Octavia pondered seriously again. "Yes, there are," she remarked; "but no one would care about them here, and so I'm not going to make a fuss. You don't want to make a fuss over people you l-like." "_You_ don't," said Lucia. "You are like Francis Barold in one way, but you are altogether different in another. Francis Barold does not wish to show emotion; and he is so determined to hedge himself around, that one can't help suspecting that he is always guarding himself against one. He seems always to be resenting any interference; but you do not appear to care at all, and so it is not natural that one should suspect you. I did not suspect you." "What do you suspect me of now?" "Of thinking a great deal," answered Lucia affectionately. "And of being very clever and very good." Octavia was silent for a few moments. "I think," she said after the pause,--"I think you'll find out that it's a mistake." "No, I shall not," returned Lucia, quite glowing with enthusiasm. "And I know I shall learn a great deal from you." This was such a startling proposition that Octavia felt decidedly uncomfortable. She flushed rosy red. "I'm the one who ought to learn things, I think," she said. "I'm always doing things that frighten aunt Belinda, and you know how the rest regard me." "Octavia," said Lucia, very naively indeed, "suppose we try to help each other. If you will tell me when I am wrong, I will try to--to have the courage to tell you. That will be good practice for me. What I want most is courage and frankness, and I am sure it will take courage to make up my mind to tell you of your--of your mistakes." Octavia regarded her with mingled admiration and respect. "I think that's a splendid idea," she said. "Are you sure," faltered Lucia, "are you sure you won't mind the things I may have to say? Really, they are quite little things in themselves--hardly worth mentioning"-- "Tell me one of them, right now," said Octavia, point-blank. "Oh, no!" exclaimed Lucia, starting. "I'd rather not--just now." "Well," commented Octavia, "that sounds as if they must be pretty unpleasant. Why don't you want to? They will be quite as bad to-morrow. And to refuse to tell me one is a bad beginning. It looks as if you were frightened; and it isn't good practice for you to be frightened at such a little thing." Lucia felt convicted. She made an effort to regain her composure. "No, it is not," she said. "But that is always the way. I am continually telling myself that I _will_ be courageous and candid; and, the first time any thing happens, I fail. I _will_ tell you one thing." She stopped short here, and looked at Octavia guiltily. "It is something--I think I would do if--if I were in your place," Lucia stammered. "A very little thing indeed." "Well?" remarked Octavia anxiously. Lucia lost her breath, caught it again, and proceeded cautiously, and with blushes at her own daring.