n I heard an
unusual noise below, followed by an exclamation from Kitty--

"Oh! murderation! I can't cook the straddling thing. I wonder what
Mr. Smith brought it home alive for!"

I was, of course, all attention now, and going to the top of the
stairs, stood listening to what was going on below.

"There now. Lie still!" I heard Kitty say. This was followed by a
rattling of tongs, or some other iron implements, and a rapid
shuffling of feet.

Curious to know what was going on, I stepped lightly down the
stairs, and through the open door had a full view of both Kitty and
the lobster.

Live coals had been raked out upon the hearth. Over these was placed
a gridiron, and on this not very comfortable bed Kitty was
endeavoring to force Mr. Lobster to lie still and be cooked. But
this he was by no means inclined to do; and no sooner did she place
him on the heated bars, than he made his way off in the quickest
possible time. Then she caught hold of him with the tongs, restored
him to his proper position on the gridiron, and with poker and tongs
strove to hold him there.

As the lobster, a second and a third time, struggled free of Kitty's
tongs and poker, I could no longer restrain myself, but burst forth
into a loud fit of laughter. By the time this subsided, his
lobstership was in the middle of the kitchen floor. Picking him up,
I threw him into a pot of boiling water, and then retreated from the
kitchen, so convulsed with laughter that I could not utter a word.

Kitty did not soon hear the last of her attempt to broil a lobster.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE STRAWBERRY-WOMAN.

THE observance of economy in matters of family expenditure, is the
duty of every housekeeper. But, there is an economy that involves
wrong to others, which, as being unjust and really dishonest, should
be carefully avoided. In a previous chapter, I introduced the story
of a poor fish-woman, as affording a lesson for the humane. Let me
here give another, which forcibly illustrates the subject of
oppressive and unjust economy. It is the story of a
"Strawberry-Woman," and appeared in one of the magazines some years
ago.

"Strawb'_rees!_ Strawb'_rees!_ cried a poorly clad, tired-looking
woman, about eleven o clock one sultry June morning. She was passing
a handsome house in Walnut street, into the windows of which she
looked earnestly, in the hope of seeing the face of a customer. She
did not look in vain, for the shrill sound of her voice