e had taken cold.

"Go on, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, as soon as she had recovered herself,
nodding imperatively to him. "How many fish did you catch?"

"Oh, a great many!" replied the boy, rather soberly. "Dr. Flower is a
first-rate fisherman, and he caught a lot every day; and the other two
doctors caught some. But Mr. Packard,"--here his eyes began to twinkle
again, and his voice took on its usual cheerful ring,--"poor Mr.
Packard, he did have hard luck. The first time he threw a fly it caught
in a tree, and got all tangled up, so 't he was an hour and more getting
his line free. Then he thought 't would be better on the other side of
the stream; so he started to cross over, and stepped into a deep hole,
and down he sat with a splash, and one of his rubber boots came off, and
he dropped his rod. Of all the unlucky people I ever saw! I tell you, 't
was enough to make a frog laugh to see him fish! Then, of course, he'd
got the water all riled--"

"All--I beg your pardon?--riled?" asked Miss Wealthy, innocently.

"All muddy!" said Bubble, hastily; "so he couldn't fish there no more
for one while. And just then I happened to come along with a string of
trout--ten of 'em, and perfect beauties!--that I'd caught with a string
and a crooked pin; and that seemed to finish Mr. Packard entirely. Next
day he had rheumatism in his joints, and stayed in camp all day,
watching Marks making snow-shoes. The day after that he tried again, and
fished all the morning, and caught one yellow perch and an eel. The eel
danced right up in his face,--it did, sure as I'm alive, Pink!--and
scairt him so, I'm blessed if he didn't sit down again--ho! ho! ho!--on
a point o' rock, and slid off into the water, and lost his spectacles.
Oh, dear! it don't seem as if it could be true; but it is, every word.
The next day he went home. _He_'ll never go a-fishing again."

"Poor man! I should think not!" said Rose, compassionately. "But is Dr.
Flower--are all the others still there?"

"Gone home!" said Bubble. "We came out of the woods three days ago, and
took the train yesterday. I never thought of such a thing as stopping;
supposed I must go right back to work. But when the brakeman sung out,
'Next station Bywood!' Doctor just says quietly, 'Get your bag ready,
Bubble! You're going to get out at this station.' And when I looked at
him, all struck of a heap, as you may say, he says, 'Shut your mouth!
you look really better with it shut. There is a pat