Amid all her joy came the ever recurring vision of Sukey's wretchedness. While under the convincing influence of her own arguments and Dic's resistless presence, she had seen but one side of the question,--her own; but darkness is a great help to the inner sight, and now the other side of the case had its hearing. She remembered Sukey's letter to Tom, but she knew the unfortunate girl loved Dic. Was it right, she asked herself over and over again, was it right that she should be happy at the cost of another's woe? Then came again the flood of her great longing--the longing of her whole life--and she tried to tell herself she did not care who suffered, she intended to be happy. That was the way of the world, and it should be her way. But Rita's heart was a poor place for such thoughts to thrive, and when she arose next morning, after a sleepless night of mingled joy and sorrow, she was almost as unhappy as she had been the previous morning. She spent several days and nights alternating between two opinions; but finally, after repeated conversations with Miss Tousy, whose opinions you already know, and after meditating upon Sukey's endeavor to entrap two men, she arrived at two opposing conclusions. First, it was her duty to give Dic up; and second, she would do nothing of the sort. That was the first, and I believe the only selfish resolve that ever established itself in the girl's heart with her full knowledge and consent. But the motive behind it was overpowering. She shut her lips and said she "didn't care," and once having definitely settled the question, she dismissed it, feeling that she was very sinful, but also very happy. Dic, of course, soon sought Billy Little, the ever ready receptacle of his joys and sorrows. No man loved the words, "I told you so," more dearly than Little, and when Dic entered the store he was greeted with that irritating sentence before he had spoken a word. "You told me what?" asked Dic, pretending not to understand. "Come, come," returned Billy, joyously, "I see it in your face. You know what I mean. Don't try to appear more thick-headed than you are. Oh, perhaps you are troubled with false modesty, and wish to hide the light of a keen perception. Let it shine, Dic, let it shine. Hide it not. Avoid the bushel." 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.