Hollyhock Part 18

'It is a very foolish thing to say,' remarked Mrs Macintyre--'so silly and impossible that if I were you, Leucha, I would not give it a second thought. The child must have said it in pure fun. You are doubtless alluding to Hollyhock, a splendid little girl.'

'Well,' said Leucha, tossing her head, 'I don't care for girls who tell untruths; and it is not only for that reason that I dislike her, it is also because she has been so terribly rude to my cousins the Frasers, and to my dear friend Daisy Watson. I can see that she intends to rule the school, or at least to take a very leading position in it. Now this I, for one, do not wish, and I do not intend to put up with it. I think that I, as Earl Crossways' daughter, and the Frasers, who are daughters of the Marquis of Killin'----

'And therefore Scots of the Scots,' interrupted Mrs Macintyre.

'Well, at least their mother is English of the English, and they have been brought up in English ways. They are _my_ relatives, and I do not choose them to be treated rudely. There is also my very great friend Daisy Watson. We are most anxious, dear Mrs Macintyre, for you to allow us English girls, who at present are in a majority in the school, the entire use of the Summer Parlour, giving it out as your desire that no Scotch girl is to come into the parlour without our express permission.'

'I do not quite see how I can do that, Leucha. The Summer Parlour is for the use of all, and why should my Scots la.s.sies be excluded? I am sure, notwithstanding your remarks, Leucha, the children you speak of are both good and well-bred.'

'That horrid creature they call Hollyhock isn't well-bred,' said Leucha.

'She is a magnificent child,' said Mrs Macintyre. 'You don't know her story or you wouldn't speak of her like that.'

'_I_ don't want to hear her story,' said Barbara Fraser. 'I dislike her appearance too much.'

'Barbara, my dear, I am the last to encourage vanity, but Hollyhock is quite the handsomest girl in the school.'

'Oh, Mrs Macintyre, I do wish we had never come here!' said Leucha, who looked extremely mournful and inclined to cry. 'Of course, I suppose, mother must give you a term's notice, but there are really _refined_ schools in England without wild Scotch girls in their midst.'

'You must not speak against Scotland to me,' said Mrs Macintyre.

'Remember it is my native land--the land of the heather, and the lochs, and the glorious mountains. It is the land of brave men and brave women, and I will not have it run down by _any_ impudent English girl.

I've got so many other English girls coming to the school that the loss of you four won't affect me much, Leucha Villiers.'

This was taking matters with a very high hand, and Leucha, who had no great moral strength, was thoroughly subdued.

'I didn't mean to be rude to you, of course, dear Mrs Macintyre,' she said, nudging her cousins as she spoke. 'I only said I did not like that black-eyed girl. She's frightfully wild and rude, and I'm accustomed to girls of a different type. Naturally indeed, being born as I am. However, I ask now for permission to use the Summer Parlour.

Do you refuse it?'

'If you don't want it for hatching plots or anything of that kind,'

said Mrs Macintyre, 'you English girls can have it till Sat.u.r.day--no longer, remember; and as the weather is turning very cold, you must pay for your own fire, and, what's more, light it. For all my maids have plenty of work to do in the house. Now, then, are you satisfied? The Summer Parlour will be yours, beginning from to-day.'

'Thank you, Mrs Macintyre; we are quite satisfied,' said Leucha, who knew well how furious her mother would be were she removed from Ards.h.i.+el, which, as the former home of _kings_, was considered most distinguished.

The girls went off quite mildly and gently. The day was drawing toward evening. Their idea was to light a great fire in the Parlour, and then go into the house for tea; after which they would prepare their lessons, and then go back in a body to the Parlour to discuss the enormities of that wicked girl who called herself Hollyhock. But, alack and alas! the daughter of the Earl of Crossways and the daughters of the Marquis of Killin had never lit a fire in their lives, and did not know in the least how to set about it. They were not particularly strong girls, and did not wish to sit in the Summer Parlour hatching mischief against their schoolfellow without the comfort of a glowing fire.

'How queer and cross Mrs Mac. is!' said Leucha, turning to her companions as they rushed off to the Parlour, knowing that they would have at least half-an-hour in which to make it ready for their evening talk.

'No, no; she's all right,' said Barbara Fraser; 'and mother thinks the world of her. If we left, girls, I don't know what father and mother would say. They've always been wild to get us into a proper Scottish school.'

'How are we to light the fire?' whispered Leucha. 'Do you know how it's done, Dorothy?'

'Not I. Who 's that singing?'

There was a wonderfully sweet contralto voice sounding from the cosy depths of the Summer Parlour. The words the girl sang were as follows:

'The great Ards.h.i.+el, he gaed before, He gart the cannons and guns to roar.

'Whisper now, la.s.sies. Do you not know that "the oak shall go over the myrtle yet"? We will settle some of the poor English girls yet. All the same, I like the really nice English girls _ever_ so well. They are so bonnie and so gentle, like my own sweet sister Jasmine. Where could you see her like anywhere? And there is my own kinsman, the Duke of Ards.h.i.+el! Ah! but I love him well!'

The voice was undoubtedly the voice of Hollyhock, who, without rhyme or reason, had lit a great fire in the old grate, and was comfortably established there, with her four sisters and a number of Scots and English girls scattered round.

These young people were seated round the roaring fire, and Holly, with her black locks and great glowing black eyes, was the centre of an animated group. She was about to expand her views on the nice and not-nice English girls, when in rushed Leucha and her friends.

'You clear out of this,' she said.

'Clear?' said Hollyhock. 'What is clear?'

'There's the door,' said Leucha. 'Go!'

'Not I,' said Holly. 'I find this little chair very comfortable.'

She established herself with much grace and dignity, and the others cl.u.s.tered round her.

'You have got to go,' said Leucha, who was now in a towering pa.s.sion.

'We have got Mrs Macintyre's permission to consecrate the Summer Parlour to the English girls until Sat.u.r.day.'

'That seems a pity,' said Holly, 'for, you see, we _must_ put out the fire. We built it, we la.s.sies of Scotland, and we do not leave it except to those English girls who are on our side. I rather think you are up to a conspiracy, and you sha'n't hatch your plot by _our_ fire.--Come, girls, she wants the Parlour and the fire, but she does not want us. So, quick is the word. Stir yourself, Delphy; stir yourself, Augusta; stir yourselves, all the rest. It is mighty damp outside, so the f.a.ggots can cool themselves there. My word! I do not think much of _some_ English maids. They have no manners at all. And I telling such a fine tale about Ards.h.i.+el and his bonnie men. Well, the Camerons are down now, but they will soon be up again. "The Camerons are coming," say I. Never mind, girls; we 'll find another place for our wee conspiracy.'

In less than two minutes the fire no longer glowed and roared. The coal smouldered feebly under the grate; the f.a.ggots were put in the dripping rain, for the evening happened to be a wet one; and, in order to make all secure, Hollyhock poured a jug of water over the rapidly expiring fire.

'There they lie,' she cried; 'but if any of you wants a proper fire lit, not in anger, but in the spirit of love, I can and will undertake the job. Ay! not a word!--Come away, girls. I know a little hut where we can light a fire for our own conspiracy--a sort of a "cubby hole,"

but loved by poor ghostie, and fit for our work. Come at once, girls.

Come at once.'

CHAPTER XIV.

THE FIRE THAT WILL NOT LIGHT.

The Lady Leucha Villiers and her cousins, the daughters of the Marquis of Killin, a.s.sisted by their chosen companions, tried in vain to relight the fire in the Summer Parlour; but, alas! although even the kitchen cat might have understood so simple a job, being at least acquainted with _something_ of the system, it was quite outside the powers of these ladies of high degree.

Naughty Hollyhock's last effort before she left the Parlour had been to pour a small jug of water over the fast-expiring coals.

'I 'm thinking this will settle matters,' she said to her adoring companions. 'Let them try their hardest now if they like, but we 'll find our own cubby hole and light our fire somewhere else.'

No sooner said than done, for Hollyhock was an adept at small manual jobs. She had observed in her rambles over the Palace of the Kings a small neglected hut, said to be haunted by the ghost from the neighbouring loch. As Hollyhock had not a sc.r.a.p of fear of the ghost, knowing only too well that he did _not_ appear, and knowing also that she could use him as a valuable weapon, she entered the hut, sent Gentian flying for some fresh f.a.ggots, and with the aid of Margaret Drummond and her own sisters, Mary Barton, Nancy Greenfield, Isabella Macneale, and Jane Calvert, she soon had a glowing fire. They put by in one corner a pile of f.a.ggots to place on the fire when tea was over, after which they would have quite an hour to work out their conspiracy.

At tea, which was served on long tables in a beautiful old room, Hollyhock looked more brilliant and more beautiful than ever. Leucha, on the contrary, had a pale face and seemed chilled to the bone.

'Did you leave your fire burning well, Leucha, my hearty?' inquired Hollyhock.

Leucha, of course, refused to reply. She sat looking down at her plate, hardly eating the good things before her, but making up her mind to punish that horrible _Jack_, even if she herself died in the effort.

'Couldn't you find a small hut by the burnside; couldn't you now?'

continued Hollyhock in a coaxing tone. 'The Summer Parlour's grate is hard to light up--it has an artful way with it--but a small _hut_ now, with you sitting by the fire, could be easily managed. I 'd bring you some f.a.ggots, if you said the word.'