One morning Maggie told us that there was nothing in the house for dinner, and, taking an early start, we went at once down to the store to ask if the butcher had been seen, but finding that he had gone out deep-sea fishing for two days, and that when he came back he had planned to kill a veal, we left word for a sufficient piece of the doomed animal to be set apart for our family, and strolled down to the shore to see if we could find some mackerel; but there was not a fisherman in sight, and after going to all the fish-houses we concluded that we had better provide for ourselves.  We had not brought our own lines, but we knew where Danny kept his, and after finding a basket of suitable size, and taking some clams from Danny’s bait-tub, we went over to the hull of an old schooner which was going to pieces alongside one of the ruined wharves.  We looked down the hatchway into the hold, and could see the flounders and sculpin swimming about lazily, and once in a while a little pollock scooted down among them impertinently and then disappeared.  “There is that same big flounder that we saw day before yesterday,” said I.  “I know him because one of his fins is half gone.  I don’t believe he can get out, for the hole in the side of the schooner isn’t very wide, and it is higher up than flounders ever swim.  Perhaps he came in when he was young, and was too lazy to go out until he was so large he couldn’t.  Flounders always look so lazy, and as if they thought a great deal of themselves.”

“I hope they will think enough of themselves to keep away from my hook this morning,” said Kate, philosophically, “and the sculpin too.  I am going to fish for cunners alone, and keep my line short.”  And she perched herself on the quarter, baited her hook carefully, and threw it over, with a clam-shell to call attention.  I went to the rail at the side, and we were presently much encouraged by pulling up two small cunners, and felt that our prospects for dinner were excellent.  Then I unhappily caught so large a sculpin that it was like pulling up an open umbrella, and after I had thrown him into the hold to keep company with the flounder, our usual good luck seemed to desert us.  It was one of the days when, in spite of twitching the line and using all the tricks we could think of, the cunners would either eat our bait or keep away altogether.  Kate at last said we must starve unless we could catch the big flounder, and asked me to drop my hook down the hatchway; but it seemed almost too bad to destroy his innocent happiness.  Just then we heard the noise of oars, and to our delight saw Cap’n Sands in his dory just beyond the next wharf.  “Any luck?” said he.  “S’pose ye don’t care anything about going out this morning?”

“We are not amusing ourselves; we are trying to catch some fish for dinner,” said Kate.  “Could you wait out by the red buoy while we get a few more, and then should you be back by noon, or are you going for a longer voyage, Captain Sands?”