“Because I am paid to do other things,” he replied. “We are not sent here simply to enjoy ourselves, though I must say that I—” And then he suddenly stopped. “I wish you would let me teach you fly-fishing. I know you would like it.”
Margery looked at the eager face turned towards her, and then she gazed out over the water.
“Perhaps I might like it,” she said. “But it wouldn’t be necessary for you to take that trouble. Uncle Archibald has two or three times asked me to go out with him, and of course he would teach me how to fish as he does. Isn’t that somebody calling you?”
“Yes,” said Martin, rising; “it’s Phil. I suppose it’s nearly supper-time.”
As they walked towards the camp, Margery in front, and Martin behind her carrying the drawing-materials and the easel, Margery suddenly turned.
“‘THEY THROW THE OTHER THINGS BACK’”
“It was very good of you to offer to teach me to fish with flies,” she said, “and perhaps, if Uncle Archibald doesn’t want to be bothered, I may get you to show me how to do it.”