beautiful things!"

"Whereabouts, child!"

"Oh, way down under the water! Such a funny little man, all dressed in
sea-weed, took me down on his back, and--"

"Nonsense, Effie! don't come to me with such stories. Go and wash your
face and hands, and get yourself ready for supper."

"But really! mother,--"

"Sh! child; do as I tell you, and don't talk to _me_ about your going
down underneath the water; you'd ha' been wet through if you had."

"But he covered me all up with sea-weed."

"Poh! you've been asleep on the rock, and dreaming about it; it's a
wonder you didn't fall off into the water. Come! run and wash yourself.
Supper's most ready."

Effie went off pouting; and Mother Gilder took the frying-pan off the
fire with the fish sizzling and smoking hot. "Come, father!" said she,
"and Effie, hurry up! supper's on the table."

"Where's your little dog, Effie?" said her father. Effie didn't speak.

"Have you eat him up, eh?" Never a word from Effie.

"The child is naughty!" said her mother, "Effie, speak to your father!"
But Effie looked crosser than ever.

"Well, you shall go to bed without your supper," said Mrs. Gilder,
getting up, "if you're going to behave so. The little thing's been
telling some ridiculous story about a man's taking her down under the
water on his back!"

"He _did_ take me down!" cried Effie, "and I wish I'd stayed there!
erhn! erhn! erhn!" and she cried and cried.

"Soh, soh, little one," said Father Gilder, "you wouldn't want to leave
your old father and mother, would you, Effie?"

"N-n-n-no, b-b-but m-m-mother said I didn't go."

"Ah, well! eat your supper, Effie, and then come and tell me all about
it." So Effie ate her supper and then sat in her father's lap, and began
to tell him all that I have told you; but before she had gone a great
way, she was so sleepy that she couldn't tell any thing more, but kept
saying, "And--and--and--a-n-d--a-n-d," till she fell fast asleep, and
Mother Gilder put her to bed, and she did not wake up once more till the
next morning.

"Well, what d'ye think, old man, about this stuff?" asked Mrs. Gilder,
when Effie was snug in bed.

"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Gilder. "Its queer! its queer! I guess
the child's been dreaming. Light my pipe, old woman."

So, when Mrs. Gilder had foraged in the pockets of her wonderful apron
and brought out the tobacco and matches, and had filled the pipe and
lighted it, the fisherman tilted his chair back a