Boy thought he had better answer one question at a time, so he replied, “Oh, I went to Broadstairs and had such a jolly time, and one day I went out in a boat and caught such a lot of------” (Fortunately he remembered just in time to prevent himself from saying “such a lot of fish” as he had at first intended.) “Such a lot of what?” asked one of the little fishes curiously. “Oh--er--er--such a lot of--er--er--things, shells, you know, and er--er--seaweed,” stammered Boy, feeling very confused. “Rather funny to go out in a boat to catch seaweed, wasn’t it?” remarked one of the fishes suspiciously. “What did you catch really?” Boy could not think what to say, but at last he thought that he could see a way out of the difficulty, and said, “Oh, I caught a crab.” The fishes looked horrified. “Oh! I don’t mean a really truly crab,” Boy hastened to say. “I mean when your oars stick in the water and you can’t draw them out again; that’s called ‘catching a crab,’ you know, and that’s the kind I mean, of course.” The fishes did not seem quite satisfied though, and stood staring at him suspiciously for some time, till at last one of them said,--“Can you play cricket?” “Yes, rather,” said Boy proudly. “I’m going to be captain of our eleven next term if Traddles doesn’t come back again.” “Who’s Traddles?” demanded one of the fishes. “Oh! a fellow at our school,” said Boy. “He’s eleven and ever so much taller than me; but I can bowl better than him any day.” “Come on then, let’s have a game,” said one of the fishes, leading the way to the end of the playground where a single wicket was pitched. “Your innings,” he cried, handing Boy a bat. Boy thought this was a very curious way of beginning a game, and he was more surprised still when, without the slightest warning, all the rest of the fishes began throwing balls at him as hard as they could, hitting him pretty sharply in several places, and of course knocking the bails off the stumps at once. “How’s that, Umpire?” they shouted all together. The fish who had handed Boy the bat promptly replied “Out,” and the others threw their caps up into the air excitedly and called out that they had won the game. “That’s not the way to play cricket,” cried Boy, throwing down his bat in disgust. “Who says it isn’t?” demanded one of the fishes, coming up to him. “I say so,” maintained Boy stoutly. “Very well, then I’ll fight you for it,” declared the fish, throwing off his coat. “I’m sure you won’t,” said Boy, laughing at the very idea. “Yah! cowardy, cowardy custard,” cried the fishes, dancing around him. “Afraid to fight; dear little mammy’s baby.” Boy very wisely determined not to heed their taunts and walked back to the College, leaving the quarrelsome little fishes to themselves.