"
"Below? where? just fetch it here, will you? This misfortune
can be mended."
Sam moved off, dripping from every inch of him.
"Oh, Preston," said Daisy, "he's all wet as he can be — do let
him go right down to that house and dry himself! We can get
the basket."
"Do him good to move about," said Preston. "Nonsense, Daisy! —
a ducking like that won't do anybody any harm in a summer's
day."
"I don't think _you'd_ like it," said Daisy; "and all his
clothes are full of water, and the sun don't come down here.
Tell him to go and get dry!"
"I will, as soon as I've done with him. Here, Sam — just bend
on this hook for me, while I see how the brook is further up.
I've no time to lose, — and then you can go sun yourself
somewhere."
Preston bounded off; Sam stood with the tackle in hand,
silently at work. Daisy sat still on a stone near by, looking
at him.
"Were you hurt, Sam?" she asked, tenderly.
"No, Miss Daisy." This answer was not discontented, but
stoical.
"As soon as you have done that, Sam, run down to Mrs.
Dipper's, and maybe she can give you something dry to put on
while your clothes can be hung out."
Silence on Sam's part.
"Have you almost finished that?"
"Yes, ma'am.
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