"What ails you, my little lass?" said Kind William.
But the maid only wept more bitterly, and wringing her hands,
repeated, "Oh, my little sisters! Oh, my little sisters!" presently
adding in the same tone, "The little fishes! Oh, the little fishes!"
"Dry your eyes, and I will give you half of them," said the
good-natured child; "and if you have no net you shall fish with me
this afternoon."
But at this proposal the maid's sobs redoubled, and she prayed and
begged with frantic eagerness that he would throw the fish back into
the river. For some time Kind William would not consent to throw away
his prize, but at last he yielded to her excessive grief, and emptied
the net into the pool, where the glittering fishes were soon lost to
sight under the sand and pebbles.
The girl now laughed and clapped her hands.
"This good deed you shall never rue, Kind William," said she, "and
even now it shall repay you threefold. How many fish did you catch?"
"Twenty-one," said Kind William, not without regret in his tone.
The maid at once began to pull hairs out of her head, and did not stop
till she had counted sixty-three, and laid them together in her
fingers. She then began to wind the lock up into a curl, and it took
far longer to wind than the sixty-three hairs had taken to pull. How
long her hair really was Kind William never could tell, for after it
reached her knees he lost sight of it among the fern; but he began to
suspect that she was no true village maid, but a water sprite, and he
heartily wished himself safe at home.
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