"If I could only throw it in," said Daisy. And this time, with a very great effort she did succeed in swinging the bait by a gentle motion to the very spot. No statue was more motionless than Daisy then. She had eyes and ears for nothing but the trout in the brook. Minutes went by. The brook leaped and sang on its way the air brought the sweet odours of mosses and ferns; the leaves flapped idly overhead; you could hear every little sound. For there sat Daisy, and there stood Sam, as still as the stones. Time went by. At last a sigh came from Daisy's weary little body, which she had not dared to move an inch for half an hour.
"Tain't no good, Miss Daisy," whispered Sam.
"I can't keep it still," said Daisy, under her breath, as if the fishes would hear and understand her.
"Suppos'n you try t'other bait, Miss Daisy."
"What bait?"
"Oh, t'other kind, Miss Daisy. Will I put it on for you to try?"
Daisy sat awhile longer, however, in silence and watching, until every joint was weary and her patience too. Then she left the rod in Sam's hands, and went up to see what Preston was doing. He was some distance higher up the stream. Slowly and carefully Daisy crept near, till she could see his basket, and find out how much he had in it. That view loosed her tongue.
"Not one yet, Preston!" she exclaimed.
"Not a bite," said Preston.
"I hadn't either."