So Tom rowed after him a hundred yards or so and awaited with interest the appearance of the next pot. The prediction proved true, for when the pot came to the surface it looked to be swarming with lobsters. To Tom’s surprise, the first two or three that were taken out were tossed back into the water.
“Aren’t those any good?” he questioned.
“Best eatin’ there is,” was the reply, “but they’re ‘shorts.’”
“What are ‘shorts,’ please?”
“Young ’uns under ten inches long. Law don’t allow us to keep ’em.”
There were a good many shorts in the trap, but there were also four good-sized lobsters, and the lobsterman seemed well pleased.
“Do you sell them?” asked Tom. The man glanced across at him shrewdly.
“‘Shorts,’ do you mean?”
“Oh, no; the others.”
“Yes; want to buy some?”