Part 43 (1/2)
”I should like to,” said Dexter thoughtfully, for the idea of the fis.h.i.+ng seemed to drive away the troubles from which he suffered.
”Well, come then. I'd go any day, only you must let me have all you caught.”
”All?” said Dexter, as he began to think of trophies.
”Yes. As I showed you the place where they're caught, I should want to take them home.”
”All right,” said Dexter. ”You could have them.”
”Ah, it's all very well,” said the boy, ”but there wouldn't be many that you caught, mate. Ah! No, he's off again. Keep a little furder back.”
Dexter obeyed, and sat down on the gra.s.s, feeling in a half-despairing mood, but as if the company of this rough boy was very pleasant after what he had gone through, and that boys like this were more agreeable to talk to than young tyrants of the cla.s.s of Edgar Danby.
”Fish don't half bite to-day,” said Bob Dimsted. ”I wish you'd got a rod here, I could lend you a line--single hair.”
”But I haven't got a rod.”
”Well, run home and fetch it,” said Bob.
”Run home and fetch it?” How could he run home and fetch it? How could he ever go back to the doctor's again?
”No,” he said at last, as he shook his head. ”I can't go and fetch it.”
”Then you can't fish,” said the boy, ”and 'tain't much use. It's no fun unless they bite, and some days it don't matter how you try, they won't.”
”Won't they?” said Dexter, and then he started to his feet, for a familiar voice had spoken close to his ear--
”Why, Dexter!”
The voice was as full of astonishment as the pleasant face which looked in his.
”I thought you were at Sir James Danby's! Is Edgar out here, in the meadows!”
”No--no,” faltered Dexter; and Bob Dimsted began to gather up his tackle, so as to make a strategic movement, there being evidently trouble in the rear.
”But what does this mean?” said Helen firmly. ”Who is that boy?”
”Bob--Bob Dimsted.”
”And do you know him?”
”He--he was fis.h.i.+ng opposite our--your--garden the day I fell into the river,” faltered Dexter; and he looked longingly at Bob, who was quickly moving away, and wished that those eyes did not hold him so firmly, and keep him from doing the same.
”Was he at your school?”
”No,” faltered Dexter.
”Then I am sure papa would not like you to be making acquaintance with boy's like that. But come, Dexter. What is the meaning of all this? I left you at Sir James Danby's.”
”Yes,” said Dexter, shuffling from foot to foot.