made up my
mind that shyness is one form of selfishness."

"Cousin Kate, how can you say that? I thought selfishness was doing what
you liked and what is pleasant. I'm sure I don't _like_ to be shy."

"Oh, it's not that kind of selfishness," said Mrs. Gray, smiling. "There
is nothing pleasant about shyness; that I am quite ready to admit. But
can't you see that it is self-occupation, the being absorbed with your
own sensations and feelings, and with trying to imagine what people are
thinking about you, that makes you so miserable? If you could forget
and occupy yourself with others, this shyness would go. Now, this
morning, had you been full of Mrs. Endicott, and what she was like, and
what she wanted to talk about, instead of little Candace Arden, and what
Mrs. Endicott considered her like, it would all have been different, and
much pleasanter for both of you."

"Oh, if I only could," said Candace, with a catch in her voice, "I would
give anything I have in the world! I hate to seem so awkward and dull.
But you've no idea how uncomfortable I feel, Cousin Kate. The moment I
come downstairs and see that roomful of company, my face twitches and my
cheeks burn, and I can't think of anything to say, and I keep wishing I
could run upstairs again and hide somewhere."

"Yes, because, as I said, your mind is full of yourself. If instead of
coming in with this miserable self-consciousness full upon you, you
could look upon the roomful as just so many people to whom you owe the
little duties of politeness and cordiality, for whom you have the
chance to do something kind or pleasant, you would forget your face and
your cheeks and the desire to run away. You would be thinking of them,
and in thinking of them you would forget to be shy."

Candace did not reply.

"You are a conscientious child," her cousin went on. "I think that you
sincerely wish to do what is right, and to make God's rule the rule of
your life. And, Candace, in my opinion you should consider it a part of
religious duty to try to get rid of this false shame, this bondage to
the idea of self, and to learn to live for others instead."

Candace looked up, with the dawn of a new idea in her face.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"You cannot always run away," continued her cousin. "Big as it is, the
world is not big enough to furnish hiding-places for all the people who
are afraid to face their fellow-men. And since you cannot run away, your
plain duty is to be