At Love's Cost

o fish?" demanded Howard, with a groan. "My dear Stafford, I know that being that abominable thing--a sportsman--you are consequently mad; but you might have the decency to curb your insanity out of consideration for the wretched man who has the misfortune to be your companion, and who plainly sees that this period of sunshine is a gilded fraud, and that presently it will rain again like cats and dogs."

Stafford laughed. He had got down and dragged out a rod and a fishing-basket.

"Sorry, old chap," he said, "but no fisherman could lose such a chance as this, even to save his best friend from rheumatic fever. I thought we should come across a stream or two, and I put on these togs accordingly." He wore a Norfolk suit of that wonderful Harris tweed which, strange to say, keeps out the rain, the heat, and the cold; and flies were stuck in his cap of the same material. "But, look here, there's no need for me to keep you; Pottinger will drive you to this place, Carysford, where we stay the night--I'v