“Oh, never mind. It’s what you believe with, I think. Go on,” said Francis.)
“‘—of credence. Mr. Wilson, who seems to have urged an early retirement to bed as a cure for telling stories and getting his feet wet, allowed his son to rise and conduct him to the scene of adventure. But Mr. Wilson, though he even went to the length of paddling in some of the pools, did not see or feel any hands nor hear any noise, ladylike or otherwise. No doubt the seal theory is the correct one. A white seal would be a valuable acquisition to the town, and would, no doubt, attract visitors. Several boats have gone out, some with nets and some with lines. Mr. Carrerras, a visitor from South America, has gone out with a lariat, which in these latitudes is, of course, quite a novelty.’”
“That’s all,” whispered Francis, and glanced at Aunt Enid. “I say—she’s asleep.” He beckoned the others, and they screwed themselves along to that end of the carriage farthest from the slumbering aunt. “Just listen to this,” he said. Then in hoarse undertones he read all about the Mermaid.
“I say,” said Bernard, “I do hope it’s a seal. I’ve never seen a seal.”
“I hope they do catch it,” said Kathleen. “Fancy seeing a real live Mermaid.”
“If it’s a real live Mermaid I jolly well hope they don’t catch her,” said Francis.
“So do I,” said Mavis. “I’m certain she would die in captivity.”
“But I’ll tell you what,” said Francis, “we’ll go and look for her, first thing tomorrow. I suppose,” he added thoughtfully, “Sabrina was a sort of Mermaid.”
“She hasn’t a tail, you know,” Kathleen reminded him.