o keep accounts; but I'll tell him to keep
the money, and let me have Lorelei instead."

"Oh, how silly!" cried the boy who didn't like bare feet.

"No, she isn't; for, if she's kind to the girl, maybe she'll get some of
her pretty things," said the vain little girl.

"Keeping accounts is a very useful and important thing. I keep mine; and
mamma says I have great arth-met-i-cal talent," added the pale child,
who studied too much.

"Come, children; it's time for dinner. Fancy, you can take the girl to
the house; and your uncle will do what he thinks best about letting you
keep her," said Miss Fairbairn, piling them into the basket-wagon.

Fancy kept Lorelei close beside her; and as soon as they reached the
great hotel, where they all were staying with mothers and fathers,
uncles or aunts, she took her to kind Aunt Fiction, who was interested
at once in the friendless child so mysteriously found. She was satisfied
with the little she could discover, and promised to keep her,--for a
time, at least.

"We can imagine all kinds of romantic things about her; and, by and by,
some interesting story may be found out concerning her. I can make her
useful in many ways; and she shall stay."

As Aunt Fiction laid her hand on the mermaid's head, as if claiming her
for her own, Uncle Fact came stalking in, with his note-book in his
hand, and his spectacles on his nose. Now, though they were married,
these two persons were very unlike. Aunt Fiction was a graceful,
picturesque woman; who told stories charmingly, wrote poetry and novels,
was very much beloved by young folks, and was the friend of some of the
most famous people in the world. Uncle Fact was a grim, grave, decided
man; whom it was impossible to bend or change. He was very useful to
every one; knew an immense deal; and was always taking notes of things
he saw and heard, to be put in a great encyclopaedia he was making. He
didn't like romance, loved the truth, and wanted to get to the bottom of
every thing. He was always trying to make little Fancy more sober,
well-behaved, and learned; for she was a freakish, dreamy, yet very
lovable and charming child. Aunt Fiction petted her to her heart's
content, and might have done her harm, if Uncle Fact had not had a hand
in her education; for the lessons of both were necessary to her, as to
all of us.

"Well, well, well! who is this?" he said briskly, as he turned his keen
eyes and powerful glasses on the new comer.

Aunt F