"
Tot sighed, blissfully.
"It is the jolliest place to go fishing. You just lie down on a rock,
nibble it occasionally, chew up a few pebbles, take a bite at a stone,
and if you are thirsty--as, of course, you would be--there is a whole
river of _eau sucre_--that is what the French call sweetened
water--running right by, enough to supply all France. And, all the time,
you are hauling up the fish just as fast as they can bite. They are a
peculiar kind of fish, wouldn't look at a worm. Nothing short of taffy
bait will tempt them. They look like those fishes you buy at the
confectioners--penny apiece--very high-colored, very flat, and mostly
tail; and, when cooked, they taste very much like them."
Tot still gazed up into the remorseless boy's face in unblinking
confidence. And, indeed, from one who, for the last two weeks, together
with Tot, had been on the most familiar footing with giants, ogres, and
hop-o-my-thumbs, and held the most sympathizing relations towards
enchanted princesses and conquering knights, an account of a "Soogar
Wiver," was not to be regarded as startling. As for Will's
conscience--well, his mission with Tot was to amuse, not instruct--if
Tot was amused the whole end and aim of his efforts was attained.
"We tried having dories made of the same material of those candy marbles
that nothing but time and long-enduring patience will ever make an end
of. But the fellows had such a habit, as they floated down the stream,
of eating up the oars, we had to give it up--"
"Will," said Tot's mamma, at the open door, "are you ready? Run away to
Ellen, Tot, and be a good little girl.
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