But all along the shore, for
many hours, there was distinctly heard a sound of severely-suppressed sobs,
and of a vague multitude of living creatures using their
pocket-handkerchiefs in a subdued simultaneous snuffle, lingering sadly
along the walloping waves as the boat sailed farther and farther away from
the Land of the Happy Blue-Bottle-Flies.
Nothing particular occurred for some days after these events, except that,
as the travellers were passing a low tract of sand, they perceived an
unusual and gratifying spectacle; namely, a large number of Crabs and
Crawfish--perhaps six or seven hundred--sitting by the water-side, and
endeavoring to disentangle a vast heap of pale pink worsted, which they
moistened at intervals with a fluid composed of lavender-water and
white-wine negus.
"Can we be of any service to you, O crusty Crabbies?" said the four
children.
"Thank you kindly," said the Crabs consecutively. "We are trying to make
some worsted mittens, but do not know how."
On which Violet, who was perfectly acquainted with the art of
mitten-making, said to the Crabs, "Do your claws unscrew, or are they
fixtures?"
"They are all made to unscrew," said the Crabs; and forthwith they
deposited a great pile of claws close to the boat, with which Violet
uncombed all the pale pink worsted, and then made the loveliest mittens
with it you can imagine.
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