"Charlie Eldridge with a fish-pole," repeated[15] Abbie. "Mercy! Where do you s'pose he was goin'?"

[15]

"I never in all my life knew of Charlie Eldridge goin' a-fishin'," Rebecca rejoined. "Not that he ain't got a perfect right to fish if he wants to outside bankin' hours. But—"

"But Charlie fishin'!" interrupted Abbie, cutting her friend short. "Why, he'd no more dirty his lily-white hands puttin' a squirmin' worm on a fish-hook than he'd cut off his head. In fact, I don't believe he'd know how. You didn't, likely, see where he went."

"Wal—er—yes. We did."

Zenas Henry wheeled about.

Clearing his throat, he darted a glance at Lemuel.

"Havin' completed the business that took us to the store—" he began.

"Havin', in short, asked for the mail an' found there warn't none," laughed Abbie, mischievously.

Zenas Henry ignored the comment.

"We walked along in Charlie's wake," he continued.

"Followed him?"

"Wal—somethin' of the sort. You might, I s'pose, call it follerin'," Zenas Henry admitted shamefacedly. "Anyhow, Lemmy an' me trudged along behind him at what we considered a suitable distance."

[16]

[16]

"Where'd he go?" Rebecca urged, her face alight with curiosity.

"Wal, Charlie swung along, kinder whistlin' to himself, an' ketchin' his pole in the trees and brushes 'til he come to the fork of the road. Then he made for the shore."

"So he was really goin' fishin'," mused Abbie, a suggestion of disappointment in her voice.

"He certainly was. Oh, Charlie was goin' fishin' right 'nough. He was aimed for deep water," grinned Zenas Henry.

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