The Old Sailor also found his way to the house. He was not as frequent a visitor as Mr. Fewster, but he was a more welcome one. The Old Sailor might have been a child, his heart was so green; and he had such a fund of stories to tell, and he told them with such simplicity and enthusiasm, believing in them thoroughly, however wild they were, that his hearers would hang upon his words, and laugh with him, and sorrow with him according to the nature of his narrative. They spent the pleasantest of pleasant evenings together, and when Praiseworthy Meddler told his sea-stories, Minnie would sit very quiet on the floor--a favorite fashion of hers--listening eagerly to every word that dropped from his lips. Then Basil Kindred would read Shakspeare when he could be coaxed into the humor, and would keep them spell-bound by his eloquence. He had ceased wandering in the streets and begging for his living. Necessity was his master there. He was stricken down with rheumatic fever, which so prostrated him that he was unable to pursue his vagrant career. They had a very hard task in inducing him to remain with them. "Live upon you, my dear lad!" he exclaimed loftily. "No; I will perish first!" "There is enough for all, sir," replied Dan. "Do not go. I would take from you--indeed, indeed I would!--could we change places. And there is Minnie, sir,"--with such a wistful tender glance towards Minnie, who was growing very beautiful,--"what would she do? But not for her nor for you do I ask this, sir. It is for me; for Ellen and Susan and Joshua. How happy he will be to find you here when he returns! You and Minnie, that he talked of so often, and with such affection! Then think, sir. You would not like to be the means of breaking up our little happy circle; and it is happy, isn't it, Minnie?" "Ah, yes, Dan!" replied Minnie, with an anxious look at her father. "Only one is wanting to make it perfect." "And that one is Joshua," said Dan, divining whom she meant, and grateful to her for the thought. "And that one is Joshua," she repeated softly, placing her shell to his ear. "Do you hear it? Is it not sweet, the singing of the sea?" But all argument and entreaty would have been thrown away upon Basil if it had not been for Minnie. It was she who, when they were alone, prevailed upon him to stay. "Your mother suffered for me and died for me," he said to her, as he lay upon his bed of pain. "How like her you are growing, Minnie! Well, well, one is enough. I will stay, child, for your sake." And she kissed him and thanked him, and whispered that he had made her happy. The next day she told Dan in a whisper that father was not going away; and Dan clapped his hands, and quietly said, "Bravo!" "And Joshua used to speak about us?" she remarked, with assumed carelessness. "Often and often, Minnie," answered Dan. "And really speak of us affectionately?" "Ah if you had only heard him! You know what a voice he has--like music."