The kitchen cat was a very gentle beastie, except in the matter of killing birds and mice. She had the usual fascination of her species where these small victims were concerned; and she enjoyed life in the way cats do, eating when hungry, and sleeping the rest of her days. She slept now with the greatest comfort under the silken eider-down quilt. She rejoiced in the welcome warmth and purred softly to herself, not even troubling to regard the saucer of cream until she had had her snooze. By-and-by she would attack her cream, being partial to that beverage; but for the present she would slumber on, a creature without care, without fear; a gentle, admirable kitchen cat. She brought up her families when they arrived with all a mother's rectitude and propriety, and when they were old enough to leave her, got rid of them as quickly as possible—which means that she took no further notice of them. She regarded them no longer as hers; they were cats, and she preferred them out of the way. At the present time she had just reared and got rid of a large family, and was in that luxurious state of bliss when the good things of life appealed to her. Her purring went on for some time, then ceased, being followed by deep slumber.
Meanwhile Hollyhock and her chosen companions were amusing themselves in various ways downstairs. Supper would be to the minute at a quarter to nine. Supper was a very simple meal, a stand-up affair, consisting in winter of hot bread-and-milk, in summer of cold milk and biscuits.
The Lady Leucha thought her supper a very poor affair, but she was too cold, after her vain attempts to light the fire in the Summer Parlour, to resist the steaming-hot, delicious milk. She took it standing up not far from Hollyhock. She resolved in her own mind to take no notice whatever of Hollyhock. Jacko was to the Lady Leucha as one who did not exist, but in her busy, vain little brain she was forming schemes for the undoing of this impertinent Scots lass.
Lady Leucha was not specially clever, but she was what might be called 'cute,' and although during her first week at school she had had no special desire to push herself forward in any way whatsoever, yet now that Hollyhock—or, rather, Jack—had come, she was fully determined to crush her, if not by guile, then by other means. She, a young lady of distinction, could not stand such impudence; she, the daughter of the Earl of Crossways, would not be bullied by a mere nobody like Jacko. But, unfortunately for herself, Leucha was not nearly so clever in forming plans for the destruction of her enemy as was the dark-eyed, flashing Hollyhock, who would dare and dare again until she showed by her ways and devices that she was invincible.
'Come, girls, it is time for you to take your supper and be off to bed,' said Miss Kent, who observed that Leucha was seated close to the fire in the great sitting-room, shivering not a little, and that Hollyhock, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, had established herself at the far end of the large room, and was relating bogy tales with great rapidity to her ever-increasing host of adorers. One by one fresh girls crept up to join this group, and one by one, whatever their nationality, they were heartily welcomed by Hollyhock, who called out in her clear, sweet voice—for very clear and sweet it could be—'Lassies, make room for the stranger. Be you English or Scots, my lady dear, you are welcome to join my circle.'
Thus the circle began to grow very large, and the hushed, dramatic voice of the narrator caused her listeners to hold their breath, until occasionally they burst into fits of hearty laughter. But the hour had come. The bowls of bread-and-milk smoked on the sideboard, and all the girls hurried to begin and finish their food. After supper they went to say good-night to Mrs Macintyre, who prayed God to bless them and give them all 'a good and peaceful night.' Then, accompanied by Miss Kent, whose office it was to see them to their rooms, they went upstairs.
Leucha had slightly recovered her spirits, but not absolutely. As a matter of fact, she was wild with jealousy. She had sat by the fire with Dorothy and Barbara Fraser and Daisy Watson, but all the other girls had gone over to the large circle, where the voice was so mysterious and the eyes of the speaker so bright. In their heart of hearts, the daughters of the Marquis of Killin were keenly anxious to leave their dull friend Leucha, and join the merry, excited group at the other end of the room. This, however, they dared not do, for their mother would not have wished them to desert Leucha.
'Well, I'm glad this day is over,' exclaimed that young lady, as she reached her bedroom. 'I shall be glad to get between the sheets and forget that horrid, noisy Jack.'
'Ah, will you just?' thought Hollyhock, who overheard the word as she turned into her own snug apartment. Her heart was beating hard and fast. She was waiting for the dénouement.
Lady Barbara and Lady Dorothy Fraser bade Leucha good-night, and went much farther along the corridor.