she threw into the midst of the weeds and wild flowers a struggling fish
which Martin hastened to take from the hook.

"A fine fellow!" he cried, "and he has arrived just in time to make a
dainty dish for your supper."

"Ah, no!" she said, winding the line about her rod; "if I were to take
that fish to the house, it would sorely disturb Madam Bonnet. She would
object to my catching it; she would object to having it prepared for the
table; she would object to having it eaten, when she had arranged that
we should eat something else. No, I will give it to you, Master
Newcombe; I suppose in your house you can cook and eat what you please."

"Yes," said he; "but how delightful it would be if we could eat it
together."

"Meaning," said she, "that I should never eat other fish than those from
this river. No, sir; that may not be. I have a notion that the first
foreign fish I shall eat will be found in the island of Jamaica, for my
father said, that possibly he might first take a trip there, where lives
my mother's brother, whom we have not seen for a long time. But, as I
told you before, nobody must know this. And now I must go to my supper,
and you must take yours home with you."

"And I am sure it will be the sweetest fish," he said, "that was ever
caught in all these waters. But I beg, before you go, you will promise
me one thing."

"Promise you!" said she, quite loftily.