rait of
Dante, but--I am asking the reader to tax his imagination--with
humorous wrinkles set about the eyes, their high austerity clean
taken away and replaced by a look of very mundane shrewdness, and
lastly a grosser chin and mouth with a touch of the laughing faun in
their folds and corners. "You are concealing your real reasons,"
said Brother Warboise.

"That," answered Brother Copas, "has been defined for the true
function of speech. . . . But I am quite serious this time, and I ask
you again to let Brother Bonaday off and take me on. You will find
it worth while."

Brother Warboise could not see for the life of him why, at a time
when it behoved all defenders of the reformed religion to stand
shoulder to shoulder, Brother Bonaday should want to be let off.

"No?" said Brother Copas, picking up his rod again. "Well, those are
my terms . . . and, excuse me, but was not that a fish over yonder?
They are beginning to rise. . . ."

Brother Warboise muttered that he would think it over, and resumed
his walk.

"He'll agree, safe enough. And now, no more talking!"

But after a cast or two Brother Copas broke his own injunction.

"A Protestant! . . . I'm doing a lot for you, friend. But you must
go to the Master this very evening. No time to be lost, I tell you!
Why, if he consent, there are a score of small things to be bought to
make the place fit for a small child. Get out pencil and paper and
make a list. . . . Well, where do we begin?"

"I--I'm sure I don't know," confessed Brother Bonaday helplessly.
"I never, so to speak, had a child before, you see."

"Nor I . . . but damn it, man, let's do our best and take things in
order! When she arrives--let me see--the first thing is, she'll be
hungry. That necessitates a small knife and fork. Knife, fork and
spoon; regular godfather's gift. You must let me stand godfather and
supply 'em. You don't happen to know if she's been christened, by
the way?"

"No--o. I suppose they look after these things in America?"

"Probably--after a fashion," said Brother Copas with a fine smile.
"Heavens! if as a Protestant I am to fight the first round over
Infant Baptism--"

"There _is_ a font in the chapel."

"Yes. I have often wondered why."

Brother Copas appeared to meditate this as he slowly drew back his
rod and made a fresh cast. Again the fly dropped short of the alder
stump by a few inches, and fell delicately on the dark water below
it. There