Finally , the Story Girl told us the tale of the Prisoner of Chillon , in words that were Byron 's , but in a voice that was all her own . `` It must be splendid to go to Europe , '' sighed Cecily longingly . `` I am going some day , '' said the Story Girl airily . We looked at her with a slightly incredulous awe . To us , in those years , Europe seemed almost as remote and unreachable as the moon . It was hard to believe that one of US should ever go there . But Aunt Julia had gone -- and SHE had been brought up in Carlisle on this very farm . So it was possible that the Story Girl might go too . `` What will you do there ? '' asked Peter practically . `` I shall learn how to tell stories to all the world , '' said the Story Girl dreamily . It was a lovely , golden-brown evening ; the orchard , and the farm-lands beyond , were full of ruby lights and kissing shadows . Over in the east , above the Awkward Man 's house , the Wedding Veil of the Proud Princess floated across the sky , presently turning as rosy as if bedewed with her heart 's blood . We sat there and talked until the first star lighted a white taper over the beech hill . Then I remembered that I had forgotten to take my dose of magic seed , and I hastened to do it , although I was beginning to lose faith in it . I had not grown a single bit , by the merciless testimony of the hall door . I took the box of seed out of my trunk in the twilit room and swallowed the decreed pinch . As I did so , Dan 's voice rang out behind me . `` Beverley King , what have you got there ? '' I thrust the box hastily into my trunk and confronted Dan .
`` None XXXXX your business , '' I said defiantly .
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