she had no sympathy, and no friend
anywhere. She sat, it is true, amongst the girls, but she was not one
of them. They were absolutely yelling with laughter over the pranks of
the cat and the terror of the dog. They had never seen so fine a piece
of acting in their lives before.

One girl was heard to say distinctly to another, 'Why, if that wee
doggie is not Leucha to the life, I 'm very much mistaken;' and Leucha
heard the words and knew that the mongrel dog was meant for her, and
yet she dared not do anything. She clung to her seat in abject misery.

Suddenly the lights on the stage were lowered. They were made
strangely, weirdly dim; a kind of blue light pervaded the scene; the
different animals crouched together; and ghostie, very tall, very
skeleton-like, very fearsome, with his jet-black eyes, walked calmly
on. Oh, but he was a gruesome thing to see! There was a look of
horror on his face, and when he spoke, his words were awful.

'I have come from the bottom of the cold lake. Dry my wet locks.
Which of you all will dry my locks? The poor beasties cannot. I must
jump over the enclosure and walk among the lassies and see which of
them will dry my dripping locks!'

The blue light now pervaded all parts of the room, and the ghost went
straight up to Leucha.

'You are brave; do this favour for poor ghostie. See how my black eyes
glitter into yours! Will not one of you come forward and dry my
sleekit locks? I thought the bravest lass in the school would do it,
so I came straight to wee Leuchy; but she has turned her head aside.
What ails the lassie? What can be coming over her, and she so brave
and so noble?'

The intense sarcasm in these words caused the entire school to shriek
with laughter, in the midst of which Leucha flew to her room, vowing
that even the Duke's locket and crest would not keep her another day in
this fearful school.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE WARM HEART ROUSED AT LAST.

Now the forgiving nature of Hollyhock Lennox has been often mentioned;
but just now she felt very nearly as angry with Leucha as Leucha was
with her. It was a strange sort of anger, an anger mingled with love,
for had Leucha said the slightest word, that warm, warm heart of the
Scots girl would have been hers once again.

But Leucha would not say the word, although, strange as it may seem,
she also, down deep in her heart, was longing for Hollyhock, longing as
she had never longed for a human being befor