"H'm. So'm I," said the Captain. "Better join me." They entered the pilot-house and established themselves facing each other on the wide leather seat. The Captain produced a tin dinner-pail with a cupola top such as Bobby had often seen men carrying, and which he had always desired to investigate. This came apart in the middle. The top proved to contain cold coffee all sugared and creamed. The bottom had a fringed red-checked napkin, two slabs of pie, two doughnuts, and four thick ham sandwiches made of coarse bread. They ate. Captain Marsh insisted on Bobby's accepting a doughnut and a piece of pie. Bobby did so, with many misgivings; but found them delicious exceedingly because they were so different from what he was used to at home. "Now," said the Captain, brushing away the crumbs with one comprehensive gesture, "what do you want to do now? You got to stay aboard, you know?" "Can't we fish?" suggested Bobby timidly. The Captain looked about him with some doubt. "Well," he decided at last, "we might try. The time of day's wrong, and the place don't look much good; but there's no harm trying." Two long bamboo poles fitted with lines, hooks, and sinkers were slung alongside the deck-house. Captain Marsh produced worms in a can. The two sat side by side, dangling their feet over the stern, the poles slanting down toward the dark water, silent and intent. In not more than two minutes Bobby felt his pole twitch. Without much difficulty he drew to the surface a broad flat little fish that flashed as he turned in the water. "Hi!" cried Bobby, "there _are_ fish here!" "Oh, that's a sunfish," said Captain Marsh. Bobby looked up. "Aren't sunfish good?" he inquired anxiously. Captain Marsh opened his mouth to reply, caught Bobby's apprehensive and half-disappointed expression, and thought better of it. "Why, sure!" said he. "They're a fine fish." At the end of an hour Bobby had acquired a goodly string. Captain Marsh early drew in his line, saying he preferred to smoke. Bobby had an excellent time. He was very much surprised at the return of the picnic party. The period of punishment had not hung heavy. By the time all had embarked, the steam pressure was up. The _Robert O_ swung down stream for home. But now Celia, forgetting her earlier caprice of indifference, watched Bobby constantly. After a little he became aware of it, and was flattered in his secret soul, but he attempted no more advances, nor did he vouchsafe her the smallest glance. Soon she sidled over to him shyly. "What made you do it?" she asked in a whisper. "Do what?" pretended Bobby. "Break Mrs. Owen's cake." "'Cause I wanted to." "Didn't you know 't was very bad?" "'Course."