But the idea had caught Condy's fancy.

"Blix!" he exclaimed, "let's go fishing."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Where DO people fish around here? Where there's
water, I presume."

"No, is it possible?" she asked with deep concern. "I thought
they fished in their back yards, or in their front parlors
perhaps."

"Oh, you be quiet! you're all the time guying me," he answered.
"Let me think--let me think," he went on, frowning heavily,
scouring at his hair. Suddenly he slapped a thigh.

"Come on," he cried, "I've an idea!" He was already half-way down
the steps, when Blix called him back.

"Leave it all to me," he assured her; "trust me IMPLICITLY. Don't
you want to go?" he demanded with abrupt disappointment.

"Want to!" she exclaimed. "Why, it would be the very best kind of
fun, but--"

"Well, then, come along."

They took a downtown car.