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 chanty 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 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.
