I found Miss Wee-Wee in a secluded garden seat at the back of the Manse, incommoded, as usual, by the society of Mister Crum. "Sir," I said, addressing him politely (for I was extremely anxious for his departure, since I could not well present my salmon to Miss Wee-Wee and request the quid-pro-quo of her affection in his presence), "accept my gratitude for the usufruct of your rod, which has produced magnificent fruit. You will find the instrument leaning against the palings of the front garden." And with this I made secret signals to Miss Wee-Wee that she was to dismiss him; but she remained bashful, and he seemed totally unaware that he was the drug of the market!
At last, weary of concealing my captured salmon any longer behind the small of my back, I was about to inform Mister Crum that he had Miss Louisa's permission to absent himself, when she broke the silence by informing me that, as the old familiar friend of both parties, I was to be the first to hear a piece of news—to wit, that Donald (Mister C.'s baptismal appellation) and she were just become the engaged couple!
I was so overcome by grief and indignation at her perfidious duplicity (since she had frequently encouraged me in my mockeries of her admirer's uncouthness and rusticity), that I stuck in the throat, and then flung the salmon violently across a boundary hedge into a yard of poultry.
