sympathy--she had no perception
of personal intent in the parable; it was long before she saw into
the name of the lady-knight, for she had never been told the English
of Ginevra; she was the simplest, sweetest of girls, and too young
to suspect anything in the heart of a man.

"O Donal!" she said, "I am very sorry for the poor worm; but it was
naughty of you to dream such a dream."

"Hoo's that, mem?" returned Donal, a little frightened.

"It was not fair of you," she replied, "to dream a knight of a lady,
and then dream her doing such an unknightly thing. I am sure if
ladies went out in that way, they would do quite as well, on the
whole, as gentlemen."

"I mak nae doobt o' 't, mem: h'aven forbid!" cried Donal; "but ye
see dreams is sic senseless things 'at they winna be helpit;--an'
that was hoo I dreemt it."

"Well, well, Donal!" broke in the harsh pompous voice of Mr.
Sclater, who, unknown to the poet, had been standing behind him
almost the whole time, "you have given the ladies quite enough of
your romancing. That sort of thing, you know, my man, may do very
well round the fire in the farm kitchen, but it's not the sort of
thing for a drawing-room. Besides, the ladies don't understand your
word of mouth; they don't understand such broad Scotch.--Come with
me, and I'll show you something you would like to see."

He thought Donal was boring his guests, and at the same time
preventing Gibbie from having the pleasure in their society for the
sake of which they had been invited.

Donal rose, replying,

"Think ye sae, sir? I thoucht I was in auld Scotlan' still--here as
weel's upo' Glashgar. But may be my jography buik's some
auld-fashioned.--Didna ye un'erstan' me, mem?" he added, turning to
Ginevra.

"Every word, Donal," she answered.

Donal followed his host contented.

Gibbie took his place, and began to teach Ginevra the finger
alphabet. The other girls found him far more amusing than
Donal--first of all because he could not speak, which was much less
objectionable than speaking like Donal--and funny too, though not so
funny as Donal's clothes. And then he had such a romantic history!
and was a baronet!

In a few minutes Ginevra knew the letters, and presently she and
Gibbie were having a little continuous talk together, a thing they
had never had before. It was so slow, however, as to be rather
tiring. It was mainly about Donal. But Mrs. Sclater opened the
piano, and made a dive