by
M. J. C. Fulton
He was just dropping off to sleep, when his eyes seemed to wander to the open window, where the moonbeams were dancing in, as if they had come to see what sort of a room it was, and what the inmate was like. They are inquisitive little things, you know; both moonbeams and sunbeams. They like to get into all the odd dark corners, and if people are d..