“They have no human feelings; but I never said we hadn’t plenty of carp feelings,” she answered him.
He laughed. “At all events, I’m pleased to find that we’re of the same way of thinking.”
“Are we?” asked she, raising surprised eyebrows.
“You take a healthy pessimistic view of things,” he submitted.
“I? Oh, dear, no. I have never taken a pessimistic view of anything in my life.”
“Except of this poor summer’s afternoon, which has the fatal gift of beauty. You said it was a weary one.”
“People have sympathies,” she explained; “and besides, that is a watchword.” And she scattered a handful of crumbs, thereby exciting a new commotion among the carp.
Her explanation no doubt struck Ferdinand Augustus as obscure; but, perhaps he felt that he scarcely knew her well enough to press for enlightment. “Let us hope that the fine weather will last,” he said, with a polite salutation, and resumed his walk.
But, on the morrow, “You make a daily practice of casting your bread upon the waters,” was his greeting to her. “Do you expect to find it at the season’s end?”
“I find it at once,” was her response, “in entertainment.”