"But I can, and I will," was the reply. "I mean that I shall stay at Felicity for the present. I am glad you have explained to me about poor Henrietta. I pity her so much."
"She doesn't deserve a scrap of pity," said the boy.
"Now, Dom, you are not going to put on that horrible cloak of hatred. Oh, Dom, it is so fearful! Once, once I wore it tightly round me for some days, and I shall never forget it—never! Oh, the agony that was in my breast! Of course, Dom, you know the old, old story of the Wind and the Sun. There was a traveller, who was mounting up into the high hills and the wind and the sun had a great quarrel about him and they swore a sort of oath that they'd tear his cloak from him. 'I'll do it,' said the Wind. 'You won't succeed,' replied the Sun; and the traveller, knowing nothing about this, walked up, his cloak around him. Then the Wind came out in a mighty, mighty rage, rushed at him, and tore him and did all that Wind and Tempest could to get rid of his cloak. But the harder the Wind blew and the sharper it stung, the closer did the traveller fold his cloak round him. Then the Sun came out in a great golden beam, and said, 'You have had fair play, Wind, and I haven't interfered. Now, give me a chance.' So the Wind very sulkily died down, and the Sun poured his hot rays over the traveller, and lo, and behold! the traveller first loosened his cloak, and then cast it off and left it behind him on the mountain path. It was the awful Cloak of Hatred. And, Dom, dear Dom, that was what happened to me until the beautiful Sun of God's Love made me cast my cloak of hatred away; and never again, Dominic, will it come back."
"Well, at any rate," said Dom, "you can't prevent my staying at the Rose and Honeysuckle for a day or so longer."
"Oh no, I should quite love to have you."
As the children approached the house, they saw to their surprise Mrs. Faithful and Nurse Annie standing on the doorstep. They both of them looked distracted.
"Oh, Maureen, where have you been?" said Mrs. Faithful; "that poor little Daisy is worse than ever. Neither of the nurses can manage her in the very least. She is crying out for the angel—the white angel. Oh, my dear, dear child, how bad you look! Has anything happened? But I can't wait to hear now. Dinah returned some time ago with Henrietta, and Henrietta looked terribly cross. But run to your room at once, my darling, and get into a clean white frock. Nurse Annie will help you, and then you can go to poor Daisy. We have sent for the doctor, but you are the best doctor of all."
"I won't be a minute—I'll fly," said Maureen.
She dashed up to her room, and with Nurse Annie's aid very soon looked fresh and neat and tidy. Her long soft brown hair fell over her shoulders.
"I am sorry that you have to go back to her," said Nurse Annie, "for you look just fit to drop, but you are the only one who can manage her. Those two poor nurses are in despair. When she woke and found you were not seated by her bedside, she began to cry out for you in the most piteous way. 'I want the White Angel,' she said. You could not be found—you were out—and her temperature, which had gone down so marvellously, has gone up again higher than ever. Oh, I say, Miss Maureen, how have you hurt your hand and arm?"