"Don't ask me!" Hildegarde replied, "watch and listen, and learn
if you can. Oh, this is tragedy, indeed!" For Euleta had thrown
herself backward, not without a certain dramatic force, and now
lay prone at Vesta's feet; and the children chanted, solemnly,--



"She's dead because she loved him,
She's dead because she loved him,
She's dead because she loved him,
The Highland Gates to die."

This ended the game, and the children smiled joyously, while
Euleta plumed herself like a little peacock, taking to herself the
credit of all the interest shown by the young ladies.

"But what an extraordinary thing!" cried Bell; "Hildegarde, have
you an idea what it can mean?"

Hildegarde shook her head. "It must be something old," she said.
"It must come from some old story or ballad. Oh, if we could only
find out!" They questioned the children eagerly, but could learn
nothing. It was merely, "The Highland Gates to Die," and they had
always played it, and everybody else always played it,--that was
all they knew.

At this moment a well-known brown bonnet was seen bobbing
apologetically up the drive; the Widow Lankton had been making
frantic efforts to catch Hildegarde's eye, and now succeeding,