h
jerky violence; "out o' the way, Eve, else you'll get shoved into
Gihon."

"Euphrates, you stoopid!" said Cain, turning his Beehive training to
account. Having lost his fish, you see, he could afford to be critical
while he fixed on another bait.

But Tim cared not for rivers or names just then, having hooked a "real
wopper," which gave him some trouble to land. When landed, it proved to
be the finest fish of the lot, much to Eve's satisfaction, who sat down
to watch the process when Adam renewed the bait.

Now, Bobby Frog, not having as yet been quite reformed, and, perhaps,
having imbibed some of the spirit of his celebrated prototype with his
name, felt a strong impulse to give Tim a gentle push behind. For Tim
sat in an irresistibly tempting position on the bank, with his little
boots overhanging the dark pool from which the fish had been dragged.

"Tim," said Bob.

"Adam, if you please--or call me father, if you prefer it!"

"Well, then, father, since I haven't got an Abel to kill, I'm only too
'appy to have a Adam to souse."

Saying which, he gave him a sufficient impulse to send him off!

Eve gave vent to a treble shriek, on beholding her husband struggling in
the water, and Cain himself felt somewhat alarmed at what he had done.
He quickly extended the butt of his rod to his father, and dragged him
safe to land, to poor Eve's inexpressible relief.

"What d'ee mean by that, Bob?" demanded Tim fiercely, as he sprang
towards his companion.

"Cain, if you please--or call me son, if you prefers it," cried Bob, as
he ran out of his friend's way; "but don't be waxy, father Adam, with
your own darlin' boy. I couldn't 'elp it. You'd ha' done just the same
to me if you'd had the chance. Come, shake 'ands on it."

Tim Lumpy was not the boy to cherish bad feeling. He grinned in a
ghastly manner, and shook the extended hand.

"I forgive you, Cain, but please go an' look for Abel an' pitch into
_him_ w'en next you git into that state o' mind, for it's agin
common-sense, as well as history, to pitch into your old father so."
Saying which, Tim went off to wring out his dripping garments, after
which the fishing was resumed.

"Wot a remarkable difference," said Bobby, breaking a rather long
silence of expectancy, as he glanced round on the splendid landscape
which was all aglow with the descending sun, "'tween these 'ere diggin's
an' Commercial Road, or George Yard, or Ratcliff 'Ighway. Ain't it,
Tim?"