"We have been here for days and days. There are hundreds of us
about the rocks. How was it you did not see us, or hear us when we
sing and romp every evening before we go home?"

Tom looked at the baby again, and then he said:

"Well, this is wonderful! I have seen things just like you again
and again, but I thought you were shells, or sea-creatures. I
never took you for water-babies like myself."

Now, was not that very odd? So odd, indeed, that you will, no
doubt, want to know how it happened, and why Tom could never find a
water-baby till after he had got the lobster out of the pot. And,
if you will read this story nine times over, and then think for
yourself, you will find out why. It is not good for little boys to
be told everything, and never to be forced to use their own wits.
They would learn, then, no more than they do at Dr. Dulcimer's
famous suburban establishment for the idler members of the youthful
aristocracy, where the masters learn the lessons and the boys hear
them--which saves a great deal of trouble--for the time being.

"Now," said the baby, "come and help me, or I shall not have
finished before my brothers and sisters come, and it is time to go
home."

"What shall I help you at?"

"At this poor dear little rock; a great clumsy boulder came rolling
by in the last storm, and knocked all its head off, and rubbed off
all its flowers. And now I must plant it again with seaweeds, and