And while I am concerned with Chavender and Wickham, let me tell you a thing. On their last night I brought in a trout. I declared it at one pound and three-quarters; this on the authority of my weighing machine. Chavender said, "Nonsense." I swore it. I produced my weighing machine. I hung the trout on it. The thing dipped to one and three-quarters. "Amazing!" said Chavender. I was nettled. There is nothing amazing in my taking a trout of a pound and three-quarters. I have had several this season already. "I suppose," I sneered, "you would only allow it a pound and a half." But I had done this sterling fellow an injustice. He shook his head. "I could have sworn," he said, "that this fish is over two pounds." He weighed it in his hand. Then he produced his own weighing machine and hung the trout. Then he pointed to the needle, which pointed to two pounds and a quarter. "Your balance," said he, "weighs short by half a pound. The spring is far too strong."
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