"Loch nonsense!" said Kate, rather bluntly. "Did you never hear of
the Lochs, the Lakes, in Scotland?"
"Loch Lomond, Loch Katrine, Loch Awe, Loch Ness?--But I don't do my
geography out of doors!"
"'Tisn't geography; 'tis the 'The Lady of the Lake.'"
"Is that a new game?"
"Dear me! did you never read 'The Lady of the Lake?'--Sir Walter
Scott's poem -
'The summer dawn's reflected hue--'"
"Oh! I've learnt that in my extracts; but I never did my poetry task
out of doors!"
"'Tisn't a task--'tis beautiful poetry! Don't you like poetry better
than anything?"
"I like it better than all my other lessons, when it is not very long
and hard."
Kate felt that her last speech would have brought Armyn and Charlie
down on her for affectation, and that it was not strictly true that
she liked poetry better than anything, for a game at romps, and a
very amusing story, were still better things; so she did not exclaim
at the other Sylvia's misunderstanding, but only said, "'The Lady of
the Lake' is story and poetry too, and we will play at it."
"And how?"
"I'll tell you as we go on. I'm the King--that is, the Knight of
Snowdon--James Fitzjames, for I'm in disguise, you know; and you're
Ellen."
"Must I be Ellen? We had a horrid nurse once, who used to slap us,
and was called Ellen."
"But it was her name. She was Ellen Douglas, and was in banishment
on an island with her father.
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