talk such utter nonsense, Lottie. If you have nothing more sensible to say,
you had better hold your tongue."

"But why are you ashamed of it?" Lottie persisted: "I wouldn't be." She had
an unsuspected secret herself, but she would have owned it proudly enough
had she been challenged.

"I'm not ashamed," said Addie; "and you know nothing about being in love,
so you had better not talk about it."

"Oh yes, I do!" was the reply, uttered with Lottie's calm simplicity of
manner: "I know how to tell whether you are in love or not, Addie. What
would you do if a girl were to win Horace Thorne away from you?"

Pride and a sense of propriety dictated Addie's answer and gave sharpness
to her voice: "I should say she was perfectly welcome to him."

Lottie considered for a moment: "Yes, I suppose one might _say_ so to her,
but what would you do? Wouldn't you want to kill her? And wouldn't you die
of a broken heart?"

Addie was horrified: "I don't want to kill anybody, and I'm not going to
die for Mr. Horace Thorne. Please don't say such things, Lottie: people
never do. You forget he is only an acquaintance."

"No; I don't think you are in love with him, certainly." Lottie pronounced
this decision with the air of one who has solved a difficult problem.

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Blake inquired, coming back, and
glancing from Addie's flushed and troubled face to Lottie's thoughtful