"I know it is best," I assented reluctantly, "but why did Granny have to run out of vinegar this afternoon?"
Lessie threw me an amused glance over her shoulder, burst into a peal of laughter, and began waving her pole over her head in wide circles, taking this method to wind her line. When this was in place, she grasped the hook between finger and thumb, and imbedded it in the stopper.
"You bring th' fish 'n' th' bait," she said, and ran along the tree, sure-footed and nimble as a squirrel.
I picked up the can and bucket and followed. I looked at her catch as I went, and saw that it represented some half-dozen minnows only. Granf'er was waiting for us in the road. He had already transferred the jug to Lessie and given her instructions when I came up and cordially shook hands.
"How are you getting along?" was my greeting, as I wisely smothered the impatience I felt.
"Oh! fust rate;—'cep'n' th' ketch."
He put his left hand to his side and drew a wheezy breath.
Lessie gave her fishing-pole into Granf'er's care, smiled a farewell and started toward Hebron. It wrenched me for her to begin that lovely walk alone. She was twenty steps away when the old man suddenly turned.
"Don't go trapes'n' in th' woods fur flow'rs 'n' sich! Granny's wait'n' fur that air vinegyar!"
She waved her hand as a sign that she heard, but made no reply.