So there was, standing among them before any one had noticed him. "I announce," said he, "that I shall accept the most agreeable invitation that any one will give me. What are you going to do, Major?" "Going fishing." "Ah! and you, madam?" turning to Miss Thornton. "I am going to see Mrs. Lee, who has a low fever, poor thing." "Which Mrs. Lee, madam?" "Mrs. Lee of Eyford." "And which Mrs. Lee of Eyford, madam?" "Mrs. James Lee." "Junior or senior?" persevered the doctor. "Junior," replied Miss Thornton, laughing. "Ah!" said the Doctor, "now we have it. I would suggest that all the Mrs. Lees in the parish should have a ticket with a number on it, like the VOITURIERS. Buckley, lay it before the quarter-sessions. If you say the idea came from a foreigner, they would adopt it immediately. Miss Thornton, I will do myself the honour of accompanying you, and examining the case." So the ladies went off with the Doctor, while the Vicar and Major Buckley turned to go fishing. "I shall watch you, Major, instead of fishing myself," said the Vicar. "Where do you propose going?" "To the red water," said the Major. Accordingly they turn down a long, deep lane, which looks certainly as if it would lead one to a red brook, for the road and banks are of a brick-colour. And so it does, for presently before them they discern a red mill, and a broad, pleasant ford, where a crystal brook dimples and sparkles over a bed of reddish-purple pebbles. "It is very clear," says the Major. "What's the fly to be, Vicar?" "That's a very hard question to answer," says the Vicar. "Your Scotchman, eh? or a small blue dun?" "We'll try both," says the Major; and in a very short time it becomes apparent that the small dun is the man, for the trout seem to think that it is the very thing they have been looking for all day, and rise at it two at a time. They fish downwards; and after killing half-a-dozen half-pound fish, come to a place where another stream joins the first, making it double its original size, and here there is a great oak-root jutting into a large deep pool. The Vicar stands back, intensely excited. This is a sure place for a big fish. The Major, eager but cool, stoops down and puts his flies in just above the root at once; not as a greenhorn would, taking a few wide casts over the pool first, thereby standing a chance of hooking a little fish, and ruining his chance for a big one; and at the second trial a deep-bodied brown fellow, about two pounds, dashes at the treacherous little blue, and gulps him down. Then what a to-do is there. The Vicar jumping about on the grass, giving all sorts of contradictory advice. The Major, utterly despairing of ever getting his fish ashore, fighting a losing battle with infinite courage, determined that the trout shall remember him, at all events, if he does get away. And the trout, furious and indignant, but not in the least frightened, trying vainly to get back to the old root. Was there ever such a fish?