"I have been watching you so often," said he, modestly, "that I must have learned something. And now you must take all the pools on the way home. I won't touch the rod again unless when wading is absolutely necessary. You see. I have no right to this salmon at all; I consider you have made me a present of him." "We must try and get another somehow, between us, before getting back to the lodge," said she; and this unconscious coupling of themselves as companions sounded pleasant to his ears. Moreover, as old Robert had now the fish to carry, Lionel, as usual, made bold to claim Miss Honnor's waterproof, which he slung over his arm; and that also was a privilege he greatly enjoyed. Indeed, his satisfaction as they now proceeded to walk along to the Horseshoe Pool was but natural in the circumstances. This charming companionship secured all to himself--the capture of the salmon--the tribute that had been paid to his skill--the magnetic waterproof hanging over his arm--the prospect of a long ramble home on this beautiful afternoon: all these things combined were surely sufficient to put any young man in an excellent humor. And there was something more in store for him. "Do you know," he was saying, as they walked along together, "that I have grown quite used to the solitariness of this neighborhood? I don't find it strange, or melancholy, or oppressive any longer. I suppose when I get back to a crowded city, the roar of it will be absolutely bewildering; indeed, I am looking forward with a good deal of interest to seeing something of the world again at Kilfearn--which can't be a very big place either." "Oh, are you going to the opening of the Kilfearn Town Hall?" she asked. "Yes," said he, with a little surprise, "I thought everybody was going. Aren't you? I understood the whole world--of Ross-shire--was to be there, and that I was to make a sudden plunge into a perfect whirlpool of human life." "It will amuse you," she said, with a quiet smile. "You will see all the county families there, staring at one another's guests; and you will hear a lot of songs, like 'My Pretty Jane' and 'Ever of Thee,' sung by bashful young ladies. At the opening of the proceedings my brother Hugh will make a speech; he is their chairman, and I know precisely what he will say. Hugh always speaks to the point. It will be something like this: 'Ladies and gentlemen, I am glad to see you here to-night. We still want L180. We mean to give two more concerts to clear the debt right off. You must all come and bring your friends. I will not longer stand in the way of the performers who have kindly volunteered their services.'" "And that is a most admirable speech," her companion exclaimed. "It says everything that is wanted and nothing more; I call it a model speech!" "Mr. Moore," she said, suddenly looking up, "are you going to sing at the concert?" "I believe so," he answered. "What are you going to sing?"