Kitty saw a short, round man lying in the moss, just by the side of the pathway, his feet stretched across it. She must jump over them, or she must ask him to remove them.
The man had a mild, melancholy, fat face, and half-closed peaceful eyes.
“Do not stop!” said the guardian child.
“I am afraid you are one of the fussy sort,” said the mild man in an easy-going sing-song voice.
“Would you kindly remove your feet? for I am in a very great hurry,” answered Kitty with decision and politeness.
“Hurry!” sighed the mild man, not stirring an inch. “What a mistake!—a dreadful mistake—everybody is in a hurry nowadays—always in a hurry!” His quiet eyes rested more and more dreamily upon Kitty. They seemed to forget what they were looking at, and to slumber gently.
“I am not always in a hurry,” Kitty explained. “But to-day I am in a very great hurry.”
“What a mistake!” snoringly sighed the melancholy fat man. “Nothing can be enjoyed in a hurry. Take the highest delight—a yawn!”
“A yawn!” repeated Kitty, and she burst out laughing. The sense of haste seemed falling away from her.