The Fishing of the Free Folk 97 



the rods, while a bull-necked chief of the free folk 

 haughtily leads past houses and staring eyes. Young 

 as she is, the she in her truly tells her how dearly 

 the he in him prizes that brief triumphal march past. 

 And if later the scales fall from her eyes, and, a past 

 mistress of other angling, she makes him follow, as 

 he should, and before a heap more folks, too, I'll not 

 blame her one bit. 



" Don't you go and tell about my wet foot," she 

 hoarsely whispers at the door. " If you don't, I 

 won't get croupy." And lest any one should get 

 away with a wrong impression, it's only fair to say 

 that the bargain was strictly fulfilled on both sides. 



