"Little Minnie, little Minnie!" whispered Minnie in so soft a tone that Joshua could scarcely hear it,--"little Minnie, little Minnie! The sea is singing it. How kind the sea is! and how soft and gentle I should like to go to sleep like this." "Does the shell sing any thing else, little Minnie?" "Listen! Ah, but you cannot hear! It is singing, 'Little Minnie, little Minnie, Joshua is going to be a sailor. Little Minnie, little Minnie, would you like to go with him?'" "And you answer?" "Yes, yes, yes! I should like to go with him, and hear the sea always singing like this. I should like to go with him because"--But here Minnie stopped. "Because what?" "Because nothing," said Minnie, taking the shell from her ear. "Now the sea is gone, and the singing is gone, and we are waiting at home for father." "What for, Minnie? What am I waiting at home for father for?" "To see him of course," answered Minnie. "And to wish him and you good-by," said Joshua. "Good-by!" echoed the child, with a sudden look of distress in her large gray eyes. "So soon!" "Yes. 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."