Again it seemed as if the trout was going to speak, and this time David counted that it opened and shut its mouth eleven times before it answered.
‘We are,’ it said. ‘We’re each of us tired of everybody else. But I’m most tired of you. I hate being interrupted when I’m busy, and I hate people running into my face. I never have liked it, and I don’t mean to begin now.’
‘Well, I’ve apologised for that,’ said David. ‘I can’t do more.’
This time the trout opened and shut its mouth only nine times before it answered.
‘Yes, you can,’ it said. ‘You can go away. I can’t think why you don’t.’
David was naturally a polite boy, but when any one was rude to him he could easily be rude back. He forgot all about his swimming fish-fashion.
‘I don’t believe you’re a bit busy,’ he said. ‘You haven’t done a thing since I was here before. You’ve just waved and stared.’
The trout looked at David with one eye, then moved his head and looked at him with the other.
‘That’s two things then,’ it said.
‘Yes, but that doesn’t make you busy,’ said David. ‘You couldn’t possibly be idler. That doesn’t count.’