Hollyhock: A Spirit of Mischief

The school had been open now for some time, and the full number of seventy was made up. Leucha was now so infatuated with Hollyhock that she no longer regretted her being the queen of the school. Hollyhock, for her part, held serious conversations with her sisters about the girl whom she had so strangely conquered.

'We must make a woman of her,' said Hollyhock. 'She is naught in life but a cringing kitchen cat at present, but it is our bounden duty to turn her into something better. How shall we set to work, lassies?'

The Flower Girls considered. Jasmine inquired anxiously if Leucha was clever in any particular branch.

'No,' said Hollyhock; 'she could not even make a ghostie.'

'Well, can we not pretend that she is clever?' said Gentian.

'That's a good notion,' exclaimed Hollyhock. 'I have heard whispers that there are big prizes to be given in the school by the Duke to the girls that are best in different subjects. We don't want prizes, not we; but that little Leuchy, she 'd be up to her eyes with joy if we were to set her trying for a prize. I 'm thinking that Mrs Macintyre will declare the nature of the prizes very soon. After prayers to-morrow I 'll set Leuchy on to try for one. I 'll help her, if I can, privately. She has got what I have not, and that's ambition. I can work on that; and, lassies, it will be a great relief to me, for I hate – I hate being purred on and kissed all day long. I must put up with it; but it's trying, seeing my own nature is contrariwise to that.'

The five girls talked a while of the coming prizes.

Leucha was now under the charge of Jasper, and they got on tolerably well, for Jasper would do anything in the world for Hollyhock, and as Hollyhock was the only love of Leucha's life, she talked on no other subject whatsoever to the lad.

'Well,' he exclaimed, 'you surely don't tell me that you kiss her —kiss Holly! – and she so prickly with thorns?'

'Indeed, I do, Jasper. She loves my kisses; she would not take them from any one else.'

'Wonders will never cease,' said Jasper. 'I would not disgrace the bonnie dear by stupid old kisses.'

'But you are a boy, Jasper. You 're quite different,' said Leucha.

'Well, I'm thinking not so very. I'm first cousin to her, remember, which happens to be next door to brother. But there, let's talk of something else. What mischief is the dear up to now?'

Leucha related a few harmless little pranks, for Hollyhock did not dare to give vent to her real spirit of mischief while Leucha clung round her like the kitchen cat.

The next day Leucha and the Flower Girls returned to the school, and, as Hollyhock had predicted, Mrs Macintyre called her flock around her and said that she had an announcement to make regarding an arrangement winch would be a yearly feature in the school. Six prizes of great magnificence were to be awarded at the Christmas 'break-up.' These were as follows:

(1) For efficiency in learning.

(2) For those games now so well known in schools.

(3) For the best essay of about one thousand words, the subject to be selected by each girl herself. The only proviso was that she must not tell the other girls who were competing what subject she had chosen; otherwise an absolutely free choice was given, and even Mrs Macintyre was not to know the subjects selected before the momentous day when the papers were given in.

(4) A prize for good conduct generally.

(5) A prize for progress made in French, German, and Italian history and conversation, the girls choosing, however, only one of these three great languages.

(6) And, greatest of all, a prize was to be given – and here the head-mistress could not help glancing for a brief moment at her dearly loved Hollyhock – to one of the girls who was so brave that she feared nothing, and so kind-hearted that she won the deep affection of the entire school.

The prizes were the gift of the great Duke of Ardshiel, and were to take the form of lockets with the Duke's own crest set on them in sparkling diamonds. The girls were to choose their own subjects, and in especial were to choose their own ordeal for the final test of valour, no one interfering with them or influencing their choice.

These prizes the Duke promised to present year after year. One condition he made – that a girl who won a gold and diamond locket might try again, but could not win a second locket; if successful, she would receive in its place what was called 'A Scroll of Honour,' which was to be signed by the great Ardshiel himself.

Mrs Macintyre after this announcement requested her pupils to go at once to their several tasks, only adding that she hoped to receive the names of the girls who meant to try for the six lockets by the following evening at latest.

The great and thrilling subject of the prizes was on every one's lips, and each and all declared that Hollyhock was certain to get the prize for valour and good-fellowship. What the test would be nobody knew, and Hollyhock kept her own thoughts to herself. She was deeply concerned, however, to set Leucha to work, and had a long talk with her friend on the evening of that day.

'You can try for the essay, Leuchy dear,' she said.

'No, I can't; I haven't got the gift. I have got no gift except my love for you. Oh, kiss me, Hollyhock; kiss me!'

Hollyhock endured a moat fervent embrace. A voice in the distance was heard saying, 'Little fool. I cannot stand that nonsense!'

'Who is talking?' said Leucha, standing back, her face assuming its old unpleasant expression.

'Oh, nobody worth thinking of, dear,' said Hollyhock, who knew quite well, however, that Margaret Drummond was the speaker. Margaret had not been friendly to her – not in the old passionate, worshipful way – since the night of the ghostie. Hollyhock's present object, however, was to get Leucha to put down her name for the essay, explaining to her how great would be the glory of the happy winner of the diamond locket.

'You may be sure it is worth trying for,' said Hollyhock, 'for the brave old Duke never does anything by halves.'

'Ah, kiss me, kiss me,' said Leucha. 'I'd do anything for you; you know that.'

'I do; but we won't have much time for kissing when we are busy over our different tasks. I 'll help you a good bit with your essay, Leuchy. There's no name given to the subject, so what do you say to calling it "The Kitchen Cat"?'

'Oh, my word! I was angry with you then,' said Leucha.

'So you were, my bonnie dearie, and I only did it out of the spirit of mischief; but I can instruct you right well in the ways of the kitchen cat.'

'I 've always hated cats,' said Leucha.

'You cannot hate wee Jean, and I'll tell you all her bonnie ways.'

'What subject are you going to take yourself, Holly?'

'Oh, I – I 'm in the danger zone,' said Hollyhock, with a light laugh.

'It terrifies me even now to think of that ghost!'

'Don't be frightened, Leuchy. He means no harm, and he will not trouble you again. So don't you trouble your bonnie head, but win the glorious prize by an essay on the kitchen cat. I can assure you no one else will choose that subject, so you have the field to yourself, and well you'll do the work. Don't I know that you 'll get the beauteous prize with the Duke's crest on it, in the stones that sparkle and shine?'

'Mother would like that well,' said Leucha. 'She would be just delighted.'

'Then try for your mother's sake, as well as your own.'

'And you will help me, Holly?'

'To be sure I will. There 's no rule against one girl helping another. I 'll show you the way it 's to be done, and with your brains, Leuchy, you'll easily win the prize. Listen now; I 'll put my name down this very night for the danger zone, and you put your name down for the essay. Then we 'll both be all right.'

The six subjects for competition were taken up by quite half the school, the girls sending in their names under noms de plume to Mrs Macintyre, and in sealed envelopes. Never, surely, was there such an exciting competition before, and never was there such eagerness shown as by the various pupils who had resolved to try for the locket and diamond crest of Ardshiel.

All was indeed going smoothly, and all would have gone smoothly to the end but for the jealous temperament of Margaret Drummond. For a time she had remained faithful to Hollyhock, but, as she said to Jasmine, the immortal soul in her breast troubled her, and as the days went by and jealousy grew apace that immortal soul troubled her more and more. The final straw came in an unlooked-for and unfortunate way. Leucha had been asked to spend from Saturday to Monday at The Garden, and on the following Saturday Margaret Drummond was to accompany the Flower Girls to their home. The thought of going there and arguing about her precious soul occupied her much during the week. She was also a fairly clever girl, and was absorbed in the contest she had entered for – 'General Attainment of Knowledge.' But on Saturday morning there came a disappointment to her, which roused her ire extremely. It was news to the effect that Aunt Agnes Delacour was coming to The Garden, and that she had written a peremptory letter asking that on the occasion of this rare visit she herself should be the only guest.

It was impossible not to accede to this request. Holly felt both angry and alarmed, for she was not at all sure of Margaret Drummond; but there was no help for it. On receiving her father's letter she went at once to Margaret, who was packing her clothes for the great event, and begged of her most earnestly to take the matter like a good lass, and postpone her visit to The Garden until the following Saturday, giving the true and only reason for this delay.

'Oh!' said Margaret, 'I don't believe you, not for a minute. No woman would wish to keep a poor girl from her promised enjoyment.'

'You don't know Aunt Agnes, and at least it is not my fault, Margaret,' said Hollyhock.

'For that matter, I know a lot more than you think,' retorted Meg. 'But times have changed – ay, and much changed, too. I try to keep my soul calm, but I am not a fool. You don't care for me as you did, Hollyhock, and I imperilling my immortal soul all for you. You are a queer girl, Hollyhock Lennox, to forsake one like me, and to take up with another, and she the shabbiest-natured pupil in the school.'

'Indeed, indeed you mistake, Margaret,' said Hollyhock. 'I did wrong – we both did wrong that night.'

'Oh, you did wrong, did you? You are prepared to confess, I take it?'

'Oh Meg, to confess would be to ruin all. Have I not won her round? Is she not better than she was?'

'For my part,' said Meg, 'I see no change, except that she sits at your feet and smothers you with kisses; but I have my own soul to think of, and if you don't confess, Hollyhock Lennox, I have at least my duty to perform.'

'Please, please be careful, Meg. You don't know what awful mischief you 'll do.'

'I have to think of my soul,' replied Meg; 'but go your ways and enjoy yourself. No, thank you, I don't want to go to your house this day week. Perhaps I also can come round wee Leuchy. There's no saying what you 'll see and what you 'll hear on Monday morning!'

'Meg, you make me so wretched. Are you really going to tell her our silly little trick?'

'I make no promises; only I may as well say to you, Hollyhock, that my mind is made up.'

Hollyhock felt almost sick with terror. She flew to Jasmine and got her to talk to Margaret Drummond, but Margaret had the obstinacy of a very jealous nature. She was obstinate now to the last degree, and the departure of the Flower Girls gave her a clear field.

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.'

CHAPTER XXI.

THERE IS NO WAY OUT

Hollyhock did not exactly know how she felt during that visit to the dearly beloved old Garden. Besides the unwelcome presence of Aunt Agnes, there was a fear over her which was wholly and completely moral, for Hollyhock had, as may well be remarked, no physical fear whatsoever. She was the sort of girl, however, to keep even moral fears to herself, and she returned to the Palace of the Kings on Monday morning, hoping for the best. So far everything seemed to be all right.

Leucha rushed to her friend, clasped her and kissed her, said how deeply she had missed her, and how she had longed beyond words during the latter half of Saturday and on Sunday for Hollyhock's return.

Meg, then, had been better than Hollyhock expected. When all was said and done, Meg was good and true. Hollyhock made up her mind to be specially good to Meg in future, to compensate her for her late neglect – in short, to soothe her ruffled feelings and to feel for her that love and admiration which the Scots girl had given to her in the past. But where was Meg?

Hollyhock's quick eyes looked round the room, looked round the spacious hall, looked round the vast breakfast parlour. There was no sign of Meg anywhere. This puzzled her a little, but did not render her uneasy; and as no other girl in the school said a word about Meg Drummond – she was not a favourite by any means, and never would be – Hollyhock came to the conclusion that the poor thing must be ill, and must have taken to her bed, in which case she would inquire for her tenderly when the right time came, and thank her affectionately for her loving forbearance.

But, alack and alas! just as breakfast was coming to an end, there was a whir and a hoot, and a motor-car was heard rushing up the spacious avenue and stopping before the great front-door.

A girl who was seated next to Hollyhock said, 'That must be Meg Drummond coming back. About an hour after you left us, Hollyhock, her mother came and fetched her. Why, there she is, to be sure, and her mother along with her. Whatever can be wrong?'

Hollyhock felt a fearful sinking at her heart. She longed to rush Leucha, poor little Leucha, out of the school, to hide her, to screen her from what was certain to follow. But she was too stunned by these unexpected events to say a word or take any action.

'You are a little white, Hollyhock,' said Leucha, who was seated at her side. 'Don't you feel well?'

'Oh, Leucha darling, don't ask me. It's all up with me,' groaned Hollyhock. 'Oh Leucha, say once again that you love me!'

'Love you, Holly? I love no one in the world as I love you!'

'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?'

'Is it true?' said Leucha, turning a ghastly-white face and looking at Hollyhock.

'Oh Leuchy,' half-sobbed Hollyhock, 'it is true, every word of it. It was the spirit of mischief that entered into me. But, oh, Leuchy, Leuchy, when you were so bad my whole heart went out to you, and you 'll forgive your own Holly? For, see for yourself, I love you, Leuchy – see it for yourself.'

'And I don't love you,' said Leucha. 'You have played on me the vilest trick I ever heard of, and I'll never believe in you again, or speak to you again! – Please, Mrs Macintyre, this is too much; my head reels badly, so may I go out of the room for a few minutes?'

'I had to save my immortal soul,' said Meg, casting down her pious eyes, and rejoicing in the mischief which she had effectually achieved.

'My precious one, you are safe now,' said Mrs Drummond. 'I have stood by and listened to a full confession. But what'll you do to that bad, black-haired girl, Mrs Macintyre? To have her publicly expelled is what I 'd recommend.'

'Yes, my dear lady,' replied Mrs Macintyre; 'but you do not happen to be the mistress of the school. I shall take my own course. You can remove your own daughter if you wish, Mrs Drummond, whose behaviour, in my opinion, was many degrees worse than Hollyhock's.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Hollyhock certainly did wrong to allow your girl to impersonate the ghost; but afterwards, in the most noble way, she won the affections of the must difficult girl in the school. Now I fear, I greatly tear, we shall have much trouble with Leucha Villiers; but nothing will induce me to expel Hollyhock. – No, my dear little girl; you did wrong, of a certainty, but you are too much loved in this school for us to do without you. – Now, Mrs Drummond, do you wish to remove Margaret from the school? Because, if so, it can easily be done, and I shall send up my maid, Magsie, to pack her clothes.'

'It might be right,' said Mrs Drummond, who was considerably amazed at Mrs Macintyre's manner of taking the whole occurrence, 'but at the same time I have no wish to deprive my daughter of the chance of getting the Ardshiel diamond crest locket. It would be the kind of thing that her father would have taken pride in. I myself have no wish for worldly pride and precious stones and such like. Nevertheless, it would be hard to rob my child of the chance of getting the locket.'

'As you please,' said Mrs Macintyre with great coldness. 'Only I have one thing to insist upon.'

'Indeed, madam! And what may that be?'

'It is that Margaret Drummond shall have no dealings whatsoever with Leucha Villiers. As to Hollyhock, I can manage her myself. Now perhaps, madam, you will return to Edinburgh and allow the routine of the school to go on under my guidance, I being the head-mistress, not you!'

Mrs Drummond went away in a wild fury. She certainly would have taken Meg with her, but the pride of having her commonplace daughter educated in the Palace of the Kings, joined to her pride in the very great possibility – in fact, the certainty in her imagination – of Meg's winning one of the gold and diamond lockets, made her swallow her indignation as best she could. She kissed Meg after her icy fashion, and said some furious words in a low tone to the young girl.

'You managed things badly, Meg. That dark girl ought to have been expelled.'

'But, mother, I should have loved to see the day,' said Meg. 'I don't seem to have got much good out of my confession after all.'

'Your soul, child, the salvation of your soul, is gained;' and with these last words the self-righteous woman went away.

Certainly that was a most confusing morning at the school. Poor Mrs Macintyre had never felt nearer despair. The trick which had been played she regarded with due and proper abhorrence, but the way in which it had been declared by Meg made her feel sick, and worse than sick, at heart. She sent for Hollyhock first, and had a long talk with her.