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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Oh, what a pretty color!" Helen exclaimed when she saw Joe's new under-water suit. "It just matches the goldfish." "So it does," Joe agreed. "I never thought of that when I sent for it." It did make an effective picture in the tank, and at first glance Joe appeared to be a big goldfish himself, so perfect was the coloring of his rubber garment.
Hook!" and up the steps she went as she had been in the habit of doing. "Now if she'll only go into the tank that will be part of the game solved," mused Joe. He had not put in the goldfish, for he knew, no matter how well trained Lizzie was, she would surely eat the fish if they were left in the tank. The problem of using them in his new act was one Joe had not yet solved.
They said nothing at all; they were so clever! And the swallow, who had dived, told about the pretty little goldfish, of the thick turbot, the fat brill, and the old carp. The swallow could describe all that very well, but, "Self is the man," she said. "One ought to see these things one's self." But how was the Dryad ever to see such beings?
He tossed a bank-note to Regan, who snatched it eagerly on the fly. Lorelei forestalled further words. "Please I must telephone. I go on in a minute." "Fairy Princess, last night I was a goldfish; to-night I am an enchanted lover " "Wait; I'm in a hurry." She thumbed the telephone-book swiftly in search of her number, but young Wharton was not to be silenced.
Then came goldfish, that were offered as prizes of a lottery. They swam about in blown glass bowls, the necks of which were so narrow that F. said to me: "How did they get in?" "By squeezing them a little," I answered. Still farther on were living chickens, also lottery prizes, spun around in a whirligig. In the center a Tittle milk-fed pig, mad with fear, was crouching flat on his stomach.
Aren't these big enough for you? The Thr. V. Those? Why, they're big enough for the London Directory! Think I'm going to drag a thing like that about the place? You don't really want a Catalogue it's all your fancy! Mr. Oh, do stop and look at these sweet goldfish! Pets! Don't you love them? Aren't they tame? Miss Ammerson. Wouldn't do to have them wild might jump out and bite people, you know!
We boys would pompously answer lions, puffing ourselves out bravely and pretending we didn't care, but I remembered one little girl who aroused our contemptuous laughter by answering "goldfish." And now, after all these years, for the first time I found myself marveling at her sagacity.
My mother's notes of every-day life proceed: January 2. This morning, one cloud in the east looked like a goldfish close to the horizon. I began to build a snow-house with the children, and shoveled paths. 5th. I walked out in the splendid sunset with the children, to meet papa. I told them, on the way, the story of Genevieve. 10th.
I'd like to fish up a rabbit from the depths of an old gentleman's silk tile, or extract a dozen eggs from a lady's hand-bag, or transmute a canary into a goldfish. I'd like to see the looks of wonder on the faces of the audience and hear them gasp. The difficulty with such a subject as I have chosen, though, is to fill the frame.
Nothing was lacking, not even the earthen lions at the steps, or the little garden with its glittering weather-vane, or the rock-work basin for goldfish. On warm days the past summer passers-by might have seen very often, under the green arbor, bourgeoisie in their shirt-sleeves and women in light dresses eating melons together.
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