oets,
artists; delicate, thoughtful children; and a few old people, who had
kept their hearts young in spite of care and time and trouble. Dashing
young gentlemen, fine young ladies, worldly-minded and money-loving men
and women, and artificial, unchildlike children, the two friends avoided
carefully; and these persons either made fun of them, neglected them
entirely, or seemed to be unconscious that they were alive. The others
they knew at a glance; for their faces warmed and brightened when the
children came, they listened to their songs and stories, joined in their
plays, and found rest and refreshment in their sweet society.

"This will do for a time; as Fancy is getting strong, and not entirely
wasting her days, thanks to me! But our holiday is nearly over; and, as
soon as I get back to town, I'll take that child to the Ragged Refuge,
and see what they can make of her," said Uncle Fact, who was never quite
satisfied about Lorelei; because he could find out so little concerning
her. He was walking over the beach as he said this, after a hard day's
work on his encyclopaedia. He sat down on a rock in a quiet place; and,
instead of enjoying the lovely sunset, he fell to studying the course of
the clouds, the state of the tide, and the temperature of the air, till
the sound of voices made him peep over the rock. Fancy and her friend
were playing there, and the old gentleman waited to see what they were
about. Both were sitting with their little bare feet in the water;
Lorelei was stringing pearls, and Fancy plaiting a crown of pretty green
rushes.

"I wish I could go home, and get you a string of finer pearls than
these," said Lorelei; "but it is too far away, and I cannot swim now as
I used to do."

"I must look into this. The girl evidently knows all about herself, and
can tell, if she chooses," muttered Uncle Fact, getting rather excited
over this discovery.

"Never mind the pearls: I'd rather have you, dear," said Fancy lovingly.
"Tell me a story while we work, or sing me a song; and I'll give you my
crown."

"I'll sing you a little song that has got what your uncle calls a moral
to it," said Lorelei, laughing mischievously. Then, in her breezy little
voice, she sang the story of--

THE ROCK AND THE BUBBLE.

Oh! a bare, brown rock
Stood up in the sea,
The waves at its feet
Dancing merrily.

A little bubble
Came sailing by,
And thus to the ro