that made Fancy dance with delight, charmed Aunt Fiction,
and softened Uncle Fact's hard face in spite of himself.

"Very well, very well, indeed: you have a good voice. I'll see that you
have proper teaching; and, by and by, you can get your living by giving
singing-lessons," he said, turning over the leaves of his book, to look
for the name of a skilful teacher; for he had lists of every useful
person, place, and thing under the sun.

Lorelei laughed at the idea; and Fancy thought singing for gold, not
love, a hard way to get one's living.

Inquiries were made; but nothing more was discovered, and neither of the
children would speak: so the strange child lived with Fancy, and made
her very happy. The other children didn't care much about her; for with
them she was shy and cold, because she knew, if the truth was told, they
would not believe in her. Fancy had always played a good deal by
herself, because she never found a mate to suit her; now she had one,
and they enjoyed each other very much. Lorelei taught her many things
besides new games; and Aunt Fiction was charmed with the pretty stories
Fancy repeated to her, while Uncle Fact was astonished at the knowledge
of marine plants and animals which she gained without any books. Lorelei
taught her to swim, like a fish; and the two played such wonderful
pranks in the water that people used to come down to the beach when they
bathed. In return, Fancy tried to teach her friend to read and write and
sew; but Lorelei couldn't learn much, though she loved her little
teacher dearly, and every evening sung her to sleep with beautiful
lullabies.

There was a great deal of talk about the curious stranger; for her ways
were odd, and no one knew what to make of her. She would eat nothing
but fruit and shell-fish, and drink nothing but salt water. She didn't
like tight clothes; but would have run about in a loose, green robe,
with bare feet and flying hair, if Uncle Fact would have allowed it.
Morning, noon, and night, she plunged into the sea,--no matter what the
weather might be; and she would sleep on no bed but one stuffed with
dried sea-weed. She made lovely chains of shells; found splendid bits of
coral; and dived where no one else dared, to bring up wonderful plants
and mosses. People offered money for these things; but she gave them all
to Fancy and Aunt Fiction, of whom she was very fond. It was curious to
see the sort of people who liked both Fancy and her friend,--p