CHAPTER XVII

Arrayed in silk shirt, khaki knickers, and hip boots, with a rakish tilt to her soft felt hat and a basket slung over one shoulder, Julie cast her line into deep water in the dark depths of which she had seen a darting shadow. Beside a huge boulder and beneath an overhanging tree-root the trout pool lay still and mysterious, undisturbed by the rippling song, the never-ending murmur of the brook which leaped and plunged, splashed and eddied its way through the woods on its pilgrimage to merge into the pond. The sunl…