“Oh, Major Day!” cried Lucy, “don’t say that. I am right, am I not?”
“No, my dear, not quite,” said the major, “but very nearly. That is Amanita Pantkerinus, a very near relative of the one I showed you yesterday.”
“But I have been trying,” cried Lucy.
“I know you have,” said the major, smiling, “and I’m sure you can tell me what these are,” he continued, pointing to a cluster of flat, greeny-grey buttons, with dimly marked orange rings upon their surface.
“Oh yes, I know them,” cried Lucy, eagerly picking two or three from the patch of grass in an opening amongst the Scotch firs. “Agaricus Deliciosus; and, oh, it is getting so late. I must make haste back. I can run home now. Good-bye, Glynne; good-bye, Major Day.”
“Good-bye, little pupil,” he replied, “and you shall have your marks although you were not right.”
“We’ll stop and watch you till you are safely home,” said Glynne. “Good-bye—good-bye.”