The Judge and Mr. Flippin were fishing, with grasshoppers for bait.  The fish that they caught they called “shiners.”  As an edible product “shiners” were of little account.  But the Judge and Mr. Flippin did not fish for food, they fished for sport.  It was mild sport compared to the fishing of other days when the Judge had waded into mountain streams with the water coming up close to the pocket of his flannel shirt where he kept his cigars, or had been poled by Bob Flippin from “riffle” to pool.  Those had been the days of speckled trout and small-mouthed bass, and Bob had been a boy and the Judge at middle age.  Now Bob Flippin had reached the middle years, and the Judge was old, but they still fished together.  They were comrades in a very close and special sense.  What Bob Flippin lacked in education and culture he made up in wisdom and adoration of the Judge.  When he talked he had something to say, but as a rule he let the Judge talk and was always an absorbed listener.

There was in their relations, however, a complete adjustment to the class distinctions which separated them.  The Judge accepted as his right the personal service with which Bob Flippin delighted to honor him.  It was always Bob who pulled the boat and carried the basket.  It was Bob who caught the grasshoppers and cooked the lunch.

There was one dish dedicated to a day’s fishing—­fried ham and eggs.  Bob had a long-handled frying-pan, and the food was seasoned with the salt and savor of the out-of-doors.

There were always several dogs to bear their masters company.  The Judge’s three were beagles—­tireless hunters of rabbits, and somewhat in disgrace as a species since Germany had gone to war with the world.  Individually, however, they were beloved by the Judge because they were the children and grandchildren of a certain old Dinah who had slept in a basket by his bed until she died.

Bob Flippin had a couple of setters, and the five canines formed a wistful semicircle around the lunch basket.

The lunch basket was really a fishing-basket, lined with tin.  In one end was a receptacle for ice.  After the lunch was eaten, the fish were put next to the ice, and the basket thus served two purposes.

Among the other edibles there were always corncakes for the dogs.  They knew it, and had the patience of assured expectation.

“Truxton comes on Saturday,” said the Judge as he watched Bob turn the eggs expertly in the long-handled pan, “and Claudia.  I told Becky to ride over this morning and ask your wife if she could help Mandy.  Mandy’s all right when there’s nobody but the family, but when there’s company in prospect she moans and groans.”

“Mollie’s up at the Watermans’; Mrs. Waterman is worse.  They expected to take her to New York, but she is too ill, and they are going to have the doctors bring another nurse.”

“I had a note from Mr. Dalton,” said the Judge, “saying they were going.  It was rather sudden, and he was sorry.  Nice fellow.  He liked to come over and look at my birds.”