nly care was to remain young
and girlish. Indeed, she bore her thousand-odd years well, even for a
Mermaid. She liked the Sea-baby well enough, but she was ashamed to have
him follow her about as he loved to do, because she imagined it made her
seem old to be called "Mer-mother" by his lisping lips. She never had
time to caress or play with him; and finally she forbade him ever to
speak to her unless she spoke first. Sometimes she seemed to forget him
altogether, as she left him to take care of himself, while she sat on
the rocks combing her long green hair, or playing with the giddy Mermen
in the caves below the sea.

So while the other sea-people sported or slept and were happy, her poor
little Sea-child lay and cried in the green pool where the sea-anemones
tickled his cheek with their soft fingers, seeking to make him laugh,
and the sea-fringe curled about the scaly little tail which, like a
fish, he had in place of legs. On this particular afternoon he was
particularly lonesome.

"Ahoo!" he sobbed. "I am so unhappy! Ahoo! I want some one to love me
very much!"

Now a kind old Stork was sitting on a rock above the baby's head,
preening his feathers in a looking-glass pool. He heard the Sea-child's
words, and he spoke in his kind, gruff voice.

"What is the matter, little one?" he asked.

At first the Sea-child was surprised to be addressed by a land bird. But
he soon saw that this creature was friendly, and told him all his
trouble, as babies do. "Tut tut!" said the Stork, frowning. "Your
Mer-mother needs a lesson sadly."

"What is a lesson?" lisped the Sea-child.

But the Stork was busy thinking and did not reply at once. "How would
you like a change?" he asked after a time.

"What is a change?" asked the baby, for he was very young and ignorant.

"You shall see," answered the Stork, "if you will take my advice; for I
am your friend. Now listen. When next you hear a step upon the rocks do
not stir from your cradle, but wait and see what will happen." Without
another word the Stork flapped away, leaving the baby to stare up at the
blue sky with the tears still wet upon his cheeks, wondering what the
Stork could have meant.

"I will not stir," he said to himself. "Whatever happens I will wait and
see."

It was the Stork's business to bring babies to the homes where babies
were needed; and sometimes it was very hard to find babies enough. Even
now he knew of a house upon the hill where a boy was longing