Avon Fantasy Reader No. 12 — page 66: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“You'd never catch it,” Cannon told her, “It won't wait for you to rab. I had a try when I first saw it, and got a wet sleeve—and this.” He held out his left hand. For the first time that evening Lu saw the gold band that he wore on his third finger. “A ring,” her lover explained. “I was lying on the bottom. Appar- ently it came with the weeds, too.” “You put it on your wedding finger!” Lu wailed. “That was the only one it would fit,” Cannon defended as she caught his hand and tugged with all her might at the ring. It did not budge. “Please,” she begged, “get rid of it.” “Why, Lu, what's the trouble? Are you being jealous because a present was given me by that mess of weed—or maybe by the little lady frog?” The tiny swimmer in the tank splashed water, as if in punctuation of his joke, and Cannon, falling abruptly silent, suddenly began wrench- ing at the gold circlet, But not even his strength, twice that of Lu, could bring it over the joint. “Here I don't like this,” he announced, his voice steady but a little tight. “I'm going to put soap on my finger, That will make the thing slip off.” Lu made no reply, but her eyes encouraged him. Cannon kissed her pale forehead, strode across the room and into a little corridor beyond. After a moment Lu could hear the spurt of a water-jet in a bow], then the sound of industrious scrubbing with lather. In command of herself once again but still a trifle faint and shaky, Iu leaned her hand lightly upon the thick, smooth edge of the aquarium glass. A fond little smile came to her lips as she pondered on Cannon’s eagerness to please her whim. Not even in a silly little matter like this one did he cross her will or offer argument that might embarrass or hurt her. The shedding of that ring would be a snbol between them, of understanding and faith. Her eyes dropped to the table that stood against the aquarium, with its litter of papers and notebooks. At the edge nearest Lu lay a thick volume bout in gray—a dictionary. What was the term she had puzzled over? Oh, yes. . . . Still lounging with one hand on the glass, she flipped the book open with the other and turned the pages to the K’s: Kelp: Any one of varions large brown seaweeds of the families Laminariaceae and Fucaceae. Her hazy memory had been right, then, about the word. But why should a body of fresh water be called Pool Kelp? Glancing back at the page, her eyes caught the next definition. It answered her question. Kelpie: (Gael, Myth.) A malicious water spirit or demon believed 64 comichbooks.com