diva, or like the Fair One with Locks of Gold, if you prefer that. Did
you ever read the story of 'The Fair One with Locks of Gold,' when you
were a little girl? Oh, please leave your hair just as it is, and let me
look at it for awhile. Do you remember Lady Limpenny's nonsense to-day?"

Minola allowed her to please herself, and they began to talk; but after
the first joy of coming in, Lucy seemed a little _distraite_, and not
quite like herself. She fell into little moments of silence every now
and then, and sometimes looked up into Minola's face as if she were
going to say something, and then stopped.

Minola saw that her friend had something on her mind, but thought it
best not to ask her any questions, feeling sure that if Lucy had
anything she wished to say, Lucy would not keep it long unsaid.

After a moment's pause, "Nola!"

"Yes, dear."

"You don't much like men in general?"

"Well, Lucy dear, I don't know that anybody much likes men in general,
or women either. Good Christians say that they love all their brothers
and sisters, but I don't suppose it's with a very ardent love."

"But you rather go in for not liking men as a rule, don't you?"

Minola was a little amused by the words, "go in for not liking men."
They seemed to be what she knew Lucy never meant them for--a sort of
rebuke to the affectation which would formally pose itself as
misanthropic. Minola had of late begun to entertain doubts as to whether
a certain amount of half-conscious egotism and affectation did not
mingle in her old-time proclamations of a dislike to men.

"I think I rather did go in for not liking men, Lucy; but I think I am
beginning to be a little penitent. Perhaps I was rather general in my
ideas; perhaps the men I knew best were not very fair specimens of the
human race; perhaps men in general don't very much care what I think of
them."

"Any man would care if he knew you, especially if he saw you with your
hair down like that. But, anyhow, you don't dislike _all_ men?"

"Oh, no, dear. How could I dislike your father, Lucelet?"

"No," Lucy said, looking round with earnest eyes; "who could dislike
him, Nola? I am so fond of him; I could say almost anything to him. If
you knew what I have lately been talking to him about, you would wonder.
Well, but he is not the only man you don't dislike; I am sure you don't
dislike Mr. Heron." Her eyes grew more inquiring and eager than before.

"No, indeed, Lucy; I don't think any