'Ah! Well,--leaving that,--I should never have thought about the partridge berries in that motto, and my mother would never have thought of it. For all that, you are right. What shall we do? take 'em down?'
'Oh, no, they look so pretty. And besides, I suppose, Pitt, by and by, poison itself will turn to peace.'
'What?' said Pitt. 'What is that? What can you mean, Queen Esther?'
'Only,' said Esther a little doubtfully, 'I was thinking. You know, when the time comes there will be nothing to hurt or destroy in all the earth; the wild beasts will not be wild, and so I suppose poison will not be poison.'
'The wild beasts will not be wild? What _will_ they be, then?'
'Certainly. Mamma used to read it to me and tell me about it.'
'Well, you shall show _me_ the place some time. How do you like it, mother?'
This question being addressed to Mrs. Dallas, who appeared in the doorway. She gave great approval.
'Do you like the effect of the partridge berries?' Pitt asked.
'It is excellent, I think. They brighten it up finely.'
'What would you say if you knew they were poison?'
'That would not make any difference. They do no hurt unless you swallow them, I suppose.'
'Esther finds in them an emblem of the time when the message of peace shall have neutralized all the hurtful things in the world, and made them harmless.'
Mrs. Dallas's eye fell coldly upon Esther. 'I do not think the Church knows of any such time,' she answered, as she turned away. Pitt whistled for some time thereafter in silence.
The decorations were finished, and most lovely to Esther's eyes; then, when they were all done, she went home to tea. For getting the greens and putting them up had taken both the morning and the afternoon to accomplish. She went home gaily, with a brisk step and a merry heart, at the same time thinking busily.
Home, in its dull uniformity and stillness, was a contrast after the stir and freshness and prettiness of life in the Dallases's house. It struck Esther rather painfully. The room where she and her father took their supper was pleasant and homely indeed; a bright fire burned on the hearth, or in the grate, rather, and a bright lamp shone on the table; Barker had brought in the tea urn, and the business of preparing tea for her father was one that Esther always liked. But, nevertheless, the place approached too nearly a picture of still life. The urn hissed and bubbled, a comfortable sound; and now and then there was a falling coal or a jet of gas flame in the fire; but I think these things perhaps made the stillness more intense and more noticeable. The colonel sat on his sofa, breaking dry toast into his tea and thoughtfully swallowing it; he said nothing, unless to demand another cup; and Esther, though she had a healthy young appetite, could not quite stay the mental longing with the material supply. Besides, she was pondering something curiously.