Dic laughed and said: "Well, you were right; she did forgive me. Now please don't continue to point out your superior wisdom. I see it without your help. Get thee a bushel, Billy Little, lest you shine too brightly."
"No insolence, young man, no insolence," retorted Billy, with a face grave and serious, save for a joyful smile in his eyes.
"Close the store door, Billy Little," said Dic, after a few minutes of conversation, "and come back to the room. I want to talk to you."
"The conceit of some people!" replied the happy merchant. "So you would have me close my emporium for the sake of your small affairs?"
"Yes," responded Dic.
"Well, nothing wins like self-conceit," answered Billy. "Here's the key. Lock the front door, and I'll be with you when I fold this bolt of India silk."
Dic locked the door, Billy finished folding the India silk—a bolt of two-bit muslin,—and the friends went into the back room.
How sweet it is to prepare one's self deliberately for good news! Billy, in a glow of joy, lighted his pipe, moved his chair close to the fireplace, for the day was cold, and gave the word of command—"Go ahead!"
Dic told him all that had happened in Miss Tousy's parlor, omitting, of course, to mention the blank hour, and added: "I had a letter from Rita this morning, and she feels as I do, that we are very cruel; but she says she would rather be selfish and happy than unselfish and miserable, which, as you know, is not at all true. She couldn't be selfish if she were to try."
"Good little brain in that little head," exclaimed Billy. "There never was a better. But, as you say, she's wrong in charging herself with selfishness. I believe she has more common sense, more virtue, more tenderness, gentleness, beauty, and unselfishness than any other girl in the world."