While Mr. Simms was gone down the brook, however, Mme. Lasalle permitted the pair next below to pass her and go up to stop Mr. Lasalle and Wych Hazel from proceeding any further.  So it came to pass that the highest group on the stream was composed of four instead of two; and the additional two were Stuart Nightingale and Miss Annabella Powder.  Now the fishing rods were put into the ladies’ hands; now the cavaliers attentively supplied their hooks with what was supposed to be bait, and performing afterwards the same office for their own, the brook presently had the appearance, or would to a bird’s-eye view, of a brook in toils.

‘What do we expect to catch, sir?’ asked Miss Kennedy of Mr. Lasalle, as she watched his motions and dropped her own line in imitation.

’If I were a member of the firm, I should say, “all hearts,” mademoiselle, without doubt.’

‘For shame, Mr. Lasalle!’ cried Miss Powder.

‘Fish are made to be caught, mademoiselle,’ said Mr. Lasalle, throwing his own line again.

’For shame, Mr. Lasalle!  How many hearts do you think one lady wishes to catch?’

’No limit that I know’—­said the gentleman serenely.

‘Well, but—­are there no other fish in this brook?’ said Wych Hazel.

‘Miss Kennedy makes small account of the first kind,’ said Stuart, laughing.  ’That sport is old already.  There must be difficulty to give interest, Lasalle, you know.’

‘You gentlemen are complimentary,’ said Miss Powder.

‘Upon my word, I said what I thought,’ replied the first gentleman.

‘Miss Kennedy,’ called Stuart out from his post down the brook; ’should compliments be true or false, to be compliments?  Miss Powder is too indignant to be judge in the case.’

‘I do not see how false ones can compliment,’ said the lady in green, much intent upon her line.  ’There!—­Mr. Lasalle—­is that what you call a bite?’

It was no bite.

‘But people need not know they are false?’ pursued Stuart.

‘Well,’ said Wych Hazel, looking down at him, ’you were talking of what things are—­not what they seem.’

‘You may observe,’ said Mr. Lasalle, ’that most people find it amusing to get bites—­if only they don’t know there’s no fish at the end of them.’  Mr. Lasalle spoke feelingly, for he had just hooked and drawn up what proved to be a bunch of weeds.

‘But where there is,’ said Wych hazel.  ’There!  Mr. Lasalle, I have got your fish!’ and swung up a glittering trophy high over the gentleman’s head.

‘The first fish caught, I’ll wager!’ cried Stuart; and he looked at his watch.  ’Twenty-seven minutes past twelve.  Was that skill or fortune, Miss Kennedy?’

‘Neither, sir,’ observed Mr. Simms, who had wandered that way in search of a hook.  ’There was no hope of Miss Kennedy’s descending to the bed of the brook—­what could the fish do but come to her?  Happy trout!’