ailing round
and round the pool, with the gaff still attached and the handle floating
parallel with its side.

"It will take some time, though," said she. "I think you'd better go
away home and get dry clothes on. I'll manage him by myself."

"I dare say you would manage him better by yourself than with any help
of mine," he said, in his bitter chagrin and self-contempt. "I made sure
I had lost you the salmon."

"And what then?" she said, with some surprise. "I assure you it wasn't
the salmon I was thinking of when I saw you in the water--but the moment
you struck out I knew you were safe."

He did not speak any more; he was too humiliated and vexed. It is true
that when, at length, the salmon, entirely dead beat, suffered himself
to be led in to the side of the rock, Lionel managed to seize the handle
of the gaff, and this time, making sure of his foothold, got the fish on
land; but this final success in no way atoned for his having so
desperately made a fool of himself. In silence he affixed the bit of
string she gave him to the head and tail of this very pretty
twelve-pounder; and in silence they set out, he carrying the salmon and
she the rod over her shoulder.

"It will be a surprise for old Robert when we meet him," she said,
cheerfully. "But he will wonder how you came to be so drenched."

"Yes," said he, "it will be a pretty story of tomfoolery for them all to
hear. I should like to make a comic drawing of it, if I could. It would
have done capitally for John Leech, among the exploits of Mr. Briggs."

She glanced at him curiously. She knew what he was thinking of--of the
tale that would be told among the keepers and the gillies of his having
soused himself into the Geinig Pool in trying to gaff a fish. And might
not the story find its way from the kennels into the gun-room, and
thence into the drawing-room?

There was no doubt he was thoroughly ashamed and crestfallen, and angry
with himself; and though she talked and chatted just as usual, he was
quite taciturn all the way down the side of the Geinig. They reached the
Junction Pool.

"Come now, Mr. Moore," she said, with the utmost good-nature, "you make
too much of that little mistake. You are far too afraid of ridicule. But
I am going to put it all right for you."

What was his astonishment and consternation to see her, after she had
laid her rod on the shingle, deliberately walk a yard or two into the
shallow water, and then throw herself down in