e sun
came out bright and warm, and they built the most lovely sand house you
ever saw.

"I'd like to live in it always," said Carrots.

"Oh you funny boy," said Sybil patronisingly, "and what would you do at
night, when it got cold, and perhaps the sea would come in."

"Perhaps the mermaids would take care of him till the morning," said
Floss.

"What are the mermaids?" asked Sybil.

"Pretty ladies," said Carrots, "who live at the bottom of the sea, only
they've got tails."

"Then they can't be pretty," said Sybil decidedly, "not unless their
tails are beautiful and sweeping out, like peacocks! Are they?--one day
I tied a shawl of mother's on, it was a red and gold shawl, and I
sweeped it about just like a peacock,--that _would_ be pretty."

"I don't think mermaids' tails are like that," said Carrots, doubtfully,
"but they _are_ pretty ladies, aren't they, Floss?"

"Beautiful," said Floss, "but they're very sad. They come up to the
shore at night and comb their hair and cry dreadfully."

"What do they cry for?" asked Sybil and Carrots, pressing up to Floss,
and forgetting all about the lovely sand house.

"Because they--no, you couldn't understand," she broke off; "it is no
good telling you."

"Oh do tell," said the children.

"Well," said Floss, "I read in a book of Cecil's, they cry because they
haven't got any souls. When they die they can't go to heaven, you see."

Sybil and Carrots looked very solemn at this. Then a sudden thought
struck Carrots.

"How can they cry if they haven't got souls, Floss?" he said, "nurse
says it's our souls that make us glad and sorry. Are you _sure_ the poor
mermaids haven't got souls?"

"I'm only telling you what I read in a book," said Floss. "I dare say
it's all a sort of fairy tale. Don't you like fairy tales, Sybil?"

"No," said Sybil, "I like stories of naughty boys and girls best--_very_
naughty boys and girls."

"Oh, Sybil!" said Carrots, "_I_ don't, because they are always unhappy
in the end."

"No, they're not. Sometimes they all get good. Mother always makes them
get good at the end," replied Sybil.

"Does auntie tell you stories?" said Floss.

"Yes, of course, for I can't read them to myself yet. I'm learning, but
it is _so_ hard," said Sybil dolefully.

"I wish auntie would tell _us_ stories."

"P'raps she will when you come to my house," said Sybil, encouragingly.
"Would you think that a treat?"

"It would be a 'normous treat."

"We're goin