DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT loi 



for he called me 'Green' as he hastily lifted the Hd of 

 my bait-can, and got some water in his eye from a 

 fluttering tail. 



'Splendid lot. Green, splendid. Been waiting 

 here for hours and hours for you. Don't remember 

 ever being so glad to see a man. Lost all our baits 

 in the night.' 



'You see, Geen,' said the artist, 'in the little stream 

 close by we placed a hamper weighted with stones, 

 and, while it was held half under water, we put the 

 dace in, tied the cover down and let them sink.' 



I asked a question which brought : 'Of course 

 we did, and fastened it to a tree.' 



'Well, Geen, when we went this morning to see 

 that all was well with them, the hamper was gone, 

 and where do you think we found it? Why, half a 

 mile away, em.pty.' 



'Yes,' said the editor, 'and we could see the beggars 

 swimming up and down the stream, and we chased 

 them with sparrow-nets until we were tired. Glad 

 you have come; never saw a show go so rotten for 

 want of bossing. Glad you've come. Green.' 



With this he took up my bait-can, and saying, 

 'Come along,' he was off towards the meadow 

 gate. 



Some one has said that he believed in ghosts 

 implicitly until he saw one, and, I fear, had I been 

 asked at that mom.ent if I believed in editors, I should 

 have said, 'Implicitly, until I saw this fellow, who 

 calls me "Green," and has wallced off with my can of 

 baits.' He was in no way like the Apollo of my imagin- 

 ings; there did not seem enough of him to hold the vast 

 stores of assorted knowledge of the v/orld's doings 

 that editors possess. Nature seems to have endowed 

 the softer sex with guiding instincts in the mxatter of 

 first impressions, but it's a dangerous weakness in 

 a man to form opinions at first sight. I soon unlearned 

 my first impressions of the man who called me 'Green/ 



