“I just want to get a picture,” Belle explained, snapping her camera. “You look so respectable to what you do ordinarily.”
“Just for that you shan’t hold my hand!” declared Paul.
“Don’t come any nearer,” warned Walter. “I think I have a bite. Yes! He’s on!” he cried as the tip of his pole bent, and a moment later he hauled out a flashing beauty.
“Oh, I want to catch one!” cried Cora, who was as ardent a lover of outdoor sports as any of her boy friends.
“You may take my pole,” offered Paul, as Walter unhooked his fish.
“Oh, no, I don’t want to deprive you,” Cora objected.
“I’ll sit near and watch you—have all the fun and let you do the work,” he retorted. And the boys and girls were soon together on the bank.
Luck was fairly good, and presently enough fish had been caught for a “good mess,” as Mr. Floyd observed when he came past.
“We’ll cook them for you,” offered Belle. “Won’t we, girls?”
“Do you know how?” asked Jack.