Page 164 - A Little Bush Maid

CAMPTNG OUT

"About that fishing excursion, Norah?"

"Yes, Daddy." A small brown paw slid itself into Mr. Linton’s hand.

They were sitting on the verandah in the stillness of an autumn evening,
watching the shadows on the lawn become vague and indistinct, and finally

merge into one haze of dusk. Mr. Linton had been silent for a long time.
Norah always knew when her father wanted to talk. This evening she was

content to be silent, too, leaning against his knee in her own friendly
fashion as she curled up at his feet.

"Oh, you hadn’t forgotten, then?"

"Well--not much! Only T didn’t know if you really wanted to go, Daddy."

"Why, yes," said her father. "T think it would be rather a good idea, my

girlie. There’s not much doing on the place just now. T could easily be
spared. And we don’t want to leave our trip until the days grow shorter. The

moon will be right, too. Tt will be full in four or five days--T forget the exact
date. So, altogether, Norah, T think we’d better consult Brownie about the
commissariat department, and make our arrangements to go immediately."

"Tt’ll be simply lovely," said his daughter, breathing a long sigh of delight.

"Such a long time since we had a camping out--just you and me, Daddy."

"Yes, it’s a good while. Well, we’ve got to make up for lost time by

catching plenty of fish," said Mr. Linton. "T hope you haven’t forgotten the
whereabouts of that fine new hole of yours? You’ll have to take me to it if

Anglers’ Bend doesn’t come up to expectations."

A deep flush came into Norah’s face. For a little while she had almost

forgotten the Hermit--or, rather, he had ceased to occupy a prominent