I looked at the brown eyes, and they turned away observantly down the stream.

I followed them, and they turned away inquiringly up the stream.

Was this angel of patience and kindness still looking for a fishing place?
And was it _up_ the stream, after all?
No!--she smiled and shook her head when I asked the question, and the brown eyes suddenly stole a look at me.

I could hold out no longer In one breathless moment I caught hold of both her hands--in one stammering sentence I asked her if she would be my wife.
She tried faintly to free her hands--gave up the attempt--smiled--made an effort to look grave--gave that up, too--sighed suddenly--checked herself suddenly--said nothing.

Perhaps I ought to have taken my answer for granted; but the least business-like man that ever lived becomes an eminently practical character in matters of love.