All these thoughts had been passing through her mind as she followed Amos along the margin of the brook; and when they stopped at Big Rock to arrange where each one was to go, not one was more eager and pleased with the prospects of the day than she.
The sky became overcast, which was a matter of rejoicing; the same could not be said of the threatening rain. But not enough fell to do any harm, and for fishing the day was pronounced perfect. When there are four rods, and only one basket for the fish, even moderate success tells quickly; and before Franky “guessed it was most time for lunch,” there was a good show of trout.
It was decided that, to save time, they should not make a fire and feed upon the fish, but content themselves with what was to be found in cousin Abby’s basket, which they might very well do. But they forgot about saving time, for they fell into a real boys’ talk,—about hunting and fishing and adventures of all kinds, which made them forget how time was passing, and then they found that Franky had fallen asleep with his head on Fidelia’s lap.
“I think we must let him have his sleep out,” said Fidelia; “you remember, cousin Abby said we must be careful not to let him get too tired. You two go away to your fishing, and when Franky wakes we will follow you up the brook.”
“But it is too bad you should lose your sport,” said Ned.
“He won’t sleep long. And, see, I have a book.”
So the boys set off, and Fidelia had a quiet two hours with her book,—which ought to have been Butler’s “Analogy,” considering her next year’s work at the seminary, but which was “Astoria”—much more appropriate for the time and place. Franky woke rested and much the better for his nap, but indignant at being allowed to lose so much time. But he forgot his vexation in the pleasure of listening to a story Fidelia told, and which lasted till they came in sight of Amos, happy and successful as ever, but a little tired also. So they sat down to rest and enjoy another lunch, and to talk about things in general.
Fidelia knew how to talk to boys. She knew every tree in the woods, and the note of every bird which chirped among the branches. She knew something about most plants that grew in field or wood, so there was no danger of falling out of talk. The boys were interested in what they heard, and each had something to tell. By-and-by Franky said—
“How many brothers have you, Miss Faithful?”
“Not one! I never had a brother.”