“No,” said the young man meaningly; “you would attract anything to stay.”
“Mr Lisle!”
“Well, what have I said? There, forgive me, and take the rod. You promised I should show you how to throw a fly.”
“Yes, yes; but some other time—perhaps to-morrow.”
“To-morrow comes never,” said the young man laughingly. “No; I have my chance now. Miss Dillon, did not your cousin promise to let me show her how to catch a salmon?”
“Yes; and I am so tired. I’ll wait till you have caught one, Claude.”
“There,” cried the young man hurriedly; and the stronger will prevailing over the weaker, Claude allowed her instructor to thrust the lithe rod he held into her hands, and, trembling and blushing, she suffered herself to be led to the side of the pool.
“I shall never learn,” she said.
“Not learn! I shall be able to come up to the Fort carrying your first salmon, and to say to Mr Gartram: ‘there, sir; salmon fishing taught in one lesson,’ What do you say to that?”
“How can she be so foolish?—Of what am I talking?—Mr Lisle, pray let me go.”