“But you know,” urged Mrs. Patience, “she and Jane both live such monotonous lives, with hardly an interest outside themselves, how can they help but go over the same thing again and again?”
“I can tell one thing that would have happened if Eudora had not made that Albany visit,” remarked Mrs. Blossom, who from an adjoining room had overheard the conversation, “she would have been a happier woman to-day. She came back from that taste of city life completely out of tune with everything and everybody in Farmdale, and she has never got in tune since.”
“I am afraid,” observed Grandmother Sweet placidly, “that thee is sitting in judgment on thy neighbors.”
“La, Grandmother,” and Miss Silence’s brisk, heartsome laugh rippled out, “a body can’t help having opinions, though I don’t always express mine outside the family. And you know what we said of Jane and Eudora was true.”
“I know,” admitted Grandmother Sweet with a sigh, “though we ought to look even at truth with the eyes of charity. But I have a hope that the coming of a fresh young life, like Rose’s, into the Fifield home, if only for a season, will bring a fresh interest and brightness with it.”
As for Rose, she had been but a little while with the Fifields till she began to realize the difference between that and the Blossoms. Especially was she quick to notice the petty friction, the note of jarring discord, that made up the atmosphere at the Fifields’. What one wanted another was sure to object to, what one said was immediately disputed; the sisters nagged Mr. Nathan, and he in turn nagged his sisters. No doubt at heart they loved each other, but the delicate consideration for each other’s wishes, and the gentle courtesy of affection, that so brightened the Blossom home was wholly absent here.
Another thing she could not but see was the prevailing tone of discontent. Though the lives of Miss Fifield and Miss Eudora were much easier than those of Miss Silence and Mrs. Patience, the one was always complaining of the dullness of Farmdale, and the other making bitter reflections on life in general. Had Rose come directly from Mrs. Hagood’s all this might have escaped her notice, but her stay in the white cottage with its sweet-spirited inmates had given her a glimpse of a different life, an ideal that would always linger with her.
As the two houses were not the length of the green apart Rose was a frequent visitor at the Blossoms’. “Did your plants freeze last night?” she asked as she came in one afternoon. “Miss Eudora lost some of her very prettiest ones. She says it was because Mr. Nathan didn’t fix the fire right, and he says it was because she didn’t put the window down tight. They were quarreling over it when I came away, and yesterday they disputed all day whether the meat bill came in Tuesday or Wednesday.”
“There, there, Rose,” interrupted Mrs. Blossom, “you are a member of the Fifield family now, and have no right to repeat or we to listen to anything you may see or hear there.”