"There's no harm in speakin' of it now, as I see," said Tommy. "Fact is, Mr. Homer, you need somebodys else in this house beside Direxia; some woman, I mean, to make things as they should be for you. Direxia's fine, and I think everything of her, but she's old, and--well, there! there'd oughter be somebodys else, that's all, if 'twas only to keep the rest of 'em off; and there was only one in this village that I could see anyways suitable, and that was Miss Wax. So I picked her out, and got my mind made up and all, and then along come Mr. Pindar and whisked her off under our noses, so to say. I've nothin' against Mr. Pindar, he's all right; but it was a disappointment, Mr. Homer, and I can't make believe it wasn't. There ain't another woman in this village that Mis' Tree would see set over this house," said Tommy Candy, with simple finality. Mr. Homer smiled, and patted Tommy's arm cheerfully. "Things are much better as they are, Thomas," he said; "far better, I assure you. Besides, I have other thoughts--a--fancies--a--conceptions, in regard to this house; thoughts which, I fancy, would not have been disapproved by--as my brother's bride says, by Her we honor. I have felt as you do, my young friend, the want of--a--gracious and softening influence,--in short, the influence of Woman, sir, in this house; but this influence has suggested itself to me in the guise of youth--of--a--beauty; of--a--the morning of life, sir, the morning of life. I have thought--fancied--in short,--how would you like, sir, to see our charming neighbor across the way established in this house?" Tommy looked at him, stupefied. "Mrs. Weight!" he cried. But Mr. Homer waved the thought away indignantly. "No, no, Thomas! how could you suppose--not for an instant!--in fact, it was partly with a view to removing her from--sordid and sinister surroundings, that this idea suggested itself to me. What would you say to Annie Lizzie, Thomas?" Mr. Homer beamed, and bent forward, rubbing his hands gently, and trying to see Tommy's face through the gathering dusk. Tommy grew very pale. "Annie Lizzie!" he said, slowly. "Annie Lizzie!" repeated Mr. Homer, with animation. "I have watched that young person, Thomas, since her early childhood. I have seen her come up as a flower, sir, in an arid waste; as a jewel of gold in a--But I would not be discourteous. To remove this sweet creature from uncongenial surroundings; to transplant the blossom to more grateful soil, if I may so express myself; to beds of amaranth and moly--I speak in metaphor, sir; to see it unfold its vermeil tints beneath the mellow rays of--a--the tender passion--would give me infinite gratification. It would be my study, sir, to make her happy. What do you--how does this strike you, my dear young friend? But perhaps I have been too sudden, Thomas. Take time, sir. Consider it a little."