The sea-owl took the merman into his office on the instant. He bound up his wound and attended him very carefully, for he was by no means such a fool as you would imagine from his conversation. The merman was cured before long, and made the sea-owl a handsome return for his services. The owl was just as much pleased as though the money had been a large item in the sum of the universe. He gave the merman a present of his own poems neatly bound in shark skin. He had several hundred copies in his office, for he had issued them at his own expense. They had been much praised, but some way they did not sell. The sea-owl said it was because all the people in the sea were “Philistines.” No one knew just what he meant, but when he called people by that name most all of them experienced a sort of crushed feeling, and pretended to admire the poems. Sometimes they would even buy them, but not often. Moby Dick accompanied the young merman home, and they made up a story that his hurt had been caused by a sword-fish, against whom he had run in the dark. Nobody believed him, for some way every one knew the truth, but all the members of the family’s own circle pretended to believe the tale, for they were all very high-bred people. It had been intended that the wedding of the professor’s granddaughter should be a very brilliant affair, but they felt so unhappy about the grandson that they resolved to invite only a few intimate friends. Moby Dick, of course, was among the number. He was too huge to come into the house, but he put his nose to the window and ate ice cream with a fire shovel for a spoon. The beautiful mermaid from next door was bridesmaid, and looked most lovely. She seemed in better spirits than any one else, and never said a word about her old playmate. Toward the end of the evening she went out into the garden that was all glittering with sea phosphorescence. She swam up to Moby Dick and said it was warm weather. “So it is, my dear,” said the whale, and looking with admiration at the bridesmaid, who wore white lace and emeralds. “You came from Gibraltar, didn’t you?” said the mermaid, playing with her looking-glass, which the sea ladies carry as ours do their fans. “Yes, where the bridegroom and I went to see after that bewitched brother-in-law of his,” said the whale, for he was vexed at the merman. “Do you think he is bewitched?” said the bridesmaid. The whale scratched his head, which is not vulgar in a whale. “I never thought of it before,” he said; “but now you speak of it I shouldn’t wonder if it was so.” The bridesmaid whispered in the whale’s ear. “I wish you’d come with me to the old Witch of the Sea,” she said. “Won’t you, please?” “I’ll go to the ends of the ocean with you, miss, if you want me to,” said Moby Dick; “but what for?”