Joshua Marvel. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

My ship sails to-morrow."

      "And this is the last day we shall see you," she said, her tears falling upon his hand.

      "The last day for a little while, little Minnie," he said, striving to speak cheerfully.

      "For how long?" asked the child, bending her head, so that her fair hair fell over her face.

      "For a year, perhaps, Minnie," he answered.

      "For a long, long year," she said sorrowfully. "You will not do as mother did, will you?"

      "How was that?"

      "She went away from us one afternoon, and was to come back at night. And it rained-oh, so dreadfully! – that night. We were lodging under some trees, father, mother, and I. Father was ill-very ill, but not with the same kind of illness that he has now sometimes. He had a fever. And mother went into the town to get something for us to eat-as you did that night when the bad boys threw a stone at father, and you brought him home. When father woke we went in search of her. But I never remember seeing mother again. And you are going away, and perhaps I shall never see you again."

      "What does the shell say, Minnie?"

      Minnie placed the shell to her ear.

      "I cannot make out any thing," she said in a voice of pain. "It isn't singing now; it is moaning and sighing."

      He took the shell and listened.

      "It will speak to me, because I am a sailor."

      "And it says?" asked Minnie anxiously.

      "And it says-no, it sings-'Little Minnie, little Minnie, Joshua is going to sea, and Joshua will come back, please God, in a year, with beautiful shells and wonderful stories for you and all his friends. So, little Minnie, little Minnie, look happy; for there is nothing to be sorrowful at.'"

      "Ah!" said Minnie in less sorrowful tones, "if I was a woman and loved anybody very much, I would not let him go away by himself."

      "Why, what would you do?"

      "I would follow him." And she pulled Joshua's head down to hers, and whispered, "I should like to go to sea with you."

      "Would you indeed, miss!"

      "Yes; for I love you, oh, so much!" whispered the child innocently in the same low tones. "But you wouldn't let me go, would you?"

      "I should think not. A nice sailor you would make; a weak little thing like you!"

      The girl sprang from her crouching attitude, and stood upright. As she did so, expressing in her action what her meaning was, Joshua noticed for the first time that she was growing to be large-limbed and strong. She tossed her hair from her face, and said, -

      "Father says I shall be a tall woman."

      "Well?"

      "Well," she repeated half-proudly and half-bashfully. "I should not make such a bad sailor, after all." And then with a motion thoroughly childlike, she knelt on the ground before him; and placing her elbows on his knees, rested her chin in her upturned palms, and looked steadily into his face. "If I was a woman," she said slowly and earnestly, "I would go with you, even if you would not let me."

      "How would you manage that?"

      "I would follow you secretly."

      "You must not say so," said Joshua reprovingly; "it would be very, very wrong."

      "To follow any one you loved?" questioned the child, shaking her head at the same time to denote that she had no doubt whether it would be right or wrong. "Wrong to wish to be with any one you loved? It would be wrong not to wish it. But" – and she looked round, as if fearful, although they were alone, lest her resolution should become known-"nobody should know; I would not tell a living soul."

      Joshua was silent, puzzled at Minnie's earnestness. Minnie, with the shell at her ear, soon broke the silence, however.

      "Has your friend-the boy you have told me about" -

      "Dan?"

      "Yes, Dan. Has Dan got a shell?"

      "No. I don't suppose he ever thought of it."

      "And yet he loves you very much, and a shell is the only thing that can bring the sea to him."

      "Who gave you the shell, Minnie?"

      "No one."

      "How did you get it, then?"

      "I took it from a stall."

      "O Minnie!" exclaimed Joshua, grieved and shocked; "that was very wicked."

      "I know it was," said Minnie simply; "but I did it for you. Two days afterwards, when father had money given to him, I asked him for some, and he gave it me. I went to the stall where the shells were, and asked the man how much each they were. 'A penny,' he said. I gave him two pence and ran away. That was good, wasn't it?"

      Joshua shook his head.

      "It was very wicked to steal the shell; and I don't think you made up for it by paying double when you got the money."

      But Minnie set her teeth close, and said between them, "It was wicked at first, but it wasn't wicked afterwards, was it, shell?" – She listened with a coaxing air to the shell's reply. – "The shell says it wasn't'. Besides, I did it for you; Dan wouldn't have done it."

      "No, that he wouldn't."

      "Shows he doesn't love you as much as I do," muttered Minnie with jealous intonation. "If he did, he would have thought of a shell, and would have got it somehow. If he did, he would go with you, and would never, never leave you!"

      "Now, Minnie, listen to me."

      "I am listening, Joshua." She would have taken his hand; but he put it behind his back, and motioned her to be still. She knew by his voice that something unpleasant was coming, and she set her teeth close.

      "You know that it is wrong to steal, and you stole the shell."

      "I did it for you," she said doggedly. "That does not make it right, Minnie. I want you to give me a promise."

      "I will promise you any thing but one thing," she said.

      "What is that."

      "Never mind. You would never guess, so you will never ask me. What am I to promise?"

      "That you will never steal any thing again."

      "Do you think I ever stole any thing but the shell, then?" she asked, with an air that would have been stern in its pride if she had not been a child.

      It was on the tip of Joshua's tongue to say, "I don't know what to think;" but her manner of putting the question gave the answer to it. "No," he said instead, "I don't think you ever did, Minnie."

      Her head was stubbornly bent; and she had enough to do to keep back her tears. She would not have succeeded had his answer been different.

      "No, I never stole any thing else. Stole is the proper word, I know; but it is a nasty one, and makes me ashamed."

      "That is your punishment, Minnie," said Joshua, wondering at himself for his tenaciousness.

      "That is my punishment, then," said Minnie not less doggedly than before; "but I did it for you" – nothing would drive her from that stand-point-"and I promise you, Joshua, that I will never steal any thing again-never, never!"

      He gave her his hand, and she took it and caressed it.

      "And now, Minnie, about Dan," he said. "You must not say or think any thing ill of him. He is the best-hearted and the dearest friend in the world; and I cannot tell you how much I love him, or how much he loves me."

      "Why doesn't he go to sea with you, then?"

      Joshua looked at her reproachfully.

      "Your memory is not good, Minnie. He is lame, as I told you."

      "I forgot. He can't go because he is lame. Would he go if his legs were sound?"

      "I think he would."

      "Don't think," Minnie said, with a sly look at him; "be sure."

      "I am sure