"I'll have a goldfish sundae," said Joe, reflectively.
"What? Say, come again, young fellow! This isn't a joke shop," and the clerk seemed rather angry.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Joe hastened to say. "I mean a chocolate nut sundae. I was thinking of goldfish—that's all."
"That's different," laughed the clerk. "I thought you were trying to jolly me with the name of a new drink."
And while Joe ate his cream his thoughts were busy with the idea which had suddenly come to him.
"I wonder if Jim Tracy will stand for it," he mused. "I've a good notion to do it without asking him. If he doesn't like it he can say so, and no great harm's done. I'll stand the expense myself. If I could get hold of the inheritance Bill Watson thinks ought to come to me through my mother, I'd pull off a still bigger stunt in this tank act. But I guess I'll never get any money from England."
So far Joe's efforts to prove that he was entitled to anything from his mother's estate had been unavailing.
"Yes," thought our hero, as he finished his cream and went out, stopping to look at the goldfish in the aquarium, "I'll do it and trust to luck."
Joe went into the store, which was a place where not only fish, but dogs, cats and birds were sold. He remained some little time in conversation with the proprietor, and some money changed hands. Joe was smiling when he came out.
"At least it will be different, whatever else it is," thought the boy fish, as he may now be called, for he was destined to be billed as that later on.