“Why, you see,” said Jiggins, at last, “it was different with Pat. We had them cooked, but he ate them raw.” “And you think that makes any difference,” said Mrs. Pratt, grimly. “Why, certainly--of course,” said Jiggins, looking at Mrs. Pratt anxiously; while all the other boys stared at her in dire anticipation of some fearful disclosure. “Not a mite,” said Mrs. Pratt. “There isn’t a mite of difference between you,--_all_ of you, mind, and him,--on’y he was kind o’ took bad at onst, an’ you’re a waitin’. Let me sec. How long is it since you finished eatin’?” “O, only a few minutes,” said Jiggins, nervously. “Well, I supposed so. Ye-ry well,” repeated Mrs. Pratt, in the tone of a cool physician, who feels gratified when a disease takes the form he suspected, even when it is attended with pain and danger to the patient. “Yes, that’s it; and now can you remember how long a time it was after Pat had done eating the raw clams to the fust pain he felt?” The boys looked in fearful anxiety at one another, and then all eyes turned to Jiggins. He turned pale, and all the expression of his face changed to one dismal blank. “Can’t any of you remember?” repeated Mrs. Pratt. “How long was it?” “Well--as near as I can remember,” said Jig-gins, in a faltering voice, “it’s--about--I should think--somewhere near--perhaps--the neighborhood of half an hour--that is, more or less.” “About half an hour. I thought so,” said Mrs. Pratt, remorselessly. “Somewhere about that,” said Jiggins. “Till he felt his fust pains?” “Yes.” “Well,” said Mrs. Pratt, with a benevolent smile, “somewhere about half an hour from this you’ll feel the same.” She paused, and watched the effect of this fearful announcement. The effect was powerful. Four pale faces looked, with awful eyes, at her, and at one another. Not a word was spoken in reply. “Yes, every one of you. You’ve all eaten, I s’pose.” Jiggins nodded mournfully. “And plenty, too.” Another nod. “Very well. You’ll have it hot and heavy, mind I tell you. Pat will be beginning to feel quite comfortable just as you begin to get took.” “But--but,” ‘said Jiggins, rousing himself despairingly, “I thought--that is, I always heard--that clams were good stewed--and I never heard that even raw clams were bad, except when you took too many of them.” “Shows how your parients neglected your edication,” said Mrs. Pratt, loftily. “They didn’t understand the natur’ of the clam, certain. It isn’t the cooking, or the not cooking, of the clam that makes it so dangerous; it’s the clam itself--or rather, the clam at this season of the year. That’s what makes it dangerous.” “This season of the year? Why, what’s that got to do with it?” “Haven’t you ever heard of that? Dear! dear! dear! An’ yet you go to the Academy, and don’t know about clams. Dear! dear! dear!” “They don’t teach about clams there,” said Jiggins, morosely. “So you don’t know the danger there is in eating them now.” “No.”