tharine sped away for her jacket, and in passing a hall shelf noticed
lying upon it a pile of Uncle Moses' "tackle," including a wonderful
jointed rod that he had always thought too fine for use, but one which
her own father had sent as a gift years before she was born. It had been
brought forth and exhibited to her, and had since reposed among less
valuable belongings in this conspicuous place. Her father was much in
her mind that day, and the rod seemed to bring him even nearer. A whim
seized her. Since there was nobody to teach her about fishing she would
even teach herself. What her father had done as a little boy must be
right for her, his child. So, when she left the house a few minutes
later, the rod was in her hand, line and fish-hooks in her pocket. Nor
had she thought it necessary to mention this fact to Susanna when she
appeared before the housekeeper to receive her basket.

"Take dreadful care of it, Katy. I know it's heavy, but 'twon't be only
one way. It'll be empty comin' back, and I do hope the victuals will eat
well!"

They were destined to "eat" uncommonly "well;" but, alas! not by the
mouths for which they were intended.

CHAPTER XV.

BY THE OLD STONE BRIDGE

One came down into the long, main street of Marsden village from a hill
at either end, and through an avenue of trees whose branches met
overhead. There were a few side streets, with scattering houses, and the
"Crossroads" nearly midway of the chief thoroughfare, with its four
corners occupied by the church, the schoolhouse, the post-office, and
the tavern. On the north side the ground rose gently for a distance,
then climbed abruptly to the "mountain," in reality but a high, wooded
hill. On the south there were rich meadows, wide pastures, and the
winding noisy river, that darted here and there through the valley as if
having no mind of its own which way it should run. On this south side
was also the great forest called "Maitland's woods," that already
Katharine had learned to love almost as warmly as did Aunt Eunice. To
the latter the forest was as something sacred, a spot where nature
should have her will and not despoiling man. When firewood must be cut
from it, for coal was an unknown fuel in Marsden, she went herself to
select such trees as must be sacrificed--always the unsightly ones which
storms had broken, not trusting even Moses to cut one till she had
condemned it.

As that unfortunate man had observed:

"If Eunice sh