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"They don't bite to-day. Caught any down your garden!" "No," said Dexter, to whom the company of the boy was very cheering just then. "I haven't tried since." "You are a fellow! Why, if I had a chance like you have, I should be always at it." "I say, what did you say your name was?" "Bob Dimsted--Bob," said the fisher, throwing in again. "I know what yours is. You come out of the workus." "Yes," said Dexter sadly, as he wondered whether he did not wish he was there now. "I came out of the workus--workhouse," he added, as he remembered one of Helen's teachings. "Why don't you get your rod some day, and a basket of something to eat, and come right up the river with me, fishing? There's whackers up there." "I should like to," said Dexter thoughtfully, for the idea of the fishing seemed to drive away the troubles from which he suffered. "Well, come then. I'd go any day, only you must let me have all you caught." "All?" said Dexter, as he began to think of trophies. "Yes. As I showed you the place where they're caught, I should want to take them home." "All right," said Dexter. "You could have them." "Ah, it's all very well," said the boy, "but there wouldn't be many that you caught, mate. Ah! No, he's off again. Keep a little furder back." Dexter obeyed, and sat down on the grass, feeling in a half-despairing mood, but as if the company of this rough boy was very pleasant after what he had gone through, and that boys like this were more agreeable to talk to than young tyrants of the class of Edgar Danby. "Fish don't half bite to-day," said Bob Dimsted. "I wish you'd got a rod here, I could lend you a line--single hair." "But I haven't got a rod." "Well, run home and fetch it," said Bob. "Run home and fetch it?" How could he run home and fetch it? How could he ever go back to the doctor's again? "No," he said at last, as he shook his head. "I can't go and fetch it." "Then you can't fish," said the boy, "and 'tain't much use. It's no fun unless they bite, and some days it don't matter how you try, they won't." "Won't they?" said Dexter, and then he started to his feet, for a familiar voice had spoken close to his ear-- "Why, Dexter!" The voice was as full of astonishment as the pleasant face which looked in his. "I thought you were at Sir James Danby's! Is Edgar out here, in the meadows!" "No--no," faltered Dexter; and Bob Dimsted began to gather u
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