“Badly, sir?”
“Badly.”
“And it was Ned’s fish, after all.”
As he spoke, Lyndsay nodded gently, smiling at the youngest son, and no more was said; but the boys understood well enough that neither the selfishness nor the self-denial had gone unnoticed. This was made more plain when Mr. Lyndsay said:
“I shall fish the upper pool to-morrow morning—or, rather, you may, Ned, for I have letters to write.”
“And Jack and Dick?” said Ned.
“Those other fellows may slay trout.” He disliked even the approach to tale-telling by his boys, and when Mrs. Lyndsay made an appeal, in her mild way, he said, laughing:
“The laws of the Medes and Persians were never changed. Let it rest there. My barbarians understand me, I fancy.”
There was a little silence, which Rose broke.
“What is that in the glass, Dick, on the window-ledge?”