'Upon my word, I said what I thought,' replied the first gentleman.
'Miss Kennedy,' called Stuart out from his post down the brook; 'should compliments be true or false, to be compliments? Miss Powder is too indignant to be judge in the case.'
'I do not see how false ones can compliment,' said the lady in green, much intent upon her line. 'There!—Mr. Lasalle—is that what you call a bite?'
It was no bite.
'But people need not know they are false?' pursued Stuart.
'Well,' said Wych Hazel, looking down at him, 'you were talking of what things are—not what they seem.'
'You may observe,' said Mr. Lasalle, 'that most people find it amusing to get bites—if only they don't know there's no fish at the end of them.' Mr. Lasalle spoke feelingly, for he had just hooked and drawn up what proved to be a bunch of weeds.
'But where there is,' said Wych hazel. 'There! Mr. Lasalle, I have got your fish!' and swung up a glittering trophy high over the gentleman's head.
'The first fish caught, I'll wager!' cried Stuart; and he looked at his watch. 'Twenty-seven minutes past twelve. Was that skill or fortune, Miss Kennedy?'
'Neither, sir,' observed Mr. Simms, who had wandered that way in search of a hook. 'There was no hope of Miss Kennedy's descending to the bed of the brook—what could the fish do but come to her? Happy trout!'