'I thought you were coming to teach me this morning, Aunt Cecilia,' said the girl in a tone of reproach.
Mrs Constable raised her soft gray eyes. 'My dear child,' she said, 'didn't you know that your father and I are not going to teach you any more? All the teaching in this place will be at Ardshiel.'
'Then how am I to learn?' said Hollyhock, in a tone of frightened amazement.
'Naturally,' replied Mrs Constable, 'by going to Ardshiel.'
'Never!' replied the angry girl. 'I 'm not wanted. I can make my own plans. Good-bye. I hate every one.'
Hollyhock made a dash toward the door, but Mrs Constable called her back.
'Won't you help me with this needlework, dear? I should enjoy your company. I miss my Precious Stones so much.'
'Fudge!' replied Hollyhock. 'I 'm not going to comfort you for your Precious Stones. Great boobies, I call them, going to a mixed school.'
She dashed away from The Paddock. Again, on her way home, Hollyhock was entertained by the sounds of mirth at Ardshiel. On this occasion a number of girls were playing tennis, and her own sisters, Jasmine and Gentian, blew rapturous kisses to her. This seemed to the unhappy child to be the last straw.
'Who is that girl?' asked Ivor Chetwode.