"Certainly, Peter," said Truxton, engaged in impaling a stubborn worm.
"My name isn't Peter," said the Prince coldly.
"I was thinking of Peter Pan. Ever hear of him?"
"No. Say, you mustn't talk or you'll scare 'em away. Is it fixed?" He took the branch and gingerly dropped the hook into the dancing pool. In less time than it requires to tell it he had a nibble, a bite and a catch. There never was a boy so excited as he when the scarlet nibbler flew into the shrubbery above; he gasped with glee. Truxton recovered the catch from the bushes and coolly detached the truculent pin.
"I'll have 'em for dinner," announced the Prince.
"Are you going to catch a mess?" queried the man, appalled.
"Sure," said Bobby, casting again with a resolute splash.
"Are you not afraid they'll get onto you if you take them to the Castle?" asked the other diplomatically. "Goldfish are a dead give-away."
"Nobody will scold 'cept Uncle Jack, and he won't know about it. He's prob'ly gone away by this time." King noticed that his lip trembled suddenly.
"Gone away?"