“Now, Daisy,” said Preston, “I think this will do.  Can’t have a better place.  I’ll try and get you to work here.”

“And now, how must I manage, Preston?” said Daisy anxiously.

“I’ll shew you.”

Daisy watched while Preston took out and put together the light rod which she was to use, and fixed a fly for the bait.

“Do you see that little waterfall, Daisy?”

“Yes.”

“And you see where the water curls round just under the fall?”

“Yes.”

“That is where you must cast your fly.  I should think there must be some speckled fellows there.  What glory, Daisy, if you should catch one!”

“Well, what must I do, Preston?”

“Throw your fly over, so that it may light just there, and then watch; and if a fish jumps up and catches it, you pull your line away and catch the fish.”

“But I can’t throw it from here?  I must go nearer.”

“No, you mustn’t—­you’re near enough; stand just here.  Try if you can’t throw your fly there.  If you went nearer, you would frighten the fish.  They are just about as shy as if they were Daisies.  Now I will go a little further off and see what I can do.  You’ll catch the first fish!”

“No, I shall not,” said Daisy, gravely.

She tried with a beating heart to throw her line; she tried very hard.  The first time it landed on the opposite side of the brook.  The next time it landed on a big stone this side of the waterfall.  The third trial fastened the hook firmly in Daisy’s hat.  In vain Daisy gently sought to release it; she was obliged at last to ask help of Sam.

“That ar’s no good, Miss Daisy,” said Sam, as he got the fly out of its difficulty.

“If I could only throw it in——­” said Daisy.  And this time with a very great effort she did succeed in swinging the bait by a gentle motion to the very spot.  No statue was more motionless than Daisy then.  She had eyes and ears for nothing but the trout in the brook.  Minutes went by.  The brook leaped and sang on its way the air brought the sweet odours of mosses and ferns; the leaves flapped idly overhead; you could hear every little sound.  For there sat Daisy and there stood Sam, as still as the stones.  Time went by.  At last a sigh came from Daisy’s weary little body, which she had not dared to move an inch for half an hour.

[Illustration:  HILLSDALE.]

“Tain’t no good, Miss Daisy,” whispered Sam.

“I can’t keep it still,” said Daisy under her breath, as if the fishes would hear and understand her.

“Suppos’n you try t’other bait, Miss Daisy.”

“What bait?”

“O t’other kind, Miss Daisy.  Will I put it on for you to try?”

Daisy sat awhile longer however, in silence and watching, until every joint was weary and her patience too.  Then she left the rod in Sam’s hands and went up to see what Preston was doing.  He was some distance higher up the stream.  Slowly and carefully Daisy crept near, till she could see his basket, and find out how much he had in it.  That view loosed her tongue.