And then the beautiful being disappeared; and Maud, never dreaming that she had spoken with Christ, and hearing her sister's voice not far behind, hurried on quickly, so as to be in the cabin first.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE FAIRY LETTERS.
Maud was so tired of being alone, and so anxious, besides, to ask if Daisy had seen the stranger who disappeared from her, that she ran good naturedly enough to the door, to welcome her sister.
But when she saw the dame's wretched old face, and the little beggar whom she had thrust away so scornfully, and Daisy herself bending under the heavy load of sticks, Maud's wrath came back again.
"Here I shall have to wait an hour for my supper," she complained, "because you chose to lag behind, and tire yourself with bringing burdens for other folks. I should like to know where you will put your precious friends: not in our house—be very sure of that."
But the dame quickly silenced her by asking, "Who has fed, and clothed, and taken care of you and all your kith and kin? Who gave you the gown on your back and the beauty in your cheeks? And when you found your sister lying half dead by the roadside,—as you would have been but for my care,—what were you willing to do for her? O Maud, for shame!"
"She is no sister of mine," answered Maud, making way; however, as she spoke, for the beggar to enter her door.