“Sea-anemone.” Dick laughed. “I sea-anemone; what do you see?”
“That’s a punk joke!” scoffed Harold.
“I’m not joking. I’ll point him out to you. Lean over this way. See that purplish-brown thing on the side near the bottom? Looks like a flower, sort of. See?”
“Sure! Is that it? It isn’t a flower, though; it moves, don’t it?” Harold was interested in spite of himself.
“Yes, it moves, and it isn’t a flower. It’s a polyp. It’s name is Metridium something or other; I forget the rest of it.”
“What’s a polyp? An animal?”
“Y-yes, of a low order. About as much as a sponge is.”
“Pooh, a sponge is a vegetable!” derided the other.
“Not exactly. Those things that move are little tentacles with which it feeds itself,” said Dick, pointing again at the anemone.
“What’s it eat?” asked Harold curiously.