On their return to the house he was at once taken up with some
of the older people, and Daisy ran off to her long delayed
dinner.
The next day in the course of her wanderings about the
grounds, which were universal, Daisy came upon her cousin
Preston. He sat in the shade of a clump of larches under a
great oak, making flies for fishing; which occupation, like a
gentlemanly boy as he was, he had carried out there where the
litter of it would be in nobody's way. Preston Gary was a very
fine fellow; about sixteen, a handsome fellow, very spirited,
very clever, and very gentle and kind to his little cousin
Daisy. Daisy liked him much, and was more entirely free with
him perhaps than with any other person in the family. Her
seeing him now was the signal for a joyous skip and bound
which brought her to his side.
"Oh, Preston, are you going fishing?"
"Perhaps — if I have a good day for it."
"When?"
"To-morrow."
"Who's going with you?"
"Nobody, I reckon. Unless you want to go, Daisy."
"Oh, Preston, may I go with you? Where are you going?"
"Daisy, I'm bound for the Hillsdale woods, back of Crum Elbow
— they say there are first-rate trout streams there; but I am
afraid you can't go so far.
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