"And then she broke down completely, sniffling.
" 'Stop it!' I said. 'You make me homesick. Look here: let's pretend we're sick--or better still, let's pretend we're dead; and see what happens. If they throw us on a rubbish-heap and we fry in the sun, we'll not be much worse off than we are here in this smelly prison. What do you say? Will you risk it?'
" 'I will,' she said--'and gladly.'
"So next morning two fidgits were found by the keeper floating on the top of the water in their tank, stiff and dead. We gave a mighty good imitation of dead fish--although I say it myself. The keeper ran and got the old gentlemen with spectacles and whiskers. They threw up their hands in horror when they saw us.
Lifting us carefully out of the water they laid us on wet cloths.
That was the hardest part of all. If you're a fish and get taken out of the water you have to keep opening and shutting your mouth to breathe at all--and even that you can't keep up for long. And all this time we had to stay stiff as sticks and breathe silently through half-closed lips.
"Well, the old fellows poked us and felt us and pinched us till I thought they'd never be done. Then, when their backs were turned a moment, a wretched cat got up on the table and nearly ate us.
Luckily the old men turned round in time and shooed her away. You may be sure though that we took a couple of good gulps of air while they weren't looking; and that was the only thing that saved us from choking. I wanted to whisper to Clippa to be brave and stick it out. But I couldn't even do that; because, as you know, most kinds of fish-talk cannot be heard--not even a shout--unless you're under water.
"Then, just as we were about to give it up and let on that we were alive, one of the old men shook his head sadly, lifted us up and carried us out of the building.
" 'Now for it!' I thought to myself. 'We'll soon know our fate: liberty or the garbage-can.'