Cousin Lucy's Conversations

“O, I don’t know; but I’ll give you something.”

But Lucy did not seem quite inclined to go. She said she did not want to go so far alone; though, in fact, it was only a very short distance. Besides, she had not much confidence in Royal’s promise.

“Will you go, Lucy, if I will promise to give you something?” said Miss Anne.

“Yes,” said Lucy.

“Well, I will,” said Miss Anne; “I can’t tell you what, now, for I don’t know; but it shall be something you will like.

“But, Royal,” she added, “what shall we do for a seat in our swing?”

“Why, we must have a board – a short board, with two notches. I know how to cut them.”

“Yes, if you only had a board; but there are no boards down here. I think you had better go with Lucy, and then you can bring down a board.”

Royal said that it would take some time to saw off the board, and cut the notches; and, finally, they concluded to postpone making the swing until the next time they came down to the glen; and then they would bring down whatever should be necessary, with them.

As they were walking slowly along, after this, towards home, Royal said something about Lucy’s not being willing to go for his promise, as well as for Miss Anne’s, – which led to the following conversation: —

Lucy. I don’t believe you were going to give me anything at all.

Royal. O Lucy! – I was, – I certainly was.

Lucy. Then I don’t believe that it would be anything that I should like.

Royal. But I don’t see how you could tell anything about it, unless you knew what it was going to be.

Lucy. I don’t believe it would be anything; do you, Miss Anne?

Miss Anne. I don’t know anything about it. I should not think that Royal would break his promise.

Lucy. He does break his promises. He won’t mend old Margaret’s nose.

Royal. Well, Lucy, that is because my putty has all dried up. I am going to do it, just as soon as I can get any more putty.

Lucy. And that makes me think about the thing in your cap. I mean to ask Miss Anne if you did not tell a falsehood. He said there was something in his cap, and there was nothing in it at all. It was only on the great, flat stone.

Royal. O, under, Lucy, under. I certainly said under.

Lucy. Well, you meant in; I know you did. Wasn’t it a falsehood?

Miss Anne. Did he say in, or under?

Royal.Under, under; it was certainly under.

Miss Anne. Then I don’t think it was exactly a falsehood.

Lucy. Well, it was as bad as a falsehood, at any rate.

Royal. Was it as bad as a falsehood, Miss Anne?

Miss Anne. Let us consider a little. Lucy, what do you think? Suppose he had said that there was really something in his cap, – do you think it would have been no worse?

Lucy. I don’t know.

Miss Anne. I think it would have been worse.

Royal. Yes, a great deal worse.

Miss Anne. He deceived you, perhaps, but he did not tell a falsehood.

Lucy. Well, Miss Anne, and isn’t it wrong for him to deceive me?

Miss Anne. I think it was unwise, at any rate.

Royal. Why was it unwise, Miss Anne? I wanted her to come out, and I knew she would like to be out there, if she would only once come. Besides, I thought it would make her laugh when I came to lift up my cap and show her that great, flat stone.

Miss Anne. And did she laugh?

Royal. Why, not much. She said she meant to go right into the house again.

Miss Anne. Instead of being pleased with the wit, she was displeased at being imposed upon.

Royal laughed.

Miss Anne. The truth is, Royal, that, though it is rather easier, sometimes, to get along by wit than by honesty, yet you generally have to pay for it afterwards.

Royal. How do we have to pay for it?

Miss Anne. Why, Lucy has lost her confidence in you. You cannot get her to go and get a rope for you by merely promising her something, while I can. She confides in me, and not in you. She is afraid you will find some ingenious escape or other from fulfilling it. Wit gives anybody a present advantage, but honesty gives a lasting power; so that the influence I have over Lucy, by always being honest with her, is worth a great deal more than all you can accomplish with your contrivances. So I think you had better keep your wits and your contrivances for turtles, and always be honest with men.

Royal. Men! Lucy isn’t a man.

Miss Anne. I mean mankind – men, women, and children.

Royal. Well, about my turtle, Miss Anne. Do you think that I can keep him in his pen?

Miss Anne. Yes, unless he digs out.

Royal. Dig? – Can turtles dig much?

Miss Anne. I presume they can work into mud, and sand, and soft ground.

Royal. Then I must get a great, flat stone, and put into the bottom of his pen. He can’t dig through that.

Miss Anne. I should rather make his pen larger, and then perhaps he won’t want to get out. You might find some cove in the brook, where the water is deep, for him, and then drive your stakes in the shallow water all around it. And then, if you choose, you could extend it up upon the shore, and so let him have a walk upon the land, within his bounds. Then, perhaps, sometimes, when you come down to see him, you may find him up upon the grass, sunning himself.

Royal. Yes, that I shall like very much. It will take a great many stakes; but I can cut them with my hatchet. I’ll call it my turtle pasture. Perhaps I shall find some more to put in.