"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 he would then." "Caught!" cried Minnie, clapping her hands, the sly look, in which there was simplicity, changing to a cunning one, in which there was craft. "Caught, caught, caught!" "I should like to know how," said Joshua. "How ridiculous of you, Minnie, to cry 'Caught!' as if I was a fox!" "No, I am the fox," she cried, shaking her hair over her face with enchanting grace. "I am in hiding--just peeping round the corner." She made an opening in her thick hair, and flashed a look at him; a look that was saucy, and cunning, and charming, and wilful, all at once. "Am I a good fox?"