"Thet's so," he said. "Thet's so. Things changes in gin'ral, an' feelin's, now, they're cur'us. Thar's things as kin be altered an' things as cayn't--an' feelin's they cayn't. They're cur'us. Ef ye hurt 'em, now, thar's money; it aint nowhar--it don't do no good. Thar aint nothin' ye kin buy as 'll set 'em straight. Ef--fer instants--money could buy back them feelin's of yourn--them as ye'd like to hev back--how ready an' willin' I'd be to trade fer' em! Lord! how ready an' willin'! But it wont do it. Thar's whar it is. When they're gone a body hez to larn to git along without 'em." And they sat silent again for some time, listening to the snapping of the dry wood burning in the great fire-place. When they spoke next it was of a different subject. "Ef ye aint a-goin' to Europe--" the old man began. "And I'm not, father," Louisiana put in. "Ef ye aint, we must set to work fixin' up right away. This mornin' I was a-layin' out to myself to let it stay tell ye come back an' then hev it all ready fer ye--cheers an' tables--an' sophias--an' merrors--an'--ile paintin's. I laid out to do it slow, Louisianny, and take time, an' steddy a heap, an' to take advice from them es knows, afore I traded ary time. I 'lowed it'd be a heap better to take advice from them es knowed. Brown, es owns the Springs, I 'lowed to hev asked him, now,--he's used to furnishin' up an' knows whar to trade an' what to trade fer. The paintin's, now--I've heern it takes a heap o' experience to pick 'em, an' I aint hed no experience. I 'low I shouldn't know a good un when I seen it, Now, them picters as was in the parlor--ye know more than I do, I dessay,--now, them picters," he said, a little uncertainly, "was they to say good, or--or only about middlin'?" She hesitated a second. "Mother was fond of them," she broke out, in a burst of simple feeling. Remembering how she had stood before the simpering, red-cheeked faces and hated them; how she had burned with shame before them, she was stricken with a bitter pang of remorse. "Mother was fond of them," she said. "Thet's so," he answered, simply. "Thet's so, she was; an' you a-bein' so soft-hearted an' tender makes it sorter go agin ye to give in as they wasn't--what she took 'em fer. But ye see, thet--though it's nat'ral--it's nat'ral--don't make 'em good or bad, Louisianny, an' Lord! it don't harm _her_. 'Taint what folks knows or what they don't know thet makes the good in 'em. Ianthy she warn't to say 'complished, but I don't see how she could hev ben no better than she was--nor more calculated to wear well--in the p'int o' religion. Not hevin' experience in ile paintin's aint what'd hurt her, nor make us think no less of her. It wouldn't hev hurt her when she was livin', an' Lord! she's past it now--she's past it, Ianthy is." He talked a good deal about his plans and of the things he meant to buy. He was quite eager in his questioning of her and showed such lavishness as went to her heart.