In which they popped too much corn and burned the pan

There was a friendly hum in the small group sitting round the fire that evening.  There was one curled in a blanket on the corner of the couch; two sat discussing the finer points of life over orange slices; yet another stroked the cat that sat on her lap.   There was one fellow holding a pan of popping corn over the fire.  Thwump, Wooshth, went the popcorn and then there was pause; the fellow would give the pan a shake, and then again. Swoosh, Wummp!  “Shake harder,“ cried some one.   So the fellow shook more vigorously sloshing the oil and un-popped kernels from side to side, but the poor old pan was of a great age and the lid did not fit quiet right.  And when the oil swelled up the side of it there was no way to keep it from overflowing.  So it did.  The fire leaped-up, joyful to receive such a fine delicacy as cooking oil.  In the sudden heat the corn began exploding, throwing glowing embers at the feet of those who sat by.  Springing free of the mess the cat made tracks for safer ground; while the fellow tried to save what he could of the popcorn.  The talkers sprang to their feet still talking and stomped the coals without missing a word.  Almost as quickly as it had happened it was over, the people taking their places again in the circle, but now with fresh popcorn.

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