CRITICISM.

Out of sympathy and respect for Mr and Mrs Macalister, nothing more
was said about the next picnic party for several days after their tragic
departure from the Glen, but the intervening time was, to Margot at
least, full of interest and excitement. One morning, for instance, as
she strolled from the breakfast-room to the road, as was the easy custom
of the hour, a hurried step followed in the same direction, and George
Elgood, staring hard in an opposite direction, advanced an opinion that
one lesson in fishing was mere waste of time, whereas two, or perhaps
three, might possibly convey some real knowledge of the art. Er--did
Miss Vane feel inclined to pay another visit to the river?

Miss Vane, poking the gravel with the points of her shoes, was--er--yes!
quite inclined, if Mr Elgood was sure she would not interrupt his sport
Mr Elgood, with equal eagerness and incoherence, assured Miss Vane that
she would do nothing of the kind, and hurried back to the inn, murmuring
vaguely concerning eleven o'clock.

In the quiet of the riverside, however, he regained his self-possession,
and once more proved himself to be the most interesting of companions,
the most patient of instructors. Margot thought fishing a delightful
and absorbing pursuit, which was the more remarkable as she was rather
stupid than otherwise in mastering the initial movements. Mr Elgood
encouraged her, however, by saying that some of the cleverest "rods" of
his acquaintance had been the slowest in picking up the knack. The
great thing was to have plenty of practice! She ought to come up every
morning for as much time as she could spare; meantime, as she had been
standing so long, would she not like to sit down, and rest awhile before
walking home?

Then they sat down side by side on the grassy bank, and talked together
as a man and a maid love to talk in the summer of their youth,
exchanging innocent confidences, comparing thoughts and opinions,
marvelling that they are so much alike.

Margot faithfully observed her promise to make no references to her
ambitions on her brother's behalf, and, truth to tell, her silence
involved little effort, for she was guiltily conscious of being so much
engrossed in her own affairs that even Ron's ambitions had faded into
the background. As for the lad himself, he was happy enough, wandering
about by himself studying "effects" to transcribe to paper, or scouring
the countryside with the Chieftain,