Every one there has his part:
Has his work to do, has his love to give,"—
And all the voices sang with her
"Thus we work, thus we love ever while we live."
Then the procession moved out again, and Effie clung still to the little man's seal-skin cap, as she sat on her cushion of sea-weed, upon the hump on his back; and he marched along, using his flat hands like oars, while the gruff old constable with his sword, and the dolphins and the fishes, great and small, moved beside the pair, and they all went swiftly up from the light to the darker green, the voices growing fainter to Effie, and their forms more indistinct.
The little sea-green man brought Effie out of the water, and set her down on the beach, and then, making his profoundest bow, he walked off to the water again, the ends of his seal-skin cap dangling and bobbing behind. Effie watched him go under the water, and then walked up into the house. There was her mother frying some fish which Father Gilder had just brought home for supper, while he was chopping wood at the side of the house. It was not a bit like the beautiful palace she had seen, with the Queen of the Ocean Deeps, and her maidens about her, weaving and singing songs. Effie wished the little sea-green man had never brought her up again, but had let her always live in such a beautiful place.
"What's the matter, Effie?" asked her mother, looking up from the frying-pan, and seeing Effie stand there, staring into the fire.
"Oh, mother!" said she, "I have seen such beautiful things!"
"Whereabouts, child!"
"Oh, way down under the water! Such a funny little man, all dressed in sea-weed, took me down on his back, and—"
"Nonsense, Effie! don't come to me with such stories. Go and wash your face and hands, and get yourself ready for supper."