THE TWILIGHT GUESTS
a bunch to school, and the teacher wore them in her dress. Oh, but I grow tired of the school in the mornings, when the birds sing under the window! The brook is all full with the flood water, do you know?"
"Yes," said the old man dreamily, "yes, I know."
"There are pickerel there—I saw one, anyway!" said the boy. "The old one—he lives under the stone all alone. If I could get him, I'd be proud enough! But I never can—I can only catch him on a Friday night when the moon is full, and then I'm not allowed out! The man that weeds the garden told me that. Do you remember?"
"Yes, I remember," said the old man.
"But if I don't fish, I don't care so much," said the boy happily. "For I get so wet and dirty, and Rachel doesn't like me then. I can't look on her book. She is so dear! She never spots the ink on her apron, like the other girls. And she never eats fish, either. She thinks it hurts them too much to kill them. I don't think so—do you? But girls are different."
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