“I’m sorry, truly,” she said, laughing. “You see, I can’t possibly play a fish sitting down; I’ve just _got_ to stand up. And I tried to stand on those old lumps of wood, but they simply turned over and deposited me in the water. Never mind, Wally, it isn’t the first time I’ve had wet feet.”
“Don’t go and collect a cold, or your father and Jim will have my blood,” said Wally, doubtfully. “You’ll have to land and run about if you get chilly.”
“If I said, ‘Land my grandmother!’ it would be rude, so I won’t,” said Norah, who was casting again vigorously. “Quick, Wally, there’s a rise near you!”—and Mr. Meadows forgot prudence in the excitement of trout. At the end of the drift the basket held four fish, while a fifth had made his escape at the very edge of the boat, and was doubtless in some snug hole, reflecting on the Providence which helps little trout by entrusting the landing-net to inexperienced hands.
The wind had risen, and to pull the heavy, water-logged old boat up the lough was no easy task. There was no rudder, and she steered very badly, her awkwardness intensified by the unequal oars. The waves slapped against her side, and occasionally flung in a little cloud of spray, and she leaked fast. Norah baled energetically, with poor results.
“She’s a noble vessel,” said Wally, pulling with a will. “Feel her wallow in the trough of these silly little waves. I guess we’ll call her ‘The Walloping Window-Blind,’ Nor, after the boat in the song. Can you swim, Timsy?”
“I cannot, sir,” said Timsy, grinning. “Sure that one won’t sink on us.”
“Blest if I know,” Wally answered, doubtfully. “I wouldn’t be surprised at any old thing she’d do. Anyhow, Miss Norah and I can rescue you if she goes down; and the water isn’t very cold. Timsy, did you ever hear the sergeant’s opinion of this boat?”
“I did, sir,” he said, with probably prudent reticence. “Sure, there’s no one does be liking her in these parts. She’s not an aisy puller at all.”
“True for you,” said Wally, panting. “Thank goodness, here’s the end of the lough. Hurry up, Nor, she’ll drift back quickly before this wind, and they ought to be rising.” His flies whistled out over the dancing water.
“If you’d let me have the net itself I could be landing the fish for you,” said Timsy, eagerly. “I’ve landed ’em for me daddy many a time—he taught me.”