Thessalie, conversing with Lee, turned smilingly to be included in the
suggestion; and the maid came forward to conduct her and Dulcie
through the intricacies of the big, casual, sprawling house, where
rooms and corridors and halls rambled unexpectedly and irrelevantly
in every direction, and one vista seemed to terminate in another.

When they had disappeared, the Barres family turned to inspect its son
and heir with habitual and humorous insouciance, commenting frankly
upon his personal appearance and concluding that his health still
remained all that could be desired by the most solicitous of parents
and sisters.

"There are rods already rigged up in the work-room," remarked his
father, "if you and your guests care to try a dry-fly this evening. As
for me, you'll find me somewhere around the upper lake, if you care to
look for me----"

He fished out of his pocket a bewildering tangle of fine mist-leaders,
and, leisurely disentangling them, strolled toward the porch, still
talking:

"There's only one fly they deign to notice, now--a dust-coloured midge
tied in reverse with no hackle, no tinsel, a May-fly tail, and barred
canary wing----" He nodded wisely over his shoulder at his son and
Westmore, as though sharing with them a delightful secret of
world-wide importance, and continued on toward the porch, serenely
interested in his tangled leaders.

Garret glanced at his mother and sister; they both laughed. He said:

"Dad is one of those rarest of modern beings, a genuine angler of the
old school. After all the myriad trout and salmon he has caught in a
career devoted to fishing, the next fish he catches gives him just as
fine a thrill as did the very first one he ever hooked! It's quite
wonderful, isn't it, mother?"

"It's probably what keeps him so youthful," remarked Westmore. "The
thing to do is to have something to do. That's the elixir of youth.
Look at your mother, Garry. She's had a busy handful bringing you
up!"

Garret looked at his slender, attractive mother and laughed again:

"Is that what keeps you so young and pretty, mother?--looking after
me?"

"Alas, Garry, I'm over forty, and I look it!"

"Do you?--you sweet little thing!" he interrupted, picking her up
suddenly from the floor and marching proudly around the room with her.
"Gaze upon my mother, Jim! Isn't she cunning? Isn't she the smartest
little thing in America? Behave yourself, mother! Your grateful son is
showing you off to the