Roderick leaned hastily forward and placing one hand on his heart said with finely assumed gallantry: “I name the day?”
“Oh, you know quite well I do not mean that.”
She laughed gaily, but all the same a little blush had stolen into her cheeks.
“I thought it was the fair lady’s privilege to name the day,” said Roderick, mischievously.
“Very well,” said Gail, soberly, “we will go trout fishing tomorrow.”
“It is settled,” said Roderick. “What hour is your pleasure?”
“Well, it is better,” replied Gail, “to go early in the morning or late in the evening. Personally I prefer the morning.”
“Very well, I will be here and saddle Fleetfoot for you, say, at seven tomorrow morning.”
And so it was agreed.
It was only when he was cantering along the roadway toward home that Roderick remembered how Barbara Shields had on several occasions invited him to go trout fishing with her, but in some way circumstances had always intervened to postpone the expedition. In Gail’s case, however, every obstacle seemed to have been swept aside—he had never even thought of asking Mr. Shields for the morning off. However, that would be easily arranged, so he rode on in blissful contentment and happy anticipation for the morrow.