Little Miss Moth

by Amy Le Feuvre

"Is it this tiny child he wishes to see?" she said, looking at the young man doubtfully.

He nodded.

"I think it is. We'll see."

And then Faith was led up to the big bed, and was lifted up to sit on the edge of it.

Old Mr. Cardwell looked to her, as if he were asleep. Only his lips moved—and he muttered below his breath.

"Speak to him, Faith. Don't be afraid. He's so fond of you," whispered the Pirate.

So Faith put her soft little hand on that of the invalid's.

"It's little Miss Moth, please. I've come to see you."

The old man opened his eyes drowsily. Quite a smile hovered about his lips.

"Little—Miss Moth—come—to say good-bye—" he murmured; "so glad."