"I think it is your turn to try the pool," Miss Jelliffe finally said.

"Not this morning," I answered. "You have no idea how the time has gone
by, and how much I have enjoyed the sport. We will leave the pool now and
go back. You know you were anxious to return in time for your father's
lunch. From now henceforth we will know this as the Lady's Pool, and I
hope to see you whip it again on many mornings, before you sail away."

"Please don't speak of sailing away just now," she said.

I took up the rod and the gaff, while Frenchy took charge of the salmon
and the landing-net, and we walked down stream, past the first little
rapids, to the place where we had left the dory.

"Won't Daddy be delighted!" exclaimed Miss Jelliffe.

"He will have good reason," I answered.

By this time we could see the cove and its rocky edges, upon which the
rickety fish-houses and flakes were insecurely perched on slender stilts.
A couple of blunt-bowed little schooners were at anchor, and some men in
boats were catching squid for bait.

"This is picturesque enough," said Miss Jelliffe, "but I miss the beauty
of all that we have just left."

"I'm sure you do," I answered, "yet this view also is worth looking at.
It is not like the peaceful slumbering villages of more prosperous lands.
It represents the struggle and striving for things that will never be
attained, the hopes of those yet young and the reminiscences of others