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 smooth and shiny in the shadow—no ripple broke its surface. It was like a gray satin ribbon between the dusky green silk of the meadows that were on each side of its banks.

"It's all right," said Peter, "but somehow I can always see how pretty things are much better when I've something to do. Let's get down on to the tow-path and fish from there."

Phyllis and Bobbie remembered how the boys on the canal-boats had thrown coal at them, and they said so.

"Oh, nonsense," said Peter. "There aren't any boys here now. If there were, I'd fight them."

Peter's sisters were kind enough not to remind him how he had not fought the boys when last coal had been thrown. Instead they said, "All right, then," and cautiously climbed down the steep bank to the towing-path. The line was carefully bated, and for half an hour they fished patiently and in vain. Not a single nibble came to nourish hope in their hearts.

All eyes were intent on the sluggish waters that earnestly pretended they had never harboured, a single minnow when a loud rough shout made them start.