"He expected Will Paine would lend him his boat while he was gone, but, instead of that, he finds it promised to me."
"I am afraid he is not a very kind-hearted boy."
"That's drawing it altogether too mild, mother. He's the meanest fellow I ever met. However, I won't talk about him any more, or it'll spoil my appetite."
On the next two mornings Robert went out at five o'clock, in order to get home in time for the market-wagon. He met with fair luck, but not as good as on the first day. Taking the two mornings together, he captured and sold seventy pounds of fish, which, as the price remained the same, brought him in a dollar and forty cents. This was not equal to his wages at the factory; still, he had the greater part of the day to himself, only, unfortunately, he had no way of turning his time profitably to account, or, at least, none had thus far occurred to him.
On the morning succeeding he was out of luck. He caught but two fish, and they were so small that he decided not to offer them for sale.
"If I don't do better than this," he reflected, "I shan't make very good wages. The fish seem to be getting afraid of me."
He paddled about, idly, a few rods from the shore, having drawn up his line and hook.
All at once, he heard a voice hailing him from the river bank:
"Boat ahoy!"
"Hallo!" answered Robert, lifting his eyes, and seeing who called him.