"Sixteen was originally paid, I know," said Mrs. Jones. "But then,
remember, what it has cost since. Two dollars for castors, six for a
new head-board, and ten for tester and curtains. Thirty-four dollars
in all; when a very handsome French bedstead, of good workmanship,
can be bought for thirty dollars."

I must own that I was taken somewhat aback by this array of figures
"that don't lie."

"And for twenty dollars we could have bought a neat, well made
dressing-bureau, at Moore and Campion's, that would have lasted for
twice as many years, and always looked in credit."

"But ours, you know, only cost ten," said I.

"The bureau, such as it is, cost ten, and the glass two. Add five
that we have already paid for repairs, and the four that our maple
bedstead has cost above the price of a handsome French, one, and we
will have the sum of twenty-one dollars,--enough to purchase as
handsome a dressing-bureau as I would ask. So you see. Mr. Jones,
that our cheap furniture is not going to turn out so cheap after
all. And as for looks, why no one can say there is much to brag of."

This was a new view of the case, and certainly one not very
flattering to my economical vanity. I gave in, of course, and,
admitted that Mrs. Jones was right.

But the dilapidations and expenses for repairs, to which I have just
referred, were but as the "beginning of sorrows." It took, about
three years to show the full fruits of my error. By the end of that