"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" said Octavia: "you'd get used to it, and wouldn't mind much, particularly if you were lucky as father is. There is every thing in being lucky, and knowing how to manage. When we first went to Bloody Gulch"-- "My dear!" cried Miss Belinda, aghast. "I--I beg of you"-- Octavia stopped short: she gazed at Miss Belinda in bewilderment, as she had done several times before. "Is any thing the matter?" she inquired placidly. "My dear love," explained Miss Belinda innocently, determined at least to do her duty, "it is not customary in--in Slowbridge,--in fact, I think I may say in England,--to use such--such exceedingly--I don't want to wound your feelings, my dear,--but such exceedingly strong expressions! I refer, my dear, to the one which began with a B. It is really considered profane, as well as dreadful beyond measure." "'The one which began with a B,'" repeated Octavia, still staring at her. "That is the name of a place; but I didn't name it, you know. It was called that, in the first place, because a party of men were surprised and murdered there, while they were asleep in their camp at night. It isn't a very nice name, of course, but I'm not responsible for it; and besides, now the place is growing, they are going to call it Athens or Magnolia Vale. They tried L'Argentville for a while; but people would call it Lodginville, and nobody liked it." "I trust you never lived there," said Miss Belinda. "I beg your pardon for being so horrified, but I really could not refrain from starting when you spoke; and I cannot help hoping you never lived there." "I live there now, when I am at home," Octavia replied. "The mines are there; and father has built a house, and had the furniture brought on from New York." Miss Belinda tried not to shudder, but almost failed. "Won't you take another muffin, my love?" she said, with a sigh. "Do take another muffin." "No, thank you," answered Octavia; and it must be confessed that she looked a little bored, as she leaned back in her chair, and glanced down at the train of her dress. It seemed to her that her simplest statement or remark created a sensation. Having at last risen from the tea-table, she wandered to the window, and stood there, looking out at Miss Belinda's flower-garden. It was quite a pretty flower-garden, and a good-sized one considering the dimensions of the house. There were an oval grass-plot, divers gravel paths, heart and diamond shaped beds aglow with brilliant annuals, a great many rose-bushes, several laburnums and lilacs, and a trim hedge of holly surrounding it. "I think I should like to go out and walk around there," remarked Octavia, smothering a little yawn behind her hand. "Suppose we go--if you don't care." "Certainly, my dear," assented Miss Belinda. "But perhaps," with a delicately dubious glance at her attire, "you would like to make some little alteration in your dress--to put something a little--dark over it." Octavia glanced down also.