Beechnut sat down upon a log by the side of the road, to wait for him.
"Did you catch any fishes ?" said Beechnut, as Phonny approached him.
"No," said Phonny, despondingly.
"I am glad of that," said Beechnut.
"Glad!" said Phonny, looking up surprised, and somewhat displeased.
"What are you glad for ?" "For the sake of the fishes," said Beechnut.
"Hoh!" said Phonny.

"And the other day, when I did catch some, you said you were glad of that." "Yes," said Beechnut, "then I was glad for your sake.

There is always a chance to be glad for some sake or other, happen what may." This, though very good philosophy, did not appear to be just at that time at all satisfactory to Phonny.
"I have had nothing but ill-luck all this afternoon," said Phonny, in a pettish tone.

"That great ugly black horse of Thomas's trod on my foot." "Did he ?" said Beechnut; his countenance brightening up at the same time, as if Phonny had told him some good news.
"Yes," said Phonny, "Thomas came along near where I was fishing, and I laid down my fishing-line, and went up to the horse, and was standing by his head, and he trod on my foot dreadfully." "Did he ?" said Beechnut, "I am very glad of that." "Glad of that!" repeated Phonny.

"I don't see whose sake you can be glad of that for.