“No; she’s trying to talk. I told you she was clever. I daresay you can teach her to sing. She looks just as you do when you take a high note.”
“You horrid boy! But she does, really. Anyway, let’s feed them. What do they eat?”
“I brought their food with me; it’s some patent stuff, very well advertised. Here, Julie!”
Gently slipping Juliet back into the water, Ken scattered some food on the surface.
Both fish rose to the occasion and greedily ate the floating particles.
“That’s the trouble,” said Ken. “They have no judgment. They overeat, and then they die of apoplexy. And, too, if they eat too much, you can’t train them to stand on their tails and beg.”
“Oh, will they learn to do that? And what else can we teach them?”
“Oh, anything acrobatic; trapeze work and that. But they’re sleepy now; you fed them too much for just an afternoon tea. Let’s leave them to their nap, and train them after they wake up.”
“All right; let’s sit down and talk seriously.”
“Patty, you’re always ready to talk seriously of late. That’s why I brought you some Nonsense Fish, to lighten your mood a little.”