"Have things to eat?" asked the little stranger, in a solemn whisper.

There were a few chairs with broken backs, a few shelves with clean
dishes, a few children with hungry faces. In one corner was a clumsy
bedstead, and in a tidy bed lay a pale man.

"Who've you got there, Maria?" said he. "Bring her along, and stick her
up on the bed."

"Don't be afraid," said Mrs. Brooks; "it's only pa; wouldn't the little
girl like to talk to him? He's sick."

Flyaway was not at all afraid, for the man smiled pleasantly, and did
not look as if he would hurt anybody. Mrs. Brooks set her on the bed,
and Maria, afraid of losing her, held her by one foot. The children all
crowded around to see the little lady in a silk bonnet holding a
button-hole bouquet to her bosom.

"Ain't she a ducky dilver!" said the oldest boy. "Pa'll be pleased, for
he don't see things much. Has to keep abed all the time."

Mr. Brooks tried to smile, and Flyaway whispered to Maria, with sudden
pity,--

"Sorry he's sick. Has he got to stay sick? Can't you find the camphor
bottle?"

"O, father, she thinks if ycu had some camphor to smell of, 'twould cure
you."