"It'll keep you out for good some day," remarked the man. "You'll be drowned, if you don't have a care."
"Better that than being hanged!" returned the lad lightly.
The other's response, beneath his breath, was lost, as he drew his stool closer to the pot above the blaze, removed the lid and peered within. Apparently his survey was not satisfactory, for he replaced the cover, clasped his fingers over his knees and half closed his eyes.
"Where's the fish?"
The boy, thoughtfully regarding the flames, started; when he had left the child and Beppo, unconsciously he had dropped it, but this he did not now explain. "I didn't bring one."
"Didn't bring one?"
"No," said the boy, flushing slightly.
"And not a bone or scrap in the larder! Niggardly fishermen! A small enough wage—for going to sea and helping them—"
"Oh, I could have had what I wanted. And they are not niggardly! Only—I forgot."
"Forgot!" The man lifted his hands, but any further evidence of surprise or expostulation was interrupted by a sudden ebullition in the pot.