'Dumpy Dad!' faltered Hollyhock, her usually happy voice quavering with sadness.

Lennox took not the slightest notice, but went on with his accounts.

'This is unbearable,' thought Hollyhock. 'If dad chooses to spend his mornings over horrid arithmetic instead of looking after me, when I 've given up so much for his sake, I'll just run away, that I will; but as to going to Ardshiel, to be crowed over by Magsie, catch me!'

Hollyhock pulled the crimson bow out of her dark hair, let the said hair blow wildly in the breeze, stuck on her oldest and shabbiest hat, which she knew well did not become her in the least, and went to The Paddock. She was quite longing to do her usual lessons with Aunt Cecil. In order to reach The Paddock she had, however, to pass Ardshiel, and the shrieks of laughter and merriment that reached her as she hurried by were anything but agreeable to her ears.

'Jasmine might have more feeling,' thought the angry girl. 'Gentian might think of her poor lonely sister. Delphinium ought by rights to be sobbing instead of laughing. We were always such friends; but there, if this goes on, Scotland won't see much more of me. I used to be all for the bonnie Highlands, but I 'm not that any more. I 'll go to cold London and take a place as kitchen-maid. I won't be treated as though I were a nobody, I 'll earn my own bread, I will, and then perhaps Dump will be sorry. To do so much for a man, and for that man to absorb himself in arithmetic, is more than a girl can stand.'

Hollyhock reached The Paddock between eleven and twelve o'clock. She marched in boldly to see Mrs Constable employed over some needlework, which she was doing in a very perfect manner.

'I thought you were coming to teach me this morning, Aunt Cecilia,' said the girl in a tone of reproach.

Mrs Constable raised her soft gray eyes. 'My dear child,' she said, 'didn't you know that your father and I are not going to teach you any more? All the teaching in this place will be at Ardshiel.'

'Then how am I to learn?' said Hollyhock, in a tone of frightened amazement.

'Naturally,' replied Mrs Constable, 'by going to Ardshiel.'

'Never!' replied the angry girl. 'I 'm not wanted. I can make my own plans. Good-bye. I hate every one.'

Hollyhock made a dash toward the door, but Mrs Constable called her back.

'Won't you help me with this needlework, dear? I should enjoy your company. I miss my Precious Stones so much.'

'Fudge!' replied Hollyhock. 'I 'm not going to comfort you for your Precious Stones. Great boobies, I call them, going to a mixed school.'

She dashed away from The Paddock. Again, on her way home, Hollyhock was entertained by the sounds of mirth at Ardshiel. On this occasion a number of girls were playing tennis, and her own sisters, Jasmine and Gentian, blew rapturous kisses to her. This seemed to the unhappy child to be the last straw.

'Who is that girl?' asked Ivor Chetwode.

'She is my sister,' replied Jasmine.

'Your sister! Then whyever doesn't she come to this splendid school?'

'Oh, we 'll get her yet, Ivor.'

'We must,' said Ivor. 'I can see by her face that she 'll be no end of fun.'

'Fun!' replied Jasmine. 'She 's the very life of The Garden.'

'The Garden? What do you mean by The Garden?'

'That's where we happen to live,' replied Jasmine.

'You are not a weekly pupil, are you, Ivor?'

'No, alas! I 'm not. My home's too far away.'

'Well,' said Jasmine, 'I 'll beg Mrs Macintyre to let me invite you to dine with us at The Garden on Sunday.'

'But will your sister scowl at me, the same as when you kissed hands to her just now?' asked Ivor.

'Oh no; but you must be very polite to her. You must try to coax her in your manly way to become a pupil at the school.'

'Well, I 'll do my best,' said Ivor Chetwode. 'She is certainly handsome, but she has a scowl that I don't like.'

'Well, try not to speak against her, Ivor. Remember she is my sister.'

'I am awfully sorry, Jasmine, and I do think you 're a ripping kind of girl.'

Hollyhock sat down to the midday meal at The Garden in exceedingly low spirits, but her father had now got through what she called his arithmetic, and was full of mirth. He ate heartily and laughed heartily, and said in his most cheery voice, 'Well, my pet Hollyhock, you and your Dumpy Dad must make the best of each other.'

'Oh Dumps, do you want me to stay with you?'

'Why not? What do you think?'

'Dumpy, I've had a miserable morning.'

'I 'm sorry for that, my little Flower; but it need not happen again. You ought not to be unhappy. You 'll have holidays always from now onwards.'

'Oh daddy, am I never to learn anything more?'

'Well, I don't exactly know how you can. The teaching goes on at Ardshiel, and as you naturally wish to stay with your father, and as I naturally wish to keep you, and as the expense of sending my other Flowers to such a costly school is very great, I have undertaken some estate work, which must occupy a good deal of my time. Your aunt, too, dear woman, has secured a post as kindergarten teacher at the great school. Therefore, my little Hollyhock will have holidays for ever. She will be our little dunce. Think how jolly that will be!'

Hollyhock felt a dreadful lump in her throat. She managed, however, to eat, and she struggled hard to hide her great chagrin.

'For the rest of the afternoon I am entirely at your service, my child,' said Mr Lennox. 'I think it is just precisely the day for a good long ride on Lightning Speed and Ardshiel. There's a fine, bright, fresh air about, and it will put roses into your bonnie cheeks. Get on your habit and we 'll go for a long ride.'

This was better; this was reviving. The horses were led out by the groom. Hollyhock, who could ride splendidly, was soon seated on the back of her glorious Arab, Lightning Speed. Her father looked magnificent beside her on Ardshiel, and away they started riding fast across country.

They returned home after an hour or two with ravenous appetites, to find that Duncan, the old serving-man, had lit a great fire of logs in the hall, and that Tocsin and Curfew were in their usual places, enjoying the blaze.

Hollyhock tossed off her little cap and sat down to enjoy tea and scones to her heart's delight. She now felt that she had done right not to go to Ardshiel. Her voice rang with merriment, and her father joined her in her mirth.

But when tea came to an end Lord Ian Douglas, the gentleman of vast estates whom Mr Lennox was to help as agent, appeared on the scene, and Hollyhock was forgotten. She was introduced to Lord Ian, who gave her a very distant bow, and began immediately to talk to his new agent about crops and manures, turnips, cattle, pigs, all sorts of impossible and disgusting subjects, according to the angry little Hollyhock.

Lord Ian did not go away for some hours, and when at last he departed it was time to dress for dinner. But how Hollyhock did miss the Precious Stones and The Garden girls! How dull, how gloomy, was the house! She tried in vain to eat her dinner with appetite, but she saw that her father looked full of preoccupation, that he hardly regarded her; in fact, the one and only speech that he made to her was this: 'Douglas is a good sort, and he has given me a vast lot to do. It will help to pay for the Flowers' education; but I greatly fear, my Hollyhock, that you will be a great deal alone. In fact, the whole of to-morrow I have to spend at Dundree, Lord Ian's place. I wish I could take you with me, my darling; but that is impossible, and I must leave you now, for I have to look over certain accounts which Lord Ian brought with him. This is a very lucky stroke of business for me. Your Dumpy Dad can do a great deal for his Flower Girls by means of Lord Ian.'

'I hate the man!' burst from Hollyhock's lips.

If her father heard, he took no notice. He calmly left the room.



CHAPTER VIII.

HOLLYHOCK LEFT IN THE COLD.

The fire burned brightly in the ingle-nook, and the dogs, Tocsin and Curfew, slept in perfect peace in close proximity to its grateful heat; but Hollyhock was alone—utterly alone. She felt more miserable than she had ever believed it possible to be in her hitherto joyous life. She drew up a chair near the hearth, and the dogs came and sniffed at her; but what were they, compared to Jasmine, Delphinium, and the Precious Stones? As to Dumpy Dad, she could never have believed that he would treat his little girl in such a heartless manner. Had she not given up all for him, and was this her reward?

She felt a great lump in her throat, and a very fierce anger burned within her breast. What right had Dumpy Dad and Aunt Cecilia to forsake the only child who was true to them? The others were off and away at their learning and their fun, perchance; but she, Hollyhock, the faithful and the true, had remained at home when the others had deserted it. She had been firm and decided, and here was her reward—the reward of utter desolation.

'Get away, Curfew,' she said, as the faithful greyhound pushed his long nose into her hand.

Curfew raised gentle, pleading brown eyes to her face; but being of the sort that never retorts, he lay down again, with a sigh of disappointment, close to Tocsin. He, too, was feeling the change, for he was a very human dog, and missed the Flower Girls and the Precious Stones, and the dear, dear master and Mrs Constable, just as Hollyhock did.

But what was the use of making a fuss? According to Curfew's creed, it was wrong to grumble. Hollyhock did not want him. He lay down with his long tail on Hollyhock's frock, and his beautiful head pressed against Tocsin's neck. Tocsin was a magnificent bloodhound, and he was the greatest support and comfort to Curfew at the present crisis.

By-and-by Mr Lennox passed hurriedly through the hall. He was going into his special library to get some books. He saw the melancholy figure of Hollyhock seated not far from the great fire, and the faithful dogs lying at her feet. He said in his most cheerful tone, 'Hallo, my little girl! you and the dogs do make a pretty picture; but why don't you play the organ or sing something at the piano?'

'You know, daddy, I have no real love for music,' said Hollyhock in a cross voice.

'Well, well, then, take a book, my child. Here 's a nice story I can recommend you—Treasure Island, by Louis Stevenson.'

'I hate reading,' she said.

'Well, I'm afraid I can't help you, dear. I'm frightfully busy, and shall not get to bed until past midnight. Taking up this new work means a great deal, and you know, my Flower Girl, your Dumpy Dad, as you like to call him, is the very last person in the world to do a thing by halves. If I have to sit up till morning, I must do so in order to be prepared for Dundree and Lord Ian to-morrow. Perhaps, dear, you had best kiss me and say good-night.'

'Daddy—daddy—I 'm so—miserable!'

'Sorry, my child; but I can't see why you should be. You have all the comforts that love and sympathy can bestow upon you.'

'No, no; I am alone,' half sobbed Hollyhock.

'Don't get hysterical, my child. That is really very bad for you; but, anyhow, I 've no time to waste now over a little girl who is surrounded by blessings.'

'If Daddy Dumps goes on much longer in that strain I shall absolutely begin to hate him,' thought the furious child. 'The bare idea of his thinking of talking to me as he has done.—No, Curfew, don't! Put your cold nose away.'

Curfew heaved another heavy sigh and lay closer to Tocsin, and with a smaller portion of his tail on Hollyhock's dress.

Now the olden custom at The Garden and The Paddock—that lovely custom which had suddenly ceased—was music, dancing, games, fun, shrieks of laughter from Precious Stones and Flower Girls, the hearty peal of a man's voice when he was thoroughly enjoying himself, the gentle, restrained merriment of a lady. This lady was Mrs Constable, who was now going to be a kindergarten teacher, forsooth! And this man was Dumpy Dad, who was going to be an agent, indeed! No wonder the girl and the dogs felt lonely. The end of the happy evenings had arrived. One evening used to be spent at The Garden, the next at The Paddock; and then the delightful good-byes, the cheerful talk about the early meeting on the morrow, and if it was the evening for The Paddock, the lively and merry walk home with Daddy Dumps and the other Flower Girls.

Oh, how things were changed! What an unbearable woman Aunt Agnes was! What a horror was Mrs Macintyre! Had not those two between them simply swept four of the Flower Girls out of sight, and all the Precious Stones; and, in addition, had not Dumpy Dad and Aunt Cecilia undertaken some kind of menial work with regard to Dundree and Ardshiel? It was solely and entirely because of Ardshiel that Dumpy Dad was going to be an agent. It was entirely on account of Ardshiel that Aunt Cecilia was going to stoop to be a sort of nursery-governess. Well and cleverly had those wicked women, Aunt Agnes and Mrs Macintyre, laid their plans. 'But the plans o' the de'il never prosper,' thought Hollyhock. 'They'll come to their senses yet; but meanwhile what am I to do? How ever am I to stand this awful loneliness?' Hollyhock was not a specially clever child. She was passionate, fierce, and loving; but she was also rebellious and very determined. There was a great deal in her which might make her a fine woman by-and-by; but, on the other hand, there was much in her which showed that she could be, and might be, utterly ruined.

Suddenly a wild and naughty idea entered her brain. Nothing, not all the coaxing, not all the petting, not all the language in all the world, would get her to go to Ardshiel as a pupil; but might she not go there now, and peep in at the windows and see for herself what was going on, what awful process was transforming the Flower Girls and the Precious Stones into other and different beings?

Her father had said good-night to her, but it was still quite early—between eight and nine o'clock. The Ardshielites, those wicked ones, would still be up. She would have time to go there, to look in and see for herself what was going on.

She was the sort of girl who did nothing by halves. The servants had no occasion to come into the hall again that night. Ah yes, here was Duncan; she had better say something to him in order to lull his suspicions.

The old man came in and began to close the shutters. 'Don't ye sit up ower long, Miss Hollyhock. Ye must be feelin' a bit dowy without the ithers, bless them.'

'No, I don't, Duncan,' replied Hollyhock. 'But, all the same, I 'd best go to bed, I expect.'

'Weel, that 's exactly what I 'm thinkin',' said the old man. 'Ye 'll gang to your rest and have a fine sleep. That's what a body wants when she's eaten up wi' loneliness. I ken fine that ye are missin' the ithers, lassie.'

'I'm not missing them a bit,' replied Hollyhock. 'As if I could miss traitors.'

'Come, come, noo; don't be talkin' that way.' Here Duncan shut the great shutters with a bang. 'Why should a young maid talk so ignorant? Ye 'll be a' richt yet, lassie; but there, ye 're lonesome, my bonnie dearie.'

'Suppose, now, you had been me, Duncan, what would you have done?' said Hollyhock suddenly.

'Why, gone to Ardshiel, of course.'

'Duncan, I hate you. You 're another traitor.'

'No, I'm no,' said Duncan; 'but I ken what's richt, and I ken what's wrang, and when a little lass chooses betwixt and between, why, I says to myself, says I, "Halt a wee, and the cantie lass'll come round," says I. Shall I take the dogs or no, Miss Hollyhock?'

'Yes, take them; I don't want them,' said Hollyhock.

'The poor maister, he's that loaded wi' work.— Come away, doggies; come away.— Guid-nicht to ye, missie; guid-nicht. Bed's the richt place for ye. I 'm sorry that Magsie 's no here to cuddle ye a bit.'

'Thanks; I'm glad she's gone. I hate her,' said Hollyhock.

'Ay,' said the old man, coming close to the child and looking into her eyes. 'Isn't it a wee bit o' the de'il ye hae in ye the nicht, wi' your talkin' o' hatin' them that luves ye!—Come, doggies; come. My poor beasties, ye 'll want your rest; and there's no place like bed for missie hersel'.'

'You 'd best go to your own bed, too, Duncan,' called Hollyhock after him. 'You are a very impertinent old man, and getting past your work.'

'Past my work, am I, now? Aweel, ye 'll see! Guid-nicht, miss. I bear no malice, although I pity the poor maister.'

Duncan departed, taking the greyhound and the bloodhound with him. As soon as she was quite sure that he had gone, and silence, deep and complete, had fallen on the house, Hollyhock took down an old cloak from where it hung in a certain part of the hall, and wrapping it firmly round her shoulders, went out into the night. It was better out of doors—less suffocating, less lonely—and the girl's terribly low spirits began to rise. She was in for an adventure, and what Scots lassie did not love an adventure?

So she crept stealthily down the avenue, slipped through the smaller of the gates, and presently found herself on the highroad. It was still comparatively early, and certainly neither Lennox nor old Duncan missed her. Duncan thought she was in bed; Lennox was too absorbed in his heavy work to give his naughty little girl a thought. She had chosen to stay behind. It was very troublesome and awkward of her, but he was confident that her rebellious spirit would not last long. Accordingly Hollyhock went the short distance which divided Ardshiel from The Garden, entered by the great iron gates, and walked up the stately avenue toward the beautiful mansion, where her own sisters were traitorously and wickedly enjoying themselves.

'But let them wait until lessons begin,' thought Hollyhock; 'let them wait until that woman puts the birch on to them; then perhaps they 'll see who's right—I, the faithful, noble girl, who would not desert her father, or they, who have just gone off to Ardshiel for a bit of excitement.'

Ardshiel really looked remarkably pretty as Hollyhock drew near. It was illuminated by electric light from attic to cellar, and there was such a buzz of young voices, such an eager amount of talk, such peals of happy, childish laughter, that Hollyhock was led thereby in the right direction, and could peep into a very large room which was arranged as a vast playroom on the ground floor, and where all the children at present at Ardshiel were clustered together.

Hollyhock, wearing her dark cloak, looked in. The blinds had not yet been pulled down, and one window was partly open. She therefore saw a sight which caused her heart to ache with furious jealousy. Her own sister Jasmine was talking to a girl whom she addressed as Barbara. Her own sister Rose of the Garden was chatting bravely with a girl whom she addressed as Augusta. Hollyhock could not help observing that both Barbara and Augusta were particularly nice-looking girls, with fair English faces and refined English voices. All the children were dressed for the evening.

'So affected at a school,' thought Hollyhock; 'but the birch-rod woman will be on them soon, if I 'm not mistaken.'

There was, however, a boy present who specially drew her attention and even forced her admiration. He was a remarkably handsome boy, and his name was Ivor. What his surname was Hollyhock could not guess. She only knew that she had never seen such beautiful blue eyes before; and such a manner, too, he had—almost like a man. Why, Jasper, Garnet, Sapphire, Opal, and Emerald could not touch him even for a moment—that is, as far as appearance and ways went.

While she gazed in at the window, who should come up to this boy but her own sister Gentian! She took the boy by the arm and said, 'Now let's sit in a circle and think out our charade for Monday night.'

Ivor gave a smile. He looked with admiration at Gentian, whom Hollyhock always considered very plain. Instantly chairs were drawn into a circle, and an excited conversation began.

The birch-rod woman was a long time in appearing! Hollyhock's black eyes were fixed on the blue eyes of Ivor. It would certainly not be unpleasant to talk to a boy of that sort; but he seemed quite devoted to Gentian—poor, plain, little Gentian—while she, Hollyhock, the beauty of the family, was standing out in the cold; and it was cold on that September night, with a touch of frost just breathing through the air. Hollyhock felt herself shiver; then, all of a sudden, her patience gave way. Those children should not be so happy, while she was so wretched. She got behind the window where no one could see her, and shouted in a loud, cracked voice, which she assumed for the purpose, 'Oh! the ghost! the ghost!'

She then rushed down the avenue, fearing to be caught and discovered. She ran so fast that her long cloak tripped her, and she suddenly fell and cut her lip. When she came to herself she had to wipe some stains of blood away from her injured lip with her handkerchief.

She just reached the lodge gates in time to shout once again, 'The ghost! the ghost!' when the woman who lived in the lodge came out, prepared to lock up for the night.

'Who may you be?' said the woman.

'I'm the ghost. Let me through!' screamed Hollyhock.

And she really looked so frightful, with her big black eyes, and blood-stained face, and streaming lip, that the woman, who was a stranger, and did not know her, called out, 'Get ye gone at once or I'll set the dogs on you. The shortest road ye can go'll be the best. Ye 're not a ghost, but a poor cracked body.'

Hollyhock was sincerely glad to find herself once again on the highroad, but in some mysterious way her dislike for Ardshiel had vanished, and she felt furiously angry with Ivor Chetwode for daring to take notice of her plain sister, Gentian.

She got into the house without much difficulty, bathed her swollen lip, and retired to bed to think of Ivor's blue eyes. What a nice boy he must be!—a real bonnie lad, one worth talking to. Why should a girl be a dunce all her days, when there was such a laddie at Ardshiel? Ah, well, she would know more about Master Ivor before long.

She slept soundly, and forgot the troubles of her miserable day. In her dreams she thought of the Precious Stones and Ivor, and imagined them all fighting hard to gain the goodwill of Gentian, who was a freckled little girl, not to be named with her, Hollyhock. If that was the sort of thing that went on at Ardshiel, and the birch-woman did not appear, it must be rather a nice place, when all was said and done.



CHAPTER IX.

THE WOMAN WHO INTERFERED.

There is nothing in its way more difficult than to start a new school; and Mrs Macintyre, with all her vast experience—for she had been mistress of more than one of the celebrated houses at Cheltenham College in the time of the great and noble Miss Beale, and had in fact, until her marriage, been a teacher—knew well what special difficulties she had before her, more particularly in a mixed school. There was no reason, however, why such schools should not exist, and do well. But she knew they had a fight before them, and that conflict lay in her path. She did not, however, know that this conflict was to take place so soon.

Mrs Macintyre was a good deal surprised by what followed Hollyhock's stolen visit to Ardshiel. The children—boys and girls alike—were now hard at work at their daily tasks. The first day passed splendidly. The Precious Stones became extremely great friends with Roger Carden, Ivor Chetwode, and Henry Anstel. There were also some other boys whose parents were negotiating to send their sons to Mrs Macintyre, for the fame of her school and the beauty of its surroundings were much talked of, and the idea of a mixed school highly pleased some people, while it equally annoyed others.

It was on the first Saturday morning, when the Precious Stones and the Flower Girls were to return home, that Mrs Macintyre was informed by one of her servants (Magsie, no less) that a lady, a Mrs Maclure, had called, and was waiting to see her in the white drawing-room. Mrs Macintyre's husband had been Scots, and she herself was Scots. She therefore knew many of the Edinburgh people, and had drawn upon this knowledge in getting pupils for her school. She wondered if Mrs Maclure was a certain Jane Scott whom she knew in her youth, and who had married a Dr Maclure. She felt not a little surprise at this visit at so early and important an hour.

'The leddy kens ye are busy, but will not keep you long,' said Magsie, who was struggling in vain to acquire an English accent.

'I will be with her immediately,' said Mrs Macintyre, and Magsie tripped away, her eyes very bright. She was enjoying herself immensely. As a matter of fact she had never known real life before.

Mrs Macintyre went at once into the drawing-room, having given different orders to her teachers to proceed with their work, and promising to be with them again before long. The moment she entered the drawing-room she gave a little gasp of pleasure.

'Why, Jane, is it indeed you?' she could not help remarking.

'Ah, yes, Elsie, it's no other.'

'Well, sit down, Jane, won't you?'

'I suppose I 've come at an inconvenient time, Elsie?'

'Well, I do happen to be busy.'

I can't help that, my dear,' said Mrs Maclure. 'The business that hurries me to your side is too urgent and important to brook a moment's delay.'

'Dear me, what can be wrong?' said Mrs Macintyre.

'I'm told that you keep a mixed school.'

'Yes, I do. I have a few small boys here.'

'Shocking!' said Mrs Maclure.

'What do you mean, Jane? Why shouldn't the boys be here?'

'This is a costly place,' said Mrs Maclure, looking round her. 'The laying out of it must have cost a deal of money.'

'It did; but generous friends helped, and the Duke was not stingy with his purse.'

'I don't want to know any of the financial particulars,' continued Mrs Maclure. 'But tell me one thing, Elsie. Do you want your school to pay?'

'Of course I do.'

'Ah, I thought as much. Now, I 'll tell you what it is, Elsie. I have come here with a scheme, and if you see your way to carry it out, why, the school will pay, and pay again and again; but there must be no mixing in it. I mean by that, the eggs must be in one basket and the butter in another.'

'You puzzle me very much, Jane.'

'Well, I was always outspoken, my dear, and I heard of your trials, and your noble courage, and the fact that you 'd got hold of one of the bonniest bits of land in the whole of Scotland. Why, Ardshiel could be full over and over again if it wasn't mixed. But mixed it must not be.'

'I 'm very sorry to displease you, Jane,' said Mrs Macintyre; 'but the thing cannot be altered now. I have, after all, at the present moment only got eight boys in my school, although others will probably arrive. I cannot turn those dear little fellows out.'

'Well, then, the girls must go.'

'No; I mean to keep my girls.'

'Elsie, you were always obstinacy personified. You've got a good school in a lovely spot, within easy reach of Glasgow and Edinburgh, and also capable of receiving children from different parts of England. The establishment is in working order. Now pray tell me how many you have got in the school?'

Mrs Macintyre said, 'Reckoning the boys first, I have got eight, as I said; but I have had letters this morning from several parents who wish to send their sons to my school.'

'Well, we 'll say eight boys,' said Mrs Maclure. 'I suppose they are quite babies?'

'Not at all. Jasper is fifteen. He is the eldest boy in the school, but will only stay for a year, as he has been very well taught by his gifted mother and by Mr Lennox, the father of my sweet little Flower Girls, as I call them.'

'Elsie, you are becoming sadly romantic. It runs in the blood. You must be careful. Fancy a big boy of fifteen in a girls' school.'

'He's a gentleman and my right hand,' said Mrs Macintyre.

'That has nothing whatsoever to do with it. He's fifteen, and ought to be in a public school.'

'He wants a year's training before he can go to Eton. He is a singularly gifted lad, and is the life of the house.'

'He must be the life of some other house. Now, then, for the girls. How many of them have you got?'

'To begin with, I've got Lucy, Margaret, Rose, and Dorothy Lennox; their father is the Honourable George Lennox, who lives in a house called The Garden close by.'

'Well, go on. I suppose you have more girls than that. That makes four. Now proceed with the rest.'

'Well, there's Lady Leucha Villiers.'

'You don't say so!'

'I do, my friend. Her mother, the Countess of Crossways, has entrusted her to my care.'

'You amaze me!'

'Perhaps I shall amaze you further. I have also got the Ladies Barbara and Dorothy Fraser, daughters of the Marquis of Killin.'

'You astound me!'

'Then I have the Honourable Daisy Watson. In addition I have Miss Augusta Fane, Miss Agnes Featherstonhaugh'——

'Good name that,' muttered Mrs Maclure.

'Miss Margaret Drummond.'

'I know them well—Scots to the backbone,' said Mrs Maclure.

'Miss Mary Barton,' continued Mrs Macintyre, 'Miss Nancy Greenfield, Miss Isabella Macneale, Miss Jane Calvert.'

'Now let 's count how many you have got in the school,' said Mrs Maclure. 'Everything sounds well, but the boys will ruin the whole affair.'

'Oh, nonsense, Jane. If only you were not so narrow-minded.'

'I know the world, my dear friend, and I don't want the best school in Scotland to be spoiled for the lack of a little care—care bestowed upon it at the right moment. Your girls, counting the Lennoxes, make fifteen. Altogether in the school you have therefore twenty-three children. How many teachers, pray?'

Mrs Macintyre was never known to be angry, but she felt almost inclined to be so now. She mentioned the number of her tutors, her foreign governesses, and her English teachers—the best-trained teachers from her own beloved Cheltenham.

'How many servants?' was Mrs Maclure's next query.

'Really, Jane, you are keeping me from my duties; but as you have come all the way from Edinburgh to question me so closely, I will confess that I have got ten indoor servants; that, of course, includes the housekeeper and a trained nurse in case of illness.'

'Dear, dear!' exclaimed Mrs Maclure. 'Prodigious! And then, I presume, you get special masters and mistresses from Glasgow and Edinburgh.'

'I certainly do. The school is a first-rate one.'

'My poor Elsie, it won't be first-rate long. You are taking all this enormous expense and trouble for twenty-three children. How many can your school hold?'

'My school could hold quite seventy pupils,' said Mrs Macintyre; 'but you must remember that it was only opened last Tuesday. Really, I greatly fear that I shall have to leave you, Jane. This is a half-holiday, and I have a special class to attend to.'

'Let your special class go. Listen to the words of wisdom. The fame of your school has spread to Edinburgh; it has been talked about; it has been commented on. It is for that reason, and that reason alone, that I have come here to-day. Put the boys into an annex, and provide them with the necessary teachers—men, of course, if possible. Keep the girls, and I'll engage to get you ten fresh pupils from Edinburgh early next week, twenty from London—that's thirty—and several more from Glasgow, also Liverpool, Manchester, and different parts of England; and when I say I can engage to do this, and fill your school to the necessary number of seventy, I speak with confidence, for I know. The ladies are dying to send their lassies to you, but the mixed school prohibits it. I have no wish or desire to stop the co-education of girls and boys, but to have those of the upper classes mixing in the same boarding school won't go down in this country, Elsie Macintyre. No, it won't do. Now, let me think. You speak of five boys from the neighbourhood—who are their parents?'

'They are the sons of my dear friend Mrs Constable, whose husband, Major Constable, fell in the late war in South Africa.'

'And the eldest is fifteen?'

Yes.'

'Where does Mrs Constable live?'

'A very short way from here, at a place called The Paddock.'

'And you think well of the woman?'

'Cecilia Constable! She is delightful. Why, the dear soul has sent her boys to my school, and comes here herself daily to undertake kindergarten work in order to help her to pay the expenses of her children.'

'Bravo!' said Mrs Maclure. 'Why, of course, she can take them all. Is her house a good size? Has it a respectable appearance?'

'It is a beautiful house, the home of a true lady.'

'So much the better. The thing is as right as rain. Is she here now?'

'Yes, and very busy.'

'I must see her. I cannot lose this golden chance for you, Elsie. Her own five sons, and Master Henry de Courcy Anstel, Roger Carden, and Ivor Chetwode, shall all move to The Paddock on Monday next. She will, of course, be the head of the house, and tutors will be provided for the instruction of the boys. I can assure you, Elsie, that neither I nor my friends will have the least objection to your girls and her boys playing games together and meeting at each other's homes. And now I think I have done you a good turn. I have saved Ardshiel from ruin, and The Paddock, or, if you prefer it, the Annex, will hold the boys, old or young, who may wish to go there. Please send Mrs Constable to see me, for I must immediately communicate with my friends. Ardshiel will be packed by this day week, if Mrs Constable proves satisfactory.'

'Well, really, I don't know what to think,' said Mrs Macintyre. 'Perhaps you are right, and I know dear Cecilia would like to have her boys back with her again. I 'll send her to you.'

Nobody could look into the gentle, gray eyes of Cecilia Constable without feeling an instinctive trust in her, which was quickly, very quickly, to ripen into love. All those who knew her loved her, for she was made for love and self-sacrifice. Forgetting herself, she thought ever and always of others; and when, in her quiet, Quaker-like dress, she entered the room, Mrs Maclure said, under her breath, 'Good gracious, what a beautiful creature! How admirably she will manage the Annex!'

It was not likely that Mrs Constable had parted with her five boys with any sense of joy, and it was not lightly that she had undertaken the duties of kindergarten mistress at Ardshiel; but right to her was right, and it seemed the only way to pay expenses. As Mrs Maclure unfolded her scheme the gray eyes grew bright and the lips trembled.

'But does Mrs Macintyre consent?' she said at last. 'Your proposal truly amazes me; but, oh, am I worthy?'

'I feel you are worthy. Mrs Macintyre was loath at first to lose the boys, but the lads cannot stay in a mixed school. If you agree, you have only to say the word, and your sons will return to you. But please understand that they must look on you as their mother, not as their teacher. The Reverend James Cadell of the neighbouring parish will come to you every morning to instruct them in Latin and Greek. I will get other teachers for you from Mrs Macintyre's, and there is no earthly reason for keeping the boys and the girls apart. Only I protest that they shall not live in the same school. Why, now, there's Alan Anderson, and there's Davie Maclure, my own first cousin. Alan Anderson and Davie can live in the house, and Mr Cadell will come over every morning. He 'll ride his bicycle and be with you in good time. If you know of anything better, which I doubt, you have but to say the word. Now, then, I have my motor-car at the door. We 'll drive right away to The Paddock and see the rooms for the lads and teachers. Don't you fear, my dear; I'll help you with your Annex as heartily as I'll help Elsie Macintyre with her great school.'

'I must go and ask Mrs Macintyre's leave,' said Mrs Constable. 'This sounds like a wonderful and delightful dream.'

'My only dread,' thought Mrs Maclure to herself whilst waiting for Mrs Constable to join her, 'is that that good man, James Cadell, will lose his heart to her. I must give her a word of warning. He is a bit susceptible, and she's a rare and beautiful woman.'

On their way to The Paddock Mrs Maclure did impart her fears to Mrs Constable, but that dear lady's sweetest and gravest of eyes looked at her so reproachfully that she felt sorry she had spoken, and only pressed her hand.

The Paddock was large and roomy, and all arrangements for the Annex school could quickly be made. The boys were to be informed that they were not going home, but to an adjacent school; only the school was to be, for five of them, mother's house. Oh, was not that delightful?

So it came about that the Annex was established, and Cecilia Constable knelt down and thanked God most earnestly for His great mercies. Oh, how more than happy she would be once again! Now there was only one little black sheep to be put right. Poor, lonely, prickly Holly! She would see to it that the child entered Ardshiel, when her boys and the three strange boys left the Palace of the Kings.



CHAPTER X.

A MISERABLE GIRL.

Whether or not Hollyhock took a chill on that night when she peeped in at the gay group at Ardshiel can never be quite established, but certain it is that when her four sisters—those beloved and yet traitorous sisters—rushed wildly back to The Garden on the following Saturday afternoon, they found Hollyhock lying in bed, perhaps cross, perhaps ill; anyhow, to all appearance, quite indifferent to their presence.

Jasmine stood and stared at her sister in amazement. So also did Gentian and Rose and Delphinium. What could be the matter with their flower maid, their darling?

On their return home they were greeted by the information that the master was away on business, and that Miss Hollyhock was upstairs.

'In bed, I take it,' said old Duncan. 'It seems a pity for her not to be down to greet ye, my dearies, but I do declare I canna make out what ails her. She's poorly, the dear lass; but she 'll no say that she's ill.'

'But where is father, Duncan?' asked Jasmine in a dazed sort of voice.

'Oh, the maister! He is weel enough, but he is that taken up wi' the work o' Lord Ian Douglas that he canna gie much time to his lonesome child. You must get her to school, Miss Jasmine; you must get her to school, Miss Gentian.'

'Of course we must, Duncan,' said Jasmine; 'and, oh! it is a right splendid school.'

'I'm thinkin' that mysel',' said Duncan, 'for Magsie, she came ower one nicht and declared that there was not the like o' Ardshiel in the length and breadth o' bonnie Scotland. But dear, dear, I was like to forget. The maister, guid man, gave me a letter which he wrote this mornin' to you, Miss Jasmine, and you was to have it at once.'

'Thank you, Duncan. I 'll take the letter and go at once to Hollyhock.'

The letter in question was read by all four girls at once, and was simply to the effect that the young Precious Stones would dine with them on the morrow, as well as Master Ivor Chetwode. In fact, Mr Lennox had already written a letter to Mrs Macintyre, acquainting her with his desire.

'Then that's all right,' said Jasmine. 'Dad did get my letter. I was a bit surprised at his being so long in answering it. Well, we 'll go to Hollyhock now. Poor Ivor would have been terribly disappointed if he had been left out of The Garden treat.'

While this conversation was taking place Hollyhock was listening intently from her small bed. She would not for the world let the girls think that she missed school, and the only chance of keeping up this deception was by retiring to bed and feigning illness. Not that she felt quite well; she was altogether too lonely and miserable for that. She had not a book to read; she had not a thing to do. The dogs were off with their master, and she had hardly even an animal to speak to, with the exception of the kitchen cat, which came up and lay on her bed, until she shooed her off with quick, angry words.

Well, Saturday had come, and the girls had come, and she must keep up her supposed illness at any cost, or they would suspect that she was regretting her decision. But what a time they did take havering with old Duncan! Tiresome man, Duncan! He was nearly as tiresome as the dogs, Tocsin and Curfew, and the kitchen cat, Jean.

When the children burst into the room, Hollyhock looked at them out of her black eyes with a dismal stare.

'Here we are back again,' said Jasmine. 'Haven't you a word of welcome for us, Holly?'

'Why should I?' replied Hollyhock. 'I 'm suffering from a reeling head, and can't stand any noise at all.'

'Dear, dear!' exclaimed Gentian.

'I don't want any of your fondling,' said Hollyhock in an angry tone, for was not Gentian the girl whom the beautiful blue-eyed boy had paid so much attention to?

'Whatever have I done?' said Gentian in amazement.

'Oh, I'll leave it to your conscience. I'm not going to enlighten you.'

'Dear, dear, what can the matter be?' said Delphy.

'Don't talk so loud. Keep your school manners for your school,' said Hollyhock.

'Dear, deary me!' cried Jasmine in an anxious tone, 'I think we ought to get the doctor to see her. There's Dr Maguire, and Duncan will fetch him. He 'll soon put you right, Hollyhock.'

'He won't, for I won't see him,' said Hollyhock. 'Don't you bring him to this room. I suppose, if I am faithful to my own Daddy Dumps, and my own dear home, I may at least have my own way with regard to a doctor. I 'm not ill exactly, but I 'm reeling in the head, and no one can force me to have a doctor except Daddy Dumps, and he's away with Lord Ian at Dundree until dinner-time.'

'All the Precious Stones are coming over for dinner,' said Rose, as softly as she could speak.

'Are they? I don't want them.'

'But they are coming all the same, Hollyhock, and so is Aunt Cecilia; and to-morrow they are coming again with that dear boy Ivor Chetwode.'

'Oh, is that his name?' said Hollyhock.

'How can you know anything about his name?' said Jasmine in astonishment.

'Ask Gentian; perhaps she'll tell you,' said Hollyhock with a wicked glance out of her black eyes at her sister's pale-gray ones.

But Gentian shook her head in bewilderment. 'She ought to see a doctor,' was her remark.

'Oh yes,' cried Hollyhock; 'but though she ought, she won't; and neither you nor that old Duncan can force me to; and I don't wish to hear a thing about your precious school, so for goodness' sake don't begin. You know the old proverb that new brooms sweep clean. Well, the school is a very new one, and the brooms are very new also. I expect you won't be in such pretended raptures after another week or two, while I, the faithful one, remain at home, to do my duty.'

The four Flower Girls gazed in consternation at one another. They were certainly distressed when Hollyhock refused to go to school with them, but her behaviour on the first day of their return altogether upset them; and as for poor little Delphy, it was with difficulty that she could keep the tears back from her eyes.

'There! Shoo! Get the cat out,' cried Hollyhock, as Jean was again putting in an appearance.

'Why, poor old darling!' exclaimed Gentian, 'she sha'n't be scolded, that she sha'n't. I 'll take her away to my room and pet her.'

'No, you won't; you'll do nothing of the sort. She's the only thing that now clings to me, and I 'm not going to have you sneaking round and winning her affections.'

'Why, you wanted her to go, Hollyhock. Really, I don't know you,' cried Gentian.

'I dare say you don't. You have "other fish to fry."'

The four girls felt for the first time in their lives really angry with their favourite sister. Hollyhock, simply to spite Gentian, called in a coaxing tone to Jean, who now jumped on the bed and purred loudly, while Hollyhock stroked her fur, doing it, however, very often the wrong way, which form of endearment tries all cats, even a kitchen cat.

'There, you see for yourselves, she 's the only one left to love me,' said Hollyhock. 'Oh, for goodness' sake, don't rush at me with your sham kisses! I can't abide them, or you. Get away, will you, and leave me in peace!—Jean, poor beastie! And do you love your little mistress? You are the only one I have got, Jean, my bonnie pussie; the only one who, like myself, is faithful and true.'

It was just at that moment, when Jean had sunk into placid slumber and the Flower Girls were intending to leave the room, that there came a gentle, very gentle, knock at the door.

'Who can be there now?' said Hollyhock. 'Whoever it is will wake the cat.— There, my bonnie beastie, sleep away. Don't you know that you and I are the two lonely ones of the family?'

The amazed Jean cuddled up closer than ever to Hollyhock, and the next minute the door was quietly opened by Mrs Constable.

'Well, children,' she said, 'the boys are downstairs, so I thought you might like to see them. I 'm very sorry to perceive that our little Hollyhock isn't well. This is a sad blow, when one has a rare holiday and has looked forward to it. But I want to have a talk with Hollyhock all by myself.'

'You won't bring me round, so don't think it,' said Hollyhock.

But Mrs Constable, taking no notice of these words, motioned to the other four Flower Girls to leave the room. She then proceeded to make up the fire brightly and to straighten Hollyhock's disordered bed.

'Now, my child, what 's wrong with you?' she said in that voice so melting and so sweet that few could resist it.

'Oh, Aunt Cecil, I'm so unhappy—I'm alone. I have no one to love me now but Jean.'

'Poor little Jean! She seems very happy,' said Mrs Constable; 'but I'm afraid she'll make dirty marks on your white counterpane, child.'

'As if I cared. I'd stand more than that for love.'

'Now, Hollyhock,' replied Mrs Constable, 'I must get to the bottom of this. You are my own dear little girl, remember, and I must find out whether you are ill or not.'

'Of course I 'm ill; that is, I 'm a little ill.'

'I have a thermometer with me. I'll take your temperature,' said Mrs Constable.

'Auntie, I would so much rather you didn't.'

'I 'm afraid I must, child; for if you have a temperature, I must send for Dr Maguire.'

'I won't see him!'

'You need not, my child, if you have no temperature. Now, let me try; for afterwards I have some very exciting news to tell you. None of the other girls know it yet.'

'Oh, auntie, you do excite me! Yes, I 'll put the little thermometer into my mouth. I hope I sha'n't break it, though.'

'You must be careful, Hollyhock; for were you to swallow all that mercury, it would kill you.'

'Oh, auntie, what dreadful things you say! Well, stick it in, and then tell me the news that none of the others know.'

The thermometer was inserted. Hollyhock's temperature was perfectly normal, and she was then questioned with regard to her throat and her health generally. In the end Aunt Cecilia pronounced the girl quite well, and desired her to get up and dress.

'But I—the reeling in my head,' said Hollyhock.

'That will pass, after you have had a nice warm bath and put on one of your pretty frocks.'

'Oh, but, auntie, I do want to hear the news.'

'You shall hear it after you are dressed. I don't tell exciting news to little girls who lie in bed. The effect might be bad for them and bring on fever.'

'Oh, auntie, I don't want the servants to come near me.'

'They needn't, child. I'll turn on the hot water in the bath, and then help you to put on your prettiest dress. Why, Jasper is just pining to see you. Now, then, no more talk. The hours are passing, and quick 's the word.'

'Auntie, you have a nice way of saying things.'

'I 'm glad you think so, child.'

'Although you are only a governess at that horrid Ardshiel.'

Mrs Constable was silent.

In a very short time Hollyhock had had her bath. She dressed luxuriously by the fire in her bedroom, Aunt Cecilia brushing out her masses of black hair and fastening it back with a large crimson bow. Aunt Cecilia chose a very pretty dress of softest gray for the little maid, and then, when the last touch connected with the toilet had been given, there came a mysterious knock at the door.

'Who can that be?' said Hollyhock, who felt discontented once again.

'Only some one bringing a little food, dear, which I have ordered for you. You need not see the person who brings it. I will fetch it myself.'

Accordingly, tea in a lovely old Queen Anne teapot, accompanied by cream and sugar, hot buttered toast, and an egg, new laid and very lightly boiled, was placed before Hollyhock.

'But I haven't touched food for nearly twenty-four hours,' said the wilful child.

'Which accounts for the reeling in your head, my love. Now, then, set to work and eat.'

'But your news, auntie—your news.'

'After you have eaten, my child—after you have finished all the contents of this little tray, but not before.'

Hollyhock suddenly found herself furiously hungry. She attacked the toast and egg, and wondered at the sunshiny feeling which had crept into her heart.

'Now, remember that you are perfectly well, Hollyhock.'

'Yes, auntie dear, of course.'

'And there 'll be no more malingering.'

'Whatever's that, Aunt Cecilia?'

'Why, doing what you did—pretending to be ill, and keeping your family in a state of misery.'

'I won't do it again. Now for your news.'

'I want to make one last condition, Hollyhock.'

'What do you mean?'

'A lonely life does not suit you, my child. When you are forced to have recourse to the kitchen cat, that proves the case. Now I want you to go back to Ardshiel with the other girls on Monday.'

'Oh, oh, auntie!'

'No one wishes for you here, child, and you certainly won't get my great piece of news unless you make me that promise. You will be as happy as the day is long at that school.'

'They certainly do look happy,' said Hollyhock, 'and I should like to see the boy with the blue eyes.'

'The boy with the blue eyes'——

'Oh, nothing, auntie; nothing. I'll agree. The kitchen cat is poor company. Now, then, out with your news.'

'You shall have it, dear. God bless you, darling! You have done a brave thing. And I cannot describe to you the joys of that lovely school, which you have wilfully absented yourself from. Now sit quite close to me, and listen to my news.'

Certainly Aunt Cecilia had a winning way. She was always remarkable for that. She could fight her cause with any one—with man, woman, or child; and she could fight it in the best possible way, by not fighting it at all, by simply leaving the matter in the hands of Almighty Love, by just breathing a gentle prayer for Divine guidance and then going bravely forward.

This plan of hers had supported her when her beloved husband was killed in battle; when her bonnie laddies, her Precious Stones, were sent to Mrs Macintyre's school; and would support her when, according to the arrangement made between herself and her husband, Major Constable, the time came for her Precious Stones to go to Eton.

Major Constable had been an Eton boy, and he knew well the spirit of the gallant words:

It's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, But his captain's hand on his shoulder smote, Play up! play up! and play the game!' This is the word that year by year, While in her place the School is set, Every one of her sons must hear, And none that hears it dare forget. This they all with a joyful mind Bear through life like a torch in flame, And, falling, fling to the host behind— 'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

Mrs Constable, as she repeated these words to Hollyhock, noticed the flame in her cheeks and the radiance in her black glorious eyes; knew only too well that this fearless girl would play her part—yes, to the very letter. For one like Hollyhock there would most certainly be a conflict, and also most assuredly a victory. She would 'play up! play up! and play the game!' Her own heart beat as she watched the child. Eton, that princely school, would be the first training-ground for Major Constable's young sons; but for Hollyhock there would be both at school and afterwards in the world the greater battlefield. Her heart went out to the child, and she pressed her close for a moment to her heart. Mrs Constable felt very happy to-night. She knew well that she herself was a very efficient teacher; she was also a very persuasive teacher, and Mrs Macintyre had eagerly agreed to her suggestion that she should be her kindergarten mistress, thus helping Mrs Constable to pay in part for the enormous expense of sending five boys to Ardshiel. But, after all, this sum of money was but a drop in the ocean; and her delight was intense, her thanksgiving to Almighty God extreme, when she was told that she herself might get her laddies back and start an Annex School for the boys, who were really too old to be at Ardshiel. The departure of one would mean the departure of all; and now, as she sat by Hollyhock's side, holding her little brown hand, she had already secured for herself quite fourteen boys, who were all to arrive at the Annex, or the dear Paddock, as she loved to call it, on the following Monday morning. But this apparent breaking up of Mrs Macintyre's school had not been mentioned as yet to any of the children. Mr Lennox, of course, knew and approved, and Hollyhock was really the first of the Flower Girls to whom the news was broken.

'Well, my dear,' said Mrs Constable, 'I have news for you, which I expect will please you. What do you say to two schools in this neighbourhood?'

'Two schools!' said Hollyhock, looking with amazement at gentle Mrs Constable.

'Yes, my love, that's my news. And I 'm to be at the head of one, though by no manner of means the teacher. That wouldn't do. But I 'm to superintend, and guide, and influence, and what you may call "mother." I'm getting my own brave laddies back.'

'But'—— said Hollyhock, a startled look coming into her dark eyes.

'Yes, my dear, and more than that. I 'm getting a boy called Henry de Courcy Anstel from the big school; and another one, Roger Carden.'

'Oh, oh!' said Hollyhock, turning first white and then red, 'has he blue eyes—has he blue eyes?'

'That is more than I can tell you. The colour of the eyes does not trouble me, and they ought not to trouble a lass of your tender years. There 's another boy called Ivor Chetwode also coming. These with my own five make eight. In addition, I have got Andrew MacPen from Edinburgh, and Archie MacPen, his brother, and four little orphan boys, who are coming all the way from London. Their names are Johnnie and Georgie and Alec and Murray. I call them orphans because their father and mother have gone to India, and have had to leave them behind. So on Monday my little Annex will open with fourteen boys. They'll have the advantage of the fraeuleins and mesdemoiselles from Ardshiel to give them lessons two or three times a week; and in addition, being manly boys, I have made arrangements that they shall be taught by the Reverend James Cadell and two resident tutors. So you see now for yourself, Hollyhock, that after your insisting so often that nothing would make you go to a mixed school, the thing has been taken out of your hands, my love. Mrs Macintyre has a large and flourishing school for girls, and I hope to do well with my boys. You must congratulate me, Hollyhock.'

'Well,' said Hollyhock haltingly, 'I—somehow—it seems hard on Mrs Macintyre, doesn't it?'

'Not a bit of it, dear. Why, it's the making of her school. She has got so many applications for girlies like yourself to go to Ardshiel that she soon will have to close her lists. Now that you have decided to go there, Hollyhock, it will bring the number of her pupils in the course of next week up to nearly seventy.'

Hollyhock sat very cold and still.

'You don't look pleased, my child, and yet you were so strong against a mixed school.'

'Well, yes, I was, and I am still. For that matter, I hate all schools.'

'But you faithfully promised me to go to Ardshiel, Hollyhock.'

'Oh yes, I 'll keep my word. I expect I 'm a bit of a dare-devil; there is something very wicked in me, Auntie Cecilia.'

'I know there is, child. You need Divine guidance.'

'I won't be lectured,' said Hollyhock, getting very cross all at once. 'Oh, auntie, those blue eyes!' and the excited, hysterical girl burst into tears.

'There must be something at the back of this, Hollyhock.'

'Oh, nothing—nothing indeed.'

'Well, I won't press for your confidence, dear. Little girls and little boys should be friends and nothing more for long years to come; and although I at first quite hoped that Mrs Macintyre's mixed school would be a great success, I now see that it is best for me to have my little corner in the Lord's vineyard alone. But don't for a moment imagine, Hollyhock, that you girls of Ardshiel and my boys of the Annex won't be the best of friends, meeting constantly and enjoying life and fun together. Think of your Saturday to Monday, Hollyhock! Think of my Precious Stones meeting you Flower Girls! Think of the old life being brought back again!'

'Yes, I suppose it is best,' said Hollyhock, but she heaved a sigh as she spoke. Her sigh was mostly caused by the fact that she had given in. She, who had made such a grand and noble stand, was going to Ardshiel after all.



CHAPTER XI.

SOFT AND LOW.

But when Hollyhock went downstairs, dressed so charmingly and with a rich colour in her cheeks, with the sparkle of excitement in her eyes, and when she saw Jasper, Garnet, and the other boys, who all rushed toward her with a cry of delight, she began to enjoy herself once more.

Old Duncan was moving about the great hall and whistling gently to himself. 'Soft and low, soft and low. It 's that that does it,' whispered the old man. Then he broke out again in his cracked old tones, 'And for bonnie Annie Laurie I wad lay me doun and dee!'

'Duncan, you might remember that we are in the room,' said Hollyhock.

'To be sure, lassies; and don't ye like the sound o' the grand old tunes and words? Did ye never hear me sing "Roy's Wife o' Aldivalloch"?'

'No; and I don't wish to,' said Hollyhock.

'Well,' said Duncan, who was never put out in his life, 'here are the doggies, poor beasties, and I guess, Miss Hollyhock, you 'll be a sicht better for a little company. I 'm reddin' up the place against the maister's return. Ay, but we 'll hae a happy evenin'. Old times come back again—"Should auld acquaintance be forgot"'——

'Duncan, you are incorrigible!'

But Duncan deliberately winked at Jasper, then at Garnet, then at his beloved Miss Jasmine, and finally catching Delphy in his arms, trotted up and down the great hall with her on his shoulder, while the child shrieked with delight and called him dear, darling old Duncan.

At last, however, the hall was in order. The ingle-nook was a blaze of light and cosiness. The boys and girls were chattering as they had never chattered before; and Duncan, assisted by a boy of the name of Rob, who wore the Lennox livery, brought in ponderous trays, which were laid on great tables. These trays contained tea and coffee, scones to make your mouth water, butter arranged like swans swimming in parsley, and shortbread made by that famous cook, old Mrs Duncan, who was also the housekeeper at The Garden.

The trays were followed, alas! by the kitchen cat, Jean, who smelt the good things and walked in with her tail very erect, and a look on her face as much as to say, 'I 'm monarch of all I survey!'

'Out you go, Jean!' cried Hollyhock.

'No, Hollyhock, don't be unkind to poor Jean,' said Mrs Constable. 'You were very glad to have her when you were alone. And now listen, my dear; I have something to whisper to you.'

Hollyhock dropped Jean, who was immediately snatched up by Gentian. Gentian provided the kitchen cat with a rich mixture of cream, milk, and sugar. She lapped it slowly and gracefully, as all cats will, in front of the ingle-nook, the two great dogs watching her with envious eyes, but not daring to interfere.

Mrs Constable, meanwhile, continued to whisper in a distant corner to Hollyhock, 'My darling, I was the first to tell you the great news—I mean with regard to the boys' school, or, as we intend to call it, the Annex. No other child knows of it at present, and no other child knows that you are going to Ardshiel on Monday with your sisters. Now, what I propose is this. You must have a hearty tea and enjoy yourself as much as possible, and then you shall have the great honour of telling the news first about yourself, and then about my boys and the little school, to the others. Only Hollyhock shall tell. There, my pet, kiss me. See how I love you.'

'Oh, you do, and you are a darling,' said Hollyhock, who was keenly gratified by this distinction bestowed upon her.

The tea was disposed of with appetite. Never, surely, was there such shortbread eaten before, never such scones partaken of. Notwithstanding her private tea upstairs, Hollyhock was very hungry and happy, and the marked attentions which Jasper paid her gave her intense and unalloyed pleasure. Oh, what a pity he was leaving the school! What a dear boy was this Precious Stone! She even forgot the boy with the blue eyes when she looked at Jasper's honest, manly face. But the best of good teas come to an end.

Duncan came in with his soft whisper and gentle words in his cracked old voice, still singing softly, 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?' Hollyhock gave him a haughty glance, but he did not observe it; and Jasper suddenly said, springing to his feet, 'Hurrah, old Duncan! you are the man for me. Let's all sing the jolly old song!'

'But, master,' faltered Duncan, 'I canna sing as once I sang.'

Jasper said, 'Nonsense; you forget yourself, Duncan. You lead off, and we 'll begin.'

All the children stood up; all the young voices, the middle-aged voice of Mrs Constable, and the aged voice of Duncan brought out the beloved words:

'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne?

'We twa hae paidl'd in the burn Frae morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne.'

Just as the last words had echoed round the hall, who should enter but the father of the Flower Girls. There was a sudden cry of rapture. Jasmine's arms were round his neck; Delphy mounted to her accustomed place on his shoulder. He was their own, their darling. Gentian kissed his hand over and over again. Dark-eyed Rose of the Garden kissed him once more. Oh, how happy they were! for his little Hollyhock—the child who had troubled him all the week—overcome by varied emotions, sprang to his side, pushed both Jasmine and Gentian away, and said, 'Oh, daddy, I have been a bad, bad lassie, but I'm all right now; and if you'll listen, daddy mine, and if the others will hold their peace for a minute, I 'll let my great secret out.' There was a new sound in Hollyhock's voice. Old Duncan stood in a kind of trance of wonder. To be sure, things were coming round, and that week of misery was over. 'Daddy,' said Hollyhock, 'I didn't think you'd enjoy my absence as much as you will. I talked a lot of nonsense, and said I'd see to you, Daddy Dumps; but what's the use? I 'm not just entirely to blame, but I have not been happy this last week, so I think it is well that I should go back with Jasmine and the others to Ardshiel on Monday morning—that is, if you wish it, daddy?'

'Is the choice entirely your own, my child?' said George Lennox.

'Yes, it is. You 'll want me, perhaps, when you haven't got me, but I'm away to school with the others. It's right—it is right.'

'Well, my Hollyhock, I thank you,' said her father. 'I shall miss you, beyond a doubt; but work has set in for me to such an extent that I have no time to attend to you, and your being in the house and uneducated has been a sore trial to me, Holly. You 'll be a good lass at school, my child. You must promise me that.'

'You 'll have a right-down lovely time, Holly,' cried Jasmine.

'Yes, won't she?' echoed Gentian.

'But I haven't told you all the story yet,' said Hollyhock. She suddenly went up to Jasper and took his big hand. 'I was trusted by a lady, whose name I mustn't mention, with another bit of news, Jasper, boy—and, oh! it's sore it makes my heart. You have to go to the lady, Jasper, boy, and so has Garnet, and so has Sapphire, and so have Opal and Emerald. In addition, the boys at Ardshiel are to go to a new Annex—under protest, no doubt; but still it has to be. You 'll be taught by men, my bonnie Precious Stones, and we lassies will have to do with the women folk.'

'Well, this is astounding,' said Jasper. 'Is it true?—Can you explain, Uncle George?'

'Yes, my boy; and I don't think you 'll mind when it's explained to you. The "lady" whom my Hollyhock wouldn't mention is your own mother.'

'Mother!' cried Emerald, in a voice of rapture. 'Eh, mother, I have missed you!'

He was only a little fellow—the youngest of the Precious Stones—and he suddenly burst out crying.

'There, now, be a brave lad,' said Mrs Constable. 'No tears, my little son, for they don't become a gentleman. They don't become the son of Major Constable. Ho died fighting for his country, and no son of his and mine should be seen with tears in his eyes. You all do come back to your mummy, my children, and a lot of other boys come as well; and The Paddock is to be partly changed, so that I can mother you, my Emerald, but not teach you—no, no, none of that. There 'll be that fine gentleman, the Reverend James Cadell, to put Latin and Greek into you; and there'll be Alan Anderson to teach you games, as boys should play them; and there 'll be young Mr Maclure to help him with your English and your lessons all round. I 'll have my five Precious Stones sleeping again under my roof; and your food will be prepared by that maid of ours, Alison, of whom you have always been so fond; and old Mrs Cheke will be the housekeeper and look after your wants. And for foreign languages Mrs Macintyre will send over at certain hours each day some of her governesses. Now then, children, I think we are all going to be as happy as happy. It was decided by a wise woman that Mrs Macintyre's mixed school would eventually prove a mistake, for a good many mothers object to sending their girls to such places, although I myself see no harm in them whatsoever. But, my dear boys, we must think of Mrs Macintyre, who will have a very large school of girls. On Monday next you will see many new faces at Ardshiel, and the arrangement that you, my little loves, are to spend Saturday till Monday all together is to continue. So now do let us sing a fresh song of that wondrous bard, Robbie Burns, because I feel so absolutely Scots of the Scots to-day that I simply cannot stand any one else.

'Hark, the mavis' evening sang Sounding Clouden's woods amang; Then a-faulding let us gang, My bonnie Dearie.

'Ca' the yowes to the knowes, Ca' them whare the heather grows, Ca' them whare the burnie rowes My bonnie Dearie.

We'll gae down by Clouden side, Through the hazels spreading wide, O'er the waves, that sweetly glide To the moon sae clearly.

'Yonder Clouden's silent towers, Where at moonshine midnight hours, O'er the dewy bending flowers, Fairies dance sae cheery.

'Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear; Thou 'rt to Love and Heaven sae dear, Nocht of ill may come thee near, My bonnie Dearie.

Fair and lovely as thou art, Thou hast stown my very heart; I can die—but canna part, My bonnie Dearie.

'While waters wimple to the sea, While day blinks i' the lift sae hie, Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e Ye shall be my Dearie!'

'Oh, mother, mother!' cried one boy after another, as they clustered round her, 'indeed we are happy now, since you are the "lady."'

'We didn't rightly understand at first,' continued Jasper.—'But come for a walk, Hollyhock; come along; I have a lot to say to you.'

So Hollyhock and Jasper went out together into the old grounds in the old way, and the sweet, yet sorrowful, week—so maddening to poor Hollyhock, so joyous to Jasper—was forgotten in the spirit of reunion. Oh, it was perfect for the Flower Girl to be with her precious Precious Stone again, and she even loved his dear Scots ways so much that she told him of her little adventure as a 'great secret,' and besought of him not to mention it to any one.

'And so you were taken with that English boy Ivor Chetwode,' he remarked. 'I didn't think you were so fickle. But it's all right now, Hollyhock, and you 'll have a right jolly time at the school.'



CHAPTER XII.

UNDER PROTEST.

Whatever Hollyhock's feelings may have been, she went to school on the following Monday morning with a good grace. She was the sort of girl who, when once she put her hand to the plough, would not take it back again. She refused, however, to listen to any of the stories which Jasmine, Gentian, and the others longed and pined to tell her of the great school.

'I 'll find out for myself,' was her remark; and Mrs Constable advised the other girls to leave this obstinate lass alone as far as possible.

'Under protest!' exclaimed Jasmine.

'If you think it right,' said Gentian.

'Yes, Jasmine; yes, Gentian. I do know what is really best for our little maid. She will find her own way best in the school if she is not interfered with. If she is in any sort of trouble, then she will have her dear Flower sisters to go to.'

'I doubt it myself,' said Gentian. 'That's just what Hollyhock will not do. I know Holly; she's a queer fish. Rare courage has she; I 'm not fit to hold a candle to her myself.'

'Oh, you have plenty of courage of your own,' said Mrs Constable. 'You can wile every girl in the place, but don't interfere with Hollyhock.'

'Well, I 'm longing to be off to school,' said Jasmine, 'and I only trust Holly will like the dear spot as much as we do.'

'She 's certain sure to, girlies, if you don't tell her so. If you do, I won't answer for the consequences. She 'd love to scare you all. There now, my darlings, let her be, let her be.'

So the girls, who dearly loved Aunt Cecilia, and who thought a lot of her counsel, were induced to be judicious in the matter of Hollyhock, and to walk with her to Ardshiel as though it were an ordinary stroll they were taking.

Hollyhock was certainly a very handsome little girl. With the exception of Rose of the Garden, she was the only one of the young Lennoxes who was really dark. Her great deep black eyes were surrounded by thick black lashes. Her hair grew low on her brow and curled itself into little rings here, there, and everywhere. In addition, it was extremely long and thick, and, when not tied up with a ribbon, fell far below her waist. Hollyhock had pearly-white teeth, a very short upper lip, and a certain disdainful, never-may-care appearance, which was very fetching to most girls.

The hour for the reassembling of the girls at Ardshiel was nine o'clock, and Hollyhock, although her heart was beating furiously, showed not a scrap of nervousness, but gazed dauntlessly and with a fine defiance around her. Everywhere and in all directions she found eyes fixed on her—blue eyes, gray eyes, brown eyes, light eyes, dark eyes, the eyes of the pale-faced English, the glowing eyes of a few French girls; but she felt quite assured in her own heart that there was not one in that great group who could compare with herself. Hollyhock, or, in other words, Jacqueline Lennox.

She resolved quickly (and Hollyhock's resolutions, once formed, were hard to break) that she would be captain of this great school; she would lead, and the others would follow, no matter the colour of their eyes, no matter the complexions, no matter the thin, pale faces, or the fat, rosy faces. These things were all one to Hollyhock. She would compel these girls; they would follow her willy-nilly where she wished and where she dared to go. She knew well that she was not clever in book-learning, but she also knew well that she had the great gift of leadership; she would be the leader here. She rejoiced in the fact that all the girls were staring at her. She would go carefully to work and soon secure a band of followers, who would increase by-and-by, becoming extremely obstreperous and doing all sorts of naughty things, for Holly had no intention when at school to be good or to learn much. She went solely and entirely for her own happiness, because she preferred the girls with the blue, gray, and nondescript eyes to the kitchen cat, Jean, and to the great loneliness which had descended on The Garden.

Such a girl as Hollyhock could not but attract attention, and the Lady Barbara Fraser, Miss Agnes Featherstonhaugh, and many others became fascinated on the very first day. But Hollyhock, on that first day, was outwardly meek. She was good, except for her flashing eyes; she was good, except for the sudden and very queer smile which played round her pretty lips.

The other Flower Girls had been liked very much indeed, but they had not stirred a certain naughty spirit in the breasts of the girls. They honestly, all four of them, wanted to learn hard and to repay their beloved father for all the expense he was put to on their account; but Hollyhock's was a totally different nature. She had come to school to lead, and lead she would.

On the afternoon of the first day, Lady Leucha Villiers, who was a delicate, refined-looking girl, came up to Jasmine. 'Well, what queer changes have taken place in the school!'

'What do you mean exactly?' replied Jasmine.

'Why, all those nice boys have vanished like smoke.'

'No, they haven't. They are alive and well. They are being taught at the Annex. It has been considered best.'

Lady Leucha gave a sigh. 'I miss that dear Ivor,' she said, 'and I also miss your cousin Jasper and that little chap you call Opal; but what puzzles me most of all is the crowds and crowds of new girls who have arrived at the school, and the newest of them all is your sister.'

'Yes,' said Barbara Fraser, 'your sister, Jasmine, is very new and very remarkable. Whyever did she not come with the rest of you last week?'

'She did not wish it,' replied Jasmine. 'Girls, had we not better get our French ready for Mam'selle?'

'Oh, bother Mam'selle!' said Lady Leucha. 'I am interested in your sister. Fancy a girl not coming to school because she doesn't wish it.'

'Father never forces any of us,' said Jasmine in her sweet voice. 'Hollyhock began by disliking the school—I mean the idea of it—and she was a bit lonesome with no one to talk to her, so she came back with us this morning.'

'Hollyhock,' said Lady Leucha. 'A queer name!'

'Oh, it isn't her real name; it is her home name. Her real name is Jacqueline.'

'That's much prettier,' said Leucha Villiers. 'Do tell her to come and sit with us, Jasmine. I shall always call her Jack. I have taken a great fancy to her.'

'Well, you'd best keep your fancy to yourself,' said Jasmine, 'for no one will, and no one can, coerce Hollyhock.'

'Oh, she's not going to lord it over me,' said Lady Leucha. 'Am I not an earl's daughter?'

'That will have no effect on Hollyhock, I can assure you.'

'Won't it? We'll see. My father has got a glorious mansion, and we belong to the very greatest nobility in the whole of England. Our cousins, the Frasers, are the daughters of the Marquis of Killin. So you 'd better not put on airs before me, Jasmine. Oh Jasmine, I do love you; you are such a downright dear little thing. I 'm going to ask you up to Hans Place at Easter if daddy and mother will give me leave.'

'Thank you,' said Jasmine; but I couldn't afford to spend one minute away from The Garden.'

'How queer of you! You seem devoted to your home.'

'I'm Scots,' replied Jasmine; 'and to the Scots there are no people like the Scots.'

'Oh, do, do watch her!' suddenly exclaimed Lady Leucha. 'Barbara, do you see—Dorothy, do you see?—she's walking up and down on the terrace with that ugly Mary Barton and that nobody, Agnes Featherstonhaugh. Why, Nancy Greenfield and Jane Calvert are hopping round her just as though they were magpies on one leg.'

'Why should she not talk to those girls? They are very nice,' said Jasmine. 'But, Leucha, Barbara, and Dorothy, do you not think you had better prepare your French lessons? At least I must and will.'

Jasmine skipped away and was soon lost to view, but the Ladies Barbara, Dorothy, and Leucha found themselves alone—alone and somewhat slighted. Slighted, too, by those commonplace Scots girls! They, who were the daughters of a marquis and an earl! The thing was not to be endured!

Leucha whispered to her companions, and soon they got up and went out in a little group into the grounds. They saw black-eyed Hollyhock, surrounded by her adorers. She was talking in quite a gentle, subdued voice, and did not take the least notice of the marquis's and the earl's daughters. Never had Nancy Greenfield, Jane Calvert, Mary Barton, Agnes Featherstonhaugh, and last, but not least, Margaret Drummond felt so elated. Holly was talking in a very low, seductive voice. Her rich curls were tumbling about her face and far down her back. Her cheeks were like bright, soft fire, and the flash in her glorious black eyes it would be difficult to surpass.

'I say, Jack,' exclaimed Leucha.

——'And, girls, as I was telling you, that poor cat, wee Jean, she came and nestled on my bed'——

'I'm talking to you, Miss Lennox,' said Lady Leucha.

'Are you? I did not listen. You spoke to some one called Jack. That's a boy. I happen to be a girl.—Well, girls, let's proceed. I've such a jolly plan in my head. I 'm thinking—whisper—that young person must not hear.'

The whisper was to the effect that wee Jean was to be fetched from The Garden by Holly that very night and put comfortably into Lady Leucha's bed. A saucer of cream was to be placed in the said bed, and it was more than likely that bonnie Jean would spill it in her fright.

Lady Leucha, who knew nothing of this plan, said in a tone bristling with haughtiness, 'Some little Scotch girls can be very rude!'

'And some fair maids of England can be downright worse!' retorted Hollyhock.—'Come along, girls, let's go down this side-walk.'

Lady Leucha had never been spoken to in that tone before, but rudeness to a girl who had always been pampered made her desire all the stronger to win the fascinating Hollyhock to her side, and to deprive those common five, Agnes Featherstonhaugh, Mary Barton, Nancy Greenfield, Jane Calvert, and Margaret Drummond, of her company. Accordingly, accompanied by the two Frasers, she also went down the shady walk which led to the great lake. She began to talk in a high-pitched English voice of the delights of her home, the wealth of her parents, and the way in which the Marquis of Kilmarnock and his sons and daughters adored her.

Hollyhock heard each word, but her voice was no longer gentle. It was loud and a little penetrating. 'You would not dare to come out at night,' she said, looking at the devoted five.

'And whyever not?' asked Mary.

'You would not have the courage. It's here on moonlight nights that the ghost walks. He drips as he walks; and he's very tall and very strong, with a wild sort of light in his eyes, which are black and big and awful to see. He was drowned here in the lake on the night before his wedding. He's very unquiet, is that poor ghost! I do not mind him one little bit, being a sort of friend, almost a relative, of his. Many and many a night, when the moon is at the full, have I stood by the lake and said, "Come away, my laddie. Come, poor ghostie, and I 'll dry your wet hair." Poor fellow, he likes me to rub him dry.'



The daughters of the marquis and the earl were now quite silent, their silly little hearts filled with horror. They never guessed that Hollyhock was making up her story.

'You couldn't have done that,' said Jane Calvert.

'Whist, can't ye? I want to get those girls away, so as to talk about the kitchen cat.'

The girls in question certainly did go away. They did more; they went straight to Mrs Macintyre and asked her if the awful story was true. Mrs Macintyre, having never heard of it, declared emphatically that it was not true; but, somehow, neither Lady Leucha nor the Fraser girls quite believed her. There was such a ring of truth in Hollyhock's words; and had they not all heard, on that first happy evening at the school, the cry, so shrill, so piercing, 'The ghost! the ghost!'

They had tried not to think of it since, but Hollyhock seemed to confirm the weird words, and they began to wonder if they could stay long in this school, which, beautiful as it was, contained such an awful ghost—a ghost who required a little girl to dry his locks for him. Surely such a terrible thing could not happen! It was quite past belief.



CHAPTER XIII.

THE SUMMER PARLOUR.

If there was a girl who was at once slightly frightened and extremely angry, that girl was Leucha Villiers, the daughter of the Earl of Crossways. Never, never before had any overtures on her part been treated as Hollyhock had treated them. If this saucy black-eyed imp intended to rule the school, she, Leucha, would show her what she thought of her conduct. She would not be ruled by her. She would, in short, show her once and for all her true position. Little Scotch nobody, indeed! Well, the angry Leucha knew how to proceed.

Leucha was considered by her friends and by her numerous acquaintances a most charming girl, a girl with such aristocratic manners, such a noble presence, such a gentle, firm, distinguished air. She had been, during her first week at school, very happy on the whole, for Jasmine, and Gentian, and Rose, and Delphinium had more or less bowed down to her and admired her. But now there appeared on the scene a totally different character—Hollyhock! How ridiculous to call any human being by such a name! But then it wasn't her real name; her name was Jacqueline. She, Lady Leucha, would certainly not call her Hollyhock, or prickly Holly, or anything of that sort. She would call her Jack and Jacko, and tease her as much as possible. She had certainly spoken of the ghost in her ridiculous Scotch accent, but Leucha Villiers, after careful consideration, determined not to be afraid of pure nonsense. Was there ever a girl in creation who dried a ghost's dripping hair? The whole thing was too silly.

In accordance with Mrs Maclure's promise, a great many fresh girls had arrived, and the full number of seventy was now nearly made up. It would be quite made up by the end of the following week.

Leucha liked the boy element in the school, and was exceedingly sorry to part with it; but she perceived, to her intense satisfaction, that the English contingent of girls at Ardshiel was very strong, and that, notwithstanding all her audacity and daring, Jacko—of course she was Jacko—could be kept in a minority. She felt there was no time to lose, for Hollyhock looked at her with such flashing eyes, with such saucy dimples round her lips, with such a very rare and personal beauty, that Leucha felt she must get hold of her own girls at once, in order to sustain the school against the wicked machinations of Jacko.

Accordingly she got Lady Barbara Fraser and her sister Dorothy, also the Honourable Daisy Watson, to meet her in what was called the Summer Parlour, a very pretty arbour in the grounds, where materials for a fire were laid, and where a fire could be lit in cold weather.

Winter was approaching. It was now nearly October, and October in the North is often accompanied by frosts and fallen leaves, and by bitter, cold, easterly winds. Lady Leucha had, she considered, a very charming manner. Having collected her friends round her, she went off with them to seek for Mrs Macintyre. They found this good woman, as usual, very busy, and very gentle and full of tact.

'We have come with a request,' said Lady Leucha.

'And what is that, my child?' asked Mrs Macintyre.

'Mrs Macintyre,' said Lady Leucha, 'you have in your school far more English than Scotch girls.'

'That is true, my dear—at least, it is true up to the present. But I have heard to-day from my dear friend Mrs Maclure that fifteen new Edinburgh lassies will arrive on Saturday. You'll welcome them; won't you, Leucha?'

'I like English girls best,' said Lady Leucha.

'That's natural enough, dear child. Well, you have a goodly number of friends and relatives at the school.'

'I have,' said Leucha; 'but I have come in the name of my cousins, Dorothy and Barbara Fraser, and my great friend Daisy Watson, to say that we do not approve of the manners of the new pupil.'

'What new pupil, Leucha? There are a good many in the school.'

'I know that. But I allude to that wild-looking child with black eyes and hair, who talks the absurdest nonsense. Would you believe it, dear Mrs Macintyre, she talks of coming here on moonlight nights and wiping the hair of a ghost? Could you imagine anything so silly?'