At this, Daisy would look up through her spectacles, and say, meekly, "It doesn't matter much who is our father here; for God, up in heaven, is the Father of us all, and gives great people their fine houses, just as he gives these flowers to you and me; for mother told me so."
Then Maud would toss her head, and ask, "What is mother but an old woodcutter's wife, that has worked, perhaps, in my father's kitchen?"
"God doesn't care where we have worked, but how well our work is done," said Daisy.
"O, nonsense! Who ever saw God? I want a father that can build me a fine house, all carpeted, and lighted with chandeliers, and full of servants, like the houses mother tells us about sometimes."
"Why, Maud, what is this world but a great house that God has built for us? All creatures are our servants; the sun and stars are its chandeliers; the clouds are its beautiful window frames; and this soft moss is the carpet. Look, what dear little flowers grow among it, and gaze up as if they were saying, 'Yes—God made us all.'"
"Who wants a house that every one else can enjoy as much as we, and a father that is not ashamed to call every dirty beggar his child?"
Daisy thought her home all the pleasanter for this, and loved her heavenly Father more, because he had room in his heart for even the meanest creature; but she could not make her sister feel as she did, nor try, as Daisy tried, to be patient, and gentle, and happy.