“A stranger? Did he ask for me? I do not know the name. Jabez Ainsworth!”
Fidelia uttered an exclamation, holding out her hand for the card.
“I know him well. He is one of my oldest friends, though I have not seen him for years. Shall I go and see him?”
“Do go,” said Mr Wainright; “and, if he is a friend of yours, ask him to stay to eat his Thanksgiving dinner with us. He will have something to be thankful for when he sees you, I should say.”
“Of course—ask him to stay. And don’t be long about it, for dinner is ready.”
So Fidelia went in quickly, with both hands stretched out in eager welcome to the friend whom she had not seen for so many years.
“Can it be Jabez?” she said softly, pausing before she came near.
“I need not ask if it can be Fidelia. You haven’t changed, except to grow a little like your sister.”
“Ah, my Eunice!”
Was it the dear name that brought the tears to Fidelia’s eyes, and the memory of so many sad and happy days? She could not hide them except by turning her face away, for Jabez held her hands firmly in his, and her smiles came quickly as she looked up at him.