cise until I get in condition again. Do you know my uncle?"
"Yes. He is Aunt Margaret's doctor, and he would be ours, only we are never ill."
"Well, you look it!" said the man, appraising Elnora at a glance.
"Strangers always mention it," sighed Elnora. "I wonder how it would feel to be a pale languid lady and ride in a carriage."
"Ask me!" laughed the man. "It feels like the—dickens! I'm so proud of my feet. It's quite a trick to stand on them now. I have to keep out of the water all I can and stop to baby every half mile. But with interesting outdoor work I'll be myself in a week."
"Do you call that work?" Elnora indicated the creek.
"I do, indeed! Nearly three miles, banks too soft to brag on and never a strike. Wouldn't you call that hard labour?"
"Yes," laughed Elnora. "Work at which you might kill yourself and never get a fish. Did any one tell you there were trout in Sleepy Snake Creek?"
"Uncle said I could try."
"Oh, you can," said Elnora. "You can try no end, but you'll never get a trout. This is too far south and too warm for them. If you sit on the bank and use worms you might get some perch or catfish."
"But that isn't exercise."
"Well, if you only want exercise, go right on fishing. You can get a creel full of invisible results every night."
