"You mean," said the elder girl, with a laugh, "that you bought of
Barney Sloat."
I looked at her in astonishment.
"Barney was along here to-day," she said, "and he told about your buying
your fish of him."
"Bought of him!" I exclaimed, indignantly. "A little string of fish at
the bottom of the basket I bought of him, but all the others, and this
big one, I caught myself."
"Oh, of course," said the pretty daughter, "bought the little ones and
caught all the big ones!"
"Barney Sloat ought to have kept his mouth shut," said the younger
pretty daughter, looking at me with an expression of pity. "He'd got his
money, and he hadn't no business to go telling on people. Nobody likes
that sort of thing. But this big fish is a real nice one, and you shall
have it for your supper."
"Thank you," I said, with dignity, and left the room.
I did not intend to have any further words with these young women on
this subject, but I cannot deny that I was annoyed and mortified. This
was the result of a charitable action. I think I was never more proud of
anything than of catching that trout; and it was a good deal of a
downfall to suddenly find myself regarded as a mere city man fishing
with a silver hook. But, after all, what did it matter?
The boy who did not seem to be accounted a member of the family came
into the house, and as he passed me he smiled good-humoredly, and said:
"Buyed 'em!"
I felt like throwing a chair at him, but refrained out of respect to my
host.
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