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.

'Ah, my child, my child,' she said, 'why will you let your naughty and
mischievous spirit get the better of you?'

'I couldn't help it,' replied Hollyhock, who felt as near to tears as a
daughter of the Camerons could be; 'but you see for your own self what