CAMERON. The same thing that they are afraid of. There are stories, ma’am.
MARY ROSE. Do tell us; Simon, wouldn’t it be lovely if he would tell us some misty, eerie Highland stories?
SIMON. I don’t know; not unless they are pretty ones.
MARY ROSE. Please, Mr. Cameron! I love to have my blood curdled.
CAMERON. There iss many stories. There iss that one of the boy who was brought to this island. He was no older than your baby.
SIMON. What happened to him?
CAMERON. No one knows, Mr. Blake. His father and mother and their friends, they were gathering rowans on the island, and when they looked round he was gone.
SIMON. Lost?
CAMERON. He could not be found. He was never found.
MARY ROSE. Never! He had fallen into the water?