She carried the key to her mother, and said, “Here, mother, here is the key. I am going out to play with Royal. He is going to tell me an extravagant story.”
“An extravagant story!” repeated her mother, with some surprise; “what sort of a story is that?”
“I don’t know,” replied Lucy; “only Royal is going to tell me one.”
Her mother laughed, saying that she should like to hear one of Royal’s extravagant stories; and then Lucy walked away.
Lucy walked through the garden, and then climbed over the stile at the foot of it; and when at the top of the stile, she saw Royal sitting at a little distance in a shady place near some rocks.
“Ah, Lucy,” said he, when he saw her, “I am very glad that you have come; I want you very much. Come, run.”
Lucy descended from the stile, and walked along towards Royal pretty fast, but she did not run.
Royal was tying a knot, about his rigging; and he wanted Lucy to put her finger on to hold the first tie, until he secured it by a second. So he sat still, holding the ends of the thread, and waiting for Lucy to come.
“Why don’t you run, Lucy? Here I am waiting all this time,—while you are coming along so slow.”
“No,” rejoined Lucy, “I am not coming along slow. I am walking as fast as I can.”