'Well, you have said it for the last time,' thought poor Hollyhock to herself. Her little victory, her little triumph, was at an end, for Hollyhock knew Leucha far too well to believe for an instant that she would forgive a horrible hoax played upon her.
If Meg Drummond was a cold, severe-looking girl, she was not nearly so severe or so cold as her mother. Mrs Drummond, accompanied by her daughter, entered the great hall, where prayers were to be said, with a face of icy marble. Proud indeed was she in spirit; determined was she in action. She would save her precious daughter's soul alive, come what might. No other girl was of any importance to Mrs Drummond. Meg was her all, and she was wrecked—yes, wrecked—on the ghastly rock of sin. The Devil would claim Meg, unless she, her mother, came to the rescue.
Mrs Macintyre was somewhat surprised at the arrival of Mrs Drummond, a woman to whom she did not at all take. For that matter, she had never been enamoured of Meg herself, considering her beneath the other girls in the school; but when Mrs Drummond whispered to her, 'I have come on a matter of awful importance, and I'll thank you to conduct the Lord's Prayer and the hymns and the other religious exercises, and then you 'll know why I have come.'
This was such a very remarkable speech that Mrs Macintyre bowed stiffly and offered the good lady a chair.
Prayers were conducted as usual, the girls singing and joining in the Lord's Prayer. Then Mrs Macintyre made a brief petition that God Almighty might help her and her teachers and her beloved pupils to work harmoniously through the hours of the week just beginning.
The moment she rose from her knees, she was about to dismiss the pupils to their different tasks, when Mrs Drummond, tall and gaunt, stood up and waved a menacing hand.
'One moment, girls; I have something to say to you, or, rather, my young daughter has something to say, which is in the nature of a black confession. It relates principally to herself and a girl in this school called Hollyhock. She has now to go through an awful confession, which will hurt her more than a little; but if she holds nothing back, her immortal soul may be saved in the Great Day. But there is another who has sinned far deeper than my Meg, and I leave it to Mrs Macintyre to settle with her by expelling her from this school. Now then, Meg, think of the Judgment Seat and tell your tale.'
Meg, who would be precisely like her mother at her mother's age, now stood up, flung a vindictive glance at Hollyhock, and began her story.
'I was drawn into it. That Hollyhock had a way with her, and I was drawn in. I consented to an awful sin. It has lain on my conscience until I felt nearly mad. Well, Mrs Macintyre and my dear teachers and you girls, listen and beware. You may recall a certain night when there was great agitation in this school, because it was said that the poor ghostie had walked. The thought of that ghostie nearly drove an English girl out of her mind; but I am prepared to clear up the matter.
'Now for the true story. The ghost was no ghost. It was me, my own self, who, ruled by Hollyhock there, went into what we call the ghost's hut, and allowed myself to be chalked and then blackened with charcoal on the hands and face so as to look like a skeleton, and then wrapped in a cloak of the Camerons, and my hair tied up tight, and a peaked hat put on me over a wig which had been flung into water. I 'm told that I looked something fearful; and the one who did the deed, and drew me, an innocent girl, into this mess, was Hollyhock Lennox. A poor English girl went almost raving mad, and no one could tell but that a real ghost had been about. Well, I'm the ghost, and the wicked one who led me astray was Hollyhock Lennox. After that she was frightened, seeing the effect of the ghost on poor Leucha, and she got me for a long time not to tell, and she won the heart of Leucha, coming round her as only she knows how. But if I know Leucha, she won't put up any more with what was nothing but a hoax.— Will you, Leucha; will you?'