'How did her cheek get so swollen?' said Mrs Macintyre.
'Ah, well, we won't talk of that,' said Hollyhock. 'Girls that dare must also endure. I 'm sorry Leuchy was so vexed and wouldn't make it up.'
'You are going to punish her, Mrs Macintyre,' said Leucha, 'are you not?'
'Yes, Leucha; but I 'm going to punish you too.— Hollyhock, my darling, you did wrong, and this your first day at school, too. The punishment I am going to give you I 'm afraid you will feel. You may take the kitchen cat back yourself to The Garden in the morning. You had better start early, so as to be here again in time for breakfast, and then you can tell your father that you will not return with your sisters to The Garden on Saturday. I am sorry, my love; but order must be maintained in the school. As to Leucha here, the story of the cat will, I am sure, be known all over the school immediately; and Leucha, when she shows her wounded hand, will have to explain how she got it—by slapping you so violently on the cheek, thus rousing the temper of the faithful cat. I shall insist on her publicly telling what I know she did. Now, both girls, take your punishments like gentlewomen and don't make a fuss. Good-night, good-night! I 'll send Miss Kent to put a lotion on your cheek, Hollyhock, and to bind up your hand, Leucha. Good-night! After prayers to-morrow the story of the cat will be told, with, alas! Leucha's sad lack of forgiveness.'
CHAPTER XVI.
THE GIRL WITH THE WAYWARD HEART.
Hollyhock was a child who, with all her wildness, her insubordination, her many faults, bore no malice. She did not know the meaning of malice. The open look on her bonnie face alone proclaimed this fact. She was really sorry for Leucha, and did not give her own swollen cheek a serious thought. Of course it pained her, for Leucha had very hard, bony little hands, and she struck, in her fury, with great violence. But Hollyhock, as she termed it, would be but a poor thing if she couldn't bear a scrap of pain. Nothing would induce her to grumble, and although she bitterly regretted the punishment which lay before her of not going home on Saturday, she would take it, as she expressed it, 'like a woman of sense.'
Accordingly she got up early on the following morning, released poor Jean, and carried her back to The Garden. There she put her into the astonished arms of the old housekeeper, who said, 'Whatever ails ye, lassie; and where did you find the cat?'
'Here she is, and don't ask me any questions about her. Here she is, safe and sound. She has been feeding on the richest cream, and if you put her cosy by the fire, she 'll sleep off the effects. Is my Daddy Dumps in, Mrs Duncan?'