"It's not my fault if I'm fat," said Dulcie plaintively. "People say 'Laugh and grow fat', so why shouldn't a plump person be funny?" "They are funny--very funny--though not quite in the way you mean." "Oh, look here! Don't be horrid!" "You began it yourself." "Children, don't barge!" interrupted Romola Harvey. "You really are rather a set of lunatics to-night. Can't anyone tell a story?" "I was taught to call fibbing a sin in the days of my youth," retorted Betty Scott, assuming a serious countenance. "You--you ragtimer! I mean a real story--a tale--a legend--a romance--or whatever you choose to call it." "Don't know any." "We've used them all up," said Evie Bennett, yawning lustily. "We all know the legend of the Abbess Gertrude--it's Miss Birks's favourite chestnut--and what she said to the Commissioner who came to confiscate the convent: and we've had the one about Monmouth's rebellion till it's as stale as stale can be. I defy anybody to have the hardihood to repeat it." "Aren't there any other tales about the neighbourhood?" asked Gerda Thorwaldson. It was the first remark that she had made. "Oh, I don't think so. The old castle's very sparse in legends. I suppose there ought to be a few, but they're mostly forgotten." "Who used to live there?" "Trevellyans. There always have been Trevellyans--hosts of them--though now there's nobody left but Mrs. Trevellyan and Ronnie." "Who's Ronnie?" More than half a dozen answers came instantly. "Ronnie? Why, he's just Ronnie." "Mrs. Trevellyan's great-nephew." "The dearest darling!" "You never saw anyone so sweet." "We all of us adore him." "We call him 'The King of the Castle'." "They've been away, staying in London." "But they're coming back this week." "Is he grown up?" enquired Gerda casually. "Grown up!" exploded the girls. "He's not quite six!" "He lives with Mrs. Trevellyan," explained Betty, "because he hasn't got any father or mother of his own." "Oh, Betty, he has!" burst out Barbara. "Well, that's the first I ever heard of them, then. I thought he was an orphan." "He's as good as an orphan, poor little chap." "Why?" "Nobody ever mentions his father." "Why on earth not?" "Oh, I don't know! There's something mysterious. Mrs. Trevellyan doesn't like it talked about. Nobody dare even drop a hint to her." "What's wrong with Ronnie's father?" "I tell you I don't know, except that I believe he did something he shouldn't have." "Rough on Ronnie." "Ronnie doesn't know, of course, and nobody would be cruel enough to tell him. You must promise you'll none of you mention what I've said. Not to anybody." "Rather not! You can trust us!" replied all.