"Fall and spring it is like a river, though it doesn't look much now,"

said Amos, as they came in sight of it.

It did not "look much" truly. A brooklet winding its way among rocks and stones, over which one might leap or even step at most places, but with here and there a pool which looked dark and deep enough to be the hiding-place of many a speckled beauty. And they had good proof of this before the day was done.

It was a good day for Fidelia; in the success and in the enjoyment she had a full share, though she acknowledged to herself that she did not deserve either. As the time went on she became more and more ashamed of the morbid feelings which had made her so eager to get away from the house and from all who were in it.

What was the matter with her? Was she envious of those other girls, who led such easy lives and had so many advantages? Could it be that she was so utterly ungrateful as to forget how full of good things her life had been made by the sister who had had so little in her own life but labour and care for others, yet who had accepted her lot, not with submission merely, but with sweet content and cheerfulness? Was it for Eunice she was jealous? Remembering the sudden indignation which had seized her at the first glimpse she had got of Dr Justin, smiling down on the pretty upturned face of Miss Avery, she could not deny it. Even now she grew angry as she thought about it.

Would Eunice have been angry if she had seen them? Had she suffered very much in giving up her happy prospects long ago? And afterwards, when she knew that another had taken the place in Justin Everett's home which ought to have been hers, had she suffered? Had she forgiven him, or had she forgotten him? They seemed to be friends now--she knew that from her sister's letters: would they ever be more than friends? That would be the right ending, Fidelia thought, but the thought did not give her unmixed pleasure.

"I should lose Eunice," she said to herself; "and I am not sure that I like her Dr Justin very well." And then she laughed--"I am getting on pretty fast, I think. Well, I can wait. Eunice will tell me at the right time if there be anything to tell. I won't worry about her. Dr Everett is right. Nothing in the world can hurt Eunice much. I only wish that I were like her."

Did she really wish it? She was not sure, and she was not ready to consider the question at that moment.

All these thoughts had been pa.s.sing through her mind as she followed Amos along the margin of the brook; and when they stopped at Big Rock to arrange where each one was to go, not one was more eager and pleased with the prospects of the day than she.

The sky became overcast, which was a matter of rejoicing; the same could not be said of the threatening rain. But not enough fell to do any harm, and for fishing the day was p.r.o.nounced perfect. When there are four rods, and only one basket for the fish, even moderate success tells quickly; and before Franky "guessed it was most time for lunch," there was a good show of trout.

It was decided that, to save time, they should not make a fire and feed upon the fish, but content themselves with what was to be found in cousin Abby's basket, which they might very well do. But they forgot about saving time, for they fell into a real boys' talk,--about hunting and fishing and adventures of all kinds, which made them forget how time was pa.s.sing, and then they found that Franky had fallen asleep with his head on Fidelia's lap.

"I think we must let him have his sleep out," said Fidelia; "you remember, cousin Abby said we must be careful not to let him get too tired. You two go away to your fishing, and when Franky wakes we will follow you up the brook."

"But it is too bad you should lose your sport," said Ned.

"He won't sleep long. And, see, I have a book."

So the boys set off, and Fidelia had a quiet two hours with her book,-- which ought to have been Butler's "a.n.a.logy," considering her next year's work at the seminary, but which was "Astoria"--much more appropriate for the time and place. Franky woke rested and much the better for his nap, but indignant at being allowed to lose so much time. But he forgot his vexation in the pleasure of listening to a story Fidelia told, and which lasted till they came in sight of Amos, happy and successful as ever, but a little tired also. So they sat down to rest and enjoy another lunch, and to talk about things in general.

Fidelia knew how to talk to boys. She knew every tree in the woods, and the note of every bird which chirped among the branches. She knew something about most plants that grew in field or wood, so there was no danger of falling out of talk. The boys were interested in what they heard, and each had something to tell. By-and-by Franky said--

"How many brothers have you, Miss Faithful?"

"Not one! I never had a brother."

"Well, they would have had good times, if you had."

Fidelia laughed--"I am not so sure. I have one sister."

"Yes, I know--Miss Eunice," said Amos.

"Yes, my Eunice. She is all I have got, and she is better to me than two or three brothers."

"Yes, I know," said Amos, nodding his head; "I heard Dr Everett talking about her with father. Oh, no, it wasn't doctor's talk; only how good she is, and how much she thinks of you!"

"Why do they call you Faithful?" asked Ned.

"No one calls me that but Nellie, and you must ask her why."

"I suppose it is because you never shirk," said Amos.

Fidelia looked grave.

"I don't deserve it for that reason," said she.

"You know Jabez Ainsworth, don't you?" said Amos.

"Oh, yes; I have always known him! We are good friends."

"He is a smart boy, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is smart, and good, though he gets into trouble now and then.

He is seventeen."

She told them an amusing story or two about Jabez--about adventures which he had had and trouble into which he had fallen when he was a little fellow, because of a determination to get his own way. She ended with an account of his last venture in taking Eunice's garden for the summer, so as to make some money, because he "was bound to put himself through college, and _be_ somebody."

Amos listened in silence.

"Do you suppose he'll do it?" said Ned.

"I think so. Oh, yes, he is sure to succeed! His grandfather will help him, perhaps, when he sees that he is determined to be educated. But, whether he helps him or not, Jabez is bound to succeed."

"I wonder if the hardest things aren't the easiest after all!" said Amos. "I mean, that we don't always care much about what we can get without much trouble."

"He means, _he_ don't care about going to college," said Ned; "but father means he shall."

"Oh, yes, I suppose I shall go! But I'd a good deal rather go West to Uncle John's great farm."

"You can do both," said Fidelia.

"It takes five years to get through Amherst College."

"Well, you can spare them. You are young. How old are you?"

"I was fifteen in May."

"Only fifteen! I thought you were older than that."

Amos looked pleased.

"How nearly are you ready for college?"

"I might go this fall; but father thinks I had better wait a year. I don't care."

"I think so too--if you don't care. Next year Jabez may go too. I only wish he had your chance--and yet I am not sure. He may do all the better for having to work his way through. But for one to have your chance, and not to care for it, that I cannot understand!" added Fidelia gravely.

"My father is not a rich man," said Amos.

"No--not as Mr Kent is rich. But an education such as he is able and willing to give his boys will be worth more--if they take the good of it--than all Mr Kent's money would be. You don't realise, your privileges, young man."