The sea had taken away Shaun's only loved one.

Shaun O'Day stood upon the banks of the little lake near his village. He stared out across the blue Irish lake. That morning his stepmother had beaten him.

It was several months since the sea accident had taken his father from him. It was several sad, cruel months to the boy Shaun.

If it had not been for his little Dawn O'Day, Shaun would have run away. He would have run and run—anywhere to get away from this life of hard work and cruelty.

But he did not want to leave little Dawn O'Day. She pleaded with him to stay. She was afraid of the fairies.

To-day he stood beside the lake, and he had a bundle by his side. It was a bulky bundle. He had worked hard all that morning. He had helped the men burn kelp.

Kelp is seaweed. The people burn it and make iodine from what is left of it. Kelp burning is an important occupation in western Ireland.

Shaun had worked hard. His little rough hands burned. His little sturdy body ached. He was hungry.

He had gone home and, seeing the family at dinner, he had helped himself to potatoes.

His stepmother had cried, "Begob, and did I tell you to serve yourself? Are you, indeed, the King himself?"

With that, she had beaten him.

Now Shaun stood upon the shore of that blue Irish lake near his village. He had taken a suit of clothes belonging to one of his stepbrothers. A suit of boy's clothes it was.

He would put it on. He would stand by the lake and call to the leprechauns to take him away. He would work for the leprechauns. Yes, willingly would he work and toil for the fairy folk!

He started to undo the paper in which he had wrapped the clothing. He heard a sound and looked up. Eileen was standing before him. It was his little Dawn O'Day.

"Shauneen, och, Shauneen!" she cried. "What is it you are about to do? And why do you look that way?"

Shaun did not answer. He took her hand. They sat together on the bank of the lake.

"Faith, speak to me, Shauneen!" cried the girl, the tears starting to her eyes. "Speak and tell me that you are not after calling the lep—"

She stopped suddenly. One should not talk about them. They are easily offended.

Shaun kept looking out across the lake, but he held the hand of his little sweetheart. At last he spoke.

"Sure, I am leaving you, Dawn O'Day," he said.

As she started to cry out, he held up his hand and said, "No; do not cry, for I cannot stay. But do not fear that I shall forget you. The dream we made together shall come true. I'll be coming back to you. For there's not a faireen like you in all the world, at all."

Dawn O'Day began to cry.

She sobbed, "Och, don't be after leaving me! Don't be after going to them. Och, 'tis themselves will be keeping you, and never will Dawn O'Day see you again!"

Shaun laughed and stroked her little hand.

"Troth, do not fret, mavourneen," he said. "Sure, you know well I'll be writing to you, and never will I forget you, my Dawn O'Day."

The little girl knew that it was useless to say more. The boy stood up, and she stood, too. They looked into each other's blue eyes.

And then Eileen ran as fast as she could. She ran away from her little friend and sobbed as she ran. She thought she should never again see her Shauneen.

The boy quickly changed his clothing. He tied a large rock to the red petticoat and threw it into the lake. He stood there in the garments of a boy.

He held out his arms and cried, "Come, leprechauns! Sure, I'm ready to go with you!"

There was no fear in his heart. Any other boy in that village would have trembled at doing such a thing. But other boys were contented at home.

Other boys had mothers and fathers and good homes. They did not want to be stolen away. Shauneen was not afraid.

He stood and called as he stood. He was straight and strong. He would make a splendid helper for a shoemaker. Why did the fairy shoemakers not come and take him? He stood there until dusk. Then he grew tired and lay down to sleep. He slept long. It was early dawn when he awoke.

He stood once more and called out, "I am ready to go. Come, leprechauns, come!"

But not a one came. And the lad was puzzled.

Now Shaun was keen. He was one who thought and planned. He did not intend to go back to his stepmother.

He began to wonder whether the tale of the leprechauns was true. Had anyone ever really seen one? Only old Patch, the village shoemaker, and he was half-witted.

But no one had been with Patch when he had seen the leprechaun. No one ever had seen the fairies; but they all believed. They believed so much that they were in daily dread of them.

They left milk upon window sills and made charms to keep the fairies from doing evil. They dressed their boys in red petticoats.

But Shaun would never again wear a red petticoat. He would never again return to his stepmother.

Even if the fairies did not steal him, he would never return. He would go somewhere. Perhaps to the "New Island"—America! As he was thinking these thoughts, he found himself walking toward the shore. There was a weak light in the sky. The rugged shore was blue in the haze of dawn.

The boy could see a boat. Men were hauling things and making ready to set off for somewhere. Shaun was quick, and before he knew what he had done he had slid into the boat.

He crouched upon the bottom, under a seat. He made himself as small as a bundle of rags.

He lay very still. He felt the boat leave the shore and he heard the men talking and singing. The water rolled the boat about, and sometimes the spray came in and wet the men.

But Shaun was dry and warm under the seat. He hardly breathed.