ch she was
to sing in her role of Lorelei, and headed toward Northport.

"The thing to do," she thought to herself, "is to find some nice, little,
wooded inlet where I can safely change my costume and rehearse. I must
know whether I can swim in this thing--and whether I can sing while
swimming about. It would be more effective, I think, than merely sitting
on the float, and singing and combing my hair through all those verses."

The canoe danced across the water, the paddle glittered, dipped, swept
astern, and flashed again. Flavilla was very, very happy for no
particular reason, which is the best sort of happiness on earth.

There is a sandy neck of land which obstructs direct navigation between
the sacred waters of Oyster Bay and the profane floods which wash the
gravelly shores of Northport.

"I'll make a carry," thought Flavilla, beaching her canoe. Then, looking
around her at the lonely stretch of sand flanked by woods, she realized
at once that she need seek no farther for seclusion.

First of all, she dragged the canoe into the woods, then rapidly
undressed and drew on the mermaid's scaly suit, which fitted her to the
throat as beautifully as her own skin.

It was rather difficult for her to navigate on land, as her legs were
incased in a fish's tail, but, seizing her comb and mirror, she managed
to wriggle down to the water's edge.

A few sun-warmed rocks jutted up some little distance from shore; with a
final and vigorous wriggle Flavilla launched herself and struck out for
the rocks, holding comb and mirror in either hand.

Fishtail and accessories impeded her, but she was the sort of swimmer who
took no account of such trifles; and after a while she drew herself up
from the sea, and, breathless, glittering, iridescent, flopped down upon
a flat rock in the sunshine. From which she took a careful survey of the
surroundings.

Certainly nobody could see her here. Nobody would interrupt her either,
because the route of navigation lay far outside, to the north. All around
were woods; the place was almost landlocked, save where, far away through
the estuary, a blue and hazy horizon glimmered in the general direction
of New England.

So, when she had recovered sufficient breath she let down the flashing,
golden-brown hair, sat up on the rock, lifted her pretty nose skyward,
and poured forth melody.

As she sang the tiresome old Teutonic ballad she combed away vigorously,
and every now and then surveyed h