When he returned, terribly downcast, Tom had gotten the car righted and had discovered that it was uninjured.
"No luck, I suppose?" said Tom.
"No," replied Edwin, moodily.
"Get in, then. We can't stay here all day."
Edwin required urging to leave the spot. Finally he consented to go. As he climbed in he saw the overturned wash tub, and his concentrated wrath and grief were heaped upon it. Picking it up, he hurled it savagely at a tree, and, when it fell to pieces with the concussion, he exclaimed, vehemently and inconsequentially:
"That's the blamed thing that got us into this muss!"
At Druid lake he insisted on another long search. Time and again the auto was stopped that he might call aloud for his charmer. But no answering sound came across the water.
"Curses!" said Edwin. "I'm afraid she's lost for good."
And that is probably the true explanation as to why there has been no mermaid in Druid lake since. She may be in Cylburn brook, she may be in Jones' Falls, she may have reached the Patapsco, but no one has ever seen a creature answering her description and aquatic habits since the damsel who once held the job got giddy and went motoring.