n the still-room. Then came pool,
pool, pool, soda-water and brandy, and cigars, into the short
hours; but Tom stole away early, having an eye to his morning's
fishing, and not feeling much at home with his companions.

He was out soon after sunrise the next morning. He never wanted
to be called when there was a trout-stream within reach; and his
fishing instinct told him that, in these sultry dog-days, there
would be little chance of sport when the sun was well up. So he
let himself gently out of the hall door--paused a moment on the
steps to fill his chest with the fresh morning air, as he glanced
at the weathercock over the stables--and then set to work to put
his tackle together on the lawn, humming a tune to himself as he
selected an insinuating red hackle and alder fly from his
well-worn book, and tied them on to his cast. Then he slung his
creel over his shoulder, picked up his rod, and started for the
water.

As he passed the gates of the stable-yard, the keeper came out--a
sturdy bullet-headed fellow, in a velveteen coat, and cord
breeches and gaiters--and touched his hat. Tom returned the
salute, and wished him good morning.

"Mornin', sir; you be about early."

"Yes; I reckon it's the best time for sport at the end of June."

"'Tis so, Sir. Shall I fetch a net, and come along!"

"No, thank you, I'll manage the ladle myself. But which do you
call the best water?"

"They be both middling good. They ain't much odds atwixt 'em. But
I see most fish movin' o' mornin's in the deep water down below."

"I don't know; the night was too hot," said Tom, who had examined
the water the day before, and made up his mind where he was
going. "I'm for deep water on cold days; I shall begin with the
stickles up above. There's a good head of water on, I suppose?"

"Plenty down this last week, sir."

"Come along, then; we'll walk together, if you're going that
way." So Tom stepped off, brushing through the steaming long
grass, gemmed with wild flowers, followed by the keeper; and, as
the grasshoppers bounded chirruping out of his way, and the
insect life hummed and murmured, and the lark rose and sang above
his head, he felt happier than he had done for many a long month.
So his heart opened towards his companion, who kept a little
behind him.

"What size do you take 'em out, keeper?"

"Anything over nine inches, sir. But there's a smartish few fish
of three pounds, for them as can catch 'em."

"Well, that's goo