At ten precisely he was with me, nor did he forget ponderously to draw out his watch by way of emphasising his punctuality.
We were presently beside a small backwater. "Here," said William, "we can begin to fish. This rod," he continued (taking it from my hand), "is no good. I have one up at my cottage which is worth ten of he." So saying, he selected a fly from his cap, tied it on, and oiled it—all with great deliberation. "You won't find it easy under this tree, sir," he remarked, as he got out line. "There be a whopper lays under that elder. Shall I try for 'un?" It was at this point that I ought to have said: "No, William; I will." But he did not wait for my answer, and I could not snatch the rod out of his very hands. He rose the fish and appeared well satisfied. "Told 'ee so, sir," he said. "Now do 'ee cast in among they flags." I was glad enough to recover the rod, and fished for some minutes without success. "My, what a whop!" said William, though I could see for myself that the fly had not touched the water very lightly. Presently he said: "We'd best get down to the bottom of thick meadow. Main stream be easier fer 'ee." Down there we found some fly, and a rising trout, over which I made a number of infamous casts, to the accompaniment of William's "Too fur to the
