The otter might have got out of it by saying that Tom was a frog:
but, like a great many other people, when she had once said a
thing, she stood to it, right or wrong; so she answered:

"I say you are an eft, and therefore you are, and not fit food for
gentlefolk like me and my children. You may stay there till the
salmon eat you (she knew the salmon would not, but she wanted to
frighten poor Tom). Ha! ha! they will eat you, and we will eat
them;" and the otter laughed such a wicked cruel laugh--as you may
hear them do sometimes; and the first time that you hear it you
will probably think it is bogies.

"What are salmon?" asked Tom.

"Fish, you eft, great fish, nice fish to eat. They are the lords
of the fish, and we are lords of the salmon;" and she laughed
again. "We hunt them up and down the pools, and drive them up into
a corner, the silly things; they are so proud, and bully the little
trout, and the minnows, till they see us coming, and then they are
so meek all at once, and we catch them, but we disdain to eat them
all; we just bite out their soft throats and suck their sweet
juice--Oh, so good!"--(and she licked her wicked lips)--"and then
throw them away, and go and catch another. They are coming soon,
children, coming soon; I can smell the rain coming up off the sea,
and then hurrah for a fresh, and salmon, and plenty of eating all
day long."

And the otter grew so proud that she turned head over heels twice,
and then stood upright half out of the water, grinning like a