Come, I have wound up
your string, and now try again."
And he did try, and succeeded, for the kite was carried upward on
the breeze as lightly as a feather; and when the string was all
out, John stood in great delight, holding fast the stick and
gazing on the kite, which now seemed like a little white speck in
the blue sky. "Look, look, aunt, how high it flies! and it pulls
like a team of horses, so that I can hardly hold it. I wish I had
a mile of string: I am sure it would go to the end of it."
After enjoying the sight as long as he wished, little John
proceeded to roll up the string slowly; and when the kite fell,
he took it up with great glee, saying that it was not at all
hurt, and that it had behaved very well. "Shall we come out
to-morrow, aunt, and try again?"
"Yes, my dear, if the weather is fine. And now, as we walk home,
tell me, what you have learned from your morning's sport."
"I have learned to fly my kite properly."
"You may thank aunt for it, brother," said Lucy, "for you would
have given it up long ago, if she had not persuaded you to try
again.
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