the other
girls had gone over to the large circle, where the voice was so
mysterious and the eyes of the speaker so bright. In their heart of
hearts, the daughters of the Marquis of Killin were keenly anxious to
leave their dull friend Leucha, and join the merry, excited group at
the other end of the room. This, however, they dared not do, for their
mother would not have wished them to desert Leucha.

'Well, I'm glad this day is over,' exclaimed that young lady, as she
reached her bedroom. 'I shall be glad to get between the sheets and
forget that horrid, noisy Jack.'

'Ah, will you just?' thought Hollyhock, who overheard the word as she
turned into her own snug apartment. Her heart was beating hard and
fast. She was waiting for the _denouement_.

Lady Barbara and Lady Dorothy Fraser bade Leucha good-night, and went
much farther along the corridor.

Leucha entered her room and turned on the light. The moment she did
this she began to sniff. What queer noise was this in the room? Was
there a clock anywhere, and had it gone wrong? She looked around her
and sniffed again.

Hollyhock, prepared for all events, kept her door a little ajar, and
wee Jean, being slightly, very slightly, disturbed by the noise in the
room and the light which penetrated faintly under her eider-down quilt,
purred in a louder and more satisfied manner than ever. She thought
she might rise a trifle and begin to lap her cream.

'What _can_ be the matter?' said Lady Leucha. This sharp and angry
tone slightly startled the kitchen cat, who raised herself slowly,
making a great heave as she did so of her own body and of the
eiderdown. The cream was close to her. The cream was sweet and
luscious; the cream would suit her to perfection.

Lap, lap, lap, went her little tongue. In a fury--a blind fury--Leucha
rushed to her bed, tore aside the eider-down, and tried to catch the
wicked cat in order to fling her out of the window; but Hollyhock stood
in the room.

'Don't,' she said. 'Poor beastie! I put her there for fun--for a bit
of a lark. I'll take her now. Don't you _touch_ my cat, or I 'll be
at you. I 'm sorry she has spilt the cream, but it hasn't had time to
get through to the blankets.--Here, come along, my pretty dear; come,
my angel Jean; you shall sleep along with your own mistress.--See,
Leuchy, the cream hasn't had time to get to the blankets, and it hasn't
touched the eider-down. I'll just whip off this white coveri