"It's below, sir."
"Below? where? just fetch it here, will you? This misfortune can be mended."
Sam moved off, dripping from every inch of him.
"Oh, Preston," said Daisy, "he's all wet as he can be do let him go right down to that house and dry himself! We can get the basket."
"Do him good to move about," said Preston. "Nonsense, Daisy! a ducking like that won't do anybody any harm in a summer's day."
"I don't think you'd like it," said Daisy; "and all his clothes are full of water, and the sun don't come down here. Tell him to go and get dry!"
"I will, as soon as I've done with him. Here, Sam just bend on this hook for me, while I see how the brook is further up. I've no time to lose, and then you can go sun yourself somewhere."
Preston bounded off; Sam stood with the tackle in hand, silently at work. Daisy sat still on a stone near by, looking at him.
"Were you hurt, Sam?" she asked, tenderly.
"No, Miss Daisy." This answer was not discontented, but stoical.