"Yes, I did," interposed Tommy. "He caught 'em on a hook; so of course he hooked em. I hooked mine too."
"Is that what you meant?" asked Johnny, a broad grin overspreading his dirty face, and his fists suddenly expanding into dirty paws again.
"That's just what I meant; and your skull is as thick as a two-inch plank, or you would have seen what I meant."
"I see now."
Johnny was not disposed to resent this last insinuation about the solidity of his cranium. He was evidently too glad to get out of the scrape without a broken head or a bloody nose. Johnny was a bully, and he had a bully's reputation to maintain; but he never fought when the odds were against him; and he had a congressman's skill in backing out before the water got too hot. On the whole, he rather enjoyed the pun; and he had the condescension to laugh heartily, though somewhat unnaturally, at the jest.
"Will you give me a flounder, Tommy?" said the little ragged girl, as she glanced into his well-filled basket.
"What do you want of him, Katy?" asked Tommy turning round and gazing up into her sad, pale face.
Katy hesitated; her bosom heaved, and her lips compressed, as though she feared to answer the question.
"To eat," she replied, at last, in a husky tone.
"What's the matter, Katy?"