Then "Principles, not Men" remained to be disposed of. They did it in such a way that the gilded motto shone on the white wall. The mantel was a masterpiece of arrangement, and solely after Columbia's suggestions. There was the monumental cat for a centre-piece, with the more recent creations of Silas Swift for immediate surroundings, and a banner at either end floating from the shelf.
You can imagine, if your imagination is genial and kindly, how very queer and fanciful the room looked with these decorations; and the gentle heart will understand the loving humility, the pleasure, with which Jessie surveyed all, when the children's work was done.
It was a pretty scene when Dexter came up, sent by Silas for an opinion, while the latter kept the shop. At first he laughed a little, and exclaimed, while he walked about; then Jessie turned away, and gave him an opportunity to brush the tears from his eyes unobserved; but presently she began to circle round him, unconsciously it seemed, till she stood close beside him; then he took her hand and held it, and she knew what he was thinking, and that he was proud and happy.
"It beats all!" he said more than once. And Columbia was talking of Silas, showing his work, and repeating his words, till Dexter broke out,—
"We must keep Silas! We can't get along without Silas! He mustn't go back to Salt Lane. I'll teach him business in High Street."
And the father did not seem to notice when his child slipped away down the stairs, to the shop, to the lad, who was thinking rather sadly, that, now his work was done, there was no more chance for him here: she had come to make him smile as much by her own delight as by his satisfaction.
But all this excitement must pass off. And in spite of the general gladness and gratulation, probably a more lonely, homesick party could not have been easily found than the Dexter family in their new home.
Dexter could not reproach himself for his removal, as he thought the matter seriously over. It was a forced removal, and certainly he would have been without excuse, had he gone into worse quarters instead of better, since better he could afford. It was not extravagance, but homesickness, that tormented him.
He was too generous, when all was done, to torment his wife with such misgivings as he had; and erelong the trouble, for want of nursing, died, as most of this life's troubles will, after their shabby fashion. But, indeed, how can they help it? that, too, is the will of Nature.
And was not Dexter himself, in the new neighborhood as in the old? His customers were still of the same class. But his surroundings were of a superior character,—there was a better atmosphere prevailing in High Street, and more light in his house. He did not love darkness better.