“Gaffer, what do the fishes?”
“What do they? Why, swim about in the water, and shake their tails, and catch flies for their dinner.”
“What think they on, Gaffer?”
“Nay, thou art beyond me there. I never was a fish. How can I tell thee?”
“Would they bite me?” demanded Clare solemnly.
“Nay, I reckon not.”
“What, not a wild fish?” said Clare, opening her dark blue eyes.
Mr Avery laughed, and shook his head.
“But I would fain know—And, O Gaffer!” exclaimed the child, suddenly interrupting herself, “do tell me, why did Tom kill the pig?”
“Kill the pig? Why, for that my Clare should have somewhat to eat at her dinner and her supper.”