acts beforehand, but
every word had vanished from his memory. He had only a confused,
desperate consciousness that he had a theft to confess and that it
must be done as soon as possible. He did not sit down.

"Please, Mr. Walters," he began desperately, "I came to tell you--your
notice--I never saw it before--and I've been fishing on your pond all
summer--but I didn't know--honest--I've brought you all I caught
today--and I'll pay back for them all--some time."

An amused, puzzled expression crossed Mr. Walters's noncommittal face.
He pushed the leather chair forward.

"Sit down, my boy," he said kindly. "I don't quite understand this
somewhat mixed-up statement of yours. You've been fishing on my pond,
you say. Didn't you see my notice in the _Advertiser_?"

Dan sat down more composedly. The revelation was over and he was still
alive.

"No, sir. We hardly ever see an _Advertiser_, and nobody told me. I'd
always been used to fishing there, and I never thought but what it was
all right to keep on. I know I ought to have remembered and asked you,
but truly, sir, I didn't mean to steal your fish. I used to sell them
over at the hotels. We saw the notice today, Mother and me, and I came
right up. I've brought you the trout I caught this morning, and--if
only you won't prosecute me, sir, I'll pay back every cent I got for
the others--every cent, sir--if you'll give me time."

Mr. Walters passed his hand across his mouth to conceal something like
a smile.

"Your name is Dan Phillips, isn't it?" he said irrelevantly, "and you
live with your mother, the Widow Phillips, down there at Carleton
Corners, I understand."

"Yes, sir," said Dan, wondering how Mr. Walters knew so much about
him, and if these were the preliminaries of prosecution.

Mr. Walters took up his pen and drew a blank sheet towards him.

"Well, Dan, I put that notice in because I found that many people who
used to fish on my pond, irrespective of leave or licence, were
accustomed to lunch or camp on my property, and did not a little
damage. I don't care for trouting myself; I've no time for it.
However, I hardly think you'll do much damage. You can keep on
fishing there. I'll give you a written permission, so that if any of
my men see you they won't interfere with you. As for these trout here,
I'll buy them from you at Mosquito Lake prices, and will say no more
about the matter. How will that do?"

"Thank you, sir," stammered Dan. He could hardly be