"Oh," she cried, "there you are!" She slid her fingers into his disengaged hand and fell into step beside him. "Bunje," she said with a little laugh that was half a sigh, "I'm like an old hen with one chick—I can hardly bear you out of my sight! Have you had good hunting? What was the evening rise like?"
"It was good," replied the India-rubber Man. "But it was better still to hear you call."
They came to a tall bush where the blossoms of a wild rose glimmered in the dusk like moths. The India-rubber Man stabbed the butt of his rod in the turf, took off his cast-entwined deerstalker and hung it on a bramble; then he slipped the strap of his creel over his head and emptied the contents on to the grass.
"Five," he said, counting. They knelt beside the golden trout and laid them in a row. "I could have taken more," he added, "but that's all we want for breakfast. Besides, it was too nice an evening to go on killing things…. Sort of peaceful. That's a nice one, though, that pounder. He fancied a coachman…" The India-rubber Man straightened up and sniffed the evening air aromatic with the scent of burning wood. "And I've got a sort of feeling I could fancy something, Bet——"
Betty rose too. "It's ready," she said. "I've put the table in the hollow behind the bush. I've got a surprise for you—'will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly.'"
She led the way into the hollow. A brazier of burning logs stood on the side nearest the river, with a saucepan simmering upon it. Close under the wild-rose bush was a folding table covered with a blue-and-white cloth laid in readiness for a meal, with a camp stool on either side. From an overhanging branch dangled a paper Japanese lantern, glowing in the blue dusk like a jewel.
"You're a witch, Betty," said the India-rubber Man. "Where did you get the lantern?"
"At that village we passed through yesterday. It was a surprise for you!" She made a little obeisance on the threshold of their star-lit dining-room. "Will it please my lord to be seated?" she asked prettily, and bending down busied herself amid the ashes underneath the brazier. "There's grilled trout and stewed bunny-rabbit," she added, speaking over her shoulder.
"Good enough," said her lord. "Sit down, Bet, I'm going to do the waiting." Betty laughed. "I don't mind this sort of waiting," she replied. "It's the other kind that grew so wearisome."
They made their meal while a bat, attracted by the white cloth, flickered overhead, and the shadows closed in round them, deepening into night. When the last morsel of food had vanished the India-rubber Man turned sideways on his stool to light a pipe, and by the light of the match they stared at one another with a sudden fresh realisation of their present happiness and the fullness thereof.