CHAPTER XXI.
LORNA ENDS HER STORY 'It is not a twelvemonth yet, although it seems ten years agone, since I blew the downy globe to learn the time of day, or set beneath my chin the veinings of the varnished buttercup, or fired the fox-glove cannonade, or made a captive of myself with dandelion fetters; for then I had not very much to trouble me in earnest, but went about, romancing gravely, playing at bo-peep with fear, making for myself strong heroes of gray rock or fir-tree, adding to my own importance, as the children love to do.
'As yet I had not truly learned the evil of our living, the scorn of law, the outrage, and the sorrow caused to others.

It even was a point with all to hide the roughness from me, to show me but the gallant side, and keep in shade the other.

My grandfather, Sir Ensor Doone, had given strictest order, as I discovered afterwards, that in my presence all should be seemly, kind, and vigilant.

Nor was it very difficult to keep most part of the mischief from me, for no Doone ever robs at home, neither do they quarrel much, except at times of gambling.

And though Sir Ensor Doone is now so old and growing feeble, his own way he will have still, and no one dare deny him.