"Oh, don't! Call me Lucy!" Lucy implored timidly. "I am—it is very wicked!—but I am almost glad that you are not well off! It draws us nearer, and—and you will not mind? But I like you so much! You are not angry?"
Leslie bent down and kissed the resolute little forehead.
"No, I am only grateful, Lucy," she said in her sweet, irresistible way. "We two, who are alone in this big London, ought to cling together, ought we not? You must call me Leslie, and try and think that I am one of your sisters."
"That won't be hard," responded Lucy, fervently. "But let me think! You say——." She paused. "Oh, but you would not like it. It—it would not be good enough——."
"What would not be good enough, Lucy?"
"Why, a place like that I am trying for," said Lucy timidly.
Leslie sighed.
"It would be too good to hope for," she said gently.
Lucy sprang up eagerly.
"Oh, that is nonsense!" she exclaimed in her half-proud, half-impetuous fashion. "Why, you could pass easily, and——! Yes! I see it as plainly as possible! You shall go in for the exam. We will work together! No, don't shake your head! We should both stand a better chance if we tried together, for there may be things that I could help you in, and I know that you could help me. There's the drawing, for instance! Oh, I can see it all beautifully! and only think, Leslie, perhaps we might get into the same school! It might be managed! Mother has some influence, for poor papa's people are well known, and can help us once we have passed. Now, you shan't say anything against it or shake your head. Wait!"