never be in the future exactly
what he had been in the past. He had taken a step forward and upward--a
step irretraceable.

Jim had never prayed, but there was something about this experience that
lifted his heart upward. He looked up to the stars, and said to himself:
"He's somewhere up thar, I s'pose. I can't seen 'im, an' I must look
purty small to Him if He can seen me; but I hope He knows as I'm
obleeged to 'im, more nor I can tell 'im. When He made a good woman, He
did the biggest thing out, an' when He started a man to lovin' on her,
He set up the best business that was ever did. I hope He likes the
'rangement, and won't put nothin' in the way on't. Amen! I'm goin' to
bed."

Jim put his last determination into immediate execution. He found Mr.
Benedict in his first nap, from which he felt obliged to rouse him, with
the information that it was "all right," and that the quicker the house
was finished the better it would be for all concerned.

The next morning, Turk having been substituted for the child in the
foreground of the front elevation of the hotel, the two men went up to
Miss Butterworth's, and exhibited and talked over the plans. They
received many valuable hints from the prospective mistress of the
prospective mansion. The stoop was to be made broader for the
accommodation of visitors; more room for wardrobes was suggested, with
little conveniences for housekeeping, which complicated the plans not a
little. Mr. Benedict carefully noted them all, to be wrought out at his
leisure.

Jim's love had wrought a miracle in the night. He had said nothing about
it to his architect, but it had lifted him above the bare utilities of a
house, so that he could see the use of beauty. "Thar's one thing," said
he, "as thar hain't none on us thought on; but it come to me last night.
There's a place where the two ruffs come together that wants somethin',
an' it seems to me it's a cupalo--somethin' to stan' up over the whole
thing, and say to them as comes, 'Hallelujer!' We've done a good deal
for house-keepin', now let's do somethin' for glory. It's jest like a
ribbon on a bonnet, or a blow on a potato-vine. It sets it off, an'
makes a kind o' Fourth o' July for it. What do ye say, little woman?"

The "little woman" accepted the suggestion, and admitted that it would
at least make the building look more like a hotel.

All the details settled, the two men went away, and poor Benedict had a
rough time in getting back