"Then," said Clem, dryly, "since it is so with us, let us fish!" and he threw his line into the stream. Cyn, Jo, and Mrs. Simonson followed his example. Quimby declined joining in the sport, and perhaps, likening himself to the fish, balanced himself on the log, and looked on with a pathetic face. Celeste, as in duty bound, remained by his side. Nattie, too, was an observer only, and from the expression off her face was decidedly not amused. "I think it is cruel!" she exclaimed, as Jo took a fish off Cyn's hook. "I--I quite agree with you!" Quimby replied quickly, in answer to Nattie's observation. "It is cruel!" "But perhaps the fish were made for people to catch," suggested the pacific Mrs. Simonson, who had not yet been able to get a bite. "Yes," acquiesced Clem, pulling up a skinny little fish. "They are no worse off than we poor mortals after all. We must each fulfill our destiny, whether man or fish." "Yes! it is all fate!" exclaimed Quimby vehemently. "We cannot help ourselves!" "You believe in fate then? I don't think I do!" said Cyn, with a glance half-humorous, half-pitying, at its victim on the log; "what incentive would we have to any effort, if we were sure everything was marked out for us in advance?" "That is a question requiring too much effort for us to discuss on a warm day," said Nattie. "Certain circumstances must bring about certain results, you will acknowledge," Clem gravely remarked. "But, it is said that every soul that is born has a twin somewhere; and if so, that must be fate!" said Mrs. Simonson. "Miss Kling's theory, I believe!" laughed Nattie. "If it is so, the right ones don't often come together," said Quimby gloomily. "_We_ are an exception, then, to the general rule!" simpered Celeste. Quimby groaned, and then murmured something about the toothache. "Poor fellow!" said Cyn, in a low voice, to Nattie. "After all, there _is_ something in fate," Nattie sighed. "Perhaps so," she said. "Well, we will not get solemn over fate," said Jo, cheerily; then, in a lower voice, as he glanced at Cyn, he added--"yet." "And do not frighten away what few fish there are here, with your theories," commanded Clem. Although this mandate was obeyed, and for a time silence reigned, it was not long before they were all singing a gay song, started by Clem himself, even Quimby joining in the chorus with a feeble tenor. But they were tired of fishing by that time, and began to feel as if a little refreshment would not be out of place, and would indeed enhance the loveliness of Nature, so a fire was made, and lunch-baskets unpacked. "It will take a good many of those fish for a mouthful," declared Clem, who was cook. "You may have my share, I can't eat creatures I have seen squirm," said Nattie. "Ah, you fastidious young woman! what shall I ever do with you, if you are cast away on a desert island with me?" exclaimed Clem, in mock despair.