"I'm not at all mean or exacting. My father only pays Mrs. Myers three
dollars a week, and all she agreed to give was board. I can't expect her
to be any kind of an aunt, too, and let me go a-fishing. I'll take it
all off her hands, and let myself go."

"It's hard on Dick, though," said Dab, "and she's kind o' got the right
of it."

"I s'pose she has. But if he isn't earning all he gets, I'm mistaken.
Boys, if she puts any more work on him, what'll we do?"

"Eat," said Dab: "that's the only way we can make it up."

"We can't do it, Dab. Not unless the price of corn-meal goes up. Think
of eating another three dollars' worth of hasty-pudding every week!"

Their landlady came out in all her smiles at breakfast, and hoped they
would have good success with their fishing.

"Only," she added, "I'm not very fond of fish, and I never take the
trouble to clean them."

"We will try and catch ours ready cleaned, Mrs. Myers," said Ford. "Now,
boys, if you're ready, I am."

They were ready, bait and all, thanks to Dick; and the breakfast had
been an early one. Dab thanked Mrs. Myers for that, even while he wished
he had Ford Foster's tongue to do it with.

In fact, he had been noticing of late that his ideas came to him a