The two girls were locked into the ugly north bedroom, and then and there Daisy screamed and shrieked to her heart's delight, and Henny-penny bent over her and finally dashed cold water on her head, and so brought her to her senses.
"You little fool," she said. "I knew you'd make mischief. A nice time we have before us. Well, at least we can run away."
"Yes, we can run away. Oh, Henny, love me! It was awful when she said she hated me. She said it with such strange, strong power. Oh, Henny, I'm afraid of her now."
"Get into bed, gosling, and I'll lie down by your side. No, I don't quite hate you, but I think you are a poor sort. We can run away from that female, who I imagine keeps a school; but for the time being we must pretend to submit."
Meanwhile, the Rector went down to Maureen. She was standing icy-cold by her window. She had not attempted to undress. There was the same strange new look in her eyes.
"I don't want to hear the story, uncle," she said. "I'm too wicked, wicked. I hate—I hate—I hate!"
"My child—my darling. Come and get into my arms."
"No, I couldn't—I couldn't, not while I feel as I do now. Oh, Uncle Pat, Satan got into me when I said I HATE, and he's in me still."
The Rector saw that the child was terribly excited. He himself helped her to undress and made her lie down in her little bed, and gave her a certain soothing draught which he knew would be good for her and would make her sleep and forget her troubles.
All the time while she was dropping to sleep the Rector was holding her hand, and all that long time he prayed very hard. He prayed that the evil spirit might leave the sweetest nature in the world and that the good spirit of all perfection might return.