Charlie was a good talker, too, and told her how they had felled some wonderfully long trees, and how Narcisse was considered the best chopper in the camp, and could make a tree fall within an inch of where he wanted it.

As she listened, her eyes glowed and danced with excitement so as to make them dangerously attractive.  Little wonder indeed that both the young men found them very pleasant to look into.  To Charlie’s intense satisfaction, he decided, after shaking hands with her at the door, that she had seemed just as anxious that he should come and see her again as she did that Narcisse should.  Narcisse took the invitation in the most matter-of-fact manner, which created an impression in Charlie’s mind that Narcisse, perhaps, after all, only cared for Jessie in a brotherly way.

Both Charlie and Narcisse soon got the reputation of being devoted disciples of Izaak Walton.  They were to be seen every day wandering down to the river with divers devices to allure and entrap unsuspecting fish.  Their success in being able to catch little or nothing soon caused much merriment among the boarders where they stayed.  Of course, none of the scoffers knew that a very generous portion of the time that these ardent fishermen were supposed to be employing in catching fish, was spent lying on the broad of their backs on the fresh green grass discussing the virtues of the blue-eyed, vivacious young woman with whom the reader is already acquainted.  Very naturally the young fishermen did not deem it their duty to enlighten the boarders as to how they spent their time.

Three evenings a week, no matter what the weather was, they dressed up in their best suits and visited the little whitewashed cottage.  It would have taken a very keen observer to decide which of the young men she cared the most for, or whether, indeed, she had any tender feeling for either of them.  Both were always given a most cordial welcome.  If, however, Charlie had been a very close observer—­which was unfair to expect at such a time—­he might, perhaps, have noticed that at long intervals she stole a rapid glance at Narcisse when she knew his head was turned away from her—­a gentle, caressing look that either of them would have been delighted to intercept.

The weeks fled rapidly by, and the month’s vacation drew to a close.  Strange to say, for over a week neither of them had mentioned the trip to the west.  They went fishing together as usual, but her name very rarely passed their lips now.  Just exactly how the change had come about neither of them could tell, but something had come between them.  The little cloud at first was promptly banished, and they tried to be friendlier than ever.  But the cloud was persistent, and returned again and again, and each time it was harder to overthrow.  At first it was not larger than a man’s hand, but before the month had elapsed it had grown so that it had well-nigh separated them.  They both secretly mourned over