"De trout? O, I picked 'em up last night down in de village," said Solomon. "Met little boy from Gaspereaux, an got 'em from him."
"What's this?" cried Tom, opening a dish—"not lobster!"
"Lobster!" exclaimed Phil.
"So it is."
"Why, Solomon, where did you get lobster?"
"Is this the season for them?"
"Think of the words of the poet, boys," said Bart, warningly,—
"In the months without the R,
Clams and lobsters pison are."
Solomon meanwhile stood apart, grinning from ear to ear, with his little black beads of eyes twinkling with merriment.
"Halo, Solomon! What do you say to lobsters in July?"