"'All right,' says she, 'gimme something out of that other bucket and I'll go away. Come on, old sweetheart,' and she held up her arms to me.
"Well, I gave her the bucket and true to form she emptied it. Then she began to argue and plead with me until I nearly lost an ear.
"'No,' I yells at her, 'I ain't agoing to spend the night arguing with a drunken mermaid. Go away, now; you said you would.'
"'All right, old love,' she replies good-naturedly, 'but I'll see you again some time. I ain't ever going home again. I hate it down there.' And off she swims in an unsteady manner in the direction of the Gold Fish Arms. She was singing and shouting something terrible.
was the song she sang and I wondered where she had ever picked it up.
"Well," continued the chief, "to cast a sheep shank in a long line, these visits kept up every evening until I was pretty near drove distracted. Along she'd come about sun-down and stick around devilin' me and drinking up all my grog. After a while she began calling for gin and kept threatening me until I just had to satisfy her. She also made me buy her a brush and comb, a mouth organ and a pair of spectacles, together with a lot of other stuff on the strength of the fact that if I refused she would make a scene. In this way that doggon mermaid continually kept me broke, for my wage warn't enough to make me heavy and I had my home to support.
"'Don't you ever go home?' I asked her one night.
"'No,' she replied, 'I ain't ever going back home. I don't like it down there. There ain't no liquor dealers.'
"'But your husband,' exclaims I. 'What of him?'
"'I know,' says she, 'but I don't like him and I'm off my baby, too. It squints,' says she.