"You got to go with me, Bob," declared Fred, grinning.
"Oh! I wish they'd let me," murmured his friend.
But as far as he could see then, no circumstances could arise that would make such a wished for event possible.
CHAPTER VI
A FISH FRY AND A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT
They got home at early supper time, fish and all. But one look into the kitchen assured Bobby that it was useless to expect Meena to pan their catch for them.
The "rabbit ears" stuck up on top of her head at a more uncompromising angle than ever. Mr. and Mrs. Blake had not returned from town. At a late hour Michael Mulcahey had come back with the carriage and announced that his mistress would stay in town for dinner with Mr. Blake and they were to be met at the 10:10 train.
Michael had just finished cleaning the carriage and now sat with his pipe beside the stable door. He was a long-lipped Irishman, with kindly, twinkling eyes, and "ould counthry" whiskers that met under his chin, giving his cleanly shaven, wind-bitten face the look of peering out through a frame of hair.
"'Tis a nice string of fish ye have, byes," he said.
"And I s'pose we got to give them to the cats," complained Fred. "They won't cook 'em at my house, and Meena's got the toothache."