"He'll want to go fishing," declared Sarah.
"Jack doesn't care how much he hurts the poor fish, jabbing hooks into them."
Sarah and Jack had had more than one violent argument over this question.
"It isn't cruel to go fishing," said Rosemary impatiently, thinking how tired Warren looked.
"I haven't been this year," announced Richard, "though they say there are several good streams near here. Sundays I seem to lack ambition and during the week, of course, there isn't time."
Sarah edged a little nearer the pail.
"You wouldn't catch fish would you, Warren?" she asked coaxingly.
Warren looked at her and grinned.
"Not only would I catch them," he told her, "but I'd eat them; if we are to have fish to eat, Sarah, someone must catch them for us. The same way with roast chicken for Sunday dinner and roast pork, you know; they don't grow on bushes."
Sarah's eyes turned to Bony, now lying comfortably sprawled across her lap. She was sitting on the ground and Rosemary beside her.