Hollyhock rushed up to the Summer Parlour. The night was clear and cold, but there was not a breath of wind blowing. All in vain the two girls were bending over the fire, which refused to catch. Heaps of girls were peeping in and watching the efforts of the two who were trying to light the fire.
'I never did _such_ dirty work in my life before,' said Lady Leucha. 'Come back to the house, Daisy. I shall be sick if I sit and shiver here any longer.'
'There 's one more bit of candle,' replied Daisy. 'Perhaps that will do the job. I never heard of a fire being so difficult to set glowing.'
'And I never heard of a girl being so vain and silly,' remarked Leucha.
Hollyhock whispered to her companions, who immediately dispersed into different parts of the grounds. The night was perfect for her purpose. She felt half-mad with delight. She was only sorry for Daisy, who meant no harm, but was in leading-strings to that proud Lady Leucha. Leucha deserved her fate richly. Daisy did not.
Hollyhock whispered certain directions to her followers to try to get Daisy out of the way. This they promised, feeling quite sure that they could easily manage it.
Just as Daisy's last morsel of candle expired a voice sounded from afar: 'Daisy Watson, you are wanted in the house. Go in as fast as you can!'
Two or three girls boldly entered the Summer Parlour, clasped Daisy by both arms, and dragged her toward the house. Leucha was now alone. She was wild with rage at this final desertion.
Wrapping her cloak round her, she prepared to step out of the Parlour. The Scots, the English, and the French girls all hid behind trees. Hollyhock was near, but not too near. Leucha wrapped her cloak tightly round her. It _was_ cold! She would be glad to get in out of the bitter air. She made up her mind to write that very night to her mother to remove her at any cost from this horrible school; but although she made up her mind, she knew quite well that the said mother would pay no attention to her. Was it not the aim of her life to have her only girl educated in the Palace of the Kings? And she was the last person to be influenced by mere girlish sadness and loneliness.
All these thoughts flashed through Leucha's mind as she stepped into the still, frosty night. She went a few yards; then she stood motionless, transfixed, turned for the time being into stone. What--what was this horror coming to meet her? A tall figure with skeleton hands and face, wearing a very mournful expression in the eyes--a figure that walked slowly, solemnly, such as she had certainly _never_ seen before. She felt herself alone and a long way from home, for the Summer Parlour was quite a distance from the house. The figure held a lantern in its skeleton hands, which was so cleverly arranged that it lit up the worn features and revealed the dripping locks.