"Yes, and she belongs to the church. I'm glad I'm not a Christian, if she's one."
"Oh, hush, Fred! Christian people are happier than we are."
"Humph! Maude professes to be a Christian, but she can't be happy. Seems to me she's the unhappiest person I know. Papa doesn't belong to the church, but he isn't always scolding."
"Well, I can't understand it," sighed Amy. "But, Fred, you know mama was a Christian."
"She was a real Christian, too," said Fred soberly. "But I guess it's hard work to be the real thing. Maude must be a make-believe one," he added.
"Oh, hush, Fred! I don't like to hear you say such things."
Left alone, Maude's hands were busy. At dinner time she ate a lunch, and at two o'clock was through her work.
"Everything's in order," she thought, as she looked about the neat kitchen. "And I'm not going to touch a bit of sewing this afternoon. I'll go into the sitting-room and rest until it's time to think about supper."
THE DREAM
In the pleasant little sitting-room Maude sat down in an easy rocker at the front window and looked out over the snow-covered fields. Presently she saw the bent form of a little old lady in a black coat and red hood coming up the path.