"Well, if you MUST know, I want to make a new kind of fly for the bass. They aren't biting at all, and your hair is just the colour, to a shade. There! that is the terewth. Do you mind?"
"Mind, you foolish boy? You might have had your fly made by this time. Here, give me your knife!"
She stood still, and severed a long, fair tress, which she laid in
Gerald's hand.
"There! that will make a whole swarm of flies; and if there is any left over, you can theek your nest with it."
At this moment she looked up and saw the Professor sitting on the verandah, watching her. Her face lighted up with the brightest smile, Roger thought, that he had ever seen, and she hastened forward.
"Oh, Captain! I was afraid I was too late. Aren't you going to take observations this morning? And mayn't I go too? Here is my towel, all ready."
Gerald clapped his hand to his face, with an exclamation of acute pain.
"My dear boy, what is the matter?" cried his mother and Hildegarde in one breath.
"It is—nothing!" gasped the boy, sitting down on the edge of the verandah. "Where is the glue?"
"The glue!" repeated Hilda.