Peter said, "I shall carry my big fish home to mother. She will like it. But she will not cook it. Let us go now to tell her."
"Very well," said father. "Roll up your line. Then warm your hands before we start."
Polly had dropped her hook back into the water. All in a minute she felt a good bite.
"Oh, I have one, I have one!" she cried.
"Pull in!" said father.
Polly pulled. Up through the hole came a beautiful big trout.
"Well, well, well!" said father. "Isn't that a beauty? I wonder how it happened to bite our pork. We must throw it back. It's too bad."
"O father, my fish!" cried Polly. "Why did you? Wasn't it a good fish?"
"Indeed it was, Polly. But back it had to go. We can't keep trout in the winter."
"Then let's go home now," said Polly. "I might catch more. And I should not like to throw them back."