t daylight, and
while other boys might be yawning at being called to breakfast Dick
would be found hovering over his favorite hole, tempting the finny tribe
with the fattest of worms and grubs.

When he came in a short time later from getting his bait Mrs. Morrison
had some lunch prepared, knowing that he had to go quite a little
distance up the river to do his fishing, and might not want to tramp
all the way home at noon.

"I would have done that myself; but you are the dearest little mother on
earth. Look for me about supper time. I wouldn't stay so late, but you
know the fish sometimes take to biting again just near sundown; and a
fellow hates to give up when they act as if they were hungry. If I have
too heavy a load I might make some arrangement with old Ben Carberry to
loan me his rig; so don't be surprised if you see it backing up to the
door," and with a laugh he ran off.

As the antiquated horse and dilapidated vehicle owned by old Ben had
been the joke of the town for many a year his allusion was understood by
Mrs. Morrison; so that she found herself also laughing as she in
imagination saw the astonishment of the neighbors should such a thing
occur, which, of course, was about as likely as a gold mine being
discovered in their back garden.

Whistling as he went, Dick proceeded along the road.

Boy-like he was always on the watch for a chance to get a ride, and
being overtaken by a farmer's wagon on the way home from early market he
asked permission to climb in behind.

"Get up here along with me, Dick," replied the old gray-whiskered
countryman, making room on the seat, for he happened to know the lad,
perhaps because Mr. Morrison had plied his trade as carpenter around
the entire section years ago.

Of course Dick gladly took advantage of the opportunity, and the farmer
soon engaged him in conversation, asking about his mother, and telling
several things in connection with his father that the boy had never
heard before.

They were of a character to make him proud, for no one ever had anything
but good words to say of the honest and thrifty carpenter, whose work
always bore the most rigid scrutiny, and could be depended on.

"Where are ye goin' fishin', son?" finally asked the old man, possibly
thinking of days long since gone by when he too used to take advantage
of every chance to slip away from the heavy work of the farm, and, with
pole over his shoulder seek the quiet retreats along that same ri