Part 33 (1/2)

One moment I saw myself flying for my life from a huge writhing open-mouthed creature, and saved by a gallant attack made by Piter, who, hearing the noise, had dashed in open-jawed to seize the fierce monster by the neck; the next I was calling myself a donkey.

”Why, of course!” I cried. ”When I hooked it the creature ran in towards me, and has darted in and out of some grating and wound the line tightly there.”

That could not be the case, I felt as I pulled, for though it was evident that the fish had entangled the line, it was in something loose which I got nearly to the surface several times, as I gazed down there in the darkness till all at once, just as I was straining my eyes to make out what it was that was entangled with my hook, the cord snapped, there was a dull plash below me, the water rippled and babbled against the side, and all was still once more.

I stood gazing down for a few minutes, and then a flash of intelligence shot through me, and I darted back, rapidly coiling up my wet line and taking it and my basket up into the office, from whence I came hurrying out, and ready to dash down two steps at a time.

”Why, of course,” I kept on saying to myself; ”what stupids!”

I ran across the yard, unlocked and relocked the gate, leaving Piter disappointed and barking, and hurried back to the house, where my uncles were busy over some correspondence.

”Hurrah!” I cried. ”I've found it all out. Come along! Down to the works!”

”You've found out!” cried Uncle d.i.c.k starting.

”Found it all out!” I cried excitedly. ”Now, then, all of you! Come on and see.”

I slipped down to Mrs Stephenson after telling my uncles to go slowly on and that I would overtake them, and that lady smiled in my face as soon as she saw me.

”Don't say a word!” she cried. ”I know what you want. Tattsey, get out the pork-pie.”

”No, no,” I cried; ”you mistake. I'm not hungry.”

”Nonsense, my dear! And if you're not hungry now, you will be before long. I've a beautiful raised pie of my own making. Have a bit, my dear. Bring it, Tattsey.”

It was, I found, one of the peculiarities of these people to imagine everybody was hungry, and their hospitality to their friends was without stint.

Tattsey had not so much black-lead on her face as usual. In fact it was almost clean, while her hands were beautifully white, consequent upon its being peggy day; that is to say, the day in which clothes were washed in the peggy tub, and kept in motion by a four-legged peggy, a curious kind of machine with a cross handle.

So before I could say another word the pork-pie was brought out on the white kitchen-table, and Mrs Stephenson began to cut out a wedge.

”May I take it with me,” I said, ”and eat it as I go along?”

”Bless the boy; yes, of course,” said our homely landlady. ”Boys who are growing want plenty to eat. I hate to see people starve.”

”But I want you to do me a favour,” I said.

”Of course, my dear. What is it?”

”I want you to lend me your clothes-line.”

”What, that we are just going to put out in the yard for the clean clothes? I should just think not indeed.”

”How tiresome!” I cried. ”Well, never mind; I must buy a bit. But will you lend me a couple of meat-hooks?”

”Now, what in the world are you going to do with a clothes-line and two meat-hooks?”

”I'm going fis.h.i.+ng,” I said impatiently.

”Now don't you talk nonsense, my dear,” said our plump landlady, looking rather red. ”Do you think I don't know better than that?”