here. I
tell you I don't understand it. If you see your float begin to tremble,
and then give a little dip down as if it was going to sink, pull your
line out of the water; you will most likely find a fish at the end of
it. When I ask mamma what all this means, she says there is a reason,
and I am not old enough to understand it, and she looks unhappy, and
she gives me a kiss, and it ends in that way. You've got a bite; no you
haven't; it's only a nibble; fish are so sly. And grandmamma is worse
still. Sometimes she tells me I'm a spoiled child; and sometimes she
says well-behaved little girls don't ask questions. That's nonsense--and
I think it's hard on me. You look uncomfortable. Is it my fault? I don't
want to bother you; I only want to know why Syd has gone away. When I
was younger I might have thought the fairies had taken her. Oh, no! that
won't do any longer; I'm too old. Now tell me."

Mr. Sarrazin weakly attempted to gain time: he looked at his watch.
Kitty looked over his shoulder: "Oh, we needn't be in a hurry; breakfast
won't be ready for half an hour yet. Plenty of time to talk of Syd; go
on."

Most unwisely (seeing that he had to deal with a clever child, and
that child a girl), Mr. Sarrazin tried flat denial as a way out of the
difficulty. He said: "I don't know why she has gone away." The next
question followed instantly: "Well, then, what do you _think_ about it?"
In sheer despair, the persecuted friend said the first thing that came
into his head.

"I think she has gone to be married."

Kitty was indignant.

"Gone to be married, and not tell me!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean
by that?"

Mr. Sarrazin's professional experience of women and marriages failed
to supply him with an answer. In this difficulty he exerted his
imagination, and invented something that no woman ever did yet. "She's
waiting," he said, "to see how her marriage succeeds, before she tells
anybody about it."

This sounded probable to the mind of a child.

"I hope she hasn't married a beast," Kitty said, with a serious face and
an ominous shake of the head. "When shall I hear from Syd?"

Mr. Sarrazin tried another prevarication--with better results this
time. "You will be the first person she writes to, of course." As that
excusable lie passed his lips, his float began to tremble. Here was a
chance of changing the subject--"I've got a fish!" he cried.

Kitty was immediately interested. She threw down her own rod, and