On her part Rose had gone to the Fifields’ with the firm resolve to do her very best. On her first coming to the Blossoms’, while her nerves were still keyed up in a tension of excitement, little had been said to her in regard to the manner of her leaving Mrs. Hagood. But after she had calmed down to her normal self Mrs. Blossom had talked to her very seriously of the danger of yielding to passion and impulse, and had shown her that in spite of all she had to endure what trouble she might easily have brought on herself, and how much worse off she might have been because of her hasty action. So that Rose instead of thinking it a very fine, brave act to have run away, as she was at first inclined, began to feel that it was something to regret, and be ashamed of, and because of which she must do exceedingly well indeed, to win and hold a high opinion. As Rose was neat and deft, and above all anxious to please, she soon became quite a favorite with the two middle-aged Fifield sisters, and Miss Eudora inclined to make a confidante of her. “So you have lived in cities most of your life?” she said one morning as Rose was dusting her room. “Yes, but I like the country better.” “You do?” exclaimed Miss Eudora, pausing with a curl half brushed, for, unlike her sister, she affected the willowy, the languishing; she liked garments that flowed, ribbons that fluttered, and still framed her little wrinkled face in the curls that had been the pride of her girlhood. “Now, I think it is perfectly delightful to live in a city. I spent a winter in Albany, with my Aunt Morgan some years ago. What a winter that was—” and she clasped her hands, “one round of gayety and amusement. Aunt made a large party for me, I shall have to show you a piece of the dress I wore. Aunt said she was proud of me that night, and I’m sure,” with a little simper, “I had compliments enough. I suppose,” and she gave her grey curls a toss, “it’s my own fault that I’m not living in Albany to-day.” “If you liked it so well why didn’t you stay?” asked Rose. “When a young girl has the admiration I had, she doesn’t always know what she does want. But I can tell you I made quite an impression on Some One that evening.” “How did you look then?” Rose was trying to imagine Miss Eudora as a young girl. “Oh, just as I do now,” with a complacent glance in her mirror. “I haven’t changed as some people do. Not long ago I met a friend—well, an old admirer, and he said he would like to know what I did to keep myself so young; that I didn’t look any older than I did when he first knew me. I think my hair may have something to do with that; curls do have a youthful effect. That’s the reason, I believe, Jane is always wanting me to put mine back.