"Well, sharks do lay eggs—at least, some do—a couple at a time," informed Turner.
"I know," Cat struck in, "those black things with points to 'em you pick up on the beach."
"They're the cases, not the eggs," corrected the Tarheel.
"Somebody else's dome is solid ivory," Jimmy thrust at Cat. For answer Miller returned a comical leer.
"Those are the empty cases," proceeded Turner. "The young sharks, when hatched, hreak through the case at the weakest place. Some folks call those black pill-boxes 'mermaids' purses.' I reckon, because the fishy ladies keep their powder puffs and beauty jiggers in 'em," he added, with a knowing chuckle. "But, speakin' of sharks, there are other fish kin to 'em without havin' their shape and bad habits. The dogfish infestin' these waters is one of 'em."
"That's where you have to beat it, Cat," flashed Jimmy.
"I'm the burr kind of cat," objected Miller, "the kind that lights on a dog's back and buries in. You can't shake this Cat off, sonny."
