There was much to see that was worth seeing, and who so fit as Harry to point out these objects of attraction with which she had been familiar from her childhood?
They strolled along the beach to Polwheel, and she snowed him how the harbor there had been silted up through the wrath of the mermaids, or "merry maids," as she called them, still (under favorable circumstances) sometimes seen sitting on the slate cliff ledges beneath the clear blue sea.

Far from ridiculing her superstitions, he led her on to talk of them; he did not much mind what she talked about so long as he could look at her and listen.
"But why were the Polwheel mermaids so cruel, Harry?
I always imagine them bright and beautiful beings, with golden hair almost as long as yours, and with nothing to do but to comb it." "That is so, when they are let alone," said Harry, simply; "but even the weakest creatures love revenge, and will get it if they can." "And quite right too," interrupted Richard; "but for fear of that the strong would be more uncivil even than they are." "Well, a mermaid was once cruelly treated by a Polwheel man--he fell in love with her, and deserted her--and then her sisters choked up the harbor bar." "But how did he come to court the mermaid?
That must have been difficult; though, if I saw you sitting under water yonder, I should certainly dive, and try." "You would have no breath to make me pretty speeches then," said Harry, demurely.

"This mermaid was, however, a changed child.

A Polwheel woman was bathing her infant in the pool yonder beneath that arched rock, when it suddenly gave a cry of joy, and leaped from her arms into the sea.
She thought it was drowned, but it came up the next instant more beautiful and bright than ever.

She did not herself know but that it was her own child, but there were old folks in the town who knew that it was in reality a mermaid's changeling.