"Oh, some fellows are getting fresh," grumbled the big youth. "But I'll fix them for it!"
"I see they took some of your fish."
"We had a dispute about the fish. Rather than take them from such a poor chap as Randy Thompson I let him keep them," said Bob, glibly. "But I am going to get square with him for his impudence," he added.
After a long hard row and fishing for over an hour, Bob Bangs had caught only two small fish and he was thoroughly disgusted with everything and everybody. He walked into the kitchen and threw the fish on the sink board.
"There, Mamie, you can clean those and fry them for my supper," he said to the servant girl.
"Oh, land sakes, Master Bob, they are very small," cried the girl. "They won't go around nohow!"
"I said you could fry them for my supper," answered Bob, coldly.
"They are hardly worth bothering with," murmured the servant girl, but the boy did not hear her, for he had passed to the next room. He went upstairs and washed up and then walked into the sitting room, where his mother reclined on a sofa, reading the latest novel of society life.
"Where is father?" he asked, abruptly.
"I do not know, Robert," answered Mrs. Bangs, without looking up from her book.