iction told him all the children had said; but he answered
impatiently:

"Tut, tut! my dear: I want the facts of the case. You are apt to
exaggerate; and Fancy is not to be relied on. If the child isn't a fool,
she must know more about herself than she pretends. Now, answer truly,
Luly, where did you come from?"

But the little mermaid only shook her head, and answered as before,
"Fancy found me on the beach, and wants me to stay with her. I'll do
her no harm: please, let me stay."

"She has evidently been washed ashore from some wreck, and has forgotten
all about herself. Her wonderful beauty, her accent, and these ornaments
show that she is some foreign child," said Aunt Fiction, pointing to the
earrings.

"Nonsense! my dear: those are white pebbles, not pearls; and, if you
examine them, you will find that those bracelets are the ones you gave
Fancy as a reward for so well remembering the facts I told her about
coral," said the uncle, who had turned Lorelei round and round, pinched
her cheek, felt her hair, and examined her frock through the glasses
which nothing escaped.

"She may stay, and be my little playmate, mayn't she? I'll take care of
her; and we shall be very happy together," cried Fancy eagerly.

"One can't be sure of that till one has tried. You say you will take
care of her: have you got any money to pay her board, and buy her
clothes?" asked her uncle.

"No; but I thought you'd help me," answered Fancy wistfully.

"Never say you'll do a thing till you are sure you can," said Uncle
Fact, as he took notes of the affair, thinking they might be useful by
and by. "I've no objection to your keeping the girl, if, after making
inquiries about her, she proves to be a clever child. She can stay
awhile; and, when we go back to town, I'll put her in one of our charity
schools, where she can be taught to earn her living. Can you read,
Luly?"

"No," said the mermaid, opening her eyes.

"Can you write and cipher?"

"What is that?" asked Lorelei innocently.

"Dear me! what ignorance!" cried Uncle Fact.

"Can you sew, or tend babies?" asked Aunt Fiction gently.

"I can do nothing but play and sing, and comb my hair."

"I see! I see!--some hand-organ man's girl. Well, I'm glad you keep your
hair smooth,--that's more than Fancy does," said Uncle Fact.

"Let us hear you sing," whispered his little niece; and, in a voice as
musical as the sound of ripples breaking on the shore, Lorelei sung a
little song