It is silly to tell such stories as you Cornish people do, and expect other people to believe them." Kitty looked at her in pained surprise.

It seemed to her that Anna's way of speaking was quite irreverent.

She longed to know, yet shrank from asking her, if she scorned, too, those other stories, so precious and real to Kitty, the story of King Arthur in his hidden resting-place, waiting to be roused from his long sleep; of Tristram and Iseult asleep in the little chapel beneath the sea; of--oh, a hundred others of giants and fairies, witches and spectres.

But she held her peace rather than hear them scoffed at and discredited.
The sunshine, chased by a cloud and a fresh little breeze, disappeared.
Anna shivered and looked about her.
"Oh, how gloomy and lonely it all looks directly the sun goes in!" she cried.

"I should hate to be here in the dark, or in a storm.