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Von Koren and the deacon finished their tea and went out into the street. "Are you going to the harbour again to catch sea-gudgeon?" asked the zoologist. "No, it's too hot." "Come and see me. You can pack up a parcel and copy something for me. By the way, we must have a talk about what you are to do. You must work, deacon. You can't go on like this."
At last Bob decided that they would moor by the bank, and begin once more to fish. They landed and got some worms, and for a time had very fair sport, taking it in turns to catch some small rounded silvery and creamy transparent fish, something like dace, but what they were even Bob did not know. He was never at a loss, however, and he christened them sea-gudgeon.
"Where have you been?" "I've been catching sea-gudgeon in the harbour." "Oh, of course. . . . Evidently, deacon, you will never be busy with work." "Why not? Work is not like a bear; it doesn't run off into the woods," said the deacon, smiling and thrusting his hands into the very deep pockets of his white cassock. "There's no one to whip you!" sighed the zoologist.
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