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. She thought of her friends at home, and tried to imagine one and another of them--Deacon Ainsworth and his wife, and Miss Green and her uncle the squire, sitting in the midst of these people. Eunice, with her plain dress and her plain ways, would have small chance of being understood or appreciated among them. But Fidelia pulled herself up mentally when she had got thus far. Eunice, indeed! In all that was worth knowing or being, which of these ladies could compare with Eunice? And yet it must make a difference to live such a life as most of these people lived--a life without hard work or pressing care, with time to enjoy reading, and study, and travel, with a chance to enjoy the sight of all that is grand and beautiful in nature and art. Even Eunice, good, and sweet, and superior to most people as she was--even Eunice would have been a little different in such a life. Standing at the other end of the living room, smiling down upon Miss Avery, who had touched his arm to attract his attention, stood Dr Justin Everett. Miss Avery had a request to make, it seemed, and when he shook his head, seeming to refuse it, she clasped her pretty hands, and urged it eagerly. Whether her request was ultimately to be granted or not, did not appear. In the meantime they seated themselves in the window-seat, a little withdrawn from the rest, evidently content. Fidelia could not withdraw her attention from them. She watched them with a feeling in which was both anger and pain rising in her heart. "Eunice," she thought--"would Eunice care?" and she hated herself for thinking it, and put up her hands to hide the angry colour that she felt rising to her cheeks. "Miss Faithful," said a voice near her, "cousin Abby says you want to go fishing with us to-morrow. Do you?" "Yes, indeed I do," said Fidelia, rising and turning to the boy who had spoken. "You have got a new name, my dear," said Dr Everett, who had been watching her face unseen--"a new name and a good one." Fidelia nodded.