"Oh, splendid!" she exclaimed, with enthusiasm."That big one must be a three-pounder.I envy you.Bass fishing is great sport.Did you get these on a fly--the bass, I mean?""No.I use a fly in the spring and fall, but seldom in June or July, here.Those were taken with live bait-shrimp.The pickerel with minnows.Are you fond of fishing, Miss Colton?""Yes, indeed.Whoa, Don! steady! Yes, I fish a good deal in September, when we are at our lodge in the Adirondacks.Trout there, principally.But I have caught bass in Maine.I thought Imust give it up this year.I did not know there were fish, in fresh water, on the Cape.""There are, a few.The people about here pay no attention to them.
They scorn such small fry.Cod and pollock are more in their line.""I suppose so.But that is all the better for you, isn't it? Were you fishing when I interrupted you?""No, I was just getting ready for lunch.My fire was ready to kindle.""Fire? Why did you need a fire?"
"For my coffee."
"Coffee! You are a luxurious picnicer, Mr.Paine.Hot coffee on a fishing trip! and without a guide.And you are unfeeling, besides, for you remind me that I am very hungry.I must go at once.How far am I from home? Four miles, did you say?""Four and a half, or more, by road.And the roads are like those you have been traveling this morning.I doubt if you could find the way, even with your horse's help.I must insist upon going with you as far as the main road between Denboro and Bayport.""I shall not permit it."
"But I insist."
Her answer was a little laugh.She put her foot in the stirrup and vaulted to the saddle.
"Your insisting is useless, you see," she said."You are on foot and I have the advantage.No, Don and I will go alone, thank you.
Now, will you please tell me the way?"
I shrugged my shoulders."Go back along the road you came," Isaid, "until you reach the second, no, the third, path to the right.Follow that to the second on the left.Then follow that for two hundred yards or so until--well, until you reach a clump of bushes, high bushes.Behind these is another path, a blind one, and you must take care to pick the right clump, because there is another one with a path behind it and that path joins the road to Harniss.If you should take the Harniss road you would go miles out of your way.Take the blind path I speak of and--"She interrupted me."Stop! stop!" she exclaimed; "please don't.Iam absolutely bewildered already.I had no idea I was in such a maze.Let me see! Second to the right; third to the left--""No, third to the right and second to the left.""And then the bushes and the choice of blind paths.Don, I see plainly that you and I must trust to Providence.Well, it is fortunate that the family are accustomed to my ways.They won't be alarmed, no matter how late I may be.""Miss Colton, I am not going to allow you to go alone.Of course Iam not.I can set you on the right road and get back here in plenty of time for fishing.The fish are not hungry in the middle of the day.""No, but you are.I know you must be, because--no, good day, Mr.
Paine."
She spoke to the horse and he began to move.I took my courage between my teeth, ran after the animal and seized the bridle.
"You are not going alone," I said, decidedly.I was smiling, but determined.
She looked at me in surprised indignation.
"What do you mean?" she said.
I merely smiled.Her chin lifted and her brows drew together.Irecognized that look; I had seen it before, on that afternoon when I announced my intention of carrying her from the dingy to the skiff.
"Will you be good enough to let go of my rein?" she asked.Every word was a sort of verbal icicle.I felt the chill and my smile was rather forced; but I held the bridle.
"No," I said, serenely as I could.For a minute--I suppose it was not longer than that, it seemed an hour to me--we remained as we were.Then her lips began to curl upward at the corners, and, to my surprise, she burst out laughing.
"Really, Mr.Paine," she said, "you are the most impossible person I ever met.Do you always order people about this way? I feel as if I were about five years old and you were my nurse.Are we to stand here the rest of the afternoon?""Yes; unless you permit me to go with you and show you the way.""But I can't.I'm not going to spoil your picnic.I know you want your lunch.You must.Or, if you don't, I want mine.""If you go alone, there are nine chances in ten that you will not get home in time for dinner, to say nothing of lunch."She looked at me oddly, I thought, and started to speak.Whatever it was she was going to say she evidently thought better of it, for she remained silent.
Then I had a new idea.Whether or not it was her look which inspired it I do not know.I think it must have been; I never would have dared such a thing without inspiration.
"Miss Colton," I said, hesitatingly, "if you really are not--if you are sure your people will not worry about you--I--I should be glad to share my lunch with you.Then we could go home together afterward."She did not look at me now.Instead she turned her head.
"Are--are you sure there is enough for two?" she asked, in a curiously choked tone.
By way of answer I led the horse to the bushes, drew the lunch basket from the shade, and threw back the cover.Dorinda's picnic lunches were triumphs and she had never put up a more tempting one.
Miss Colton looked down into the basket.
"Oh!" she exclaimed.
"There appears to be enough, doesn't there?" I observed, drily.
"But--but I couldn't think of...Are you sure I won't be...
Thank you.Yes, I'll stay."
Before I could offer my hand to help her from the saddle she sprang to the ground.Her eyes were sparkling.
"Mr.Paine," she said, in a burst of confidence, "it is shameless to tell you so, I know, but I was dreadfully afraid you weren't going to ask me.I am absolutely STARVED."
