The merry laugh of the boys told her that it was “only Cousin Ronald,” but she let the crab alone, keeping at a respectful distance from its claws.

This was on the evening spoken of in our last chapter, and while her mamma and Aunt Lucy were chatting together in the veranda, waiting for the call to tea.

It sounded presently, and Cousin Ronald and the children started on a run for the house, trying who could get there first.

Harold showed himself the fleetest of foot, Herbert and Frank Daly were close at his heels, while Mr. Lilburn, with Rosie in one hand and little Walter in the other, came puffing and blowing not far behind.

“Won’t you take us another walk, cousin?” asked Rosie when they came out again after the meal.

“Yes,” he said, “this is a very pleasant time to be down on the beach.  Come lads,” to Harold and Herbert, “will you go along?”

They were only too glad to accept the invitation, and the four sauntered leisurely down to the water’s edge, where they strolled along watching the incoming tide.

“I love the sea,” said Rosie.  “I wish we could take it home with us.”

“We have a lake and must be content with that,” said Herbert, picking up a stone and sending it far out, to fall with a splash in among the restless waves; “we can’t have everything in one place.”

“Did you ever see a mermaid, Rosie?” asked Mr. Lilburn.

“No, sir; what is it?”

“They’re said to live in the sea, and to be half fish and half woman.”

“Ugh! that’s dreadful!  I wouldn’t like to be half of a fish.  But I wish I could see one.  Are there any in our sea here, Cousin Ronald?”

“They’re said to have very long hair,” he went on, not noticing her query, “and to come out of the water and sit on the rocks, sometimes, while they comb it out with their fingers and sing.”

“Sing!  Oh, I’d like to hear ’em!  I wish one would come and sit on that big rock ’way out there.”

“Look sharp now and see if there is one there.  Hark! don’t you hear her sing?”

Rosie and the boys stood still, listening intently, and in another moment strains of music seemed to come to them from over the water, from the direction of the rock.

“Oh, I do!  I do!” screamed Rosie, in delight.  “O, boys can you hear her, too? can you see her?”

“I hear singing,” said Harold, smiling, “but I think the rock is bare.”

“I hear the music too,” remarked Herbert, “but I suppose Cousin Ronald makes it.  A mermaid’s only a fabled creature.”

“Fabled? what’s that?”

“Only pretend.”

“Ah now, what a pity!”

At that instant a piercing scream seemed to come from the sea out beyond the surf, some yards higher up the coast.  “Help! help!  I’ll drown, I’ll drown!”

Instantly Harold was off like a shot, in the direction of the sound, tearing off his coat as he went, while Herbert screaming “somebody’s drowning!  The life boat! the life boat!” rushed away toward the hotel.