"All times. I think he means just the same thing always."
"Must see more of him," said Knowlton. "You like him, then, Miss
Starling?"
Diana did like him, and it was quite her way to say what she thought; yet she did not say it. She had an undefined, shadowy impression that the hearing would not be grateful to her companion. Her reply was a very inconclusive remark, that she had not seen much of Mr. Masters; and an inquiry where Mr. Knowlton meant to fish next.
So the brook had them without interruption the rest of the time. They crept up the ravine, under the hemlock branches and oak boughs; picking their way along the rocky banks; catching one or two more trout, and finding an unending supply of things to talk about; while the air grew more delicious as the day dipped towards evening, and the light flashed from the upper tree-tops more clear and sparkling as the rays came more slant; and the brook's running commentary on what was going on, like so many other commentaries, was heard and not heeded; until the shadows deepening in the dell warned them it was time to seek the lower grounds and open fields again. Which they did, much more swiftly than the ascent of the brook had been made; in great spirits on both sides, though with a thought on Diana's part how her mother would receive the fish and the young officer's proposition. Mrs. Starling was standing at the back door of the kitchen as they came up to it.
"I should think, Diana, you knew enough to remember that we don't take visitors in at this end of the house," was her opening remark.
"How about fish?" inquired Mr. Knowlton, bringing forward his basket.
"What are you going to do with 'em?" asked Mrs. Starling, standing in the door as if she meant he should not come in.
"We are going to eat them—with your leave ma'am, and by your help;—and first we are going to cook them."
"Who?"
"Miss Starling and myself. I have promised to show her a thing. May I ask for the loan of a match?"