"Why, Bessie, what is the matter now? Don't you feel right?"
Bessie shook her head. Martin saw there were tears in her eyes.
"I am sorry I coaxed you," he said. "I feel now as if I had not behaved as I ought."
"I never did like to go fishing," said Bessie; "it hurts me to see the poor little things pant and flounder when they are brought up. The moment I heard you speak of their struggling with the pain, I was sorrier than ever that I had come, and that made me think of mother, staying home alone with her pain. I do believe I ought to go back at once."
"But you cannot find the way," said Martin; "you have never been here before."
"That is true," said Bessie, sighing. "Well, I do not wish to be a spoil-pleasure. Don't mind me, then, but you and the others begin your fishing, and if I see a wagon come by on the road that is going our way, I can jump in. I need not stop your sport if I do that."
Martin looked perplexed.
"I hardly like you to try it," he said, "and yet I do not wish you to stay against your will."
"Well," said Bessie, "I don't like to act mean, Martin. Go on fishing for a little while, at all events. I can wait half an hour or so, I suppose."