_, the last-named being the
worst fish of Canada. George thought the success far too uniform for
sport; Arthur hardly cared to call the killing of God's creatures
'sport' during some time back.

'Davidson, here's a contribution for your bee,' cried Arthur, holding
up the prize by its formidable snout. 'For your good wife, with my
compliments.'

Mrs. Davidson was in the thick of preparations for a logging-bee, to be
held two days subsequently, and whither all the Cedar Creek people were
invited. Every settler's wife's housekeeping is brought to a severe
test on such occasions, and the huge maskelonge was a most acceptable
addition.

The four gentlemen and Mr. Callaghan went with their team of oxen to
help their good neighbour on the appointed morning.

It might have been four hours afterwards that Linda was working in her
garden, hoeing a strawberry bed, and singing to herself some low song,
when, attracted by a slight movement at the fence, she raised her eyes.
Mr. Nimrod Bunting was leaning against the rails.

'I guess you may go on, Miss,' said he, showing all his yellow teeth.
'I've been admirin' yar voice this quarter of an hour past. I've never
happened to hear you sing afore; and I assure you, Miss, I'm saying the
truth, that the pleasure is highly gratifyin'.'

Linda felt greatly inclined to put down her hoe and run into the house;
but that would be so ridiculous. She hoed on in silence, with a very
displeased colour on her cheek.

'I see all yar people at the bee: yar too high yarself to go to them
kind'er meetings, I reckon, Miss? Wal, I like that. I like pride. Th'
ole woman said always, so did Uncle Zack, "Nim, yar above yar means;
yar only fit for a Britisher gentleman," they did, I guess!'

'The sun is getting so hot,' quoth Miss Wynn, laying down her hoe.

'I reckon I ain't agoin' to have come down from Davidson's to here to
speak to you, Miss,' and Nim vaulted over the fence, 'an' let you slip
through my fingers that way. Uncle Zack said he'd speak to the ole
feller up at the bee, an' bade me make tracks an' speak to you, Miss.
He's agoin' to foreclose the mortgage, he is.'

'What, on Daisy Burn?' Linda was immensely relieved for the moment.

''Tain't on nothen' else, I guess. 'Tis an elegant farm--ain't it?'

'Cannot your father wait for his money--even a little time? Captain
Armytage would surely pay in the long run; or his son would'--

'But s'pose we don't want 'em to pay? S'pose we wan