te
upon her lips.

"You're a very good boy now, Eugene; you get a clean shave every day. Do
you go to Collingwood for it in the night time, when I am in bed?"

"No, Marjorie; I get the cat to lick my face," the untruthful man
replied.

"What? our pussy Felina that spits at Muggy?"

"The very same."

"Then I'll ask Tryphosa's father if he would like to have the loan of
Felina. Don't you think she would do him good."

Coristine laughed, as he thought of Mr. Hill's stubbly countenance, and
carried "the darlin'" into the house.

At the dinner table he found himself punished for his day-dreaming.
Bangs was on one side of Miss Carmichael, and Bigglethorpe on the other,
and he was out in the cold, between the latter gentleman and the
minister. Mr. Bigglethorpe resumed the subject of fishing, and
interrogated his right hand neighbour as to his success at the River. He
laughed over the so-called mullets, and expressed a fisherman's contempt
for them as devourers of valuable spawn, relating also the fact that, in
the spring, when they swarm up into shallow parts of the stream, the
farmers shovel them out with large wooden scoops, and feed them to the
pigs or fertilize the land with them. Finding he had more than one
auditor, the fishing store-keeper questioned the Squire about the
contents of his brook, and, learning that dace, chubs, and crayfish were
its only occupants, promised to send Mrs. Carruthers a basket of trout
when the season came round. In order to give a classical turn to the
conversation, the dominie mentioned the name of Isaac Walton and
referred to his poor opinion of the chub in the river Lea. "I know the
Lea like a book," said Mr. Bigglethorpe, "and a dirty, muddy ditch it
has got to be since old Isaac's time. When I was a schoolboy I went
there fishing one afternoon with some companions, and caught not a
single fish, hardly got a nibble. We were going home disappointed, when
we saw a man at the reservoir above the river, near the Lea bridge, with
some eels in a basket. They were queer looking eels, but we bought them
for sixpence, and one of our fellows, called Wickens, put them in his
fishing can; then we maide for home. Before we could get there we had to
cross a pretty rough part of the Kingsland road. It was pretty dark,
but, of course, the shops were all lit up and we sawr a lot of boys,
common cads, coming our wy. Just in front of a public house they called
out 'Boots, Boots! fish, fish!' and ou