r the sand and pebbles.

The girl now laughed and clapped her hands.

"This good deed you shall never rue, Kind William," said she, "and
even now it shall repay you threefold. How many fish did you catch?"

"Twenty-one," said Kind William, not without regret in his tone.

The maid at once began to pull hairs out of her head, and did not stop
till she had counted sixty-three, and laid them together in her
fingers. She then began to wind the lock up into a curl, and it took
far longer to wind than the sixty-three hairs had taken to pull. How
long her hair really was Kind William never could tell, for after it
reached her knees he lost sight of it among the fern; but he began to
suspect that she was no true village maid, but a water sprite, and he
heartily wished himself safe at home.

"Now," said she, when the lock was wound, "will you promise me three
things?"

"If I can do so without sin," said Kind William.

"First," she continued, holding out the lock of hair, "will you keep
this carefully, and never give it away? It will be for your own good."

"One never gives away gifts," said Kind William, "I promise that."

"The second thing is to spare what you have spared. Fish up the river
and down the river at your will, but swear never to cast net in this
pool again."

"One should not do kindness by halves," said Kind William. "I promise
that also."

"Thirdly, you must never tell what you have now seen and heard till
thrice seven years have passed. And now come hither, my child, and
give me your little finger, that I may see if you can keep a secret."

But by this time Kind William's hairs were standing on end, and he
gave the last promise more from fear than from any other motive, and
seized his net to go.

"No hurry, no hurry," said the maiden (and the words sounded like the
rippling of a brook over pebbles). Then bending towards him, with a
strange smile, she added, "You are afraid that I shall pinch too hard,
my pretty boy. Well, give me a farewell kiss before you go."

"I kiss none but the miller's lass," said Kind William, sturdily; for
she was his little sweetheart. Besides, he was afraid that the water
witch would enchant him and draw him down. At his answer she laughed
till the echoes rang, but Kind William shuddered to hear that the
echoes seemed to come from the river instead of from the hills; and
they rang in his ears like a distant torrent leaping over rocks.

"Then listen to my song," said th