At their time of life it was not to be expected that the Fifield nature would greatly change; still their friendship for Rose, inexperienced young girl though she was, brought a new and wholesome atmosphere into the old house. Her flitting in and out, bright, breezy, vivacious, was a welcome break in their old formality. A part of Rose’s nature was her overflowing enthusiasm on the subject then in mind; her studies, her school pleasures, whatever part was hers in the life of the village, was all shared with her friends. So when she came in beaming with excitement over the prettiness of the newest Banby baby, Miss Fifield and Miss Eudora became conscious that Mrs. Banby was a neighbor. Or if it were anxiety how little Mrs. Mather, whose husband had just died and left her with five children, was ever going to get through the winter; or rejoicing that Fanny Barber, who had been so low with inflammatory rheumatism was really improving, almost before they were aware, they would find themselves becoming interested, an interest that could easily take the form of a bundle of warm clothing for the widow, or a glass of Miss Fifield’s famous quince jelly for the invalid. And so by the slight touches of Rose’s hands they found themselves drawn gradually from their cold isolation, and nearer to those about them. CHAPTER XXIII A VISIT FROM AN OLD FRIEND Through Cousin Allen Gloin’s wife’s sister, who lived in Horsham, Rose occasionally heard of the Hagoods, and the year after she left there was surprised by the news of Mrs. Hagood’s death. “Mr. Hagood takes it real hard,” added her informant, “and says he don’t know how he’s ever going to get along without Almiry. Some folks thinks it’s put on, but for my part I don’t.” “No, indeed,” had been Rose’s answer, “I think he had grown so used to her ordering him around that now he does feel lost without it.” It was not quite two years later when one day, returning from school, Rose found a horse and buggy standing at the Blossom gate. This of itself was nothing unusual, for the business of Mrs. Patience and Miss Silence brought a large share of the Farmdale people, as well as those outside its limits, to their door. But as Rose gave a second look in passing at the fat old horse and stout buggy, she suddenly realized that she had known both before, and quickening her steps she rushed into the house to find Mr. Hagood, with Rover sitting upright beside him, waiting her coming. His was the same familiar figure she remembered so well—thin, grizzled, slightly stooping; but Rose saw almost in the first glance, that his motions were brisker than in the days when she had known him, that his whiskers had been trimmed, that his hat brim had taken an upward tendency, and his eyes had lost their furtive, timid glance; in short, that there had been a change in the whole man, slight but still palpable, in the direction of cheerful, self-assertive manhood.