Chapter Four.
“I didn’t get my brill after all, Tom,” said Aleck, as the sail filled out and the boat sped along over the little dancing waves.
“Never mind the flat fish, Master Aleck; we’ll pick up a few bass as we go along through the race, and they’ll be fresher than his brill.”
“No, Tom,” said Aleck, frowning; “no fishing to-day. I want to get back and have a proper wash and change my shirt and collar.”
“Well, you did get a bit knocked about, Master Aleck. You see, he’s a hard sort o’ boy; awfully thick-headed chap.”
“He is, and no mistake,” said Aleck. “Look at my knuckles!”
“Ay, you have got ’em a bit chipped; but it’ll all grow up again. But what was it he said as made you bile over and get a-fighting that how?”
“Oh, never mind,” said the boy, flushing. “It’s all over now.”