"You're not doing it right. Hold still."

Edmund stepped behind Eustace, positioning his arm and showing him how to hold a sword properly. Eustace's face was scrunched up with effort. Lucy was sitting on Edmund's bed and trying not to laugh because instead of a sword, Eustace was using Aunt Alberta's black umbrella.

"Now." Edmund picked up his own umbrella. "Shall we try again?"

There was a knock on the door. Edmund and Lucy exchanged panicked glances. "Put them on the bed," Lucy hissed. She grabbed the umbrellas and Eustace opened the door.

It was the maid.

"Letters," she said, dropping three or four letters on Eustace's desk. The Scrubbs' maid never spoke in sentences if she could help it. On her way to the door, she automatically picked up the umbrellas to bring them downstairs.

"Wait!" Lucy yelped. "Leave the umbrellas! Um, we need them."

"Yes, miss." The maid put down the umbrellas. She glanced suspiciously at the ceiling of Eustace's room as though she thought it might start raining indoors and walked out.

Eustace was the first to laugh and Lucy and Edmund joined in. How different Eustace's laugh was now! So different from the snicker he used to have.

"You seem tired. I say we take a break," Edmund said to Eustace.

"I am not tired!" Eustace protested hotly.

"Can you pretend to be for a moment? I want to see if I have any letters from Peter," Edmund said shamelessly.

Lucy leaned back on the bed and smiled, watching Edmund. He rummaged through the letters and his face lit up when he saw the letter from Peter. He placed it in his pocket to read later. Lucy was not expecting a letter from Peter today. Every few days Peter sent one letter, alternating between her and Edmund.

"There are two letters for you," Edmund said to Lucy. "One from Susan and one from a friend with really awful handwriting. Although it is better than mine," he conceded.

Lucy took the letter and glanced at the postmark. It was from Marjorie.

Lucy felt a lump of anger start forming in her throat. Marjorie's words still rang in her head. Not a bad little kid… pretty tired of her before the end of term… If Marjorie was tired of her, then why was she writing letters? Lucy felt a sudden desire to throw the letter away.

But part of her wanted to read it. Now that she knew how Marjorie really felt about her, maybe she'd see it in Marjorie's words as well. Or maybe there would be something in Marjorie's letter that would hint that she was sorry for her words.

"Lu, are you all right?" Edmund asked.

Lucy glanced up. "I think I will be," she said. "I need to read this letter to decide."

Edmund looked puzzled but since Lucy usually shared things with him before long, he did not press. Lucy stepped out of the boys' room and opened the letter. She read it while walking down the hall.

Dear Lucy,

Today, father and I went to the movies. The movie theater was nice. I wanted to see "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves" but father said I was too old so we went to see a movie for grown-ups (I forgot the name). It was interesting. I liked it but I fell asleep before it ended. Father is right. He is a grown-up so he must know best. Tomorrow, we are going to a science museum. I am excited.

Love, Marjorie

PS: There are no mistakes in this leter because father cheked it for me. That's also why I had to say that I liked the movie and that I was excited about tomorow.

Lucy sat down on her bed and read the letter over and over again. It only made her more confused. Oh, why had she even opened it in the first place?

How different this Marjorie seemed from the one she had overheard speaking about her at the train station! This Marjorie was pretending to be satisfied and excited for her father's sake but she wasn't doing it very well. The letter suggested (and the postscript confirmed) that Marjorie was lonely and bored. Had Lucy not been so angry she would have felt sympathetic. But even this nicer Marjorie was perfectly capable of deceit. Lucy wondered whether the Marjorie that lied to her father, could have been lying to her for months.

And now what? She couldn't pretend that nothing was wrong and write back! But she couldn't ignore Marjorie's letters either. She desperately needed to talk to someone but for the first time in her life she couldn't seem to find anybody. Edmund was near and Lucy felt that she could really benefit from his advice but he was the one person she could not talk to! To get his advice, she would have to tell him about Marjorie's betrayal. And although Lucy was very angry at Marjorie, she still couldn't find it in her to discredit Marjorie so in Edmund's eyes. It would the worst way to hurt Marjorie and Lucy didn't want revenge.

She could write to Peter or Susan… She had already written to them once, telling them that she had been in Narnia. But there hadn't been enough room to tell them about everything so she had promised to give them the details later. And father had warned her not to write to Peter too much, to let him concentrate on studying. Besides, her feelings were so complicated and difficult to explain on paper! No, she needed to have a real face-to-face talk with someone. So Lucy sought out the only person she had left: Eustace.

"Eustace, can you give me some advice?" she began hesitantly, while Edmund was being forced to listen to one of uncle Harold's dull lectures in the living room. "Only you must promise not to tell Edmund."

Eustace was quick to flare up. "And why not?" he demanded suspiciously.

"I can't tell you that either," Lucy said miserably. "But I have a good reason."

Eustace had recently developed a dislike for secrets. He had been a conniving and sneaky creature all his life and now for the first time he was trying out honesty and he was finding it wonderfully refreshing. He wanted to learn to be as open and as sincere about everything as Lucy was. And she was standing there and asking him to keep a secret! But he also trusted Lucy so he nodded. "Fire ahead," he said.

Well, perhaps he was a bit curious. And maybe a little flattered that Lucy would ask him for advice.

So Lucy told him all about the magician's book and its' temptations and how she had spoken the spell at the magician's house and had heard Marjorie's conversation with Anne.

Eustace seemed surprised. "I thought you were more sensible than that," he said.

Lucy felt sudden tears rush to her eyes. And she suddenly realized why Peter was always so afraid of disappointing others. It hurt terribly to see others disappointed in you.

"I shouldn't have said the spell, I know that," she wailed. "It wasn't right to eavesdrop, magically or otherwise. Aslan told me so and I was terribly sorry. If I ever see this magic book again, I won't even read the spells to myself. I won't even open the book."

"Of course, you won't," Eustace said. "You're still sensible enough to own up to a thing and say you're sorry. And that's more sensible than most girls anyhow," he added comfortingly.

Lucy gave a short laugh, even as she tried to wipe away her tears. "Thanks," she said. "But what am I to do now? She wrote me a letter. I can't possibly answer it as if nothing was wrong! And I can't not answer it either!"

Eustac e looked uncomfortable. "See here," he said. "I'm really not the person to ask. Why don't you write to Susan? She's a girl, isn't she?"

"Yes," Lucy agreed. "She is a girl. But I think…she will give me the wrong advice."

Lucy couldn't be positively sure what Susan would say. But she had a sinking feeling that Susan would advise her to pretend that nothing was wrong and to write back. After all, Susan would say, if you can't possibly explain how you knew about Marjorie's words, it only makes sense to pretend that you didn't know. Then Lucy would say that she would forever wonder whether Marjorie was gossiping about her behind her back. And Susan would tell her that she didn't have to keep on being Marjorie' friend if she didn't want to. She could just gradually dissolve their friendship, write fewer letters and see Marjorie less and less when school came. But Lucy couldn't bear to do that. It was like committing a slow murder.

It took Eustace a moment to understand Lucy's logic. "Wait a moment," he said. "If you know what the wrong advice is, shouldn't you have some idea of what the right advice would be?"

Lucy paused. That was quite a thought. What was the right thing to do? Regardless of whether she could or could not do it, what was it?

"I suppose Aslan wants me to forgive her," Lucy said slowly. She remembered every word Aslan had said and now she repeated his words as if seeking strength from them. "He told me that I've misjudged her, that she is weak but she loves me and that she was afraid of Anne and said what she does not mean."

"You had better do it then," said Eustace.