n to his sister, Mrs Constable, at that moment.
The woman undoubtedly was a lady. How great, how terrible, had been
her sorrow! And then she spoke so prettily of his girls, and said that
the flower names were altogether _too charming_, and nothing would
induce her to disturb them.

It was on the lips of Lennox to say, 'I am not going to send my girls
to your school,' but he found, as he looked into her sad dark eyes,
that he could not dash the hopes of such a woman to the ground. He was
therefore silent, and the evening passed agreeably.

Immediately after dinner Mrs Macintyre sat at the piano and sang one
Scots song after another. She had a really exquisite voice, and when
'Robin Adair' and 'Ye Banks and Braes' and 'Annie Laurie' rang through
the old hall, the man gave himself up to the delight of listening. He
stood by her and turned the pages of music, while the two ladies, Mrs
Constable and Miss Delacour, looked on with smiling faces. Miss
Delacour knew that her cause was won, and that she might with safety
leave the precincts of the horrible Garden to-morrow. How miserable
she was in that spot! Yes, her friend's future was assured, and she
herself must go to Edinburgh and to London to secure sufficiently
aristocratic pupils for the new school.

CHAPTER VI.

THE HEAD-MISTRESS.

It was, after all, Mrs Macintyre who made the school a great success.
Her gentleness, her sweet and noble character, overcame every
prejudice, even of Mr Lennox. When she said that she thought his
children and their flower names beautiful, the heart of the good man
was won. Later in the evening, when the lively little party of
Lennoxes, accompanied, of course, by Miss Delacour, went back to The
Garden, his sister-in-law called him aside, and informed him somewhat
brusquely of the fact that she was leaving for London on the following
day.

'Mrs Macintyre will remain behind,' she said. 'I gave her at parting
five hundred pounds. You will do your part, of course, George, unless
you are an utter fool.'

George Lennox felt so glad at the thought of parting from Miss Delacour
that he almost forgave her for calling him a possibly utter fool; nay,
more, in his joy at her departure, he nearly, but not _quite_, kissed
his sister-in-law.

Every attention was now paid to this good lady. At a very early hour
on the following morning the motor-car conveyed her to Edinburgh. It
seemed to the Lennoxes, children and father alike