He stopped and demanded it.

Lucy resisted.
'I _can_ carry that,' he urged impatiently; 'it isn't baskets.' 'You _could_ carry those,' she said laughing.
'Not in a world that grows boys and sixpences.

But I want that cloak.
Please!' The tone was imperious and she yielded.

He hurried on to join Eleanor, carrying the cloak with his usual awkwardness, and often trailing it in the dust.

Lucy, who was very neat and precise in all her personal ways, suffered at the sight, and wished she had stood firm.