This mingling of the wild mountain with the civilized garden was very quaint, and it was impossible for any number of gardeners to make such a garden look formal and stiff.
Against one of these rocks was a garden seat, shadowed from the afternoon sun by the overhanging of the rock itself.

There was a little winding path up to the top of the rock, and on top another seat; but they sat on the seat at its foot because the sun was hot; and there they talked together of many things.

At length the king said: 'You were out late one evening, Irene.' 'Yes, papa.

It was my fault; and Lootie was very sorry.' 'I must talk to Lootie about it,' said the king.
'Don't speak loud to her, please, papa,' said Irene.

'She's been so afraid of being late ever since! Indeed she has not been naughty.