ange as a naked little
fish-tailed infant is to a human. But after the first look neither felt
afraid, in spite of the terrible tales which each had heard of the
other's kind. They stared wistfully at each other, not knowing what to
do next, until the Stork came forward and spoke wise words.

"You, land-boy Gil," he said, "you want a little brother, do you not?"
Gil nodded. "And you, Sea-child, want some one to love you? I think I
can manage to please you both. But first you must kiss each other."

Gil hesitated. He was a big boy of five or six, too old for kissing.
Moreover the Sea-child looked cold and wet and somewhat fishy. But
already the red lips of the little fellow were pouted into a round O,
and the sad blue eyes were looking up at him so pleadingly that Gil bent
low over the watery cradle. Then two little soft arms went about his
neck, and Gil felt the heart of the Sea-child thump happily against his
own.

"Very good," said the Stork approvingly.

The Sea-child could not stand, on account of having no feet, but he lay
in his pool holding Gil's hand.

"Now the change is coming," went on the Stork, and as he spoke the baby
began to fall asleep. "In twelve hours," he said to Gil, "he will become
a tiny human child, and I shall carry him to the house on the hill,
where he will find a loving family awaiting him. Look! Already he is
losing the uniform of the sea," and he pointed at the Sea-child's fishy
tail. Sure enough, the scales were falling away one by one, and already
the shape of two little chubby legs could be seen under the skin, which
was shrinking as a tadpole's does before he becomes a frog. "When this
tail is wholly gone," declared the Stork, "he will forget what we have
said to-night. He will forget his sea-home and the caves of the
Mer-people. He will forget that he was once a Sea-child; and no one will
ever remind him. For only you, Gil, and I shall know the secret."

"And I shall never tell," declared Gil.

"No, surely you will never tell," answered the Stork gravely, "for if
you tell that will be the end of all. You will lose the little brother,
and you will be sorry all the rest of your life. Do not forget, Gil. Do
not forget."

"I shall not forget," said Gil.

Again they looked at the Sea-child, and he had fallen sound asleep,
still holding Gil's hand. Now there was scarcely anything of the fish
left about his little pink body; he was growing younger and younger,
smaller and smaller.