"No."
"Whom are you going with?" pursued the inquiring Joe.
"A fellow in the fifth who asked me to come."
"What's his name?"
Charlie had no help for it now.
"Tom Drift," he faltered.
"Tom Drift! I thought you and he were at loggerheads."
"Oh, don't you know we've made it up? He was awfully kind about it, and
said he was sorry, when it was really my fault, and we shook hands, and
to-morrow we are going to fish in a place he knows where there's no end
of trout."
"Where's that?"
"He didn't want me to tell, for fear everybody should come and spoil the
sport; but I suppose I can tell you, though; it's up the Sharle, near
Gurley."
"Humph! I've fished there before now. Not such a wonderful lot of
fish, either."
"I suppose you won't be there to-morrow?" asked Charlie nervously,
afraid of losing the confidence of Tom Drift by attracting strangers to
his waters.
"Not if I know it," replied Joe. "I say, youngster, I thought you had
given up the notion of making up to that fellow?"
"I didn't make up to him, only I can't be sorry to be friends with
him--"
"Well, I hope you won't be sorry now you've done it. Take care what
you're about, that's all."
Charlie was again perplexed to understand why Halliday seemed to have
such a dislike to poor Tom.