But it doubtless looked pleasant to our poor sick passenger, who for some days had been longing for land.
The Frenchman gave him a neat little room looking out on the harbor, all alive with fishermen and Indians hunting seals; and to my notion no place is very dull where you can see the salt-water and the ships at anchor on it, or scudding over it with sails set in a stiff breeze, and where you can watch its changes of lights and colors in fair and foul weather, morning and night.

The family was made up of the Frenchman, his wife, and his daughter,--a little witch of a girl, with bright black eyes lighting up her brown, good-natured face like lamps in a binnacle.
They all took a mighty liking to young Wilson, and were ready to do anything for him.

He was soon able to walk about; and we used to see him with the Frenchman's daughter strolling along the shore and among the mosses, talking with her in her own language.

Many and many a time, as we sat in our boats under the rocks, we could hear her merry laugh ringing down to us.
"We stayed at the station about three weeks; and when we got ready to sail I called at the Frenchman's to let Wilson know when to come aboard.
He really seemed sorry to leave; for the two old people urged him to remain with them, and poor little Lucille would n't hear a word of his going.

She said he would be sick and die on board the vessel, but that if he stayed with them he would soon be well and strong; that they should have plenty of milk and eggs for him in the winter; and he should ride in the dog-sledge with her, and she would take care of him as if he was her brother.