16 GOLDEN DAYS 



At last the fish came slowly in on its side, 

 a dark fin showing. The net was dexter- 

 ously slipped under him, and we had him 

 safely on the bank — a good fish, if rather 

 dark in colour, and well over two pounds. 

 So we came to the mill, Jean Pierre and 

 the trout proudly heading the procession. 

 The old mill kitchen seemed dark at 

 first as we came in from the strong light, 

 but soon one realised its warmth of colour 

 and its air of comfort. Gradually things 

 began to take form in this big living- 

 room. There was a glint of brass and 

 pewter on the long, low dresser by the 

 open hearth ; curtains of red hung over 

 the old wooden beds built into the wall, 

 with bright green blankets for coverlets. 

 The floor was of beaten earth, a glorified 

 ladder of age-worn oak led to the loft 

 above. The only modern touch was a 

 deep window built into the old wall at 

 the far end of the room, and through this 

 the sunlight glistened on a massive table. 

 Here the Greffier was carving cold wood- 

 cock, while the Mayor, in shirt-sleeves, 

 was mixing a salad with infinite precision. 

 Soon we were all partaking of a royal 



