"It is a fish!" repeated Preston, as a jerk of Daisy's line threw it out high and dry on the shore "and what's more, it's a splendid one. Daisy, you've done it now!"
"And papa will have it for breakfast! Preston, put it in a pail of water till we come back. There's that tin pail we don't want it for anything won't you. Oh, I have caught one!"
It was done; and Daisy and Preston set off on a charming walk up the brook; but though they tried the virtue of their bait in various places, however it was, that trout was the only one caught. Daisy thought it was a fine day's fishing.
They found Sam, sound and dry, mounting guard over the tin pail when they came back to it. And I think Daisy held to her own understanding of the text that had been in debate; for there was a fine portion of lemon pie, jelly, and sandwiches, laid by for him in the basket, and by Sam devoured with great appreciation.
CHAPTER X.
A FIELD OF BATTLE.
June came the next morning to dress her young mistress as usual. Daisy was not soon done with that business on this particular day; she would break off, half dressed, and go to lean out of her window. There was a honey-suckle below the window; its dewy sweet smell came up to her, and the breath of the morning was sweet beside in all the trees and leaves around; the sun shone on the short turf by glimpses, where the trees would let it. Daisy leaned out of her window. June stood as often before, with comb and brush in hand.
"Miss Daisy it's late."
"June," said Daisy, "it's Sunday."
"Yes, ma'am."