As they settled themselves in a row and prepared to fling their lines into the sea, you might have noticed that behind each fisherman stood a pail, a gay-colored tin pail used for digging in the sand, but equally useful for carrying home a large catch of fish.
‘Did you ever catch anything?’ asked Andy of Sally, who had lived all her life by the sea.
‘No, I haven’t yet,’ answered Sally truthfully, ‘but then I always think I may.’
‘There are whales in the sea,’ volunteered Alice. ‘The Bible says so. Oh, how I wish I could catch a whale and carry it home to surprise Miss Neppy and Mother!’
‘Whales are too big to carry home,’ instructed Sally. ‘I have seen pictures of them. Father, isn’t a whale too big for Alice to carry home?’
But Father was now sitting back in the shade, reading his morning paper, and the sound of Sally’s shrill little voice was carried away by the breeze.
Near by the blue waves glittered and danced, while farther out at sea sail-boats scudded before the wind, little motor boats chugged busily past, and stately yachts moved slowly along, dazzling white in the morning sun.
The fishermen fished on with never a bite, not even a nibble. They drew in their lines, they bent their pins a-fresh, they tossed out their lines again with many a whirl and twirl.
‘Do you think we will catch anything to-day?’ asked Andy, whose leg had begun to have a ‘crick’ in it from sitting still so long.
But just then Alice uttered a cry and pointed out into the water.