THE LAKE
315
forty years, or so I judged, wru; sitting in the rear, reclining, absorbing
the sunlight with fortitude; and, holding the woman about the waist,
watching us, was a girl of sixteen or seventeen, in a brown bathing–
suit, a large and many-coloured pocket-book slung across her shoulder,
her blonde hair slipping behind her so deeply that I momentarily
thought it touched the water, her eyes bulging with a well-hardened
blueness, her sharp lips opened to show good teeth, and her whole
litheness of features raised into wrinkles.
"Hello!" George called, coming to their side.
"Mternoon," said the man. "I haven't seen you around; just
come up?"
"Yes. How's the fishing?"
"Pretty terrible. They're not biting."
"Pickerel?"
"Pickerel or whales-they're not biting. I got two, one right
after the other, about an hour ago. I tried near the mouth-by the
shore-and then I got one here. Fair size. One must
be
pretty nearly
fourteen inches. What's the trouble with you, son?" he asked me.
"He's crippled," George said, nodding towards me.
"Can't he talk?" asked the man.
"Sure he can," said George. "Say something, Jerry."
I concentrated on the worms wriggling in the tin can.
"Let
him
alone," said the woman. "He's not an animal, you
know."
I liked her.
"AI,"
she said, "you ought to have enough sense to keep quiet
about the boy."
"How long are you going to be up here?" the girl aswed George.
"My name's Bette. We're the Halls-the family, I mean. My mother's
Mrs. Hall. What's your name?"
"George; my brother's Jerry. Jerry, speak to them. You talk
all the time; what's wrong with you now?
If
you don't speak, I'll
go over and get you to."
"Let him alone," said Mrs. Hall.
"We'll be up here for about two weeks or a month or so," said
George, smiling to Bette. He looked up at Mr. Hall. "How long will
you be here?"
"Till Sunday night-to-morrow night. My vacation will be up
then."
