with so peculiar an expression that she could reply only by another astonished stare.
"But really, it does not pay to be sentimental, as you all ought to have found out long ago! as Jo and I have!" Nattie said, jestingly, yet with an undertone of earnestness.
"Then," said Clem, dryly, "since it is so with us, let us fish!" and he threw his line into the stream.
Cyn, Jo, and Mrs. Simonson followed his example. Quimby declined joining in the sport, and perhaps, likening himself to the fish, balanced himself on the log, and looked on with a pathetic face. Celeste, as in duty bound, remained by his side. Nattie, too, was an observer only, and from the expression off her face was decidedly not amused.
"I think it is cruel!" she exclaimed, as Jo took a fish off Cyn's hook.
"I—I quite agree with you!" Quimby replied quickly, in answer to Nattie's observation. "It is cruel!"
"But perhaps the fish were made for people to catch," suggested the pacific Mrs. Simonson, who had not yet been able to get a bite.
"Yes," acquiesced Clem, pulling up a skinny little fish. "They are no worse off than we poor mortals after all. We must each fulfill our destiny, whether man or fish."
