“Marm Lizy!” she repeated, carelessly; “oh, I don’t know; somebody or other who used to live in the village. What’s that, Johnny, flopping about in the grass?”
She pointed to the rock-side, where, as Johnny soon saw, a decided “flopping” was indeed going on.
“A fish! a fish!” cried the boy, catching it and holding it up in both hands, so that Nell could look at it; “I’ll take it to Martin to put on the string with the rest. It must have floundered off.”
“Oh, let us put it back,” cried Nelly; “poor Mr. Fish! I think you would really like to try your hand at swimming again.”
“Fin, you mean,” laughed John; “fishes don’t have hands that ever I heard tell. Shall I let it go?”
“Oh, yes!” cried Nell; “but wait till I get down from the rock so that I can see it swim away.” She clambered down, and soon stood by Johnny’s side on the long grass that grew close to the brook’s edge, and mingled with the little white bubbles on its surface. Johnny stooped, and, holding the fish, put his hands under the water. The moment the poor, tortured thing felt the touch of its native element, it gave a start and would have darted away.
“Oh, Johnny!” exclaimed Nell; “don’t tease it so cruelly. Please let it go.”
Johnny lifted up his hands, and instantly the fish swam off so swiftly that they could scarcely see which way it went. At last Nelly espied it under the shadow of the rock, puffing its little sides in and out, and looking at them with its keen, bright eyes, in a very frightened way.
“Johnny lifted up his hands, and instantly the fish swam off.” Page [154].