Crawford Smith, whistling a mournful dirge, sauntered to the end of the counter and sat down upon a nail keg.
Mary-'Gusta also uttered an exclamation.

It is well to look before one leaps, also, occasionally, before one sits.

That keg had, spread across its top, a sheet of the fresh and very sticky fly paper.

Before she could have protested, even if she had wished to do so, the young gentleman's spotless white flannels and the fly paper came in contact, close and clinging contact.
Mary-'Gusta put a hand to her mouth.

Crawford looked at her, caught the direction of her look, and looked in that direction himself.