“Lucy! Lucy!—something for you.”
Lucy took it, and ran into the house. She asked her mother if she might open it.
“Yes,” said her mother, “but be careful.”
So Lucy ran to the sofa, and sat down to open her parcel. Royal came up to her, and said,—
“Let me open it for you, Lucy. I know how to open it.”
“No,” said Lucy, “I want to open it myself.”
“You can’t open it,” said Royal; and, as he spoke, he took hold of the parcel, and attempted gently to take it away from Lucy. “You can’t open it. You can’t untie the string; it is in a hard knot. I saw the man tie it myself.”
“Royal! Royal!” said Lucy, in a tone of displeasure, “let my book alone.”
“It isn’t a book,” said Royal; “and you can’t open it, to see what it is.”
Royal did wrong. He ought to have reflected that it would have given Lucy great pleasure to open the parcel, and he ought to have been willing that she should open it, and to have been contented with giving her such assistance as she needed. However, he knew that it would be wrong for him to take the parcel away by force, and so he let go of it, and sat by, to see Lucy open it.