“Oh, we’ll do the dutiful act and put in all the flourishes,” said his friend, with a laugh. “But say, Jock, is it really true about the fishing and canoeing and all that sort of thing that they tell about there?”
“True? well, I should say it was! You won’t need but one look at the river to make you think you’ve found the best spot on earth. Fishing, fishing? why, let me tell you.”
“No, no! please don’t. I can’t bear too much, you must remember.”
“Fishing?” resumed Jock, unmindful of his friend’s banter, “why, one morning last summer I got up before breakfast—”
“Impossible!” interrupted his friend. “I can stand your fish stories; but that—that is too much for me.”
“One morning I got up early, as I was telling you,” resumed Jock.
“I believe you did make some remarks upon that subject.”
“Keep still! Well, I got up before light—”
“What, what?”