"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"—