"That's what we wondered," said Lemuel.
"Charlie Eldridge with a fish-pole," repeated Abbie. "Mercy! Where do you s'pose he was goin'?"
"I never in all my life knew of Charlie Eldridge goin' a-fishin'," Rebecca rejoined. "Not that he ain't got a perfect right to fish if he wants to outside bankin' hours. But—"
"But Charlie fishin'!" interrupted Abbie, cutting her friend short. "Why, he'd no more dirty his lily-white hands puttin' a squirmin' worm on a fish-hook than he'd cut off his head. In fact, I don't believe he'd know how. You didn't, likely, see where he went."
"Wal—er—yes. We did."
Zenas Henry wheeled about.
Clearing his throat, he darted a glance at Lemuel.
"Havin' completed the business that took us to the store—" he began.
"Havin', in short, asked for the mail an' found there warn't none," laughed Abbie, mischievously.
Zenas Henry ignored the comment.