Free The Great Snapping Turtle Adventure by Susan Yaruta-Young Page A

about to faint,” sighed Charles. “It smells like heaven in here.”
    â€œCan I help you boys?” came a voice immediately at their sides.
    Looking down, they saw a tiny, round lady dressed in a white dress, white apron, and white shoes. She seemed just a little taller than she really was due to the biggest chef’s hat Fred or the boys had ever seen.
    â€œWell, we’ve been crabbing down at End of the World all day and we’re about to drop from hunger pains,” said Fred.
    â€œThen you’ve come to the right place. I’m Ruby and when I’m done fillin’ you boys up, you’ll be complainin’ about another kind of pain—feelin’ too full!” Ruby said. A long, wide smile spread across her small, brown-freckled face. “You boys come right this way. I got a table somebody just got up from. The chair seats are still warm, but I reckon you’ll mind none.”
    She scooted around two tables, down a tiny jumbled hall of chairs, to a table by a candy counter just across from a window that faced a field. “How’s this?” she asked, pulling out a chair for Charles and handing Fred three menus all in the same movement. “A view to suit the younger folk,” she said, motioning toward the candy counter, “as well as older ones.” She pointed at the field.
    â€œPerfect,” said Fred. “Think we’ll see any wildlife?”
    â€œWell, just at dusk of late, I’ve been seein’ plenty of deer. They come out to feed with their little ones. Three does and four fawns, just last night.”
    â€œGreat,” said Fred.
    â€œI never saw so many different kinds of candy,” exclaimed Max.
    â€œOh, you can thank my grandson for that. He keeps me informed as to what kinds to sell. He’s always finding new kinds in the candy magazines I get. We try ’em all out.” She pulled out a small blue pad from under her tight belt. “Now, what would you fellas like to drink? We have fountain drinks, iced tea made the sunshine way, iced coffee and homemade sasparilla. And then, over there under that calendar,” she pointed to a side wall, “you can open that ice chest and find yourself just about any soda drink on the market.”
    â€œI’ll take the sasparilla,” said Fred.
    â€œI’m going to search in that ice chest,” said Max.
    â€œMe too,” chirped Charles.
    â€œI thought that might be what you’d say,” said Miss Ruby. “Now, we have some specials: crab soup, cream of crab soup, vegetable soup, split pea with dumplings. We have some muskrat nibbles, which are a bit like swedish meatballs, only made with one of our fine young muskrats from a local marsh. And there’s crab balls, clam strips, and country fried chicken. One of our Shore-raised chickens from Mr. Perdue’s houses, up the way. And, of course, there’s my own fluffy crab cakes with secret ingredients.”
    â€œEverything sounds good, except for the muskrat,” said Max, wrinkling up his nose.
    â€œNow, you must never judge something unless you’ve tried it,” said Miss Ruby. “Anyway, homemade rolls and a loaf of cheese bread will be right with you. Salads come with the meal, as does your soup. I’ll be back in a minute with your sasparilla, and you boys go help yourselves.”
    She was gone with a whirl of her apron. Her bouncing chef’s hat popped through the room, giving her the appearance of a marionette with the strings attached to her hat.
    â€œWow!” said Fred, looking at the menu, “these are prices right out of the 1950s. You guys can fill up and then some. I’ll still get change back from a twenty dollar bill.”
    â€œBut muskrat?” ughed Charles.
    â€œAn Eastern Shore treat, but you have to be born here to really appreciate it,” said Fred. “So, ok, what are you guys ordering?”
    â€œCrab soup, salad, bread,