When the entertainment palled, Louie got up with a yawn, meaning to lounge back to the farm and investigate the nearness of dinner.

But, as she turned, something caught her attention.

It was the gleam of a pool, far away beyond the Downfall, on a projecting spur of the moor.
'What d' yo coe that bit watter ?' she asked David, suddenly pointing to it.
David rolled himself round on his face, and took a look at the bluish patch on the heather.
'It hasna got naw name,' he said, at a venture.
'Then yo're a stoopid, for it has,' replied Louie, triumphantly.
'It's t' _Mermaid_ Pool.

Theer wor a Manchester mon at Wigsons' last week, telling aw maks o' tales.

Theer's a mermaid lives in 't--a woman, I tell tha, wi' a fish's tail--it's in a book, an he read it out, soa _theer_--an on Easter Eve neet she cooms out, and walks about t' Scout, combin her hair--an if onybody sees her an wishes for soomthin, they get it, sartin sure; an--' 'Mermaids is just faddle an nonsense,' interrupted David, tersely.
'Oh, is they?
Then I spose books is faddle.