"About eight years now."
"Do you like it?"
"Sometimes, not always. I wish we lived in Chicago. O-oh!" she sniffed, turning up her pretty nose, "isn't that lovely!" She was smelling some odor of flowers blown from a garden.
"Yes, I get it too. Geraniums, isn't it? They're blooming here, I see. A day like this sets me crazy." He sat down in his boat and put his oars in place.
"Well, I have to go and try my luck for whales. Wouldn't you like to go fishing?"
"I would, all right," said Frieda, "only aunt wouldn't let me, I think. I'd just love to go. It's lots of fun, catching fish."
"Yes, catching fish," laughed Eugene. "Well, I'll bring you a nice little shark—one that bites. Would you like that? Down in the Atlantic Ocean they have sharks that bite and bark. They come up out of the water at night and bark like a dog."
"O-o-oh, dear! how funny!" giggled Frieda, and Eugene began slowly rowing his boat lakeward.
"Be sure you bring me a nice fish," she called.
"Be sure you're here to get it when I come back," he answered.