lace at the window
watching Shock go to and fro, carrying baskets of what seemed to be
beans, George Day came along.

"I say," he cried, "ask leave to come with us. We've got a
half-holiday."

Just then I saw the bristling shoots on the wall shake, but I paid no
heed, for I was too much interested in my new friend's words.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Oh, down the meadows! that's the best place, and there's no end of fun
to be had. I'll take a fishing-rod." I went to where my mother was
lying down and asked her consent, receiving a feeble _yes_, and her hand
went up to my neck, to draw me down that she might kiss me.

"Be back in good time," she whispered. "George Day, you said?"

"Yes; his father is something in London, and he goes to the
grammar-school."

"Be back in good time," she whispered again; and getting my cap, I just
caught sight of Shock at the top of the wall as I ran by the window.

"Poor fellow!" I thought, "how he, too, would like a holiday!"

"Here I am," I cried; and feeling as if I had been just released from
some long confinement, I set off with my companion at a sharp run.

We had to call at his house, a large red brick place just at the end of
the village, close to Isleworth church, where the rod was obtained, with
a basket to hold bait, lines, and the fish that we were going to catch;
and soon after we were down where the sleek cows were contentedly lying
about munching, and giving their heads an angry toss now and then to
keep off the flies.

Rich grass, golden butter-cups, bushes and trees whose boughs swept down
towards the ground, swallows and swifts darting here and there, and
beneath the vividly blue sky there was the river like so much damascened
silver, for in those days one never thought about the mud.

I cannot describe the joy I felt in running here and there with my
companion, and a couple of his school-fellows who had preceded us, and
who saluted us as we approached with a shout.

We ran about till we were tired, and then the fishing commenced from the
bank, for the tide was well up, and according to my companion's account
the fish were in plenty.

Perhaps they were, but though bait after bait was placed upon the hook,
and the line thrown out to float along with the current, not a fish was
caught, no vestige of that nerve-titillating tremble of the float--a
bite--was seen.

Every now and then some one struck sharply, trying to make himself
believe that r