"Now, what the d—ahem!—dickens, does Fred mean by landing you here and leaving you here?"
Faith did not speak.
"Are you tongue tied, child?"
"No, I'm—a little afraid of you—not very much, for you look a little like my dearest friend."
"And who is he?"
"Timothy his name is. He isn't ill like you, but he has a beard, and his eyes are blue. I think I came to see you to tell you about him."
"Sit down in that chair, little Miss Moth. Now tell me about yourself, not about this old bearded Timothy."
Faith smiled all over her face.
"I do love it when people give me names. Sir George calls me Curly, and Charlie calls me Ben. My real name is Faith. Will you always call me Miss Moth?"
"Is there going to be an always? Have you come into my house prepared to take root and stay?"