dying down.

He threw himself on the grass by the dogs, and began teasing and
playing with them. Meanwhile Louie sat studying 'Lias with a
frowning hostility, making faces at him now and then by way of
amusement. To disappoint the impetuous will embodied in that small
frame was to commit an offence of the first order.

But one might as well make faces at a stone post as at old 'Lias
when his wandering fit was on him. When the entertainment palled,
Louie got up with a yawn, meaning to lounge back to the farm and
investigate the nearness of dinner. But, as she turned, something
caught her attention. It was the gleam of a pool, far away beyond
the Downfall, on a projecting spur of the moor.

'What d' yo coe that bit watter?' she asked David, suddenly
pointing to it.

David rolled himself round on his face, and took a look at the
bluish patch on the heather.

'It hasna got naw name,' he said, at a venture.

'Then yo're a stoopid, for it has,' replied Louie, triumphantly.
'It's t' _Mermaid_ Pool. Theer wor a Manchester mon at Wigsons'
last week, telling aw maks o' tales. Theer's a mermaid lives
in 't--a woman, I tell tha, wi' a fish's tail--it's in a book,
an he read it out, soa _theer_--an on Easter Eve neet she cooms
out, and walks about t' Scout, combin her hair--an if onybody sees
her an wishes for soomthin, they get it, sartin sure; an--'