"
That same night she told Beekman, in the subdued tone which the
architectural construction of the house imposes upon all
confidential communications in the bedrooms, but with resolution in
every accent, that she proposed to go fishing with him on the
morrow.
"But not on that pool, right in front of the house, you understand.
There must be some other place, out on the lake, where we can fish
for three or four days, until I get the trick of this wobbly rod.
Then I'll show that old bear, McTurk, what kind of an animal woman
is."
Beekman was simply delighted. Five days of diligent practice at the
mouth of Mill Brook brought his pupil to the point where he
pronounced her safe.
"Of course," he said patronizingly, "you have 'nt learned all about
it yet. That will take years. But you can get your fly out thirty
feet, and you can keep the tip of your rod up. If you do that, the
trout will hook himself, in rapid water, eight times out of ten.
For playing him, if you follow my directions, you 'll be all right.
We will try the pool tonight, and hope for a medium-sized fish."
Cornelia said nothing, but smiled and nodded. She had her own
thoughts.
At about nine o'clock Saturday night, they anchored their boat on
the edge of the shoal where the big eddy swings around, put out the
lantern and began to fish.
Pages:
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114