"I shall tell the boys' battalions how well you can do," he declared. "It will put them on their mettle. They won't want to be beaten by a ladies' school."
When the display was over, all dispersed for a ramble round the lake while the dinner stewed; only the cooks on duty remained, carefully watching their pots. Ulyth, Rona, Lizzie, and Gertrude wandered past the farm and up the hill-side to the head of a crag, whence they had a glorious view down over the sheet of water below.
"Llyn Gwynedd looks so cheerful and innocent now, one wouldn't believe it could ever be treacherous and do dreadful things," remarked Gertrude.
"What things?" asked Ulyth.
"Why, I believe someone was drowned just down there a great many years ago. I heard Catherine saying so last night, so I suppose it's true."
"It's perfectly true, and I can tell you who it was," answered Lizzie. "It was the eldest son of Lord Glyncraig. He was fishing here, and the boat got upset. It was the most dreadful tragedy. He was such a fine, promising young fellow, and had only been married quite a short time. He was the heir, too, which made it worse."
"But there are other sons, aren't there?" asked Ulyth.
"Yes, but he was the flower of the family. The rest are no good. The second son, the present heir, is a helpless invalid, the third is in a sanatorium for consumption, and the fourth was the proverbial prodigal, and disappeared. If Lord Glyncraig knows where he is, nobody else does."
"Hadn't the one who was drowned any children?"
"Only a girl. The second and third aren't married."