“No,” replied Eudora, calmly. “Why, dear?”      

       “Nothing, only, Eudora, a dear and old friend of yours, of ours, is there, so I hear.”      

       Eudora did not inquire who the old friend might be. “Really?” she remarked. Then she said, “Goodby, Amelia dear,” and resumed her progress with the baby-carriage.     

  

       PART II     

       “She never even asked who it was,” Amelia reported to her sisters, when she had returned to the house. “Because she knew,” replied Sophia, sagely;       “there has never been any old friend but that one old friend to come back into Eudora Yates’s life.”      

       “Has he come back into her life, I wonder?” said Amelia.     

       “What did he return to Wellwood for if he didn’t come for that? All his relatives are gone. He never married. Yes, he has come back to see Eudora and marry her, if she will have him. No man who ever loved Eudora would ever get over loving her. And he will not be shocked when he sees her. She is no more changed than a beautiful old statue.”      

       “HE is changed, though,” said Amelia. “I saw him the other day. He didn’t see me, and I would hardly have known him. He has grown stout, and his hair is gray.”      

       “Eudora’s hair is gray,” said Sophia.     

       “Yes, but you can see the gold through Eudora’s gray. It just looks as if a shadow was thrown over it. It doesn’t change her. Harry Lawton’s gray hair does change him.”      

       “If,” said Anna, sentimentally, “Eudora thinks Harry’s hair turned gray for love of her, you can trust her or any woman to see the gold through it.”      

       “Harry’s hair was never gold—just an ordinary brown,” said Amelia.       “Anyway, the Lawtons turned gray young.”      

       “She won’t think of that at all,” said Sophia.     

       “I wonder why Eudora always avoided him so, years ago,” said Amelia.     

       “Why doesn’t a girl in a field of daisies stop to pick one, 

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