Little Rivers [11]
art;
and they begin already, being human, to wish for something larger.
In the very last pool that they dare attempt--a dark hole under a
steep bank, where the brook issues from the woods--the boy drags
out the hoped-for prize, a splendid trout, longer than a new lead-
pencil. But he feels sure that there must be another, even larger,
in the same place. He swings his line out carefully over the
water, and just as he is about to drop it in, the little brother,
perched on the sloping brink, slips on the smooth pine-needles, and
goes sliddering down into the pool up to his waist. How he weeps
with dismay, and how funnily his dress sticks to him as he crawls
out! But his grief is soon assuaged by the privilege of carrying
the trout strung on an alder twig; and it is a happy, muddy, proud
pair of urchins that climb over the fence out of the field of
triumph at the close of the day.
What does the father say, as he meets them in the road? Is he
frowning or smiling under that big brown beard? You cannot be
quite sure. But one thing is clear: he is as much elated over the
capture of the real trout as any one. He is ready to deal mildly
with a little irregularity for the sake of encouraging pluck and
perseverance. Before the three comrades have reached the hotel,
the boy has promised faithfully never to take his little brother
off again without asking leave; and the father has promised that
the boy shall have a real jointed fishing-rod of his own, so that
he will not need to borrow old Horace's pole any more.
At breakfast the next morning the family are to have a private
dish; not an every-day affair of vulgar, bony fish that nurses can
catch, but trout--three of them! But the boy looks up from the
table and sees the adored of his soul, Annie V----, sitting at the
other end of the room, and faring on the common food of mortals.
Shall she eat the ordinary breakfast while he feasts on dainties?
Do not other sportsmen send their spoils to the ladies whom they
admire? The waiter must bring a hot plate, and take this largest
trout to Miss V---- (Miss Annie, not her sister--make no mistake
about it).
The face of Augustus is as solemn as an ebony idol while he plays
his part of Cupid's messenger. The fair Annie affects surprise;
she accepts the offering rather indifferently; her curls drop down
over her cheeks to cover some small confusion. But for an instant
the corner of her eye catches the boy's sidelong glance, and she
nods perceptibly, whereupon his mother very inconsiderately calls
attention to the fact that yesterday's escapade has sun-burned his
face dreadfully.
Beautiful Annie V----, who, among all the unripened nymphs that
played at hide-and-seek among the maples on the hotel lawn, or
waded with white feet along the yellow beach beyond the point of
pines, flying with merry shrieks into the woods when a boat-load of
boys appeared suddenly around the corner, or danced the lancers in
the big, bare parlours before the grown-up ball began--who in all
that joyous, innocent bevy could be compared with you for charm or
daring? How your dark eyes sparkled, and how the long brown
ringlets tossed around your small head, when you stood up that
evening, slim and straight, and taller by half a head than your
companions, in the lamp-lit room where the children were playing
forfeits, and said, "There is not one boy here that DARES to kiss
ME!" Then you ran out on the dark porch, where the honeysuckle
vines grew up the tall, inane Corinthian pillars.
Did you blame the boy for following? And were you very angry,
indeed, about what happened,--until you broke out laughing at his
cravat, which had slipped around behind his ear? That was the
first time he ever noticed how much sweeter the honeysuckle smells
at night than in the day. It was his entrance examination in the
school of nature--human and otherwise. He felt that there was
and they begin already, being human, to wish for something larger.
In the very last pool that they dare attempt--a dark hole under a
steep bank, where the brook issues from the woods--the boy drags
out the hoped-for prize, a splendid trout, longer than a new lead-
pencil. But he feels sure that there must be another, even larger,
in the same place. He swings his line out carefully over the
water, and just as he is about to drop it in, the little brother,
perched on the sloping brink, slips on the smooth pine-needles, and
goes sliddering down into the pool up to his waist. How he weeps
with dismay, and how funnily his dress sticks to him as he crawls
out! But his grief is soon assuaged by the privilege of carrying
the trout strung on an alder twig; and it is a happy, muddy, proud
pair of urchins that climb over the fence out of the field of
triumph at the close of the day.
What does the father say, as he meets them in the road? Is he
frowning or smiling under that big brown beard? You cannot be
quite sure. But one thing is clear: he is as much elated over the
capture of the real trout as any one. He is ready to deal mildly
with a little irregularity for the sake of encouraging pluck and
perseverance. Before the three comrades have reached the hotel,
the boy has promised faithfully never to take his little brother
off again without asking leave; and the father has promised that
the boy shall have a real jointed fishing-rod of his own, so that
he will not need to borrow old Horace's pole any more.
At breakfast the next morning the family are to have a private
dish; not an every-day affair of vulgar, bony fish that nurses can
catch, but trout--three of them! But the boy looks up from the
table and sees the adored of his soul, Annie V----, sitting at the
other end of the room, and faring on the common food of mortals.
Shall she eat the ordinary breakfast while he feasts on dainties?
Do not other sportsmen send their spoils to the ladies whom they
admire? The waiter must bring a hot plate, and take this largest
trout to Miss V---- (Miss Annie, not her sister--make no mistake
about it).
The face of Augustus is as solemn as an ebony idol while he plays
his part of Cupid's messenger. The fair Annie affects surprise;
she accepts the offering rather indifferently; her curls drop down
over her cheeks to cover some small confusion. But for an instant
the corner of her eye catches the boy's sidelong glance, and she
nods perceptibly, whereupon his mother very inconsiderately calls
attention to the fact that yesterday's escapade has sun-burned his
face dreadfully.
Beautiful Annie V----, who, among all the unripened nymphs that
played at hide-and-seek among the maples on the hotel lawn, or
waded with white feet along the yellow beach beyond the point of
pines, flying with merry shrieks into the woods when a boat-load of
boys appeared suddenly around the corner, or danced the lancers in
the big, bare parlours before the grown-up ball began--who in all
that joyous, innocent bevy could be compared with you for charm or
daring? How your dark eyes sparkled, and how the long brown
ringlets tossed around your small head, when you stood up that
evening, slim and straight, and taller by half a head than your
companions, in the lamp-lit room where the children were playing
forfeits, and said, "There is not one boy here that DARES to kiss
ME!" Then you ran out on the dark porch, where the honeysuckle
vines grew up the tall, inane Corinthian pillars.
Did you blame the boy for following? And were you very angry,
indeed, about what happened,--until you broke out laughing at his
cravat, which had slipped around behind his ear? That was the
first time he ever noticed how much sweeter the honeysuckle smells
at night than in the day. It was his entrance examination in the
school of nature--human and otherwise. He felt that there was