The reflection is painful to a generous mind, that, by harboring unjust suspicions of another, one has been led to repel friendly advances with indifference or disdain.  In order to assuage some remorseful pangs, Miss Blake began from this time to treat Laura with distinguished favor.  On the other hand, Laura, delighted at this pleasant change in Miss Blake’s demeanor, sought frequent opportunities of testifying her joy and gratitude.  In this manner an intimacy began, which ripened at length into a firm and enduring friendship.  Laura soon commenced the practice of applying to her more experienced friend for advice and direction in almost every matter, great or small, and of confiding to her trust divers secrets and confessions which she would never have ventured to repose even in Cornelia’s faithful bosom.  This prudent habit Tira encouraged.

“I know, my dear,” said she, one day, “I know what it is to be almost alone in the world, and what a comfort it is to have somebody you can rely on to tell your griefs and troubles to, and, as it were, get ’em to help you bear ’em.  So, my dear child, whenever you want to get my notions on any point, just come right straight to me, if you feel like it.  I may not be able to give you the best advice, for I a’n’t so wise as you seem to think I be; however, I ha’n’t lived nigh fifty years in the world for naught, I trust, and without havin’ learnt some things worth knowin’; and though my counsel mayn’t be worth much, still you shall have the best I can give.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” cried Laura, with such a burst of passionate emotion that Miss Blake’s eyes watered at the sight of it.  “My dear, dear, dear good friend! you don’t know how glad I shall be, if you will let me do as you say, and tell me what to do, and scold me, and admonish and warn me!  Oh, it will be such happiness to have somebody to tell all my real secrets and troubles to!  I do so need such a friend sometimes!”

“Don’t I know it, you poor dear?” said Miss Blake, wiping her eyes.  “Ha’n’t I been through the same straits myself?  None but them that’s been a young gal themselves, an orphan without a mother to confide in and to warn and guide ’em, knows what it is.  But I do, my dear; and though I shall be a pretty poor substitute for an own mother, I’ll do the best I can.”

“Tira,” said Laura, with a tearful and blushing cheek held up to the good spinster’s, “kiss me, won’t you?—­you never have.”

“My dear,” said Miss Blake, preparing to comply with this request by wiping her lips with her apron, “you see I a’n’t one of the kissin’ sort, and I scurcely ever kiss a grown-up person; but here’s my hand, and here’s a kiss,”—­with an old-fashioned smack that might have been heard in the next room,—­“for a token that you may always come to me as freely as if I was your mother, relyin’ upon my givin’ you my honest advice and opinion concernin’ any affair that you may ask for counsel upon.  And furthermore, as girls naterally have a wish that the very things they need some one to direct ’em the most in sha’n’t be known except by them they tell the secret to, I promise you, my dear, that I’ll be as close as a freemason concernin’ any privacy that you may trust me with, about any offer or courtin’ matter of any kind.”