The daughters of the marquis and the earl were now quite silent, their silly little hearts filled with horror. They never guessed that Hollyhock was making up her story.
'You couldn't have done that,' said Jane Calvert.
'Whist, can't ye? I want to get those girls away, so as to talk about the kitchen cat.'
The girls in question certainly did go away. They did more; they went straight to Mrs Macintyre and asked her if the awful story was true. Mrs Macintyre, having never heard of it, declared emphatically that it was not true; but, somehow, neither Lady Leucha nor the Fraser girls quite believed her. There was such a ring of truth in Hollyhock's words; and had they not all heard, on that first happy evening at the school, the cry, so shrill, so piercing, 'The ghost! the ghost!'
They had tried not to think of it since, but Hollyhock seemed to confirm the weird words, and they began to wonder if they could stay long in this school, which, beautiful as it was, contained such an awful ghost—a ghost who required a little girl to dry his locks for him. Surely such a terrible thing could not happen! It was quite past belief.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SUMMER PARLOUR.
If there was a girl who was at once slightly frightened and extremely angry, that girl was Leucha Villiers, the daughter of the Earl of Crossways. Never, never before had any overtures on her part been treated as Hollyhock had treated them. If this saucy black-eyed imp intended to rule the school, she, Leucha, would show her what she thought of her conduct. She would not be ruled by her. She would, in short, show her once and for all her true position. Little Scotch nobody, indeed! Well, the angry Leucha knew how to proceed.
Leucha was considered by her friends and by her numerous acquaintances a most charming girl, a girl with such aristocratic manners, such a noble presence, such a gentle, firm, distinguished air. She had been, during her first week at school, very happy on the whole, for Jasmine, and Gentian, and Rose, and Delphinium had more or less bowed down to her and admired her. But now there appeared on the scene a totally different character—Hollyhock! How ridiculous to call any human being by such a name! But then it wasn't her real name; her name was Jacqueline. She, Lady Leucha, would certainly not call her Hollyhock, or prickly Holly, or anything of that sort. She would call her Jack and Jacko, and tease her as much as possible. She had certainly spoken of the ghost in her ridiculous Scotch accent, but Leucha Villiers, after careful consideration, determined not to be afraid of pure nonsense. Was there ever a girl in creation who dried a ghost's dripping hair? The whole thing was too silly.