"Nothing, Mr. Policeman," answered the Merboy, nodding familiarly at the Porpoise. "I am afraid my little friend here isn't feeling very well, and I was only trying to find out what the trouble was."
"IS HE TAKEN THIS WAY OFTEN?" ASKED THE PORPOISE.
"He does look kind of queer like, doesn't he?" said the Porpoise, gazing at Jimmieboy's lips. "He looks to me as if he were trying to swallow his teeth. Is he taken this way often?"
"Never saw him like this before," said the Merboy, anxiously. "It's something new for him to keep his mouth shut up so tight, and I can't understand it."
"Perhaps—" the Porpoise began; "but no," he added, "I was going to say I'd arrest him for being disorderly, for he certainly is out of order, but I'm afraid the judge would fine me. I lost my last month's pay for arresting a shark by mistake. Some shark swallowed a whole school of whitebait last week, and as the teachers of the school complained about having their business mined I had to arrest some one. These sharks are all alike, you know, and I got hold of the wrong one, and the judge let him off and made me pay the damages. I'm afraid we couldn't make out a case against this young man."
"No; and we shouldn't try it if we could," said the Merboy. "I don't want to get him into trouble. He's my friend."
"Well—say," said the Porpoise. "I'll tell you how we can find out what's the matter. There's a bureau of information about two hundred and thirty fathoms up the street. They know everything there. You might drive up there and find out what ails him."
"That's a good idea," said the Merboy. "Who is in charge of the bureau?"
"Nobody. It just lies there at the side of the street. You'll find the most interesting information in the top drawer. You can't miss the bureau, because it's the only one in the ocean, and it has brass knobs on it, and a brush and comb on the top of it. So long."