The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1901-11-21
The Mermaid
-s$os. -
BY ARTHUR J. DANIELS.

loving care, she mixed the salad, re-
peating the while her favorite rec
ipe, "a taste of vinegar, river of
oil, and do not forget the sugar"
Monsieur may not believe the
story; nevertheless, it is fact, all
the same. Monsieur is incredulous,
but presently he may see her, as
others have done, with his own eyes,
and then monsieur will believe
The "she" in question was a mer-
maid.
The strange apparition had ar
rived one evening off the rocks
which fringed the shore of the lit
tie Normandy coast town where /
was spending my holidays and had
been seen by six separate and dis
tinct inhabitants of standing and
repute. 1t was true that one was
in his cups at the time, being on
his way home from a wedding; but,
putting him aside, five credible wit
nesses still remained. The result
was that the summer sleep which
annually wrapped st. Luce in its
heavy folds was rudely dissipated
and the town awoke with jerk. It
even talked loudly at street corners
and shouted across the streets.
Nine. Morette shook her head. She
hated innovations of any sort, and
when three gentlemen of the press,
accompanied by Photographic cam
eras and large pipes, suddenly ap-
peared on the scene the good dame
could scarcely restrain her tears.
Later on she did let loose the
foodgates, but that was when she
learned that all the young men
snd not few of their elders also
in the town had taken to spending
their days on the rocks in the hope
of gazing upon the shameless crea-
ture who Haunted her golden hair
and silver scales in so unladylike a
fashion before the public gaze.
'What is the government doing"
walled madame, ''to permit the
scandal? The creature should be
taken out into deep water and
drowned, or at least" she added
more mercifully, s'she should be
provided with a proper bathing cos
tune"
Despite the cynical smile with
which I received Nine. Morette's
news, / am. afraid my name must be
included among those who went
down to the seaweed tangled rocks
and hung about the caves which
riddled the cliffs in the hope of see
ing a mermaid.
My mermaid was not, however,
the mermaid of st. Luce.
Miss .Hatherfeld wore a cool
frock and straw hat. She did not
possess scales, and her hair was
brown. Moreover, she did not sport
in the water, save when she took
her morning dip. At other times
she patronized the good green earth
or the equally good yellow sand.
Occasionally, it is true, she picked
her way gingerly across the rocks,
but that was only when she yearned
to catch some special "effect" and to
transfer it to her canvas or her
sketching block. At such times it
generally happened that ! had
yearnings in the same direction.
At first distance of good many
yards separated our easels, but when
the ice was broken the distance di-
minished. One could talk so much
easier and compare notes with so
much greater facility when seated
close together.
Within the space of eight days
after making Miss .Hatherfields &C
quaintance / discovered that | was
hopelessly in love with her.
At that moment the other mer-
maid drifted into our conversation.
l mentioned the subject to Miss
Hatherfeld and made joke about
it. To my establishment she took
the subject quite seriously.
"Why mott" she said as grave as
a judge.
"Why not what?" I replied
lamely.
"Why not mermaid ?" she went
on.
Certainly, if you wish it." I an
swered, looking mysterious and un-
utterable things. / thought of
adding, "You can have dozen if
you like; can refuse you nothing"
but | didn't. She did not seem dis
posed to levity at the moment.
She put Splotch of carmine on
her palette, transferred portion OF
it to her canvas and a portion to my
shirt cuff, which was gravitating in
the direction of her waist, and then
went On, ''There are sea serpents,
ere there not?"
Al