my knowledge. Seas, rivers, lakes, and ponds. Wot is it, lambs, as they ketches in seas, rivers, lakes, and ponds?”
Shrill chorus (with some contempt for the ease of the question):
“Fish!”
“Good a-gin!” said Riderhood. “But wot else is it, my lambs, as they sometimes ketches in rivers?”
Chorus at a loss. One shrill voice: “Weed!”
“Good agin!” cried Riderhood. “But it ain’t weed neither. You’ll never guess, my dears. Wot is it, besides fish, as they sometimes ketches in rivers? Well! I’ll tell you. It’s suits o’ clothes.”
Bradley’s face changed.
“Leastways, lambs,” said Riderhood, observing him out of the corners of his eyes, “that’s wot I my own self sometimes ketches in rivers. For strike me blind, my lambs, if I didn’t ketch in a river the wery bundle under my arm!”