“I suppose,” said he, with a little hesitation—­for he did not know whether to mention Miss Cunyngham’s name or not—­he was afraid he might betray some quite uncalled-for embarrassment—­“I suppose you know the flies they use on the Aivron this time of year.”

Mr. Watson knew well enough; who better!

“I mean on the Strathaivron Lodge stretch of the water?” Lionel continued.

“Oh, yes; I am often sending flies to Miss Cunyngham,” was the answer.

“Oh, Miss Cunyngham?” said Lionel.  “It is for her I want some flies.”

“Very well, sir, I will make up a small packet, and send it to her?  Miss Cunyngham has an account with me—­”

“No, no, that isn’t what I mean at all,” Lionel interposed, hastily.  “I want to make Miss Cunyngham a little present.  The fact is, I was using her book,” he observed, with some importance (as if it could in the least concern a worthy tackle-maker in Inverness to know who had gone fishing with Miss Cunyngham), “and I whipped off a good number, so I want to make amends, don’t you see?”

“Very well, sir; how many will I put up?”

“All you’ve got,” was the prompt reply.

Mr. Watson stared.

“Oh, yes,” Lionel said.  “Miss Cunyngham may as well have a good stock at once.  You know the proper kinds—­Blue Doctors, Childerses, Jock Scotts, Dirty Yellows, Bishops, Bees—­that’s about it, isn’t it?—­and put in plenty of various sizes.  Then don’t make a parcel of them; put them into those japanned boxes with the cork in them—­never mind how many; and if you can’t tell me at once how much it will all come to, I will leave you my London address, and you’ll send the bill to me.  Now if you will be so kind as to give me a sheet of paper and an envelope, I will write a note to accompany the packet.”

Mr. Watson probably thought that this young man was daft, but it was not his business to say so; he took down his erratic customer’s address and said that all his instructions would be attended to forthwith.

Next Lionel went to a tobacconist’s shop, and (for he was a most lavish young man) he ordered a prodigious quantity of “twist,” which he had made up into two parcels, the smaller one for Roderick, the larger to be divided equally among the other keepers and gillies.  The two parcels he had put into a wooden case, which, again, was filled up with boxes of vesuvians, three or four dozen or so; and it is to be imagined that when that small hamper was opened at Strathaivron there was many a chuckle of gratification over the division of the splendid spoil.