"It was horrid," she told her most intimate friend, "perfectly
horrid.  The idea of sleeping in a shower-bath, and eating your
breakfast from a tin plate, just for sake of catching a few silly
fish!  Why not send your guides out to get them for you?"

But, in spite of this profession of obstinate heresy, Beekman
observed with secret joy that there were signs, before the end of
the season, that Cornelia was drifting a little, a very little but
still perceptibly, in the direction of a change of heart.  She began
to take an interest, as the big trout came along in September, in
the reports of the catches made by the different anglers.  She would
saunter out with the other people to the corner of the porch to see
the fish weighed and spread out on the grass.  Several times she
went with Beekman in the canoe to Hardscrabble Point, and showed
distinct evidences of pleasure when he caught large trout.  The last
day of the season, when he returned from a successful expedition to
Roach River and Lily Bay, she inquired with some particularity about
the results of his sport; and in the evening, as the company sat
before the great open fire in the hall of the hotel, she was heard
to use this information with considerable skill in putting down Mrs.
Minot Peabody of Boston, who was recounting the details of her
husband's catch at Spencer Pond.  Cornelia was not a person to be
contented with the back seat, even in fish-stories.

When Beekman observed these indications he was much encouraged, and
resolved to push his educational experiment briskly forward to his
customary goal of success.

"Some things can be done, as well as others," he said in his
masterful way, as three of us were walking home together after the
autumnal dinner of the Petrine Club, which he always attended as a
graduate member.  "A real fisherman never gives up.  I told you I'd
make an angler out of my wife; and so I will.  It has been rather
difficult.  She is 'dour' in rising.  But she's beginning to take
notice of the fly now.  Give me another season, and I'll have her
landed."

Good old Beekman!  Little did he think--  But I must not interrupt
the story with moral reflections.

The preparations that he made for his final effort at conversion
were thorough and prudent.  He had a private interview with Dewlap
in regard to the construction of a practical fishing-costume for a
lady, which resulted in something more reasonable and workmanlike
than had ever been turned out by that famous artist.  He ordered
from Hook and Catchett a lady's angling-outfit of the most enticing
description,--a split-bamboo rod, light as a girl's wish, and strong
as a matron's will; an oxidized silver reel, with a monogram on one
side, and a sapphire set in the handle for good luck; a book of
flies, of all sizes and colours, with the correct names inscribed in
gilt letters on each page.  He surrounded his favourite sport with
an aureole of elegance and beauty.  And then he took Cornelia in
September to the Upper Dam at Rangeley.

She went reluctant.  She arrived disgusted.  She stayed incredulous.
She returned--  Wait a bit, and you shall hear how she returned.