d the said book.
It was one of Sir Walter Scott's great novels. But Leucha hated Sir
Walter Scott; she hated his dialect, his long descriptions; she was not
interested even in this marvellous work of his, _Ivanhoe_, and lay back
in her easy-chair with her eyes half shut and her mind halt asleep.
There came a sharp, short knock at her door. It roused Leucha to say,
'Who's there?'

'It's me, Magsie, please, miss,' replied a voice.

Leucha muttered something which Magsie took for 'Come in.' She entered
the luxurious chamber.

'You are called, Lady Leucha, to the mistress on business immediate and
most important. You are to go to her at once. My certie! but you are
comfortable here.'

'Are you speaking of Mrs Macintyre?' inquired Leucha.

'I am--the head-mistress of the school herself.'

'Say I will come, and leave my room at once yourself,' said Leucha.

'You had best no keep _her_ waitin' long, I 'm thinkin'. It's no her
fashion to be kept waitin' when she gives forth her royal commands. In
the Palace of the Kings she 's like a royal lady, and you dare not keep
her waitin'.'

Magsie had now a most violent hatred for Leucha, having helped
Hollyhock to nurse her through her illness, and being far more
concerned for her own young lady than for that miserable thing, who had
not the courage of a mouse.

'You had best be quick,' said Magsie now; and she went out of the room
noisily, slamming the door with some violence after her. 'I don't
think I ever saw so wicked a girl,' thought Magsie to herself.

The wicked girl in question thought, however, that prudence was the
better part of valour, and went downstairs without delay to Mrs
Macintyre's beautiful private sitting-room. She looked cross; she
looked sulky; she looked, in short, all that a poor jealous nature
could look, and there was not a trace of repentance about her.

Mrs Macintyre heaved an inward sigh. Outwardly her manner was
exceedingly cold and at the same time determined.

'I have sent for you, Leucha Villiers,' she said, 'to ask you if you
now intend to restore peace and harmony to the school.'

'What do you mean, Mrs Macintyre?' said Leucha.

'My child, you know quite well what I mean. Your dear and noble young
friend'----

'I don't know of any such,' interrupted Leucha.

'Then you have a lamentably short memory, Leucha,' said Mrs Macintyre,
'or it could not have passed from your mind--the weary nights and long
days when that brave