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Lorelei could say nothing else, and wept bitterly when he would not listen; so he locked her up and went to Fancy, who felt as if something dreadful was going to happen when she saw his face. He told her all he knew, and insisted that Lorelei was foolish or naughty to persist in such a ridiculous story.

“But, uncle, I really did make a mermaid; and she really did come alive, for I saw the figure float away, and then Lorelei appeared,” said Fancy, very earnestly.

“It’s very likely you made a figure, and called it a mermaid: it would be just the sort of thing you’d do,” said her uncle. “But it is impossible that any coming alive took place, and I won’t hear any such nonsense. You didn’t see this girl come out of the water; for she says you never looked up, till she touched you. She was a real child, who came over the beach from somewhere; and you fancied she looked like your figure, and believed the silly tale she told you. It is my belief that she is a sly, bad child; and the sooner she is sent away the better for you.”

Uncle Fact was so angry and talked so loud, that Fancy felt frightened and bewildered; and began to think he might be right about the mermaid part, though she hated to give up the little romance.

“If I agree that she is a real child, won’t you let her stay, uncle?” she said, forgetting that, if she lost her faith, her friend was lost also.

“Ah! then you have begun to come to your senses, have you? and are ready to own that you don’t believe in mermaids and such rubbish?” cried Uncle Fact, stopping in his tramp up and down the room.

“Why, if you say there never were and never can be any, I suppose I must give up my fancy; but I’m sorry,” sighed the child.

“That’s my sensible girl! Now, think a minute, my dear, and you will also own that it is best to give up the child as well as the mermaid,” said her uncle briskly.

“Oh! no: we love one another; and she is good, and I can’t give her up,” cried Fancy.

“Answer me a few questions; and I’ll prove that she isn’t good, that you don’t love her, and that you can give her up,” said Uncle Fact, and numbered off the questions on his fingers as he spoke.

“Didn’t Luly want you to deceive us, and every one else, about who she was?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t you like to be with her better than with your aunt or myself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hadn’t you rather hear her songs and stories than learn your lessons?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Isn’t it wrong to deceive people, to love strangers more than those who are a father and mother to you, and to like silly tales better than useful lessons?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Then, don’t you see, that, if Luly makes you do these wrong and ungrateful things, she is not a good child, nor a fit playmate for you?”

Fancy didn’t answer; for she couldn’t feel that it was so, though he made it seem so. When Uncle Fact talked in that way, she always got confused and gave up; for she didn’t know how to argue. He was right in a certain way; but she felt as if she was right also in another way, though she could not prove it: so she hung her head, and let her tears drop on the carpet one by one.

Uncle Fact didn’t mean to be unkind, but he did mean to have his own way; and, when he saw the little girl’s sad face, he took her on his knee, and said, more mildly:

“Do you remember the story about the German Lorelei, who sung so sweetly, and lured people to death in the Rhine?”

“Yes, uncle; and I like it,” answered Fancy, looking up.

“Well, my dear, your Lorelei will lead you into trouble, if you follow her. Suppose she is what you think her,–a mermaid: it is her delight to draw people into the water, where, of course, they drown. If she is what I think her,–a sly, bad child, who sees that you are very simple, and who means to get taken care of without doing any thing useful,–she will spoil you in a worse way than if you followed her into the sea. I’ve got no little daughter of my own, and I want to keep you as safe and happy as if you were mine. I don’t like this girl, and I want you to give her up for my sake. Will you, Fancy?”