I suppose they look after these things in America ?" "Probably--after a fashion," said Brother Copas with a fine smile.
"Heavens! if as a Protestant I am to fight the first round over Infant Baptism--" "There _is_ a font in the chapel." "Yes.

I have often wondered why." Brother Copas appeared to meditate this as he slowly drew back his rod and made a fresh cast.

Again the fly dropped short of the alder stump by a few inches, and fell delicately on the dark water below it.

There was a splash--a soft gurgling sound dear to the angler's heart.

Brother Copas's rod bent and relaxed to the brisk whirr of its reel as a trout took fly and hook and sucked them under.
Then followed fifteen minutes of glorious life.