"There are two ways of getting well," said Maureen. "Little Daisy has chosen the better way. Come at once. See how beautiful she is."
"Daisy beautiful! You must be joking."
Dinah took up her position outside the door. The two girls entered.
"Henny," said Maureen suddenly, "I'm afraid you will get something of a shock, for you will see your poor little sister as God meant her to be. The Evil Spirit has left her, and the very last thing she said was, 'I love you, Maureen; I love you!' Now, look for yourself at her dear little face."
Quickly and deftly Maureen lifted the sheet and showed the dead girl covered with flowers.
Henrietta was indeed startled at last. She gave a great ringing, piercing cry, "Why, this is never my Daisy," she said.
"Yes, yours, and mine, and God's!"
"Is she—is she really dead?" said Henrietta. "I wouldn't know her. She's awfully pretty, little snippet; but why does she smile? Is she glad of her death? And her eyes are tight shut and her freckles are gone, and she looks very, very white, and her hair is as fuzzy-wuzzy as mine. Oh, it's all a joke you are playing on me! Daisy! I say, Daisy! Wake up, wake up! See, snippet, we've a lot to do. Wake up, flower, wake up! Here, I don't often kiss, but I'll kiss you."
Henrietta bent and kissed the cold brow. She had never seen Death; she had never felt the cold chill of Death. She gave one exceeding bitter cry.
"Oh, Maureen, Maureen," she said, "save me! Save me!"