here you meant to, did you?"

"Hush, Jim!"

"Why, Fred, what am I saying wrong now? You're always hushing me up. I
didn't mean to guy him, but he did look so jolly glum."

Seeing that intervention was vain in this quarter, his sister essayed
a change of topic, and, womanlike, rushed on to the one she had most
steadfastly promised herself to avoid.

"Were you fishing when the accident happened?" She stopped and colored
nervously.

"No," observed Flint, dryly. (His remarks were the only dry things
about him.) "My fishing-rod happened to be broken. It is of no
consequence however," he hastened to add, seeing her blush deepen
painfully. "The fish about here are not gamey enough to make fishing
an exciting sport. Do you find it so?"

"I never fish."

"Ah, I am surprised."

"I hate to see the poor things suffer--"

"You are too tender-hearted?"

"Say rather too weak-nerved--I should not care if every fish in the
sea died a violent death after prolonged suffering, provided I was not
obliged to watch the process."

Flint smiled.

"But don't you know these cold-blooded creatures can't be made to
suffer? I dare say the keenest enjoyment a fish ever feels is when his
nervous system is gently stimulated by a hook in his mouth."

"Perhaps--I don't know--I tell you it is no question of sympathy. It
is simply physical repulsion; and then I loathe the soft slipperiness
of the bait."

"That's so," put in the boy at the tiller. "Fred groans every time I
put a worm on the hook, and squeals when the fish flop round in the
bottom of the boat, especially if they come anywhere near her skirts."

"Fred," repeated Flint to himself, "I might have known she would have
a boy's name--" Aloud, he said: "I suppose, Master Jim, you have found
all the best fishing-grounds in the pond."

Jim softened visibly at this tribute to his skill.

"Well, I know one good one over at Brightman's, and I'll show it to
you to-morrow, if you like."

His sister shot a warning glance from under her level eyebrows.

"Don't make plans too far ahead, Jim. Sufficient unto the day, you
remember--and unless this gentleman gets dry and warm soon, I am
afraid he will spend some days to come under the doctor's care.
Haven't you some brandy or whiskey?" she asked, turning more fully
toward Flint, and noticing for the first time that his lips were blue
and his teeth chattering in spite of his efforts at unconcerned
conversation.

"Yes," he answered; "a