Then they proceeded to arrange her bed and room and to mend the fire, and make all comfortable. It was not until all the family had retired to bed, with the exception of the parents, that John and Susan discussed the subject of Em.’s removal to Edengarden. “Now you have a chance, John, I want you to tell me why you stood shilly-shallying and hem-hawing about letting Em. go to that lady?” said Susan, as they drew their chairs in to the fire. “Well, you see, Susan, I like that lady, and pity her, and thank her, all in one; and I would do a great deal for her—anything for her, but send our daughter to live with her unless—unless—Susan—well, unless you can insure me that she was as innocent as our girl herself of all the wrong-doing——” Poor John had meant to put his question as delicately, as mildly and as gently as he could possibly do; yet Susan flew at him before he could complete his sentence. “John Palmer, what _do_ you mean? Have you clean taken leave of your senses? But men are _such_ fools! Innocent? Miss Emolyn innocent? Oh, there is not a single speck on her soul’s white garments, man!” “Now don’t get excited, Susan, my dear. If you feel sure she was innocent, then we will let her have our girl. That was all I wanted to know,” said John deprecatingly. “I know that she is as pure as an angel! I would stake my salvation on her purity! And besides, John Palmer, didn’t you hear me yourself say, over and over again, how anxious I was to have Em. go? _Yes, you did._ And now do you dare to suppose that I, her mother, would be less careful of my daughter than you, who are nothing but just her father? I _am_ astonished at you, John Palmer! But, as I said before, men _are_ such fools we can hardly hold ’em to ’count for what they say and do, so women must be patient with ’em,” said Susan, rising to cover up the fire. “Nobody but my wife never called me a fool; but ‘sich is life,’” sighed John Palmer, as he relieved Susan of the shovel and covered up the fire himself. CHAPTER XXV EM.’S NEW HOME Oh, brightly is bedeck’d your bower, and gorgeously your halls; Here treads the foot on springing buds, and there on velvet falls: The massive curtains’ graceful flow, the vase, the painting warm; Those household echoes, mirrors bright, revealing the fair form; Exotics that perfume the air with odors sweet and strange, And shells that far in foreign climes mid ocean wonders range, With countless gifts of taste and art, in classic beauty rife, Are laid upon your household shrine, and grace your daily life. GILMAN. Tired as she was with her unusual exertions, before she slept that night Susan Palmer ran up the attic stairs to her daughter’s chamber to communicate the good news that was to make Em. so happy. The door was closed, but not locked, so she opened it and walked in.