“I never tried it. There’s something that isn’t,” continued Vane, pointing at some vivid green, deeply-cut and ornamental leaves.
“What is it? Looks as if it would make a good salad.”
“Water hemlock. Very poisonous.”
“Do not chew the hemlock rank—growing on the weedy bank,” quoted Macey. “I wish you wouldn’t begin nursery rhymes. You’ve started me off now. I should like some of those bulrushes,” and he pointed to a cluster of the brown poker-like growth rising from the water, well out of reach from the bank.
“Those are not bulrushes.”
“What are they, then?”
“It is the reed-mace.”
“They’ll do just as well by that name. I say, Distie, I want to cut some of them.”
“Go on rowing,” said Distin, haughtily, to Gilmore, without glancing at Macey.
“All right, my lord,” muttered Macey. “Halloo! What was that? a big fish?”