would not make another effort. It was then that he saw
the Stork circling close over his head; and it did not seem so very
strange when the Stork said to him,--

"Swim, Jan! You are the better swimmer; you can beat him yet."

"I know; but I do not wish to beat," said Jan wearily. "He would only
hate me the more."

"There is one who loves you more than ever he did," said the Stork
gently. "Will you go home to your sea-mother, the beautiful Mermaid?"

"The Mermaid!" cried Jan; "then it is true. My real home is not upon the
shore?"

"Your real home is here, in the waves. Beneath them your mother waits."

"Then I need not go back to that other home," said Jan, "that home where
I am hated?"

"Ah, you will be loved in this sea-home," said the Stork. "You will be
very happy there. Come, come, Mermaid! Kiss your child and take him
home."

Then Jan felt two soft arms come around his neck and two soft lips
pressed upon his own. "Dear child!" whispered a soft voice, "come with
me to your beautiful sea-home and be happy always." A strange, drowsy
feeling came over him, and he forgot how to be sad. He felt himself
growing younger and younger. The world beyond the waves looked unreal
and odd. He forgot why he was there; he forgot the race, the boys, Gil,
and all his trouble. But instead he began to remember things of a
wonderful dream. He closed his eyes; the sea rocked him gently, as in a
cradle, and slowly, slowly, with the soft arms of the Mermaid about him,
and her green hair twining through his fingers, he sank down through the
water. As he sank the likeness of a human boy faded from him, and he
became once more a fresh, fair little Sea-child, with a scaly tail and
plump, merry face. The Mer-folk came to greet him. The fishes darted
about him playfully. The sea-anemones beckoned him with enticing
fingers. The Sea-child was at home again, and the sea was kind.

So Gil became the champion; but that was little pleasure to him, as you
can fancy. For he remembered, he remembered, and he could not forget. He
thought, like all the village, that Jan had been drowned through his
brother's selfishness and jealousy. He forgave himself less even than
the whole village could forgive him for the loss of their favorite; for
he knew better than they how much more he was to blame, because he had
broken the promise which kept Jan by him. If he had known how happy the
Sea-child now was in the home from which he had come to be Gil's
brot