Now it may be explained for the benefit of those inexperienced in such things that these fishing cobles have a cross bench placed about midway between the stern and the thwart occupied by the stroke oar; and the usual custom is for the fisherman to sit on this bench facing the stern, so that he can see both rods and be ready for the first shaking of the top. But Miss Carry did not understand this at all. In entering the coble she naturally took her place right astern, facing the rowers. It never entered her head to be guilty of the discourtesy of turning her back on them; besides, Ronald was directing her with his eyes as much as with his speech, and she must be able to see him; moreover he did not tell her she was sitting the wrong way; and then again was not the first signal to be the shrieking of the reel?—and both reels were now under her observation, so that she could snatch at either rod in a second. The consequence of all this was that she and Ronald sate face to face—not more than a yard and a half between them—their eyes exactly on a level—and when they spoke to each other, it was very distinctly _unter vier Augen_, for the boy at the bow was mostly hidden. ’Pappa dear,’ she said to her father that evening, ’he is a very nervous man.’ ’Who?’ ’Ronald.’ ’Nonsense. He is hard as nails. He don’t know what nerves mean.’ ’He is a very nervous man,’ she insisted (and had she not been studying him for a whole day?). ’His eyes throb when you meet them suddenly. Or rather he seems to know they are very powerful and penetrating—and he does not like to stare at you—so you can see there is a tremor of the lid sometimes as he looks up—as if he would partly veil his eyes. It’s very curious. He’s shy—like a wild animal almost. And that pretty girl I met this morning has something of that look too.’ ’Perhaps they’re not used to having the cold gaze of science turned on them,’ her father remarked drily. ’Is that me?’ ’You may take it that way.’ ’Then you’re quite wrong. It isn’t science at all. It is an active and benevolent sympathy; I am going to make friends with every one of them. Ronald says her name is Miss Douglas—and I mean to call.’ ’Very well, then,’ said her father, who left this young lady pretty much the mistress of her own actions. However, to return to the fishing: the morning did not promise well, the weather being too bright and clear, though there was a very fair breeze—of a curious sultry character for the middle of March—blowing up from the south and making a good ripple on the loch. Again and again the two boats crossed each other; and the invariable cry was— ’Nothing yet?’ And the answer— ’Not a touch.’