"Garry, you are a right down splendid fellow. I'm going to give you a hot tumbler of punch, for well you deserve it. The horse is safe now."
"I left the bottle with the masther," continued Garry. "I wonder what was in it, that I do."
But the master and Maureen had read the words on the bottle: "Laudanum. POISON. Not to be taken internally."
Daisy stood sobbing before them. In her fright and Garry's sudden appearance she had emptied the greater part of the bottle into the mash. There was very little of it left.
"Maureen, my darling, will you go to bed?" said her uncle.
"Must I?" said Maureen.
"I would rather, dearest. I will come to you presently to your room. Your horse is safe, thanks to that good Garry."
The child went away, but she had a queer new sort of look on her face, a look she had never worn before, that no one had ever seen on the sweet face of Maureen. As she passed Daisy, she stopped for a minute, and forced the girl's small, terrified eyes to look at her.
"Do you know," said Maureen, "that for the first time in all my life I understand what hatred is? I—HATE—YOU!"
She left the room without another word. Daisy shivered. In the moment of getting her desire—for had she not longed for Maureen to hate her?—she found it like ashes, and worse than ashes, in her mouth. She still stood in front of the Rector with her eyes down, her freckled, colourless face very pale, only the freckles stood out and made a sort of ghastly relief to the awful pallor.