Rose’s position in the family had been the subject of some discussion, for Eudora Fifield had all her life sighed for a maid arrayed in a white cap and apron, and it had been one of her numerous grievances that of the array of independent spirited help who had filed in and out of the Fifield kitchen one and all had flatly refused to conform to such usage. “But Rose,” she argued, “has been brought up in a city, where the manners of the lower classes are so different. Why, when I visited Aunt Morgan in Albany, her servants treated me with a deference you never see here. Her parlor-maid always brought in the callers’ cards and the letters on a salver; perhaps she would be willing to do that.” Jane Fifield gave a snort, “As long as Nathan brings your letters in his coat pocket and hands them to you, and we haven’t a caller once a month, I think you won’t have much use for a salver. Besides the Blossoms make her one of the family, and Mrs. Blossom particularly said that she should never consent to her going to any place where she would not be taken an interest in, but simply thought of as a little drudge.” Miss Eudora drew a little sigh at the vanishing of the cap and salver, but quickly caught herself as she remembered the dish-washing. “Well,” she admitted, “I suppose it’s better to concede some points than not have her come at all.” * * * * * “I wonder,” suddenly spoke Silence Blossom as she sat basting the facing on a skirt the day after Rose left, “how Rose is getting on at the Fifields’, and if she has heard anything yet about Eudora’s visit to Albany? I don’t believe I’ve seen her any time since that she hasn’t made some reference to it. I have often wondered what she would have done if she hadn’t made that visit.” “But you know,” urged Mrs. Patience, “she and Jane both live such monotonous lives, with hardly an interest outside themselves, how can they help but go over the same thing again and again?” “I can tell one thing that would have happened if Eudora had not made that Albany visit,” remarked Mrs. Blossom, who from an adjoining room had overheard the conversation, “she would have been a happier woman to-day. She came back from that taste of city life completely out of tune with everything and everybody in Farmdale, and she has never got in tune since.” “I am afraid,” observed Grandmother Sweet placidly, “that thee is sitting in judgment on thy neighbors.” “La, Grandmother,” and Miss Silence’s brisk, heartsome laugh rippled out, “a body can’t help having opinions, though I don’t always express mine outside the family. And you know what we said of Jane and Eudora was true.” “I know,” admitted Grandmother Sweet with a sigh, “though we ought to look even at truth with the eyes of charity. But I have a hope that the coming of a fresh young life, like Rose’s, into the Fifield home, if only for a season, will bring a fresh interest and brightness with it.” * * * * *