“‘Go on, missie,’ Jack said, ‘go on, yer woice is sweeter far than the song of—of a Mother Carey’s chicken. Wot a lovely lady ye’d be, miss, if ye didn’t end in ling!’
“She smiled, and combed her hair with her long white fairy fingers as she glided on.
“‘Going to by-by am I? Well, the mum did used to call it that like, miss, but we grown-up sailor lads calls it a bunk or an ’ammock. Ain’t got ne’er a bit o’ baccy about ye, has ye, miss?’
“But the fairy mermaid only smiled.
“So soft and downy was the bed that Jack fell asleep singing low to himself—
“‘All in the downs the fleet was moored.’
“And that is the end of the story, siss.”
“Oh, no! What did he see when he woke up again?”
“Well, when he awoke in the morning, much to his amazement, he found himself in his own bed in his mother’s little cottage at home.
“He rubbed his eyes twice before he spoke.