“I have caught a little fish,” said Rollo.
True enough, Rollo had caught a little fish. It was very small, and, as it had been swimming about there, Rollo had, probably more by accident than skill, got him into his dipper, and there he was safely imprisoned.
“O, what a splendid little fellow!” said Henry, crowding his head in between Rollo’s and James’s, over the dipper. “See his fins!”
“Yes,” said Rollo. “It is a trout,—a little trout.”
“See his eyes!” said James. “How he swims about! What are you going to do with him, Rollo?”
“O, I shall carry him home, and keep him.”
“O, you can’t keep him,” said James; “you have not got any pond.”
“Never mind,” said Rollo, “I can keep him in a bowl in the house.”
“What shall you give him to eat?” said James.
“Eat! fishes never eat; they only drink. I shall give him fresh water every day, and that will keep him alive.”