“No, he won’t—I know as much as that. Nobody can turn water-babies into sweeps, or hurt them at all, as long as they are good.”
“Ah,” said naughty Tom, “I see what you want; you are persuading me all along to go, because you are tired of me, and want to get rid of me.”
Little Ellie opened her eyes very wide at that, and they were all brimming over with tears.
“Oh, Tom, Tom!” she said, very mournfully—and then she cried, “Oh, Tom! where are you?”
And Tom cried, “Oh, Ellie, where are you?”
For neither of them could see each other—not the least. Little Ellie vanished quite away, and Tom heard her voice calling him, and growing smaller and smaller, and fainter and fainter, till all was silent.
Who was frightened then but Tom? He swam up and down among the rocks, into all the halls and chambers, faster than ever he swam before, but could not find her. He shouted after her, but she did not answer; he asked all the other children, but they had not seen her; and at last he went up to the top of the water and began crying and screaming for Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid—which perhaps was the best thing to do—for she came in a moment.
“Not quite that,” said the fairy; “but I have sent her away home, and she will not come back again for I do not know how long.”
And at that Tom cried so bitterly that the salt sea was swelled with his tears, and the tide was .3,954,620,819 of an inch higher than it had been the day before: but perhaps that was owing to the waxing of the moon. It may have been so; but it is considered right in the new philosophy, you know, to give spiritual causes for physical phenomena—especially in parlour-tables; and, of course, physical causes for spiritual ones, like thinking, and praying, and knowing right from wrong. And so they odds it till it comes even, as folks say down in Berkshire.