She had told Tom, however, that she should like him to put the worms on the hook for her, although she accepted his word when he assured her that worms couldn't feel (it was Tom's private opinion that it didn't much matter if they did).

He knew all about worms, and fish, and those things; and what birds were mischievous, and how padlocks opened, and which way the handles of the gates were to be lifted.

Maggie thought this sort of knowledge was very wonderful,--much more difficult than remembering what was in the books; and she was rather in awe of Tom's superiority, for he was the only person who called her knowledge "stuff," and did not feel surprised at her cleverness.

Tom, indeed, was of opinion that Maggie was a silly little thing; all girls were silly,--they couldn't throw a stone so as to hit anything, couldn't do anything with a pocket-knife, and were frightened at frogs.

Still, he was very fond of his sister, and meant always to take care of her, make her his housekeeper, and punish her when she did wrong.
They were on their way to the Round Pool,--that wonderful pool, which the floods had made a long while ago.