“Thanks,” called Jack. “Oh, I say, are you going or coming?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean have you been fishing, or are you just going?”
“Just going. They always bite pretty well for me in a rain.”
“Oh. I thought maybe if you had any we’d buy ’em.”
“Sorry, but I haven’t anything but shiners for bait. I’m going down to the deep water.”
“What in the world did you want to buy fish for, Jack?” asked his sister as he closed the window, and the yellow figure splashed away.
“To eat,” was his answer. “We’ve got to have supper; haven’t we?”
“But can’t we go on to Riverhead, and then to the bungalow?” asked Bess.
“Hardly,” declared Jack. “It isn’t so late, of course. But this rain is going to keep up, if I’m any judge, and though we might manage to reach Riverhead, we certainly couldn’t undertake a ride over the mountain trail in an open buckboard in this downpour.”