“Is that a fishing-pole?” said Lucy.
Just then the boy called out, as if he was speaking to somebody in the bushes.
“Come, George; ain’t you most ready?”
“Yes,” answered George, “I have got mine just ready; but I want to get a little one for Johnny.”
“O, never mind Johnny,” said the other boy; “he can’t fish.”
By this time, the children had advanced so far that they could see George and Johnny, in a little open place among the bushes. George was about as large as the other boy; and he was just finishing the trimming up of another pole, very much like the one which the children had seen first. There was a very small boy standing by him, who, as the children supposed, was Johnny. He was looking on, while George finished his pole.
“I would not get Johnny one,” said the boy in the road. “He can’t do any thing with it.”
“No,” said George, “but he will like to have one, so that he can make believe fish; shouldn’t you, Johnny?”
“Yes,” said Johnny; or rather he said something that meant yes; for he could not speak very plain.
“Well,” said the boy in the road, “I am not going to wait any longer.” He accordingly shut up his knife, put it into his pocket, and walked along.