“Janey is quite right,” said grandfather. “A truly kind heart always sympathizes with any animal, however small, that is in pain.”
They fished on patiently for another half hour, not talking much (Christopher could not keep absolutely silent) for fear of scaring away the fish, which, however, must have had either a bad fright or a warning, for they refused to bite or even nibble. Finally grandmother suggested that it was rather useless to try any longer.
“But one fish won’t go very far,” grumbled Christopher. “Let’s try for just one more. It’s hungry work, fishing.”
“I think Huldah has packed enough in the basket to keep us from starving until supper time,” laughed grandmother, “and as there is only one poor little fish for all of us, suppose we just put him back into the water?”
“Oh, no,” cried Christopher aggrieved.
“Oh, yes, let’s,” exclaimed Jane. “Poor little fish, we’ll make him happy. He’s my fish and I guess I have the right to say what shall be done with him,” she added defiantly, seizing the basket as Christopher made a lunge for it. “If your stomach wasn’t so greedy, Kit Baker, your heart would be kinder.”
Jane let the wriggling pink fish slip back into the brook, where he darted out of sight in an instant among the rushes.
The hamper that Huldah had packed certainly did promise to satisfy the appetite of even the hungriest people in the world. There were all sorts and conditions of sandwiches; thin and square with the crusts cut off. Some had slices of chicken inside, others pink boiled tongue. Still others had tender leaves of dressed lettuce—these were grandmother’s favorites—and others with jelly. Then there were soft ginger cakes and crisp sugar wafers; apple pie—Huldah’s famous apple pie with plenty of cinnamon—hard boiled eggs that had the yolks beaten up with salad dressing; pears, plums and a whole chocolate layer cake. There were also bottles of milk and coffee which latter grandmother heated over a spirit lamp in a tiny saucepan put in for the purpose. Christopher wanted to build a fire out of sticks and bits of wood for the coffee, but grandfather said it was too hot for that.
After the luncheon was over, Jane and Christopher went off to gather moss and pine-needles. Jane had planned to make a pine pillow to take home to her mother, who declared that they always cured her headaches. Letty had promised to help her with the sewing, for Jane did not like to sew very well, not even to make doll’s clothes, and it was only a labor of love (or the occasional desire to be thought grown-up) that could induce her to use a needle.
Fir trees were somewhat scarce in the grove and the children had to walk some distance. They left grandfather and grandmother discussing something in very low, serious tones.