Then they made their way to the brook, and swung their lines into the clear water and in a short time Polly had caught “a little silver trout,” and almost at the same moment there was a pull on Roxy’s line and she, too, had caught a fine speckled trout.
It was Polly who re-baited their hooks, and when they each had landed another fish declared they had enough.
“We’ll find a good place for a fire and cook them,” she said, and Roxy was quite ready to do this. The shining gold ring on her forefinger made her resolve that she would do whatever Polly wanted to do, and she was sure that she would never again be angry at Polly.
The rough pasture slope had many places where a fire could safely be lighted, and they selected the shady side of a towering ledge and Polly built up a three-sided oven of flat stones with another flat stone on top on which she put the trout. Then the fire was started and carefully watched; the fish were cautiously turned from time to time and when Polly declared them nearly cooked the fire was allowed to die.
Polly’s lunch basket was well filled. There were cream-of-tartar biscuits, ginger-cakes, a tumbler of strawberry-jam, and a bottle of milk, and the two girls feasted happily. But Roxy could not forget the plum tarts she had so selfishly devoured, and she resolved to ask Dulcie to make some specially for Polly.
The two friends now made further plans for Roxy’s circus.
“You must ask Mr. Greaves, Roxy, because he is the minister, and Mrs. Greaves is your grandma’s best friend,” said Polly. “You and I will take ‘Brownie’ and drive about and ask whoever you want.”
“All the Hinhams,” said Roxy promptly.
“Of course,” Polly agreed.
“And you and your father and mother,” continued Roxy.