Faith was much delighted the next day when a note arrived for her from old Mr. Cardwell. She opened it with much pride and showed it to everyone:
"DEAR LITTLE MISS MOTH,
"I thank you for your kind thought for a cross old man. The berries were really too pretty to be eaten. But to please you I have devoured them, and have been taken back to my boyhood's days. I know the spot where they grow. When you come next Saturday, I will tell you an anecdote concerning them.
"Your old friend,
"W. CARDWELL."
"He isn't a cross old man to me," said Faith. "I like him next to Timothy."
"I shouldn't like to be called Miss Moth," said Charity; "a moth is a horrid, dusty thing—lives on old clothes; the Bible says it corrupts, that's an awful thing to do."
Faith's face fell.
"I hope I don't corrupt," she said; "what does it mean?"
"Well, you do like old things," said Hope; "you like old men, so that part fits you."
"I think corrupt means make rotten or bad," said Charity.
"How dreadful!" said Faith. "I'm sure Mr. Cardwell didn't mean to call me anything horrid. I'll ask him. But I think he thought I looked like a moth, he said I came into his room like one."
"And you're easily crushed," said Charity laughing; "yes, you're rather like a moth in that way."