morrow's excursion. Blix put up their lunch--sandwiches of what
Condy called "devilish" ham, hard-boiled eggs, stuffed olives, and
a bottle of claret.

Condy took off his coat and made a great show of stringing the
tackle: winding the lines from the spools on to the reels, and
attaching the sinkers and flies to the leaders, smoking the while,
and scowling fiercely. He got the lines fearfully and wonderfully
snarled, he caught the hooks in the table-cloth, he lost the
almost invisible gut leaders on the floor and looped the sinkers
on the lines when they should have gone on the leaders. In the
end Blix had to help him out, disentangling the lines foot by foot
with a patience that seemed to Condy little short of superhuman.

At nine o'clock she said decisively:

"Do you know what time we must get up in the morning if we are to
have breakfast and get the seven-forty train? Quarter of six by
the latest, and YOU must get up earlier than that, because you're
at the hotel and have further to go. Come here for breakfast,
and--listen--be here by half-past six--are you LISTENING, Condy?--
and we'll go down to the depot from here. Don't forget to bring
the rods."

"I'll wear my bicycle suit," he said, "and one of those golf
scarfs that wrap around your neck."

"No," she declared, "I won't have it. Wear the oldest clothes
you've got, but look fairly respectable, because we're to go to
Luna's when we get back, remember. And now go home; you need all