"Yes," he said. "If anything could compensate one for the miseries of
travel, especially that awful drive, this should do so. I confess I had
looked forward to a crowning discomfort in the shape of a cold and
draughty and smelly room, fried chops or a gory leg of mutton and a
heel of the cheese made by Noah in the Ark. I fancy that we are going
to have a decent dinner; and I trust I may not be disappointed, for it
is about the only thing that will save my life. Are you dry yet? You
looked as if you had been walking through a river instead of beside
it."
"That's just what I have been doing," said Stafford, with a laugh.
"I've had an adventure--"
"I know," interrupted Howard, with a sigh. "You are going to tell me
how you hooked a trout six foot in length, how it dragged you a mile
and a half up the river, how you got it up to the bank, and how, just
as you were landing it, it broke away and was lost. Every man who has
been fishing has that adventure."
Stafford laughed with his usual appreciation of his friend's amusing
cynicism; but he did not correct him; for at that moment, the neat
maid-servant brought in the trout, which proved to be piping hot and of
a golden-brown; and the two men commenced a dinner which, as compared
with the famous, or infamous one, of the London restaurant, was
Olympian.
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