Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, she patiently waited for something to bite.
Beneath her, the barbed hook, with its accompanying cube of cheese, had not gone unnoticed by the denizens of the lake, who clustered below the calm surface of the water watching the lure float unnaturally, at a constant depth of about two fathoms.
The old catfish swam up to see what all the brouhaha was about.
“What kinda fool would try to hook a fish with this?” he asked. “We all know that cheese sinks to the bottom. You, Perch take a peek and let me know what this dummy looks like. I’ll bet he’s wearing a hat!”
They came back and reported, “Yeah there’s a hat awright; but it’s a she, not a he.”
“Harrumph,” said the old catfish. “I’d a-thought a she would-a had more sense. Don’t really matter though, the only bites she’ll be getting’ today’ll be from the skeeters.”