"She seems to be enjoying it, mamma," said Miss Laura Burnham, with a faint sigh. Miss Laura had been looking on over her parent's shoulder. "They all seem to be enjoying it. See how Lucia Gaston and Mr. Burmistone are laughing. I never saw Lucia look like that before. The only one who seems a little dull is Mr. Barold." "He is probably disgusted by a freedom of manner to which he is not accustomed," replied Mrs. Burnham. "The only wonder is that he has not been disgusted by it before." CHAPTER XVII. ADVANTAGES. The game over, Octavia deserted her partner. She walked lightly, and with the air of a victor, to where Barold was standing. She was smiling, and slightly flushed, and for a moment or so stood fanning herself with a gay Japanese fan. "Don't you think I am a good teacher?" she asked at length. "I should say so," replied Barold, without enthusiasm. "I am afraid I am not a judge." She waved her fan airily. "I had a good pupil," she said. Then she held her fan still for a moment, and turned fully toward him. "I have done something you don't like," she said. "I knew I had." Mr. Francis Barold retired within himself at once. In his present mood it really appeared that she was assuming that he was very much interested indeed. "I should scarcely take the liberty upon a limited acquaintance," he began. She looked at him steadily, fanning herself with slow, regular movements. "Yes," she remarked. "You're mad. I knew you were." He was so evidently disgusted by this observation, that she caught at the meaning of his look, and laughed a little. "Ah!" she said, "that's an American word, ain't it? It sounds queer to you. You say 'vexed' instead of 'mad.' Well, then, you are vexed." "If I have been so clumsy as to appear ill-humored," he said, "I beg pardon. Certainly I have no right to exhibit such unusual interest in your conduct." He felt that this was rather decidedly to the point, but she did not seem overpowered at all. She smiled anew. "Anybody has a right to be mad--I mean vexed," she observed. "I should like to know how people would live if they hadn't. I am mad--I mean vexed--twenty times a day." "Indeed?" was his sole reply. "Well," she said, "I think it's real mean in you to be so cool about it when you remember what I told you the other day." "I regret to say I don't remember just now. I hope it was nothing very serious." To his astonishment she looked down at her fan, and spoke in a slightly lowered voice:-- "I told you that I wanted to be improved." It must be confessed that he was mollified. There was a softness in her manner which amazed him. He was at once embarrassed and delighted. But, at the same time, it would not do to commit himself to too great a seriousness. "Oh!" he answered, "that was a rather good joke, I thought." "No, it wasn't," she said, perhaps even half a tone lower. "I was in earnest." Then she raised her eyes.