xcellent. The fish were done to a turn. The oysters, roasted,
broiled or stewed, and likewise the clams, were all that could have been
asked for. Bread there was in abundance, and everything was going finely
till Mrs. Kinzer asked her son, as his fire-red face showed itself at
the kitchen door:

"Dabney, you've not sent in your vegetables; we're waiting for them."

Dab's face grew still redder, and he came very near dropping a plate he
had in his hand.

"Vegetables? Oh yes. Well, Ford, we might as well send them in now. I've
got them all ready."

Annie opened her eyes and looked hard at her brother, for she knew very
well that not so much as a potato had been thought of in their
preparations. Ford himself looked a little queer, but he marched out,
white apron and all. A minute or so later, the two boys came in again,
each bearing aloft a huge platter.

One of these was solemnly deposited at each end of the table.

"Vegetables?"

"Why, they're lobsters!"

"Oh, Ford, how could you?"

The last exclamation came from Annie Foster as she clapped her hands
over her face. Bright red were those lobsters, and fine-looking fellows,
every one of them, in spite of Mrs. Lee's poor opinion; but they were a
little too well dressed, even for a dinner-party. Their thick shoulders
were adorned with collars of the daintiest material and finish, while
every ungainly "flipper" wore a "cuff" which had been manufactured for
very different uses. Plenty of cuffs and collars, and queer enough the
lobsters looked in them. All the queerer because every item of lace and
linen was variegated with huge black spots and blotches, as if some one
had begun to wash it in ink.

Joe and Fuz were almost as red as the lobsters, and Mrs. Foster's face
looked as severe as it could, but that is not saying a great deal. The
Kinzer family knew all about those cuffs and collars, and Ham Morris and
the younger ladies were trying hard not to laugh.

"Joe," said Fuz, half snappishly, "can't you take a joke? Annie's got
the laugh on us this time."

"I?" exclaimed Annie, indignantly. "No, indeed. That's some of Ford's
work and Dabney's. Mr. Kinzer, I'm ashamed of you."

Poor Dab!

He muttered something about "those being all the vegetables he had," and
retreated to the kitchen. Joe and Fuz were not the sort to take offense
easily, however, and promptly helped themselves liberally to lobster.
That was all that was necessary to restore harmony at the tabl