“‘What! mother?’ he cried.
“‘Yes, it is your own old mother, dearie, and I’ve been sittin’ up with you, and sich nonsense you has been a-talkin’, surely.’
“‘I’m not a merman, or anything, am I, mother? I don’t end in ling, do I, mother?’
“‘No, Jack Reid, you end in two good strong legs; but strong as they are, my boy, they weren’t strong enough to keep you from tumbling down last night. O Jack, Jack!’”
Book Two—Chapter Nine.
Wonderful Adventures of the Dancing Crane.
Hardly had Ransey finished his story ere a bright flash of lightning lit up the ship from stem to stern—a flash that seemed to strike the top of every rolling wave and hiss in the hollows between; a flash that left the barque in Cimmerian though only momentary darkness, for hardly had the thunder that followed—deep, loud, and awful—commenced, ere flash succeeded flash, and the sea all around seemed an ocean of fire.
For a time little Nelda could not be prevailed upon to go below. She was indeed a child of the wilds, and a thunderstorm was one of her chief delights.