nary. "Aggie only meant _poisson_. The mater'll
let the kids go, if you want to take 'em."

"Come along, mademoiselle, do!" said Charlie Chester cordially. "Venez
avec moi! That's about all the French I can talk, because at school we
only learn to write exercises about pens and ink and paper, and the
gardener's son, and lending your knife to the uncle of the baker; a
jolly silly you'd be if you did, too! You'd never get it back.
Suivez-moi! And come and see the _poisson_. You'll enjoy it if you do."

"I'm sure she wouldn't," said Charlotte Wright, who liked to keep her
governess to herself. "We haven't time, either--we must do our
translation before dinner; and Joyce and Eric can't go unless we're
there to look after them."

"All right; don't, then! We shan't grieve," retorted Charlie. "We'll go
with the Rokebys."

But the Rokebys, though ready, as a rule, to go anywhere and everywhere,
on this particular occasion were due at the railway station to meet a
cousin who was arriving that morning; so it ended in only Belle and
Isobel, with Charlie and Hilda Chester, setting off for the old town.
The quay was a busy, bustling scene. The herring-fleet had just come in,
and it was quite a wonderful sight to watch the fish, with their shining
iridescent colours, leaping by hundreds inside the holds. They were
flung out upon the jetty, and packed at once into barrels, an operation
which seemed to demand much noise and shouting on the part of the
fishermen in the boats, and to call for a good deal of forcible language
from their partners on shore. The small fry and cuttle-fish were thrown
overboard for the sea-gulls, that hovered round with loud cries, waiting
to pounce upon the tempting morsels, while the great flat skate and
dog-fish were put aside separately.

"They're second-rate stuff, you see," explained Charlie Chester, who,
with his hands in his pockets and his most seaman-like gait, went
strolling jauntily up and down the harbour, inspecting the cargoes,
trying the strength of the cables, peeping into the barrels with the
knowing air of a connoisseur of fish, and generally putting himself
where he was decidedly not wanted.

"They only pack the herrings, and they salt and dry the others in the
sun. You can see them dangling outside their cottage doors all over the
town, and smell them too, I should say. When they're quite hard they
hammer them out flat, and send them to Whitechapel for the Jews to
buy--at least that