here is the romaine for the salad, and lovely squabs to roast. Oh, Mona, I'm just in my element! I LOVE to do these things; you know I'm a born cook. But I must have a helper."

"I know; Marie always helped Francois. They were a splendid pair. It's a pity Aunt Adelaide had to stir them up so,--and all over nothing."

"Well, don't cry over spilt eggs. I'll do up this luncheon, and I'll fix it so I can slip up and dress, and appear at the table as if nothing had happened. The waitress and the butler can manage the serving process?"

"Oh, yes. I HATE to have you do it, Patty, but I don't know what else to do. Here, I'll help you."

Patty had already filled a huge kettle with boiling water, and was about to put the crabs in it.

"All right, Mona; catch that side of the basket, and slide them in, all together. It seems awful to scald them, but the sooner the quicker.

Now,--in they go!"

But in they DIDN'T go! One frisky crab shot out a long claw and nearly grabbed Mona's finger, which so scared her that she dropped her side of the flat basket, and the crabs all slid out on the floor instead of into the kettle.

With suddenly aroused agility they scuttled in every direction, some waggling to cover under tables and chairs, and some dancing about in the middle of the floor.

Hearing Mona's shrieks and Patty's laughter, Daisy came running down.

But the sight was too horrifying for her, and she turned and sped back upstairs. Poor Daisy was not so much to be blamed, for having lived all her life in Chicago, she had never chanced to see live crabs before, and the strange creatures were a bit startling.

She flew out on the veranda and caught Big Bill by one sleeve, and Roger by another.

"Come! Come!" she cried. "Patty and Mona are nearly killed! Oh, hurry!

You'll be too late!"

"Where, where?" cried Roger, while Farnsworth turned white with the sudden shock of Daisy's words. He thought some dreadful accident had happened, and fear for Patty's welfare nearly paralysed him.

"This way! That way!" screamed Daisy, darting toward the kitchen stairway, and then flying back again.

Down the stairs raced the two men, and into the kitchen. There they found Patty standing on a side table, armed with a long poker, while Mona danced about on the large table, brandishing a broom in one hand and a mop in the other. Patty was in paroxysms of laughter at Mona's antics, but Mona herself was in terror of her life, and yelled like a wild Indian.

"Get down! Go 'way!" she cried, as an adventurous crab tried, most ineffectually, to climb the table leg.

Roger sprang on to the table beside Mona. "There, there," he said, "you rest a while, and I'll holler for you. Go 'way! Get down! Go 'way, you!"

His imitation of Mona's frightened voice was so funny Patty began to laugh afresh, and Farnsworth joined her.

"Get up here on my table, Little Billee," cried Patty. "You'll be captured and swallowed alive by these monsters!"

Big Bill sat on the corner of Patty's table and looked at her.

"You make a charming little housewife," he said, glancing at the cap and ap.r.o.n.

"Help me, won't you?" Patty returned, blushing a little, but ignoring his words. "I'm going to cook the luncheon, and first of all we must boil these crabs. Can't you corral them and invite them into that kettle of water? We had them started in the right direction, but somehow they got away."

"Right-o!" agreed Bill, and placing the toe of his big shoe gently on a pa.s.sing crab, he picked it up by the hinge of its left hind leg, and deftly dropped it in the boiling water.

"That's just the right way!" said Patty, nodding approval. "I can pick them up that way, too, but there are so many sprinkled around this floor, I'm afraid they'll pick me up first."

"Yes, they might, Apple Blossom. You sit tight, till I round them all up. Lend a hand, Farrington."

So Roger poked out the unwilling creatures from their lairs, and Bill a.s.sisted them to their destination, while the two girls looked on.

"Good work!" cried Patty as the last sh.e.l.ly specimen disappeared beneath the bubbles. "Now, they must boil for twenty minutes. They don't mind it NOW."

The girls came down from their tables, and explained the situation.

"Don't worry, Mona," said Farnsworth, in his kind way. "Patty and I will cook luncheon, and this afternoon I'll go out and get you a cook if I have to kidnap one."

"All right, Bill," said Mona, laughing. "Come on, Roger, let's leave these two. You know too many cooks spoil the broth!"

"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 a.s.sistant. 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 gla.s.ses?"