'All right,' replied Daisy, 'if you do think so—and I'm quite as good as you, remember—I 'll do my best. I 'll just run along now to the Summer Parlour and see that the materials for lighting the fire are there, Then I 'll come back and fetch you.'
'Yes,' replied Leucha; 'I may as well see you at the job. You are certain sure to fail, but conceit will have its way.'
'Dear, dear,' thought Daisy Watson, 'what a very unpleasant girl Leucha is becoming! I 'd leave her this blessed minute and go over to Hollyhock, only perhaps Lady Crossways might be angry. Leucha gets more like her mother each day—a kind of sneering look about her face, which really gives her a most disagreeable expression. But friendship is friendship, and I won't forsake her if I can help it.'
So Daisy flew to the Summer Parlour, which was just perceptible in the twilight. No place could look more cold and comfortless; but Daisy was so madly anxious to do something that she set about her task with a will. She had secretly purloined some faggots, bits of coal, and candle-ends; but she had quite forgotten to ascertain whether the faggots were dry or not; and she was equally ignorant of the fact that as a rule even dry faggots require a small supply of paper to enable them to 'catch' and attack the nice little black lumps of coal, which, with the aid of the candle-ends, might yield a glowing, gleaming, beautiful fire. She had made friends with one of the servants, and had therefore an idea how to lay her fire. She had also secured a candle, one solitary whole candle, which she placed in a brass candlestick.
To all appearance everything was now ready. She felt certain that her fire could not fail, and went back in high spirits to Leucha.
'Come,' she said, 'come. I 'm ready to set fire to the pile.'
A good many girls saw these two go out. They had wrapped themselves up in warm cloaks, which were quite suited to the frosty weather.
Leucha shivered as she walked in the direction of the Summer Parlour. The new girls were now busily engaged at a private and luxurious tea with Mrs Macintyre, which was the invariable tribute paid to each new pupil. They were, therefore, out of the way.
'The hour strikes,' said Hollyhock. 'Come along, Meg.'
Meg shrank and shivered. 'Oh, but, Holly, I'd much rather not.'