“It’s just a fad, that’s all,” asserted Walter. “It’s a fashion and nothing more.” “You can explain it to your Grandmother Sprague when we go home, but I don’t care to be there when she expresses her opinion, that is, if I happen to be the one who has not done his work as he ought to.” “She has some rather strong ideas on that subject,” admitted Walter demurely. “I’m afraid she’s a little prejudiced. She has the boards on the kitchen floor scoured with soap and water and sand till they fairly glisten. I said to her the other day: ‘Grandmother, don’t you really think there are some things in life that are more important than just keeping clean a few old pine boards in the floor of your kitchen?’” “What did she say?” inquired Dan, smiling as he spoke. “Your grandmother has the reputation of being one of the best housekeepers in the county.” “She didn’t say much; but, somehow, I didn’t stay long to show her how mistaken she was. She just emptied a bucket of water on the floor where I was standing and I fled.” “You didn’t make any mistake in that. Now then, I’ll have to wash these dishes, and it’s time I began,” said Dan, as he leaped to his feet and prepared for his task. “Oh, well, if you are set upon it, I suppose I’ll have to help; but honestly, Dan, I don’t see any reason in it.” “You don’t have to help. You pay me for my time, you know.” “That’s all right. I’m going to do my share.” “Come on then, if you mean it.” The dishes speedily were carried to the spring and as both boys worked rapidly the disagreeable duty was quickly completed. “There! Now if you feel better we can try the fishing again,” said Walter, as he and his friend returned to the shaded place where the table had been set. “I’m afraid there isn’t much use in trolling now,” said Dan, as he looked over the still and shining waters of the pond. “Why not?” “It’s too warm and still. The pickerel make for the cooler places when the sun is as warm as it is now.” “Then we can go to those ‘cooler places’ if that is where the fish go, can’t we? A fellow ought to use his head when he’s fishing, just the same as he does when he’s playing ball.” “It isn’t his head――it’s his oars,” explained Dan. “We simply can’t get into the places where the pickerel hide. Besides, they won’t bite much till the water is cooler.” “I can’t understand that any more than I can about the dishes we just washed. A pickerel is always hungry, isn’t he? Well, if he is always hungry, then he’ll eat always, won’t he?” “No.” “Why won’t he?” “I guess you’ll have to go to him to get your information.” “That’s what I want to do.” “All right. We’ll try the trolling again if you like.” “Pretty soon,” replied Walter, whose desire for an argument was keener than his wish to be out on the water under the burning sun. “Just now I’m interested in that flicker. What does he make all that noise for?” “He’s after the worms in that dead tree where he’s hammering.” “A bird is a cruel animal.” “How’s that?”