Chapter 17

ADVANTAGES.

The game over, Octavia deserted her partner. She walked lightly, and with
the air of a victor, to where Barold was standing. She was smiling, and
slightly flushed, and for a moment or so stood fanning herself with a gay
Japanese fan.

"Don't you think I am a good teacher?" she asked at length.

"I should say so," replied Barold, without enthusiasm. "I am afraid I am
not a judge."

She waved her fan airily.

"I had a good pupil," she said. Then she held her fan still for a moment,
and turned fully toward him. "I have done something you don't like," she
said. "I knew I had."

Mr. Francis Barold retired within himself at once. In his present mood
it really appeared that she was assuming that he was very much interested
indeed.

"I should scarcely take the liberty upon a limited acquaintance," he
began.

She looked at him steadily, fanning herself with slow, regular movements.

"Yes," she remarked. "You're mad. I knew you were."

He was so evidently disgusted by this observation, that she caught at the
meaning of his look, and laughed a little.

"Ah!" she said, "that's an American word, ain't it? It sounds queer to
you. You say 'vexed' instead of 'mad.' Well, then, you are vexed."

"If I have been so clumsy as to appear ill-humored," he said, "I beg
pardon. Certainly I have no right to exhibit such unusual interest in
your conduct."

He felt that this was rather decidedly to the point, but she did not seem
overpowered at all. She smiled anew.

"Anybody has a right to be mad--I mean vexed," she observed. "I should
like to know how people would live if they hadn't. I am mad--I mean
vexed--twenty times a day."

"Indeed?" was his sole reply.

"Well," she said, "I think it's real mean in you to be so cool about it
when you remember what I told you the other day."

"I regret to say I don't remember just now. I hope it was nothing very
serious."

To his astonishment she looked down at her fan, and spoke in a slightly
lowered voice:--

"I told you that I wanted to be improved."

It must be confessed that he was mollified. There was a softness in her
manner which amazed him. He was at once embarrassed and delighted. But,
at the same time, it would not do to commit himself to too great a
seriousness.

"Oh!" he answered, "that was a rather good joke, I thought."

"No, it wasn't," she said, perhaps even half a tone lower. "I was
in earnest."

Then she