“Yes; I think you are right. I know that she does not always mean what she says. I am sure you are right.”
“And will you be my friend then, and love me a little?”
“You know that I love you dearly, and it makes me so happy to think that we are friends. But tell me, dear Miss Churton—”
“If we are really friends now you must call me Constance.”
“Oh, I shall like that best. Dear Constance, do you think when I write to Mary that I must tell her all we have talked about?”
“No,” said the other, after a moment's reflection. “It is not necessary, and would not be fair to me, as we have been speaking about her. But you must be just as open about everything, as I suppose it is your nature to be, and conceal nothing about your feelings towards others. I do not think for a moment that you will offend her by being good friends with your teacher.”
That assurance and advice removed the last shadow of anxiety from Fan's mind, and after some more conversation they returned home, both feeling very much happier than when they had started for this eventful walk.