be blowing the water with bellows instead of the fire, and if Walters
catches me at it, he'll tell everybody that I've gone mad."

"Then you will help me?" he said, appealingly.

"Oh yes, I'll help you," I replied, and he looked so big and boyish that
I felt as if I ought to slap him over the back and call him "old chap."

"Thank you, thank you," he said in his mild way; "and--er--er--"

Then he stopped, with his mouth opening and shutting; and as I stared at
him, I could not help thinking how like he was to one of his fish.

"Yes," I said; "you were going to say something."

"Eh? Was I?" he said, looking quite red in the face, and uneasy. "Oh,
it was nothing--nothing--I--er--I hardly know what I was about to say.
Yes, I do," he cried, desperately; "I remember now. You were close to
us this morning when Mr Denning spoke to me. Did you hear what he
said?"

"No, I was too far off," I replied; "but he seemed to be speaking
snappishly."

"Yes, he does sometimes; I'm afraid that he does not like me."

"You worry him," I thought to myself, "by hanging about him so, and
talking to Miss Denning when he wants her to read to him."

"Yes?" said Mr Preddle; "what were you thinking?"

"Oh, about what you said. He is irritable, you know, from bad health."

"Yes," he said, quite in a whisper, "irritable from bad health, poor
fellow."

He stood with the little landing-net in his hand, gazing down into the
trough nearest to us as if watching the little trout; but his thoughts
were, I dare say, of something else, and I did not like to disturb him,
but stood giving a side look now and then at him, but for the most part
watching his charge, and thinking how thoroughly man had imitated the
shape of a fish in making a ship, even to the tail to steer it with.
Then all at once I looked up, for there were voices outside, and I knew
it was Jarette the Frenchman saying something very earnestly to Walters.

I did not hear what either of them said, for they spoke in a very low
tone, and in French. But I caught just the last words which were
uttered by Jarette, and they were these--

"Mais prenez-garde, mon ami. Prenez-garde."

Then they had passed on, and all was silent again, with Mr Preddle
still watching the fish.

"`But take care, my friend, take care.' That's what he said," I thought
to myself; "I know French enough for that. Take care of what? And why
does he call Walters `my friend'? He's only a common sailor, a