Fabens was advanced in life, and yet he looked young, as if time had taken a ten years' rest. Mrs. Fabens had grown round and robust; but had not shed her blooms; while Fanny had become perfectly straight, and her hair was two shades darker; her eyes had still more lustre; her countenance still more life, and her voice still more music; while her step was more elastic, and her form was more nature.
A prodigal walnut fire glowed gloriously before them; butternuts and chestnuts were tasted, and a large dish of rosy Spitzenbergs passed around; and while Fabens and Frisbie kept up a running talk, Mrs. Fabens and Fanny enjoyed the hour, as one sat knitting fringe-mittens in the corner, and the other plied her dexterous needle piecing a bed-quilt in snow-balls by the stand; and seeming to contend with the walnut fire, which should give forth the liveliest, warming smile, and fill up all the room with the most comfort, joy, and peace.
"Yes, I have known Fairbanks, known him like a brother, since we were little boys at school," said Frisbie. "We began our A B C's together, when Mary Sanford taught school; and I remember we said, 'A,' 'B,' 'C,' 'D,' and so on, in a loud voice, both at a time. And that Mary Sanford—you did not know her, did you, Squire? She taught in the same district five years; and it was said, she impressed much of her own noble heart on her pupils (though of this, perhaps, it does not become me to speak;) but she married a false villain at last, and now she lives poor and deserted, they say, away out on the White Woman's Tract, beyond the Genesee river, with a family of children to support.
"And my heart has ached for many lovely girls who have thrown themselves away to such scoundrels. Her husband was brought up in the neighborhood too, and everybody thought George Lowry was a very pink of virtue. That made it seem so strange. Well, as I was going to say, Fairbanks always seemed a brother to me; and if there could be any fault in his treatment, he has trusted me too largely, and given me to share too many of his gifts and gains. But there, you never saw such a fellow in your life!"
"In what particular?" asked Fabens; while Mrs. Fabens took a quicker rock in her chair and scratched her forehead with her knitting needle; and Fanny paused from her piecing to hear.
"I mean in his confidence in men, and his free-heartedness, giving away what he has. He would share his last crust with an enemy, and he is so up and down honest himself, he believes the whole world honest and pure also."
"But he seems to be a good judge of character," said Fabens, "and I should think he would not be often deceived. I see he notices heads and dispositions pretty narrowly."
"He is often deceived," said Frisbie, "and he has met losses and crosses enough to make a few of his black hairs turn white. But I tell him it's owing to his putting too much confidence in men. He thinks everybody is honest because he is. His mother used to tell him, when he was a little boy, that he would always be poor, he was so confiding and free-hearted."
"There is a good deal in that," said Fabens, "and it is very true, as I have found it. Men that can be trusted most, are commonly most trusting, while the false and guilty are always on the lookout for rogues. How is Fairbanks' business now? He has met no losses in Summerfield, I hope."
"O, no, no! I did not refer to anything that had taken place since he came to this town," said Frisbie. "Of all the world, this is just the place for Fairbanks, and I tell him so. Where all are honest as one's self, there can be no trouble. He never was doing so well, by half, as now, I dare say. His business is large already, and his collections are remarkably prompt. They seem here to like him, about as well as he likes them."