Cousin Lucy's Conversations. Abbott Jacob

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.

      Lucy. I don’t think it is yours, altogether, Royal.

      Royal. Why, I found him.

      Lucy. Yes, but I watched him for you, or else he would have got away. I think you ought to let me own a share.

      Royal. But I made the pen altogether myself.

      Lucy. And I helped you drive the turtle in.

      Royal. O Lucy! I don’t think you did much good.

      Miss Anne. I’ll tell you what, Lucy; if Royal found the turtle and made the pen, and if you watched him and helped drive him in, then I think you ought to own about one third, and Royal two thirds.

      Royal. Well.

      Miss Anne. But, then, Royal, why would it not be a good plan for you to let her have as much of your share as will make hers half, and yours half, to pay her for the trouble you gave her by the cap story?

      Royal. To pay her?

      Miss Anne. Yes, – a sort of damages. Then, if you are careful not to deceive her any more, Lucy will pass over the old cases, and place confidence in you for the future.

      Royal. Well, Lucy, you shall have half.

      Lucy clapped her hands with delight at this concession, and soon after the children reached home. The next day, Royal and Lucy went down to see the turtle; and Royal made him a large pasture, partly in the brook and partly on the shore, and while he was doing it, Lucy remained, and kept him company.