began.

The birch-rod woman was a long time in appearing! Hollyhock's black
eyes were fixed on the blue eyes of Ivor. It would certainly _not_ be
unpleasant to talk to a boy of that sort; but he seemed quite devoted
to Gentian--poor, plain, little Gentian--while she, Hollyhock, the
beauty of the family, was standing out in the cold; and it _was_ cold
on that September night, with a touch of frost just breathing through
the air. Hollyhock felt herself shiver; then, all of a sudden, her
patience gave way. Those children should not be so happy, while she
was so wretched. She got behind the window where no one could see her,
and shouted in a loud, cracked voice, which she assumed for the
purpose, 'Oh! the ghost! the ghost!'

She then rushed down the avenue, fearing to be caught and discovered.
She ran so fast that her long cloak tripped her, and she suddenly fell
and cut her lip. When she came to herself she had to wipe some stains
of blood away from her injured lip with her handkerchief.

She just reached the lodge gates in time to shout once again, 'The
ghost! the ghost!' when the woman who lived in the lodge came out,
prepared to lock up for the night.

'Who may you be?' said the woman.

'I'm the ghost. Let me through!' screamed Hollyhock.

And she really looked so frightful, with her big black eyes, and
blood-stained face, and streaming lip, that the woman, who was a
stranger, and did not know her, called out, 'Get ye gone at once or
I'll set the dogs on you. The shortest road ye can go'll be the best.
Ye 're not a ghost, but a poor cracked body.'

Hollyhock was sincerely glad to find herself once again on the
highroad, but in some mysterious way her dislike for Ardshiel had
vanished, and she felt furiously angry with Ivor Chetwode for daring to
take notice of her plain sister, Gentian.

She got into the house without much difficulty, bathed her swollen lip,
and retired to bed to think of Ivor's blue eyes. What a nice boy he
must be!--a real bonnie lad, one _worth_ talking to. Why should a girl
be a dunce all her days, when there was such a laddie at Ardshiel? Ah,
well, she would know more about Master Ivor before long.

She slept soundly, and forgot the troubles of her miserable day. In
her dreams she thought of the Precious Stones and Ivor, and imagined
them all fighting hard to gain the goodwill of Gentian, who was a
freckled little girl, not to be named with her, Hollyhock. If that was
the s