The ambitious little soul pined to catch one of these mysterious but lovely red creatures, and spent days fishing on the beach, investigating holes and corners, and tagging after the old man who supplied the house.  One day after a high wind he found several “lobs” washed up on the beach, and, though disappointed at their color, he picked out a big one, and set off to show his prize to Molly.  Half-way home he met the old man on his way with a basket of fish, and being tired of lugging his contribution laid it with the others, meaning to explain later.  No one saw him do it, as the old man was busy with his pipe; and Boo ran back to get more dear lobs, leaving his treasure to go into the kettle and appear at supper, by which time he had forgotten all about it.

Fortunately none of the children ate any, but several older people were made ill, and quite a panic prevailed that night as one after the other called up the doctor, who was boarding close by; and good Mrs. Grey, the hostess, ran about with hot flannels, bottles of medicine, and distracted messages from room to room.  All were comfortable by morning, but the friends of the sufferers lay in wait for the old fisherman, and gave him a good scolding for his carelessness.  The poor man was protesting his innocence when Boo, who was passing by, looked into the basket, and asked what had become of his lob.  A few questions brought the truth to light, and a general laugh put every one in good humor, when poor Boo mildly said, by way of explanation,—­

“I fought I was helpin’ Mrs. Dray, and I did want to see the dreen lob come out all red when she boiled him.  But I fordot, and I don’t fink I’ll ever find such a nice big one any more.”

“For our sakes, I hope you won’t, my dear,” said Mrs. Hammond, who had been nursing one of the sufferers.

“It’s lucky we are going home to-morrow, or that child would be the death of himself and everybody else.  He is perfectly crazy about fish, and I’ve pulled him out of that old lobster-pot on the beach a dozen times,” groaned Molly, much afflicted by the mishaps of her young charge.

There was a great breaking up next day, and the old omnibus went off to the station with Bacon hanging on behind, the bicycle boy and his iron whirligig atop, and heads popping out of all the windows for last good-byes.  Our party and the Hammonds were going by boat, and were all ready to start for the pier when Boo and little Harry were missing.  Molly, the maid, and both boys ran different ways to find them; and all sorts of dreadful suggestions were being made when shouts of laughter were heard from the beach, and the truants appeared, proudly dragging in Harry’s little wagon a dead devil-fish, as the natives call that ugly thing which looks like a magnified tadpole—­all head and no body.

“We’ve dot him!” called the innocents, tugging up their prize with such solemn satisfaction it was impossible to help laughing.