And as the crab sang a funny feeling came over Junior. Only a week or so before _he_ had been out with his father in a boat, and _his_ father had caught a crab on his fishing line, and pulled it into the boat. And Junior, being in his bare feet, had been awfully scared for fear the crab would pinch him, and then, sure enough, before he could get his feet up on the seat, it did, right on the heel; and in trying to kick it loose, he kicked it overboard. He wondered if this could possibly be the same crab. So when they all went in to dinner he looked at the crab carefully to see if he could recognize it, but as one crab looks like another, he couldn't be sure. But the minute the crab saw _him_, it was very different. "Oh!" gasped the creature he had been observing, staggering backward and almost dropping the dish of sandpaper and seaweed it was carrying. Then, putting the dish carefully on the table, it bent over and looked Junior in the face. "'Tis he!" it shrieked, with a dramatic gesture. "'Tis he! my rescuer!" And if Junior had not leaped from his seat it would have thrown its claws about his neck. "'Tis he?" exclaimed Mrs. Sand Witch, frowning at her amphibian servant. "What do you mean by ''tis he'? What are you talking about? This is a nice way to behave before company." But after the creature had explained matters, Mrs. Sand Witch and the little Sand Witches were even more excited than the crab was. "My, my, how romantic!" said Mrs. Sand Witch; "and how lucky it is, Bertha, that you're a lady crab. _Now_ you can marry him!" "Oh!" exclaimed Bertha, the crab, trembling violently. "I never thought of that! I'd just love to, if only to show my gratitude. But--but maybe he wouldn't care to marry me. Would you?" she asked, turning to Junior, who had once more resumed his seat. "Marry you?" said the boy, wishing he hadn't sat down again. "Why--why, of course not. Why--why--I--I--why, I'm only a boy. I--I, my mother wouldn't let me get married. I know she wouldn't." "Oh, bother your mother!" retorted the crab, crossly. "She'll never know anything about it. We'll get married and settle down here, and she'll never know where you are. And now, when shall it be?" "Never!" shouted Junior, springing up once more. "I'll never do it. Boys never marry crabs. Boys never marry anybody!" "Never marry anybody?" put in Mrs. Sand Witch. "Dear me, then how do they ever get married?" "They don't _get_ married," said Junior. "They--they just play." "Well," responded the crab, "you can play. I won't mind. You needn't stop playing just because you're married to me. No, sir-ee!" But Junior shook his head. "I'm very sorry," he said, "but I can't do it." And though the crab kept on coaxing and coaxing, he wouldn't give in. "Now look here," said Mrs. Sand Witch, "if we keep this up the dinner will be cold. So run along, Bertha, and maybe after Junior has had a good dinner he will change his mind."