Daisy watched him running
at full speed down the brook till he was out of sight.
"Has he done it?" said Preston returning. "The rascal hasn't put any
bait on. However, Daisy, it's no use coaxing the trout in _this_ place
at present--and I haven't found any other good spots for some distance
up;--suppose we have our lunch and try again?"
"O yes!" said Daisy. "The other basket is down by my fishing-place--it's
just as pleasant there, Preston."
They went back to the basket, and a very convenient huge rock was found
on the edge of the brook, which would serve for table and seats too, it
was so large and smooth. Preston took his place upon it, and Daisy at
the other end with the basket began to unpack.
"Napkins?" said Preston--"you have no right to be so luxurious on a
fishing party."
"Why not?"
"Why because a fisher is a kind of a Spartan animal, while he is about
his business."
"What kind of an animal is that?" said Daisy, looking up from her
arrangements. She had set out a plate of delicate rolls, and another
with bread and butter folded in, a napkin; and still she paused with her
hand in the basket.
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