92 TROUT-FISHING IN BROOKS 



means sanguine. It was a broiling July day, as 

 his luck would have it, no breeze, and water sure 

 to be dead low. The parting words at the station 

 were like this : 



She : " Now, mind you bring back a lot of big, 

 fat ones. What a lovely day you have ! " 



He: " H'm, but suppose they won't take? 

 They don't always, you know, especially when it's 

 so hot and bright." 



She (enthusiastically): "Oh, you're sure to 

 catch them. You can do anything," et cetera. 



With many misgivings, B got to his brook, and 

 not a rise was to be seen. Trout seemed to have 

 got torpid in the low and heated water, and no 

 pattern had power to tempt them. What was 

 to be done ? Not even a solitary fish found place 

 in the creel, and the worst of all was having to 

 face the dear little soul who trusted him so 

 entirely. At length he flung ilown his rod in 

 despair (and with most improper language), and 

 having invoked our Lady Nicotiana, was dozing 

 under a hedge when he was suddenly accosted. 



' They bain't takin', be 'um, mister ? " 



A farmer's yokel was regarding him with the 

 usual idiotic grin. 



" No, confound them," he returned sulkily, " and 

 they're not going to. I may as well clear out." 



