This was our opportunity. We used it with dignified leisure. The Enemy's hosts were gone. At the best they could not be expected to rescue the laddie and the salmon in less than half an hour. Thus, Miss Winsome and I were in no whit flurried when, having cut across the gorse-covered hill to the high road, we entered the avenue of Sir John's abode. True, there was a slight embarrassment afterwards. On entering the drawing-room before dinner, what did I behold? Miss Winsome in sprightly and ingenuous conversation with the Enemy ! She was assuring him that, while no river in the country had such clouds of March Browns as the Tay, somehow or other the March Brown was not the best fly there. Yellow Sally was the fly for her. Sally, in real life, was a comparatively rare bird, which, no doubt, was why the trout appreciated her so highly. To this discourse the Enemy listened with rubicund and gallant courtesy. Would not Miss Winsome give Sally a trial on the Otter's Stone Pool? Although that was on his own stretch, he really did think he could commend it. Always there were big trout there; often, in autumn, grayling; and the first run of grilse was due. He did trust that next time she went fishing Miss Winsome would honour him by casting a fly on the pool. As she placed her hand on the Enemy's arm and turned towards the door, I heard her most graciously accepting the invitation.
Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.