“Thank you. I was much better at home.”
“I mean while we were fishing. I caught such lovely mackerel, and a magnificent Polly something—I forget its name—all orange and gold and bronze, nine or ten pound weight.”
“Stuff!” said Arthur contemptuously.
“But I did, I tell you.”
“Then where is it?”
“Where is it? Oh, I don’t know. When the steamer ran us down the fish and the tackle and all went overboard, I suppose. I never saw it again.”
“Then you lost all the sprats,” said Arthur sneeringly.
“Sprats! Get out, you sneering old Taff! You are disappointed because you didn’t go with us. Why, there was a big turbot, and a sole or two, and a great skate with a prickly back, and gurnards and dog-fish.”
“And cats?” sneered Arthur.
“No, there were no cats, Taff. I say, though, I wish you had been there, only not when we got into trouble. I’ll get Josh and Will to take you next time we go.”