“I am going to-morrow. No, you cannot go with me. I am going round by W—, and shall not see home for two days yet.”
“Oh, dear, I am sorry—that I can’t go with you, I mean! It would be a good excuse to get away—to go with you. I promised to stay ten days, but I am getting homesick.”
“You had better keep your promise. Your sister has company just now, and does not need you.”
“Yes, I know; but that is one reason why I should be at home. Eunice must have too much to do.”
“No, she has not. It is Ruby Stone who is doing now. Don’t worry about Eunice. She is in good hands. Mrs Stone loved your sister before you were born; Eunice is all right.”
There was nothing more to be said, but Fidelia was by no means sure that she would not shorten her visit; and her next thought was that she need not see much of the visitors while she stayed. But she did see a good deal of them.
That night it rained. There could be no wandering under the elms by moonlight. It grew dark early, and chilly, and a fire of dry wood was made in the sitting-room, partly for the warmth and partly for brightness. The elder people gathered round it, and a great deal of pleasant talk went on among them.
The visitors—besides the two doctors—were Mr and Mrs Abner Kent, their daughter Ella, and their niece Miss Avery. They were from Boston, and belonged to one of the “first families” of that chief city. They were rich—so rich that, like the king and preacher, they might have possessed themselves of “whatsoever their eyes desired.” They had done something in that direction, their neighbours were inclined to think, for they had travelled much on both sides of the sea, and had brought home many of the rare and beautiful things which only much money can buy. Miss Kent was tall and dark, with a good face; Miss Avery was beautiful—small and fair, with shining curls, and pretty, coaxing ways; but Fidelia liked Miss Kent’s face best.
By-and-by several friends of the Austins came—the Rev. Mr Porson and his daughters, whom Fidelia had seen before, and others whom she had not seen. From the corner where she sat in the shadow she watched them all with great interest. She was listening to the talk that was going on between Dr Everett and the minister, but she lost nothing of all that was passing before her eyes, and all the time she was having her own thoughts about these people.
They were not just like Halsey folks, among whom she and Eunice had passed all their lives. It had been said of the town of Halsey that there were more good people in it, in proportion to its population, than in any other town in the county—perhaps even in the state; and Fidelia was of course bound to believe it. But though the Halsey people might be very good, they lacked something, Fidelia acknowledged, which these people had.