Down each side, raised above the fishy wet floor, ran a row of
booths, each with a desk and step, made of rough boards. On each
step stood a man or woman, in boots and heavy clothes, facing the
desk. Only instead of pen and paper, these people had buckets,
oysters, knives. As fast as they could, they were opening the
big, horny oyster shells and emptying the oysters into the
buckets.
Next time, Dick stayed with Sally, and Rose-Ellen and Jimmie
peeked. They were startled when a big hand dropped on each of
their heads.
"You kids skedaddle," ordered a big man. "If you want to see
things, come back at four."
By four o'clock the grown folks were home, tired and smelling of
fish; Dick and Rose-Ellen were prancing on tiptoe to go, and
even Jimmie was ready.
"This is what he is like," said Rose-Ellen, "the man who said
we could." She stuck in her chin and threw out her chest and
tried to stride.
"That's the Big Boss, all right," Daddy said, laughing. "Guess
it's O.K. But mind your _p_'s and _q_'s."
"And stick together. Specially in a strange place." Grandma
wearily picked up the baby.
The Big Boss saw them as soon as they tiptoed into the
oyster-house. "Ez," he called, "here's some nice kids. Show 'em
around, will you?"
Ez was opening clams with a penknife, and spilling them into his
mouth.
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