The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow, When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow!'
In spite of every effort, Hollyhock could not help putting a touch of her beloved Scots accent into the great and glorious words of Thomas Campbell.
'Hollyhock, you 'll promise not to do any mischief while we are away?' said Jasmine in her most coaxing voice when the hour for departure had arrived. She hated beyond words leaving her sister at this crisis.
'Ah, well,' replied Hollyhock, 'I'll make no promises. I 'll tell no stories, and if things happen, why, then, I am not to blame.'
'Don't be frightened, Jasmine; I 'm learning to be _such_ a good little girl.'
There was no help for it. The four Flower Girls departed, leaving the fifth, and the naughty one, behind.
Now it was as impossible for Hollyhock to keep out of mischief as it was for the kitchen cat at The Garden to refuse to drink cream, but Hollyhock meant at the same time to go warily to work. Some more fresh girls were coming on this special Saturday, which made it all the easier for her to carry out her little plan. The Fraser girls were now devoted to her, but her slave--the one who would do anything on earth for her--was Margaret Drummond.
Hollyhock arranged, therefore, that Margaret should be her accomplice on the present occasion. Her tales of bogies and ghosties--all of them with a slight soupçon of truth in them--had excited the wonder and fearful admiration of the schoolgirls, and when she suggested, as she _did_ suggest, that 'poor little Leuchy might wipe the ghostie's hair for her,' there was a perfect chorus of delighted applause.
'But he won't come; he won't dare to come,' said Margaret Drummond.
'Meg, hist, dear; let's whisper. Keep it to yourself. There's no ghost; only they think, poor things, that there is, and that I dry his dripping locks. Well, I want you to impersonate the ghost to-night. I 'll dress you up, and you shall cross the path of Leuchy. Why, she'll turn deadly white when she sees you at it.'