This was the day set for fishing, and Ted was just now coming up to the back door with a tin can slung on a string, and that, in turn, was slung over his shoulder on a pole.
“Got lots of them!” he called out. “Nice fat ones, too. We can catch big fish with such worms as these,” and he set down the outfit to display his freshly dug bait.
“Well, I’m not going to put them on the hook,” protested Nancy. “I don’t mind handling the slippery little things, but I can’t murder them. You’ll have to bait my hook, Ted, if you want me to go,” she insisted.
“Oh, all right,” growled Ted, merely pretending to protest, but really just showing his boyish contempt for such girlish whims. “I’ll put them on for you. But do hurry, Nan,” he urged. “This is a dandy morning to fish. Hardly any sun at all.”
Calling good-bye to Miss Manners, who, even, this early, was at work in the store, Nancy was soon ready to start off with her brother on the fishing trip. She was clad in her oldest gingham, and wore her most battered big straw hat, nevertheless she looked quite picturesque, if not really pretty even in this rough attire; for Nancy was ever a striking looking girl.
“Think we ought to take your old express wagon, Ted?” she asked, jokingly.
“What for?” demanded the boy in surprise.
“To carry them home in,” laughed Nancy. But even then Ted didn’t see the joke.
Presently they were trudging along the heavily shaded road that wound in and out around Bird’s Woods until it would stretch along side Oak’s Pond, where the fishing was to be done.
“It’s fine to have you come, Nan,” remarked the boy, wagging his bare head and slapping his fish bag against his bare legs. Ted was wearing old clothes himself, and his trousers had not been trimmed any too evenly, for one leg ended above the knee and the other leg ended below the other knee. But he looked about right as a fisher-boy, his cheeks well tanned, his brown eyes sparkling and his browner hair doing pretty much as it pleased all over his head.