copse. We've a copse here beyond the threshing-floor. Are you fond of fishing?'
'Are there fish here?'
'Yes, in the pond. Loaches, sand-eels, and perches are caught there. Now, to be sure, the best time is over; July's here. But anyway, you might try. . . Shall I get the tackle ready?'
'Yes, do please.'
'I'll send a boy with you . . . to put on the worms. Or maybe I'd better come myself?' Narkiz obviously doubted whether I knew how to set about things properly by myself.
'Come, please, come along.'
Narkiz, without a word, grinned from ear to ear, then suddenly knitted his brows . . . and went out of the room.
IV
Half an hour later we set off to catch fish. Narkiz had put on an extraordinary sort of cap with ears, and was more dignified than ever. He walked in front with a steady, even step; two rods swayed regularly up and down on his shoulders; a bare-legged boy followed him carrying a can and a pot of worms.
'Here, near the dike, there's a seat, put up on the floating platform on purpose,' Narkiz was beginning to explain to me, but he glanced
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