"I see it all, as plain as day," said Ned to me, as we walked away. "Fay has gone off to make a lot of money by what father would call an outside speculation, and left us to dig away at the work in the office."
"Perhaps he'll go shares with us," said I.
"No, he won't," said Ned. "But I have an idea. I think I can take a hand in that speculation."
"How will you do it?"
"I'll offer Fay and Monkey a hundred dollars for their fish, if they catch it. That'll seem such a big price, they'll be sure to take it. And then I'll sell it for two hundred, as Jack says. So I'll make as much money as both of them together. And I must give Jack a handsome present for telling me about it."
"That seems to be a good plan," said I. "And I hope they'll catch two, so that I can buy one and speculate on it. But, then," I added, sorrowfully, "I haven't the hundred dollars to pay for it, and there's no Aunt Mercy in our family, and we don't live on the Bowl System."
"Never mind," said Ned, in a comforting tone. "Perhaps you'll inherit a big fortune from some old grandmother you never heard of, till she died and they ripped open her bed-tick and let the gold tumble out. Lots of people do."
As we arrived home, we saw Phaeton and Monkey coming by the postern with half a dozen hoops—that is to say, half a dozen long, thin strips of ash, which would have been hoops after the cooper had bent them into circles and fastened the ends together.
"That's poor stuff to make fish-poles," said Ned, in a whisper; "but don't let them know that we know what they're up to."
They brought them into the office, got some other pieces of wood, and went to work constructing a light frame about ten feet long, three feet high at the highest part, and a foot wide—like that shown in the engraving.