"Not the least."
"Suppose you try. Wouldn't you like to know anything about the place where we live?"
"It's a castle, I know."
"Yes;—Castle Reekie; ever so many hundred years old."
"I hate old places. I should like a new house, and a new dress, and a new horse every week,—and a new lover. Your father lives at the castle. I don't suppose we are to go and live there too."
"We shall be there sometimes. When shall it be?"
"The year after next."
"Nonsense, Marie."
"To-morrow."
"You wouldn't be ready."