e."

"I came down for a day or two off. For the first time in years, I've
forgotten all about the works."

"I'm glad, and do you--"

At that instant there came from between Clark's feet a mighty thump,
and the big bass, curving its spiney back, leaped clear of the boat and
landed in the brown water with a splash. A flip of the broad tail and
it vanished.

"You've lost your fish!" exclaimed Elsie, aghast.

"Perhaps you lost it, but it doesn't matter."

"Is that the way you feel, just slack and careless?"

"Just like that."

"I knew you had a mind above fish," she laughed.

"That's a distinction, because few fishermen have. Now I'd like to
thank you again for your note of a few weeks ago."

"Do you really remember that?" she said earnestly.

He nodded, and over him came a slow conviction that there was an avenue
of life he had never traversed and which seemed to be, after all, more
inviting than he had allowed himself to believe. Elsie was years
younger than Clark, but just now the latter felt strangely young.

"Do you recollect finding out that I had but a few personal friends?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "I would like another."

"Oh!" She stared at him, her startled eyes full of light.

"You don't mind, I hope?"

The canoe drifted like a leaf towards his heavy boat, but Elsie's
paddle was motionless.

"It would make me very happy. But could I really do anything for you?
It has always seemed that," she hesitated and her lips became
tremulous, "that you didn't need any one." Then she added under her
breath, "like me."

Clark's face was grave. "And if I did?"

She looked at him with growing fascination. Surrounded by the gigantic
things of his own creation he was impressive, but here in the solitudes
he took on even more suggestive characteristics. She stretched out a
slim brown hand.

"You will find me very difficult sometimes, I warn you now."

"I like difficult things, they seem to come my way."

The languid hours sped by. Clark swam, fished, paddled with the girl,
entertained her party in the tug's white painted saloon, and chatted
with Mrs. Dibbott, the chaperon, about St. Marys. But most of all he
explored the mind of Elsie Worden. It was like opening successive
doors to his own intelligence. She startled him with her intuition,
delighted him with her keen sense of humor, and seemed to grasp the
man's complex nature with superlative ease. And, yieldi