Leucha was extremely lonely without Hollyhock. In her presence she was cheerful and bright, but without her she was lonely. Tears stood in her eyes as she bade Hollyhock good-bye, and Hollyhock clasped her to her heart, feeling as she did so that all was lost, that all efforts were in vain, that she herself would be publicly disgraced, and that Leucha would naturally never speak to her again. These things might come to pass at once. As it was, they did come to pass a little later on, but on this special Saturday there was a slight reprieve both for Leucha and for Hollyhock.
Mrs Drummond drove over from Edinburgh in a luxurious motor-car and took her daughter away, promising to send her back to the school on the following Monday morning.
Margaret devotedly loved her mother, and was not long in her presence before the entire story of the ghost and her part therein was revealed. Mrs Drummond was a most severe Calvinist, a puritan of the narrowest type. She was shocked beyond measure with her daughter's narrative. She sat down at once and read her a long chapter out of the Holy Book on all liars and their awful fate.
Margaret shivered as she listened to her mother's words.
'My dear,' said Mrs Drummond, 'if you do not confess and get that wicked Hollyhock—what a name!—into the trouble she deserves, you have your share with those of whom I'm reading. I'll come with you on Monday morning, and you 'll stand up in front of the entire school and tell what you and Hollyhock did. Mrs Macintyre will lose her school if such a thing is allowed.'
'But, oh, mother, I do love Hollyhock. Is there no other way out?'
'Having sinned,' said Mrs Drummond, 'you must repent. Having done the wicked thing, you must tell of it. Mrs Macintyre will be very shocked, but I think nothing of that. It is my lassie I have to think of. It was Providence sent me to fetch you home to-day! There's no other way out. Confession—full confession—is the only course. You must stand up and do your part, and that wicked girl will as likely as not be expelled.'