'Nothing; less than nothing,' muttered Margaret Drummond.
'She could not have had, for this girl, Leucha, or some such name, is clinging to her. But still, if you wish to go, Jasmine, and think that you can do any good, start away at once, my lass. You can come back to-morrow morning.'
So Jasmine went with Margaret, who looked really sick with terror, and clung to her companion as Leucha had clung to Hollyhock.
'There now, there now, we'll soon put things right,' said Jasmine. 'It's an awful pity that you don't tell the truth, Meg!'
'I do tell the truth—I do. I cannot go back on my word.'
'Well, then, you must leave the matter to me. The only thing I can do is to soothe Leucha as best I can; while you must walk boldly into the house. It's your bed-hour and past it, isn't it?'
'Yes, yes; but I have no heart to eat or to sleep.'
'Well, you go straight up to your room, Meg, and get into bed as fast as you can, and I 'll bring you up something. If you have sworn secrecy you must keep it; but whatever happens, don't be frightened. Leucha is very weak of nerve, and has been feeling our desertion most cruelly, I 'm thinking.'
'Not a bit of it,' said Meg. 'She's a perfectly horrid girl. Even Daisy has left her now!'
'Dear, dear, poor thing!' said Jasmine. 'Then she must be lonely!'