THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING and WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM

by

PAUL LEICESTER FORD

Stitt Publishing Company New YorkHenry Holt & Co. 

1894

 To

 THOSE DEAR TO ME AT STONEY WOLDE, TURNERS, NEW YORK; PINEHURST; NORWICH, CONNECTICUT; BROOK FARM, PROCTORSVILLE, VERMONT; AND DUNESIDE, EASTHAMPTON, NEW YORK, THIS BOOK, WRITTEN WHILE AMONG THEM, IS DEDICATED. 

CHAPTER I. 

ROMANCE AND REALITY. 

Mr. Pierce was talking. Mr. Pierce was generally talking. From the daythat his proud mamma had given him a sweetmeat for a very inarticulate"goo" which she translated into "papa, " Mr. Pierce had found speechprofitable. He had been able to talk his nurse into granting him everyindulgence. He had talked his way through school and college. He hadtalked his wife into marrying him. He had talked himself to the head ofa large financial institution. He had talked his admission into society. Conversationally, Mr. Pierce was a success. He could discussSchopenhauer or cotillion favors; St. Paul, the apostle, or St. Paul, the railroad. He had cultivated the art as painstakingly as aprofessional musician. He had countless anecdotes, which he introducedto his auditors by a "that reminds me of. " He had endless quotations, with the quotation marks omitted. Finally he had an idea on everysubject, and generally a theory as well. Carlyle speaks somewhere of an"inarticulate genius. " He was not alluding to Mr. Pierce. 

Like most good talkers, Mr. Pierce was a tongue despot. Conversationmust take his course, or he would none of it. Generally he controlled. If an upstart endeavored to turn the subject, Mr. Pierce waited till theintruder had done speaking, and then quietly, but firmly would remark:"Relative to the subject we were discussing a moment ago--" If any oneventured to speak, even _sotto voce_, before Mr. Pierce had finished allhe had to say, he would at once cease his monologue, wait till theinterloper had finished, and then resume his lecture just where he hadbeen interrupted. Only once had Mr. Pierce found this method to fail inquelling even the sturdiest of rivals. The recollection of that day isstill a mortification to him. It had happened on the deck of an oceansteamer. For thirty minutes he had fought his antagonist bravely. Then, humbled and vanquished, he had sought the smoking-room, to moisten hisparched throat, and solace his wounded spirit, with a star cocktail. Hehad at last met his superior. He yielded the deck to the fog-horn. 

At the present moment Mr. Pierce was having things very much his ownway. Seated in the standing-room of a small yacht, were some eightpeople. With a leaden sky overhead, and a leaden sea about it, the boatgently rose and fell with the ground swell. Three miles away could beseen the flash-light marking the entrance to the harbor. But thoughslowly gathering clouds told that wind was coming, the yacht now laybecalmed, drifting with the ebb tide. The pleasure-seekers had beentogether all day, and were decidedly talked out. For the last hour theyhad been singing songs--always omitting Mr. Pierce, who never so trifledwith his vocal organs. During this time he had been restless. At onepoint he had attempted to deliver his opinion on the relation of verseto music, but an unfeeling member of the party had struck up "JohnBrown's Body, " and his lecture had ended, in the usual serial style, atthe most interesting point, without even the promise of a "continuationin our next. " Finally, however, the singers had sung themselves hoarsein the damp night air, the last "Spanish Cavalier" had been safelyrestored to his inevitable true-love, and the sound of voices and banjofloated away over the water. Mr. Pierce's moment had come. 

Some one, and it is unnecessary to mention the sex, had given a sigh, and regretted that nineteenth century life was so prosaic andunromantic. Clearing his throat, quite as much to pre-empt the pause asto articulate the better, Mr. Pierce spoke:

"That modern times are less romantic and interesting than bygonecenturies is a fallacy. From time immemorial, love and the battlebetween evil and good are the two things which have given the worldromance and interest. Every story, whether we find it in the myths ofthe East, the folklore of Europe, the poems of the Troubadours, or inour newspaper of this morning, is based on one or the other of thesefactors, or on both combined. Now it is a truism that love never playedso important a part as now in shaping the destinies of men and women, for this is the only century in which it has obtained even a partialdivorce from worldly and parental influences. Moreover the great battleof society, to crush wrong and elevate right, was never before sobravely fought, on so many fields, by so many people as to-day. Butbecause our lovers and heroes no longer brag to the world of theirdoings; no longer stand in the moonlight, and sing of their 'deringdoes, ' the world assumes that the days of tourneys and guitars were theonly days of true love and noble deeds. Even our professed writers ofromance join in the cry. 'Draw life as it is, ' they say. 'We findnothing in it but mediocrity, selfishness, and money-loving. ' By allmeans let us have truth in our novels, but there is truth and truth. Most of New York's firemen presumably sat down at noon to-day to adinner of corned-beef and cabbage. But perhaps one of them at the samemoment was fighting his way through smoke and flame, to save life at therisk of his own. Boiled dinner and burned firemen are equally true. Arethey equally worthy of description? What would the age of chivalry be, if the chronicles had recorded only the brutality, filthiness andcoarseness of their contemporaries? The wearing of underclothingunwashed till it fell to pieces; the utter lack of soap; the eating withfingers; the drunkenness and foul-mouthedness that drove women from thetable at a certain point, and so inaugurated the custom, now continuedmerely as an excuse for a cigar? Some one said once that a man finds ina great city just the qualities he takes to it. That's true of romanceas well. Modern novelists don't find beauty and nobility in life, because they don't look for them. They predicate from their inner soulsthat the world is 'cheap and nasty' and that is what they find it to be. There is more true romance in a New York tenement than there ever was ina baron's tower--braver battles, truer love, nobler sacrifices. Romanceis all about us, but we must have eyes for it. You are young people, with your lives before you. Let me give you a little advice. As you gothrough life look for the fine things--not for the despicable. It won'tmake you any richer. It won't make you famous. It won't better you in aworldly way. But it will make your lives happier, for by the time youare my age, you'll love humanity, and look upon the world and call itgood. And you will have found romance enough to satisfy all longings formediæval times. "

"But, dear, one cannot imagine some people ever finding anythingromantic in life, " said a voice, which, had it been translated intowords would have said, "I know you are right, of course, and you willconvince me at once, but in my present state of unenlightenment it seemsto me that--" the voice, already low, became lower. "Now"--a moment'shesitation--"there is--Peter Stirling. "

"Exactly, " said Mr. Pierce. "That is a very case in point, and provesjust what I've been saying. Peter is like the novelists of whom I'vebeen talking. I don't suppose we ought to blame him for it. What can youexpect of a son of a mill-foreman, who lives the first sixteen years ofhis life in a mill-village? If his hereditary tendencies gave him achance, such an experience would end it. If one lives in the country, one may get fine thoughts by contact with Nature. In great cities one isdeveloped and stimulated by art, music, literature, and contact withclever people. But a mill-village is one vast expanse of mediocrity andprosaicness, and it would take a bigger nature than Peter's to recognizethe beautiful in such a life. In truth, he is as limited, as exact, andas unimaginative as the machines of his own village. Peter has noromance in him; hence he will never find it, nor increase it in thisworld. This very case only proves my point; that to meet romance onemust have it. Boccaccio said he did not write novels, but lived them. Try to imagine Peter living a romance! He could be concerned in a dozenand never dream it. They would not interest him even if he did noticethem. And I'll prove it to you. " Mr. Pierce raised his voice. "We arediscussing romance, Peter. Won't you stop that unsocial tramp of yourslong enough to give us your opinion on the subject?"

A moment's silence followed, and then a singularly clear voice, comingfrom the forward part of the yacht, replied: "I never read them, Mr. Pierce. "

Mr. Pierce laughed quietly. "See, " he said, "that fellow never dreams ofthere being romance outside of novels. He is so prosaic that he isunconscious of anything bigger than his own little sphere of life. Petermay obtain what he wants in this world, for his desires will be of thekind to be won by work and money. But he will never be controlled by agreat idea, nor be the hero of a true romance. "

Steele once wrote that the only difference between the Catholic Churchand the Church of England was, that the former was infallible and thelatter never wrong. Mr. Pierce would hardly have claimed for himselfeither of these qualities. He was too accustomed in his business towriting, "E. And O. E. " above his initials, to put much faith in humandicta. But in the present instance he felt sure of what he said, and thelittle group clearly agreed. If they were right, this story is like thatrecounted in Mother Goose, which was ended before it was begun. But Mr. Pierce had said that romance is everywhere to those who have the spiritof it in them. Perhaps in this case the spirit was lacking in hisjudges--not in Peter Stirling. 

CHAPTER II. 

APPEARANCES. 

The unconscious illustration of Mr. Pierce's theory was pacing backwardsand forwards on the narrow space between the cuddy-roof and the gunwale, which custom dignifies with the name of deck. Six strides forward andturn. Six strides aft and turn. That was the extent of the beat. Yet hadPeter been on sentry duty, he could not have continued it more regularlyor persistently. If he were walking off his supper, as most of thoseseated aft would have suggested, the performance was not particularlyinteresting. The limit and rapidity of the walk resembled the tramp of aconfined animal, exercising its last meal. But when one stands in frontof the lion's cage, and sees that restless and tireless stride, onecannot but wonder how much of it is due to the last shin-bone, and howmuch to the wild and powerful nature under the tawny skin. The questionoccurs because the nature and antecedents of the lion are known. Forthis same reason the yachters were a unit in agreeing that Stirling'sunceasing walk was merely a digestive promenade. The problem was whetherthey were right? Or whether, to apply Mr. Pierce's formula, they merelyimposed their own frame of mind in place of Stirling's, and decided, since their sole reason for walking at the moment would be entirelyhygienic, that he too must be striding from the same cause?

Dr. Holmes tells us that when James and Thomas converse there are reallysix talkers. First, James as James thinks he is, and Thomas as Thomasthinks he is. Second James as Thomas thinks him, and Thomas as Jamesthinks him. Finally, there are James and Thomas as they really are. Since this is neither an autobiography nor an inspired story, theworld's view of Peter Stirling must be adopted without regard to itsaccuracy. And because this view was the sum of his past and personal, these elements must be computed before we can know on what the worldbased its conclusions concerning him. 

His story was as ordinary and prosaic as Mr. And Mrs. Pierce seemed tothink his character. Neither riches nor poverty had put a shaping handto it. The only child of his widowed mother, he had lived in one of thesmaller manufacturing cities of New England a life such as falls to mostlads. Unquestionably he had been rather more shielded from several formsof temptation than had most of his playmates, for his mother's isolationhad made him not merely her son, but very largely her companion. Incertain ways this had tended to make him more manly than the averagefellow of his age, but in others it had retarded his development; andthis backwardness had been further accentuated by a deliberate mind, which hardly kept pace with his physical growth. His school record wasfair: "Painstaking, but slow, " was the report in studies. "Exemplary, "in conduct. He was not a leader among the boys, but he was verygenerally liked. A characteristic fact, for good or bad, was that he hadno enemies. From the clergyman to the "hired help, " everybody had akind word for him, but tinctured by no enthusiasm. All spoke of him as"a good boy, " and when this was said, they had nothing more to say. 

One important exception to this statement is worthy of note. The girlsof the High School never liked him. If they had been called upon forreasons, few could have given a tangible one. At their age, everythingthis world contains, be it the Falls of Niagara, or a stick of chewinggum, is positively or negatively "nice. " For some crime of commission oromission, Peter had been weighed and found wanting. "He isn't nice, " wasthe universal verdict of the scholars who daily filed through the door, which the town selectmen, with the fine contempt of the narrow man forhis unpaid "help, " had labelled, "For Females. " If they had said that hewas "perfectly horrid, " there might have been a chance for him. But thesubject was begun and ended with these three words. Such terseness inthe sex was remarkable and would have deserved a psychologicalinvestigation had it been based on any apparent data. But women'sopinions are so largely a matter of instinct and feeling, and so littleof judgment and induction, that an analysis of the mental processes ofthe hundred girls who had reached this one conclusion, would probablyhave revealed in each a different method of obtaining this product. Theimportant point is to recognize this consensus of opinion, and to noteits bearing on the development of the lad. 

That Peter could remain ignorant of this feeling was not conceivable. Itpuzzled him not a little when he first began to realize the prejudice, and he did his best to reverse it. Unfortunately he took the very worstway. Had he avoided the girls persistently and obviously, he might haveinterested them intensely, for nothing is more difficult for a woman tounderstand than a woman-hater; and from the days of mother Eve theunknown is rumored to have had for her sex a powerful fascination. Buthe tried to win their friendship by humbleness and kindness, and so onlymade himself the more cheap in their eyes. "Fatty Peter, " as theyjokingly called him, epitomized in two words their contempt of him. 

Nor did things mend when he went to Harvard. Neither his mother'sabilities nor his choice were able to secure for him an _entrée_ to thesociety which Cambridge and Boston dole out stintedly to certainprivileged collegians. Every Friday afternoon he went home, to return byan early train Monday morning. In his first year it is to be questionedif he exchanged ten words with women whose names were known to him, except during these home-visits. That this could long continue, wasimpossible. In his second year he was several times taken by his chum, Watts D'Alloi, to call. But always with one result. Invariably Peterwould be found talking to Mamma, or, better still, from his point ofview, with Pater-familias, while Watts chatted with the presumptiveattractions. Watts laughed at him always. Laughed still more when one ofthese calls resulted in a note, "requesting the pleasure" of Mr. PeterStirling's company to dinner. It was Watts who dictated the acceptance, helped Peter put the finishing touches to his toilet, and eventuallylanded him safely in Mrs. Purdie's parlor. His description to the boysthat night of what followed is worthy of quotation:

"The old fellow shook hands with Mrs. P. , O. K. Something was said aboutthe weather, and then Mrs. P. Said, 'I'll introduce you to the lady youare to take down, Mr. Stirling, but I shan't let you talk to her beforedinner. Look about you and take your choice of whom you would like tomeet?' Chum gave one agonized look round the room. There wasn't a womanover twenty-five in sight! And what do you think the wily old fox said?Call him simple! Not by a circumstance! A society beau couldn't havedone it better. Can't guess? Well, he said, 'I'd like to talk to you, Mrs. Purdie. ' Fact! Of course she took it as a compliment, and was aspleased as could be. Well, I don't know how on earth he ever got throughhis introduction or how he ever reached the dining-room, for myinamorata was so pretty that I thought of nothing till we were seated, and the host took her attention for a moment. Then I looked across atchum, who was directly opposite, to see how he was getting on. Oh, youfellows would have died to see it! There he sat, looking straight outinto vacancy, so plainly laboring for something to say that I nearlyexploded. Twice he opened his lips to speak, and each time closed themagain. The girl of course looked surprised, but she caught my eye, andentered into the joke, and we both waited for developments. Then shesuddenly said to him, 'Now let's talk about something else. ' It was toomuch for me. I nearly choked. I don't know what followed. Miss Jevonsturned and asked me something. But when I looked again, I could see theperspiration standing on Peter's forehead, while the conversation wentby jerks and starts as if it was riding over a ploughed field. MissCallender, whom he took in, told me afterwards that she had never had aharder evening's work in her life. Nothing but 'yeses' and 'noes' to begot from him. She wouldn't believe what I said of the old fellow. "

Three or four such experiences ended Peter's dining out. He wasrecognized as unavailable material. He received an occasional card to areception or a dance, for anything in trousers passes muster for suchfunctions. He always went when invited, and was most dutiful in thecounter-calls. In fact, society was to him a duty which he dischargedwith the same plodding determination with which he did his day'sstudies. He never dreamed of taking his social moments frivolously. Hedid not recognize that society is very much like a bee colony--stingingthose who approached it shyly and quietly, but to be mastered by a boldbeating of tin pans. He neither danced nor talked, and so he was shuntedby the really pleasant girls and clever women, and passed his time withwall-flowers and unbearables, who, in their normal sourness, regardedand, perhaps, unconsciously made him feel, hardly to his encouragement, that his companionship was a sort of penance. If he had been asked, atthe end of his senior year, what he thought of young women and society, he would probably have stigmatized them, as he himself had beenformerly: "not nice. " All of which, again to apply Mr. Pierce's theory, merely meant that the phases which his own characteristics had shownhim, had re-acted on his own mind, and had led him to conclude thatgirls and society were equally unendurable. 

The condition was a dangerous one, and if psychology had its doctorsthey would have predicted a serious heart illness in store for him. Howserious, would depend largely on whether the fever ran its naturalcourse, or whether it was driven inwards by disappointment. If thesedoctors had ceased studying his mental condition and glanced at hisphysical appearance, they would have had double cause to shake theirheads doubtingly. 

Peter was not good-looking. He was not even, in a sense, attractive. Inspite of his taking work so hardly and life so seriously, he wasentirely too stout. This gave a heaviness to his face that neutralizedhis really pleasant brown eyes and thick brown hair, which were his bestfeatures. Manly the face was, but, except when speaking in unconsciousmoments, dull and unstriking. A fellow three inches shorter, andtwo-thirds his weight would have been called tall. "Big" was thefavorite adjective used in describing Peter, and big he was. Had he gonethrough college ten years later, he might have won unstinted fame andadmiration as the full-back on the team, or stroke on the crew. In histime, athletics were but just obtaining, and were not yet approved ofeither by faculties or families. Shakespeare speaks of a tide in theaffairs of men. Had Peter been born ten years later the probabilitiesare that his name would have been in all the papers, that he would haveweighed fifty pounds less, have been cheered by thousands, have been theidol of his class, have been a hero, have married the first girl heloved (for heroes, curiously, either marry or die, but never remainbachelors) and would have--but as this is a tale of fact, we must notgive rein to imagination. To come back to realism, Peter was a hero tonobody but his mother. 

Such was the man, who, two weeks after graduation from Harvard, waspacing up and down the deck of Mr. Pierce's yacht, the "Sunrise, " as shedrifted with the tide in Long Island Sound. Yet if his expression, as hewalked, could for a moment have been revealed to those seated aft, theface that all thought dull and uninteresting would have riveted theirattention, and set each one questioning whether there might not besomething both heroic and romantic underneath. The set determination ofhis look can best be explained by telling what had given his face suchrigid lines. 

CHAPTER III. 

A CRAB CHAPTER. 

Mr. Pierce and those about him had clearly indicated by theconversation, or rather monologue, already recorded, that Peter was in asense an odd number in the "Sunrise's" complement of pleasure-seekers. Whether or no Mr. Pierce's monologue also indicated that he was not amap who dealt in odd numbers, or showered hospitality on sons ofmill-overseers, the fact was nevertheless true. "For value received, " or"I hereby promise to pay, " were favorite formulas of Mr. Pierce, and ifnot actually written in such invitations as he permitted his wife towrite at his dictation to people whom he decided should be bidden to theShrubberies, a longer or shorter time would develop the words, as ifwritten in sympathetic ink. Yet Peter had had as pressing an invitationand as warm a welcome at Mr. Pierce's country place as had any of thehouse-party ingathered during the first week of July. Clearly somethingmade him of value to the owner of the Shrubberies. That something washis chum, Watts D'Alloi. 

Peter and Watts were such absolute contrasts that it seemed impossiblethat they could have an interest or sympathy, in common. Therefore theyhad become chums. A chance in their freshman year had brought themtogether. Watts, with the refined and delicate sense of humor aboundingin collegians, had been concerned with sundry freshmen in an attempt tosteal (or, in collegiate terms, "rag") the chapel Bible, with a view topresenting it to some equally subtle humorists at Yale, expecting asimilar courtesy in return from that college. Unfortunately for thejoke, the college authorities had had the bad taste to guard against theannually attempted substitution. Two of the marauders were caught, whileWatts only escaped by leaving his coat in the hands of the watchers. Even then he would have been captured had he not met Peter in hisflight, and borrowed the latter's coat, in which he reached his roomwithout detection. Peter was caught by the pursuers, and summoned beforethe faculty, but he easily proved that the captured coat was not his, and that he had but just parted from one of the tutors, making itcertain that he could not have been an offender. There was some talk ofexpelling him for aiding and abetting in the true culprit's escape, andfor refusing to tell who it was. Respect for his motives, however, andhis unimpeachable record saved him from everything but an admonitionfrom the president, which changed into a discussion of cotton printingbefore that august official had delivered half of his intended rebuke. People might not enthuse over Peter, but no one ever quarrelled withhim. So the interview, after travelling from cotton prints to springradishes, ended with a warm handshake, and a courteous suggestion thathe come again when there should be no charges nor admonitions to gothrough with. Watts told him that he was a "devilish lucky" fellow tohave been on hand to help, for Peter had proved his pluck to his class, had made a friend of the president and, as Watts considerately put it:"but for your being on the corner at 11:10 that evening, old chap, you'dnever have known me. " Truly on such small chances do the greatest eventsof our life turn. Perhaps, could Peter have looked into the future, hewould have avoided that corner. Perhaps, could he have looked evenfurther, he would have found that in that chance lay the greatesthappiness of his life. Who can tell, when the bitter comes, and we latersee how we could have avoided it, what we should have encountered in itsplace? Who can tell, when sweet comes, how far it is sweetened by thebitterness that went before? Dodging the future in this world is asuccess equal to that of the old woman who triumphantly announced thatshe had borrowed money enough to pay all her debts. 

As a matter of course Watts was grateful for the timely assistance, andwas not slow either to say or show it. He told his own set of fellowsthat he was "going to take that Stirling up and make him one of us, " andWatts had a remarkable way of doing what he chose. At first Peter didnot respond to the overtures and insistance of the handsome, well-dressed, free-spending, New York swell. He was too conscious of thedifference between himself and Watts's set, to wish or seekidentification with them. But no one who ever came under Watts'sinfluence could long stand out against his sunny face and frank manner, and so Peter eventually allowed himself to be "taken up. " Perhaps theresistance encountered only whetted Watts's intention. He was certainlyaided by Peter's isolation. Whether the cause was single or multiple, Peter was soon in a set from which many a seemingly far more eligiblefellow was debarred. 

Strangely enough, it did not change him perceptibly. He still plodded onconscientiously at his studies, despite laughter and attempts to draghim away from them. He still lived absolutely within the comfortableallowance that his mother gave him. He still remained the quiet, seriouslooking fellow of yore. The "gang, " as they styled themselves, calledhim "kill-joy, " "graveyard, " or "death's head, " in their eveningfestivities, but Peter only puffed at his pipe good-naturedly, making noretort, and if the truth had really been spoken, not a man would havechanged him a particle. His silence and seriousness added the dash ofcontrast needed to make the evening perfect. All joked him. The mostpopular verse in a class-song Watts wrote, was devoted to burlesquinghis soberness, the gang never tiring of singing at all hours and places:

 "Goodness gracious! Who's that in the 'yard' a yelling in the rain? That's the boy who never gave his mother any pain, But now his moral character is sadly on the wane, 'Tis little Peter Stirling, bilin' drunk again. Oh, the Sunday-school boy, His mamma's only joy, Is shouting drunk as usual, and raising Cain!"

Yet joke Peter as they would, in every lark, be it drive, sail, feed, drink, or smoke, whoever's else absence was commented upon, his neverpassed unnoticed. 

In Sophomore year, Watts, without quite knowing why, proposed that theyshould share rooms. Nor would he take Peter's refusal, and eventuallysucceeded in reversing it. 

"I can't afford your style of living, " Peter had said quietly, as hisprincipal objection. 

"Oh, I'll foot the bills for the fixings, so it shan't cost you a centmore, " said Watts, and when Peter had finally been won over to give hisassent, Watts had supposed it was on this uneven basis. But in the end, the joint chambers were more simply furnished than those of the rest ofthe gang, who promptly christened them "the hermitage, " and Peter hadpaid his half of the expense. And though he rarely had visitors of hisown asking at the chambers, all cost of wine and tobacco was equallyborne by him. 

The three succeeding years welded very strong bands round these two. Itwas natural that they should modify each other strongly, but in truth, as in most cases, when markedly different characteristics are brought incontact, the only effect was to accentuate each in his peculiarities. Peter dug at his books all the harder, by reason of Watts's neglect ofthem. Watts became the more free-handed with his money because ofPeter's prudence. Watts talked more because of Peter's silence, andPeter listened more because of Watts's talk. Watts, it is true, tried todrag Peter into society, yet in truth, Peter was really left more alonethan if he had been rooming with a less social fellow. Each had in truthbecome the complement of the other, and seemed as mutually necessary asthe positive and negative wires in electricity. Peter, who had beentaking the law lectures in addition to the regular academic course, andhad spent his last two summers reading law in an attorney's office, inhis native town, taking the New York examination in the previousJanuary, had striven to get Watts to do the same, with the ultimateintention of their hanging out a joint legal shingle in New York. 

"I'll see the clients, and work up the cases, Watts, and you'll make thespeeches and do the social end, " said Peter, making a rather long speechin the ardor of his wishes. 

Watts laughed. "I don't know, old man. I rather fancy I shan't doanything. To do something requires that one shall make up one's mindwhat to do, and that's such devilish hard work. I'll wait till I'vegraduated, and had a chin with my governor about it Perhaps he'll makeup my mind for me, and so save my brain tissue. But anyway, you'll cometo New York, and start in, for you must be within reach of me. Besides, New York's the only place in this country worth living in. "

Such were the relations between the two at graduation time. Watts, whohad always prepared his lessons in a tenth part of the time it had takenPeter, buckled down in the last few weeks, and easily won an honorablemention. Peter had tried hard to win honors, but failed. 

"You did too much outside work, old man, " said Watts, who wouldcheerfully have given his own triumph to his friend. "If you wantsuccess in anything, you've got to sacrifice other things andconcentrate on the object. The Mention's really not worth the ink it'swritten with, in my case, but I knew it would please mammy and pappy, soI put on steam, and got it. If I'd hitched on a lot of freight carsloaded with stuff that wouldn't have told in Exams, I never could havebeen in on time. "

Peter shook his head rather sadly. "You outclass me in brains, Watts, asmuch as you do in other things"

"Nonsense, " said Watts. "I haven't one quarter of your head. But myancestors--here's to the old coves--have been brain-culturing for threehundred years, while yours have been land-culturing; and of course mybrain moves quicker and easier than yours. I take to a book, byhereditary instinct, as a duck to water, while you are like a yacht, which needs a heap of building and fitting before she can do the same. But you'll beat me in the long run, as easily as the boat does the duck. And the Honor's nothing. "

"Except, as you said, to one's"--Peter hesitated for a moment, dividedin mind by his wish to quote accurately, and his dislike of anythingdisrespectful, and then finished "to one's mother. "

"That's the last person it's needed for, chum, " replied Watts. "Ifthere's one person that doesn't need the world's or faculty's opinion toprove one's merit, it's one's dear, darling, doating, self-deluded andundisillusioned mamma. Heigh-ho. I'll be with mine two weeks from now, after we've had our visit at the Pierces'. I'm jolly glad you are going, old man. It will be a sort of tapering-off time for the summer'sseparation. I don't see why you insist on starting in at once in NewYork? No one does any law business in the summertime. Why, I even thinkthe courts are closed. Come, you'd better go on to Grey-Court with me, and try it, at least. My mammy will kill the fatted calf for you ingreat style. "

"We've settled that once, " said Peter, who was evidently speakingjournalistically, for he had done the settling. 

Watts said something in a half-articulate way, which certainly wouldhave fired the blood of every dime museum-keeper in the country, hadthey been there to hear the conversation, for, as well as could begathered from the mumbling, it related to a "pig-headed donkey" known ofto the speaker. "I suppose you'll be backing out of the Pierce affairyet, " he added, discontentedly. 

"No, " said Peter. 

"An invitation to Grey-Court is worth two of the Shrubberies. My motherknows only the right kind of people, while Mr. Pierce--"

"Is to be our host, " interrupted Peter, but with no shade of correctionin his voice. 

"Yes, " laughed Watts, "and he is a host. He'll not let any one else geta word in edgewise. You are just the kind of talker he'll like. Mark myword, he'll be telling every one, before you've been two hours in thehouse, that you are a remarkably brilliant conversationalist. "

"What will he say of you?" said Peter, in a sentence which he broke upinto reasonable lengths by a couple of pulls at his pipe in the middleof it. 

"Mr. Pierce, chum, " replied Watts, with a look in his eyes which Peterhad learned to associate with mischief on Watts's part, "has too greatan affection for yours truly to object to anything I do. Do you suppose, if I hadn't been sure of my footing at the Shrubberies, that I shouldhave dared to ask an invitation for"--then Watts hesitated for a moment, seeing a half-surprised, half-anxious look come into Peter's face, "formyself?" he continued. 

"Tell truth and shame the devil, " said Peter. 

Watts laughed. "Confound you! That's what comes of letting even such astupid old beggar as you learn to read one's thoughts. It's mightyungrateful of you to use them against me. Yes. I did ask to have youincluded in the party. But you needn't put your back up, Mr. Unbendable, and think you were forced on them. Mr. Pierce gave me _carte blanche_, and if it hadn't been you, it would have been some other donkey. "

"But Mrs. Pierce?" queried Peter. 

"Oh, " explained Watts, "of course Mrs. Pierce wrote the letter. Icouldn't do it in my name, and so Mr. Pierce told her to do it. They'revery land of me, old man, because my governor is the largeststockholder, and a director in Mr. P. 's bank, and I was told I couldbring down some fellows next week for a few days' jollity. I didn't careto do that, but of course I wouldn't have omitted you for any amount ofducats. "

Which explanation solves the mystery of Peter's presence at theShrubberies. To understand his face we must trace the period between hisarrival and the moment this story begins. 

CHAPTER IV. 

BEGINNINGS. 

How far Watts was confining himself to facts in the foregoing dialogueis of no concern, for the only point of value was that Peter wasinvited, without regard to whether Watts first asked Mr. Pierce, or Mr. Pierce first asked Watts. A letter which the latter wrote to MissPierce, as soon as it was settled that Peter should go, is of moreimportance, and deserves quotation in full:

 JUNE 7TH. 

 MY DEAR HELEN--

 Between your Pater and my Peter, it has taken an amount of diplomacy to achieve the scheme we planned last summer, which would be creditable to Palmerston at his palmiest and have made Bismarck even more marked than he is. But the deed, the mighty deed is done, and June twenty-ninth will see chum and me at the Shrubberies "if it kills every cow in the barn, " which is merely another way of saying that in the bright lexicon of youth, there's no such word as fail. 

 Now a word as to the fellow you are so anxious to meet. I have talked to you so much about him, that you will probably laugh at my attempting to tell you anything new. I'm not going to try, and you are to consider all I say as merely a sort of underlining to what you already know. Please remember that he will never take a prize for his beauty--nor even for his grace. He has a pleasing way with girls, not only of not talking himself, but of making it nearly impossible for them to talk. For instance, if a girl asks me if I play croquet, which by the way, is becoming very _passé_ (three last lines verge on poetry) being replaced by a new game called tennis, I probably say, "No. Do you?" In this way I make croquet good for a ten minutes' chat, which in the end leads up to some other subject. Peter, however, doesn't. He says "No, " and so the girl can't go on with croquet, but must begin a new subject. It is safest to take the subject-headings from an encyclopædia, and introduce them in alphabetical order. Allow about ninety to the hour, unless you are brave enough to bear an occasional silence. If you are, you can reduce this number considerably, and chum doesn't mind a pause in the least, if the girl will only look contented. If she looks worried, however, Peter gets worried, too. Just put the old chap between you and your mamma at meals, and pull him over any rough spots that come along. You, I know, will be able to make it easy for him. Neglect me to any extent. I shan't be jealous, and shall use that apparent neglect as an excuse for staying on for a week after he goes, so as to have my innings. I want the dear old blunderbuss to see how nice a really nice girl can be, so do your prettiest to him, for the sake of

 WATTS CLARKSON D'ALLOI. 

When Watts and Peter saved the "cows in the barn" by stepping off thetrain on June 29th, the effect of this letter was manifest. Watts waspromptly bestowed on the front seat of the trap with Mr. Pierce, whilePeter was quickly sitting beside a girl on the back seat. Of course anintroduction had been made, but Peter had acquired a habit of notlooking at girls, and as a consequence had yet to discover how far MissPierce came up to the pleasant word-sketch Watts had drawn of her. Indeed, Peter had looked longingly at the seat beside Mr. Pierce, andhad attempted, in a very obvious manner, though one which seemed to himthe essence of tact and most un-apparent, to have it assigned to him. But two people, far his superior in natural finesse and experience, haddecided beforehand that he was to sit with Helen, and he could notresist their skilful manoeuvres. So he climbed into place, hoping thatshe wouldn't talk, or if that was too much to expect, that at leastWatts would half turn and help him through. 

Neither of these fitted, however, with Miss Pierce's plans. She gavePeter a moment to fit comfortably into his seat, knowing that if sheforced the running before he had done that, he would probably sit awryfor the whole drive. Then: "I can't tell you how pleased we all are overWatts's success. We knew, of course, he could do it if he cared to, buthe seemed to think the attempt hardly worth the making, and so we didnot know if he would try. "

Peter breathed more easily. She had not asked a question, and theintonation of the last sentence was such as left him to infer that itwas not his turn to say something; which, Peter had noticed, was the wayin which girls generally ended their remarks. 

"Oh, look at that absurd looking cow, " was her next remark, made beforePeter had begun to worry over the pause. 

Peter looked at the cow and laughed. He would like to have laughedlonger, for that would have used up time, but the moment he thought thelaugh could be employed in place of conversation, the laugh failed. However, to be told to look at a cow required no rejoinder, so there wasas yet no cause for anxiety. 

"We are very proud of our roads about here, " said Miss Pierce. "When wefirst bought they were very bad, but papa took the matter in hand andgot them to build with a rock foundation, as they do in Europe. "

Three subjects had been touched upon, and no answer or remark yet forcedupon him. Peter thought of _rouge et noir_, and wondered what the oddswere that he would be forced to say something by Miss Pierce's nextspeech. 

"I like the New England roadside, " continued Miss Pierce, with anapparent relativeness to the last subject that delighted Peter, who wasused by this time to much disconnection of conversation, and found not alittle difficulty in shifting quickly from one topic to another. "Thereis a tangled finish about it that is very pleasant. And in August, whenthe golden-rod comes, I think it is glorious. It seems to me as if allthe hot sunbeams of the summer had been gathered up in--excuse theexpression--it's a word of Watts's--into 'gobs' of sunshine, andscattered along the roads and fields. "

Peter wondered if the request to be excused called for a response, butconcluded that it didn't. 

"Papa told me the other day, " continued Miss Pierce, "that there werenineteen distinct varieties of golden-rod. I had never noticed thatthere were any differences. "

Peter began to feel easy and comfortable. He made a mental note thatMiss Pierce had a very sweet voice. It had never occurred to Peterbefore to notice if a girl had a pleasant voice. Now he distinctlyremembered that several to whom he had talked--or rather who had talkedto him--had not possessed that attraction. 

"Last year, " said Miss Pierce, "when Watts was here, we had a golden-rodparty. We had the whole house decked with it, and yellow lamps on thelawn. "

"He told me about it, " said Peter. 

"He really was the soul of it, " said Miss Pierce, "He wove himself abelt and chaplet of it and wore it all through the evening. He was sogood-looking!"

Peter, quite unconscious that he had said anything, actually continued:"He was voted the handsomest man of the class. "

"Was he really? How nice!" said Miss Pierce. 

"Yes, " said Peter. "And it was true. " Peter failed to notice that aquestion had been asked, or that he had answered it. He began to thinkthat he would like to look at Miss Pierce for a moment. Miss Pierce, during this interval, remarked to herself: "Yes. That was the right way, Helen, my dear. "

"We had quite a houseful for our party, " Miss Pierce remarked, afterthis self-approval. "And that reminds me that I must tell you about whomyou meet to-day. " Then the next ten minutes were consumed in naming anddescribing the two fashionable New York girls and their brother, whomade the party then assembled. 

During this time Peter's eyes strayed from Watts's shapely back, andtook a furtive glance at Miss Pierce. He found that she was looking athim as she talked, but for some reason it did not alarm him, as suchobservation usually did. Before the guests were properly catalogued, Peter was looking into her eyes as she rambled on, and forgot that hewas doing so. 

The face that he saw was not one of any great beauty, but it was sweet, and had a most attractive way of showing every change of mood orthought. It responded quickly too, to outside influence. Many a girl ofmore real beauty was less popular. People liked to talk to Miss Pierce, and many could not escape from saying more than they wished, impelledthereto by her ready sympathy. Then her eyes were really beautiful, andshe had the trimmest, dearest little figure in the world; "squeezable"was the word Watts used to describe it, and most men thought the same. Finally, she had a pleasant way of looking into people's eyes as shetalked to them, and for some reason people felt very well satisfied whenshe did. 

It had this effect upon Peter. As he looked down into the large grayeyes, really slate-color in their natural darkness, made the darker bythe shadows of the long lashes, he entirely forgot place andcircumstances; ceased to think whose turn it was to speak; even forgotto think whether he was enjoying the moment. In short he forgot himselfand, what was equally important, forgot that he was talking to a girl. He felt and behaved as he did with men. "Moly hoses!" said Watts tohimself on the front seat, "the old fellow's getting loquacious. Garrulity must be contagious, and he's caught it from Mr. Pierce. "Which, being reduced to actual facts, means that Peter had spoken eighttimes, and laughed twice, in the half hour that was passed between thestation and the Shrubberies' gate. 

CHAPTER V. 

MINES AND COUNTER-MINES. 

The sight of the party on the veranda of the Shrubberies brought areturn of self-consciousness to Peter, and he braced himself, as thetrap slowed up, for the agony of formal greetings. If Miss Pierce hadbeen a less sweet, sympathetic girl, she could hardly have kept fromsmiling at the way Peter's face and figure stiffened, as the group camein sight. But Miss Pierce had decided, before she met Peter, that sheshould like him, and, moreover, that he was a man who needed help. Letany woman reach these conclusions about a man, and for some reason quitebeyond logic or philosophy, he ceases to be ridiculous. So instead ofsmiling, she bridged over the awful greetings with feminine engineeringskill quite equal to some great strategic movement in war. Peter wasmade to shake hands with Mrs. Pierce, but was called off to help MissPierce out of the carriage, before speech was necessary. Then a bundlewas missing in the bottom of the carriage, and Mr. Pawling, the New Yorkswell, was summoned to help Peter find it, the incident being seizedupon to name the two to each other. Finally, he was introduced to thetwo girls, but, almost instantly, Watts and Peter were sent to theirrooms; and Miss Pierce, nodding her head in a way which denotedsatisfaction, remarked as she went to her own room, "Really, Helen, Idon't think it will be so very hard, after all. He's very tractable. "

As Peter came downstairs, before dinner, he speculated on whether heshould be able to talk to Miss Pierce. He rather doubted from pastexperience, if such a result was attainable, seeing that there were twoother men, who would of course endeavor to do the same. But strangelyenough the two men were already seated by the New York girls, and avacant chair was next that holding Miss Pierce. What was more, he was atonce summoned to fill it, and in five minutes was again entirelyunconscious of everything but the slate-colored eyes, looking sopleasantly into his. Then he took Miss Pierce in to dinner, and satbetween her and her mother again becoming absorbed in the slate-coloredeyes, which seemed quite willing to be absorbed. After dinner, too, whenthe women had succeeded the weed, Peter in someway found it very easy tosettle himself near Miss Pierce. Later that night Peter sat in his room, or rather, with half his body out of the window, puffing his pipe, andthinking how well he had gone through the day. He had not made a singleslip. Nothing to groan over. "I'm getting more experienced, " he thought, with the vanity noticeable in even the most diffident of collegians, never dreaming that everything that he had said or done in the last fewhours, had been made easy for him by a woman's tact. 

The following week was practically a continuation of this first day. Intruth Peter was out of his element with the fashionables; Mr. Pierce didnot choose to waste his power on him; and Mrs. Pierce, like theyielding, devoted wife she was, took her coloring from her husband. Watts had intended to look after him, but Watts played well on thepiano, and on the billiard table; he rowed well and rode well; he sang, he danced, he swam, he talked, he played all games, he read aloudcapitally, and, what was more, was ready at any or all times for any orall things. No man who can do half these had better intend seriously todo some duty in a house-party in July. For, however good his intentions, he will merely add to the pavement of a warmer place than even a Julytemperature makes Long Island Sound. Instinctively, Peter turned to MissPierce at every opportunity. He should have asked himself if the girlwas really enjoying his company more than she did that of the otheryoung people. Had he been to the manner born he would have known betterthan to force himself on a hostess, or to make his monopoly of a younggirl so marked. But he was entirely oblivious of whether he was doing ashe ought, conscious only that, for causes which he made no attempt toanalyze, he was very happy when with her. For reasons best known to MissPierce, she allowed herself to be monopolized. She was even almost asdevoted to Peter as he was to her, and no comparison could be stronger. It is to be questioned if she enjoyed it very much, for Peter was nottalkative, and the little he did say was neither brilliant nor witty. With the jollity and "high jinks" (to use a word of Watts's) going onabout her, it is hardly possible that Peter's society shone by contrast. Yet in drawing-room or carriage, on the veranda, lawn, or yacht's deck, she was ever ready to give him as much of her attention and help as heseemed to need, and he needed a good deal. Watts jokingly said that "themoment Peter comes in sight, Helen puts out a sign 'vacant, to let, '"and this was only one of many jokes the house-party made over the dualdevotion. 

It was an experience full of danger to Peter. For the first time in hislife he was seeing the really charming phases which a girl has atcommand. Attractive as these are to all men, they were trebly so toPeter, who had nothing to compare with them but the indifferentattitudes hitherto shown him by the maidens of his native town, and bythe few Boston women who had been compelled to "endure" his society. Ifhe had had more experience he would have merely thought Miss Pierce agirl with nice eyes, figure and manner. But as a single glass of wine isdangerous to the teetotaller, so this episode had an over-balancinginfluence on Peter, entirely out of proportion to its true value. Beforethe week was over he was seriously in love, and though his naturalimpassiveness and his entire lack of knowledge how to convey hisfeelings to Miss Pierce, prevented her from a suspicion of the fact, themore experienced father and mother were not so blind. 

"Really, Charles, " said Mrs. Pierce, in the privacy of their own room, "I think it ought to be stopped. "

"Exactly, my dear, " replied her other half, with an apparent yielding toher views that amazed and rather frightened Mrs. Pierce, till hecontinued: "Beyond question _it_ should be stopped, since you say so. _It_ is neuter, and as neutral things are highly objectionable, stop_it_ by all means. "

"I mean Mr. Stirling--" began Mrs. Pierce. 

"Yes?" interrupted Mr. Pierce, in an encouraging, inquiring tone. "Peteris certainly neuter. I think one might say negative, without grossexaggeration. Still, I should hardly stop him. He finds enoughdifficulty in getting out an occasional remark without putting a stopperin him. Perhaps, though, I mistake your meaning, and you want Petermerely to stop here a little longer. "

"I mean, dear, " replied Mrs. Pierce, with something like a tear in hervoice, for she was sadly wanting in a sense of humor, and her husband'sjokes always half frightened her, and invariably made her feel inferiorto him, "I mean his spending so much time with Helen. I'm afraid he'llfall in love with her. "

"My dear, " said Mr. Pierce, "you really should be a professionalmind-reader. Your suggestion comes as an awful revelation to me. Justsupposing he should--aye--just supposing he has, fallen in love withHelen!"

"I really think he has, " said Mrs. Pierce, "though he is so differentfrom most men, that I am not sure. "

"Then by all means we must stop him. By the way, how does one stop aman's falling in love?" asked Mr. Pierce. 

"Charles!" said Mrs. Pierce. 

This remark of Mrs. Pierce's generally meant a resort to a handkerchief, and Mr. Pierce did not care for any increase of atmospheric humidityjust then. He therefore concluded that since his wit was takenseriously, he would try a bit of seriousness, as an antidote. 

"I don't think there is any occasion to interfere. Whatever Peter doescan make no difference, for it is perfectly evident that Helen is niceto him as a sort of duty, and, I rather suspect, to please Watts. Soanything she may do will be a favor to him, while the fact that she isattractive to Peter will not lessen her value to--others. "

"Then you don't think--?" asked Mrs. Pierce, and paused there. 

"Don't insult my intelligence, " laughed Mr. Pierce. "I do think. I thinkthings can't be going better. I was a little afraid of Mr. Pawling, andshould have preferred to have him and his sisters later, but since it ispolicy to invite them and they could not come at any other time, it wasa godsend to have sensible, dull old Peter to keep her busy. If he hadbeen in the least dangerous, I should not have interfered, but I shouldhave made him very ridiculous. That's the way for parents to treat anineligible man. Next week, when all are gone but Watts, he will have histime, and shine the more by contrast with what she has had this week. "

"Then you think Helen and Watts care for each other?" asked Mrs. Pierce, flushing with pleasure, to find her own opinion of such a delightfulpossibility supported by her husband's. 

"I think, " said Mr. Pierce, "that the less we parents concern ourselveswith love the better. If I have made opportunities for Helen and Wattsto see something of each other, I have only done what was to theirmutual interests. Any courtesy I have shown him is well enough accountedfor on the ground of his father's interest in my institution, withoutthe assumption of any matrimonial intentions. However, I am not opposedto a marriage. Watts is the son of a very rich man of the best socialposition in New York, besides being a nice fellow in himself. Helen willmake any man a good wife, and whoever wins her will not be the poorer. If the two can fix it between themselves, I shall cry _nunc dimittis_, but further than this, the deponent saith and doeth not. "

"I am sure they love each other, " said Mrs. Pierce. 

"Well, " said Mr. Pierce, "I think if most parents would decide whom itwas best for their child to marry, and see that the young people sawjust enough of each other, before they saw too much of the world, theycould accomplish their purpose, provided they otherwise kept theirfinger out of the pot of love. There is a certain period in a man's lifewhen he must love something feminine, even if she's as old as hisgrandmother. There is a certain period in a girl's life when it iswell-nigh impossible for her to say 'no' to a lover. He really onlyloves the sex, and she really loves the love and not the lover; but itis just as well, for the delusion lasts quite as long as the morepersonal love that comes later. And, being young, they need lessbreaking for double harness. "

Mrs. Pierce winced. Most women do wince when a man really verges on histrue conclusions concerning love in the abstract, however satisfactoryhis love in the concrete may be to them. "I am sure they love eachother, " she affirmed. 

"Yes, I think they do, " replied Mr. Pierce. "But five years in the worldbefore meeting would have possibly brought quite a different conclusion. And now, my dear, if we are not going to have the young people elopingin the yacht by themselves, we had better leave both the subject and theroom, for we have kept them fifteen minutes as it is. "

CHAPTER VI. 

A MONOLOGUE AND A DIALOGUE. 

It was at the end of this day's yachting that Peter was having his"unsocial walk. " Early on the morrow he would be taking the train forhis native town, and the thought of this, in connection with otherthoughts, drew stern lines on his face. His conclusions were somethingto this effect:

"I suspected before coming that Watts and Miss Pierce loved each other. I was evidently wrong, for if they did they could not endure seeing solittle of each other. How could he know her and not love her? But it'svery fortunate for me, for I should stand no chance against him, evensupposing I should try to win the girl he loved. She can't care for me!As Watts says, 'I'm an old stupid naturally, and doubly so with girls. 'Still, I can't go to-morrow without telling her. I shan't see her againtill next winter. I can't wait till then. Some one else--I can't wait. "

Then he strode up and down half a dozen times repeating the last threewords over and over again. His thoughts took a new turn. 

"It's simply folly, and you have no right to give in to it. You haveyour own way to make. You have no right to ask mother for more than thefifteen hundred she says you are to have as an allowance, for you knowthat if she gave you more, it would be only by scrimping herself. Whatis fifteen hundred a year to such a girl? Why, her father would think Iwas joking!"

Then Peter looked out on the leaden waters and wished it was notcowardly to end the conflict by letting them close over him. The darkcolor made him think, however, of a pair of slate-colored eyes, soinstead of jumping in, he repeated "I can't wait" a few times, andwalked with redoubled energy. Having stimulated himself thereby, he wenton thinking. 

"She has been so kind to me that--no--she can't care for me. But ifshe--if by chance--if--supposing she does! Why, the money is nothing. Wecan wait. "

Peter repeated this last remark several times, clearly showing that hemade a great distinction between "I can wait" and "We can wait. "Probably the same nice distinction has been made before, and lovers havegood authority for the distinction, for many an editor's public "Wethink" is the exact opposite of his private "I think. " Then Petercontinued:

"Of course I shall have difficulty with Mr. Pierce. He's a worldly man. That's nothing, though, if she cares for me. If she cares for me?"

Peter repeated this last sentence a number of times and seemed to enjoythe prospect it conjured up. He saw Peter Stirling taking a fondfarewell of a certain lady. He saw him entering the arena and strugglingwith the wild beasts, and of course conquering them. He saw the day whenhis successes would enable him to set up his own fireside. He saw thatfireside made perfect by a pair of slate-colored eyes, which breakfastopposite him, follow him as he starts for his work, and greet him on hisreturn. A pair of eyes to love when present, and think of when absent. Heigho! How many firesides and homes have been built out of just suchmaterials!

From all this the fact can be gathered that Peter was really, despitehis calm, sober nature, no more sensible in love matters than are otherboys verging on twenty-one. He could not see that success in this lovewould be his greatest misfortune. That he could not but be distractedfrom his work. That he would almost certainly marry before he could wellafford it, and thus overweight himself in his battle for success. Heforgot prudence and common-sense, and that being what a lover usuallydoes, he can hardly be blamed for it. 

Bump!

Down came the air-castle. Home, fireside, and the slate-colored eyesdissolved into a wooden wharf. The dream was over. 

"Bear a hand here with these lunch-baskets, chum, " called Watts. "Makeyourself useful as well as ornamental. "

And so Peter's solitary tramp ceased, and he was helping lunch-basketsand ladies to the wharf. 

But the tramp had brought results which were quickly to manifestthemselves. As the party paired off for the walk to the Shrubberies, both Watts and Peter joined Miss Pierce, which was not at all to Peter'sliking. 

"Go on with the rest, Watts, " said Peter quietly. 

Miss Pierce and Watts both stopped short in surprise. 

"Eh?" said the latter. 

"You join the rest of the party on ahead, " said Peter. 

"I don't understand, " said Watts, who could hardly have been moresurprised if Peter had told him to drown himself. 

"I want to say something to Miss Pierce, " explained Peter. 

Watts caught his breath. If Peter had not requested his absence andgiven his reason for wishing it, in Miss Pierce's hearing, Watts wouldhave formed an instant conclusion as to what it meant, not far from thetruth. But that a man should deliberately order another away, in thegirl's hearing, so that he might propose to her, was too great anabsurdity for Watts to entertain for more than a second. He laughed, andsaid, "Go on yourself, if you don't like the company. "

"No, " said Peter. "I want you to go on. " Peter spoke quietly, but therewas an inflexion in his singularly clear voice, which had more commandin it than a much louder tone in others. Watts had learned to recognizeit, and from past experience knew that Peter was not to be moved when heused it. But here the case was different. Hitherto he had been trying tomake Peter do something. Now the boot was on the other leg, and Wattssaw therein a chance for some fun. He therefore continued to standstill, as they had all done since Peter had exploded his first speech, and began to whistle. Both men, with that selfishness common to the sex, failed entirely to consider whether Miss Pierce was enjoying theincident. 

"I think, " remarked Miss Pierce, "that I will leave you two to settleit, and run on with the rest. "

"Don't, " spoke Peter quickly. "I have something to say to you. "

Watts stopped his whistling. "What the deuce is the old boy up to?" hethought to himself. Miss Pierce hesitated. She wanted to go, butsomething in Peter's voice made it very difficult. "I had no idea hecould speak so decidedly. He's not so tractable as I thought. I thinkWatts ought to do what he asks. Though I don't see why Mr. Stirlingwants to send him away, " she said to herself. 

"Watts, " said Peter, "this is the last chance I shall really have tothank Miss Pierce, for I leave before breakfast to-morrow. "

There was nothing appealing in the way it was said. It seemed a merestatement of a fact. Yet something in the voice gave it the character ofa command. 

"'Nough said, chum, " said Watts, feeling a little cheap at his smallnessin having tried to rob Peter of his farewell. The next moment he wasrapidly overtaking the advance-party. 

By all conventions there should have been an embarrassing pause afterthis extraordinary colloquy, but there was not. When Peter decided to doa thing, he never faltered in the doing. If making love or declaring ithad been a matter of directness and plain-speaking, Peter would havebeen a successful lover. But few girls are won by lovers who carrybusiness methods and habits of speech into their courtship. 

"Miss Pierce, " said Peter, "I could not go without thanking you for yourkindness to me. I shall never forget this week. "

"I am so glad you have enjoyed it, " almost sang Miss Pierce, in herpleasure at this reward for her week of self-sacrifice. 

"And I couldn't go, " said Peter, his clear voice suddenly husking, "without telling you how I love you. "

"Love me!" exclaimed Miss Pierce, and she brought the walk again to ahalt, in her surprise. 

"Yes, " replied Peter simply, but the monosyllable meant more than thestrongest protestations, as he said it. 

"Oh, " almost cried his companion, "I am so sorry. "

"Don't say that, " said Peter; "I don't want it to be a sorrow to you. "

"But it's so sudden, " gasped Miss Pierce. 

"I suppose it is, " said Peter, "but I love you and can't help tellingit. Why shouldn't one tell one's love as soon as one feels it? It's thefinest thing a man can tell a woman. "

"Oh, please don't, " begged Miss Pierce, her eyes full of tears insympathy for him. "You make it so hard for me to say that--that youmustn't"

"I really didn't think you could care for me--as I cared for you, "replied Peter, rather more to the voice than to the words of the lastspeech. "Girls have never liked me. "

Miss Pierce began to sob. "It's all a mistake. A dreadful mistake, " shecried, "and it is my fault. "

"Don't say that, " said Peter, "It's nothing but my blundering. "

They walked on in silence to the Shrubberies, but as they came near tothe glare of the lighted doorway, Peter halted a moment. 

"Do you think, " he asked, "that it could ever be different?"

"No, " replied Miss Pierce. 

"Because, unless there is--is some one else, " continued Peter, "I shallnot----"

"There is, " interrupted Miss Pierce, the determination in Peter's voicefrightening her info disclosing her secret. 

Peter said to himself, "It is Watts after all. " He was tempted to say italoud, and most men in the sting of the moment would have done so. Buthe thought it would not be the speech of a gentleman. Instead he said, "Thank you. " Then he braced himself, and added: "Please don't let mylove cause you any sorrow. It has been nothing but a joy to me. Good-night and good-bye. "

He did not even offer to shake hands in parting. They went into thehallway together, and leaving the rest of the party, who were alreadyraiding the larder for an impromptu supper, to their own devices, theypassed upstairs, Miss Pierce to bathe her eyes and Peter to pack hisbelongings. 

"Where are Helen and Stirling?" inquired Mr. Pierce when the time cameto serve out the Welsh rarebit he was tending. 

"They'll be along presently, " said Watts. "Helen forgot something, andthey went back after it. "

"They will be properly punished by the leathery condition of therarebit, if they don't hurry. And as we are all agreed that Stirling issomewhat lacking in romance, he will not get a corresponding pleasurefrom the longer stroll to reward him for that. There, ladies andgentlemen, that is a rarebit that will melt in your mouth, and make theabsent ones regret their foolishness. As the gourmand says in'Richelieu, ' 'What's diplomacy compared to a delicious pâté?'"

CHAPTER VII. 

FACING THE WORLD. 

Army surgeons recognize three types of wounded. One type so nervous, that it drops the moment it is struck, whether the wound is disabling ornot. Another so nerveless, that it fights on, unconscious that it hasbeen hit. A third, who, feeling the wound, goes on fighting, sustainedby its nerve. It is over the latter sort that the surgeons shake theirheads and look anxious. 

Peter did his packing quietly and quickly, not pausing for a moment inthe task. Then he went downstairs, and joined the party, just finishingthe supper. He refused, it is true, to eat anything, and was quiet, butthis phase was so normal in him, that it occasioned no remark. Askedwhere Miss Pierce was, he explained briefly that he had left her in thehall, in order to do his packing and had not seen her since. 

In a few moments the party broke up. Peter said a good-bye to each, quite conscious of what he was doing, yet really saying more and betterthings than he had said in his whole visit, and quite surprising themall in the apparent ease with which he went through the duty. 

"You must come and see us when you have put your shingle out in NewYork, " said Mr. Pierce, not quite knowing why, having previously decidedthat they had had enough of Peter. "We shall be in the city early inSeptember, and ready to see our friends. "

"Thank you, " replied Peter. He turned and went upstairs to his room. Heought to have spent the night pacing his floor, but he did not. He wentto bed instead Whether Peter slept, we cannot say. He certainly lay verystill, till the first ray of daylight brightened the sky. Then he roseand dressed. He went to the stables and explained to the groom that hewould walk to the station, and merely asked that his trunk should bethere in time to be checked. Then he returned to the house and told thecook that he would breakfast on the way. Finally he started for thestation, diverging on the way, so as to take a roundabout road, thatgave him a twelve-mile tramp in the time he had before the train left. 

Perhaps the hardest thing Peter encountered was answering his mother'squestions about the visit. Yet he never flinched nor dodged from a truereply, and if his mother had chosen, she could have had the whole story. But something in the way Peter spoke of Miss Pierce made Mrs. Stirlingcareful, and whatever she surmised she kept to herself, merely kissinghim good-night with a tenderness that was unusual not merely in aNew-Englander, but even in her. During the rest of his stay, the Pierceswere quite as much kept out of sight, as if they had never been known. Mrs. Stirling was not what we should call a "lady, " yet few of those whorank as such, would have been as considerate or tender of Peter'strouble, if the power had been given them to lay it bare. Love, sympathy, unselfishness and forbearance are not bad equivalents forbreeding and etiquette, and have the additional advantage of meeting newand unusual conditions which sometimes occur to even the mostconventional. 

One hope did come to her, "Perhaps, now that"--and Mrs. Stirling left"that" blank even in her thoughts; "now my boy, my Peter, will not be soset on going to New York. " In this, however, she was disappointed. Onthe second day of his stay, Peter spoke of his intention to start forNew York the following week. 

"Don't you think you could do as well here?" said Mrs. Stirling. 

"Up to a certain point, better. But New York has a big beyond, " saidPeter. "I'll try it there first, and if I don't make my way, I'll comeback here"

Few mothers hope for a son's failure, yet Mrs. Stirling allowed herselfa moment's happiness over this possibility. Then remembering that herPeter could not possibly fail, she became despondent. "They say NewYork's full of temptations, " she said. 

"I suppose it is, mother, " replied Peter, "to those who want to betempted. "

"I know I can trust you, Peter, " said his mother, proudly, "but I wantyou to promise me one thing. "

"What?"

"That if you do yield, if you do what you oughtn't to, you'll write andtell me about it?" Mrs. Stirling put her arms about Peter's neck, andlooked wistfully into his face. 

Peter was not blind to what this world is. Perhaps, had his mother knownit as he did, she might have seen how unfair her petition was. He didnot like to say yes, and could not say no. 

"I'll try to go straight, mother, " he replied, "but that's a good dealto promise. "

"It's all I'm going to ask of you, Peter, " urged Mrs. Stirling. 

"I have gone through four years of my life with nothing in it I couldn'ttell her, " thought Peter. "If that's possible, I guess another four is. "Then he said aloud, "Well, mother, since you want it, I'll do it. "

The reason of Peter's eagerness to get to New York, was chiefly to havesomething definite to do. He tried to obtain this distraction ofoccupation, at present, in a characteristic way, by taking excessivelylong walks, and by struggling with his mother's winter supply of wood. He thought that every long stride and every swing of the axe was workinghim free from the crushing lack of purpose that had settled upon him. Heimagined it would be even easier when he reached New York. "There'll beplenty to keep me busy there, " was his mental hope. 

All his ambitions and plans seemed in a sense to have becomemeaningless, made so by the something which but ten days before had beenunknown to him. Like Moses he had seen the promised land. But Mosesdied. He had seen it, and must live on without it. He saw nothing in thefuture worth striving for, except a struggle to forget, if possible, thesweetest and dearest memory he had ever known. He thought of theepigram: "Most men can die well, but few can live well. " Three weeksbefore he had smiled over it and set it down as a bit of Frenchcynicism. Now--on the verge of giving his mental assent to the theory, apair of slate-colored eyes in some way came into his mind, and evenFrench wit was discarded therefrom. 

Peter was taking his disappointment very seriously, if quietly. Had heonly known other girls, he might have made a safe recovery, for love'sremedy is truly the homeopathic "similia similibus curantur, " womanplural being the natural cure for woman singular. As the Russian in the"Last Word" says, "A woman can do anything with a man--provided there isno other woman. " In Peter's case there was no other woman. What wasworse, there seemed little prospect of there being one in the future. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

SETTLING. 

The middle of July found Peter in New York, eager to begin his grapplewith the future. How many such stormers have dashed themselves againstits high ramparts, from which float the flags of "worldly success;" howmany have fallen at the first attack; how many have been borne away, stricken in the assault; how many have fought on bravely, till drivenback by pressure, sickness or hunger; how few have reached the top, andwon their colors!

As already hinted, Peter had chosen the law as his ladder to climb theseramparts. Like many another fellow he had but a dim comprehension of thestruggle before him. His college mates had talked over professions, andagreed that law was a good one in New York. The attorney in his nativetown, "had known of cases where men without knowing a soul in a place, had started in and by hard work and merit had built up a good practice, and I don't see why it can't be done as well in New York as in Lawrenceor Lowell. If New York is bigger, then there is more to be done. " SoPeter, whose New York acquaintances were limited to Watts and four othercollegians, the Pierces and their fashionables, and a civil engineeroriginally from his native town, had decided that the way to go about itwas to get an office, hang up a sign, and wait for clients. 

On the morning after his arrival, his first object was a lodging. Selecting from the papers the advertisements of several boarding-houses, he started in search of one. Watts had told him about where to locate, "so as to live in a decent part of the city, " but after seeing andpricing a few rooms near the "Avenue, " about Thirtieth Street, Peter sawthat Watts had been thinking of his own purse, rather than of hisfriend's. 

"Can you tell me where the cheaper boarding-houses are?" he asked thewoman who had done the honors of the last house. 

"If it's cheapness you want, you'd better go to Bleecker Street, " saidthe woman with a certain contemptuousness. 

Peter thanked her, and, walking away, accosted the first policeman. 

"It's Blaker Strate, is it? Take the Sixth Avenue cars, there beyant, "he was informed. 

"Is it a respectable street?" asked Peter. 

"Don't be afther takin' away a strate's character, " said the policeman, grinning good-naturedly. 

"I mean, " explained Peter, "do respectable people live there?"

"Shure, it's mostly boarding-houses for young men, " replied the unit of"the finest. " "Ye know best what they're loike. "

Reassured, Peter, sought and found board in Bleecker Street, notcomprehending that he had gone to the opposite extreme. It was a dullseason, and he had no difficulty in getting such a room as suited bothhis expectations and purse. By dinner-time he had settled his simplehousehold goods to his satisfaction, and slightly moderated thedreariness of the third floor front, so far as the few pictures andother furnishings from his college rooms could modify the effect ofwell-worn carpet, cheap, painted furniture, and ugly wall-paper. 

Descending to his dinner, in answer to a bell more suitable for afire-alarm than for announcing such an ordinary occurrence as meals, hewas introduced to the four young men who were all the boarders thesummer season had left in the house. Two were retail dry-goods clerks, another filled some function in a butter and cheese store, and thefourth was the ticket-seller at one of the middle-grade theatres. Theyall looked at Peter's clothes before looking at his face, and though thegreetings were civil enough, Peter's ready-made travelling suit, boughtin his native town, and his quiet cravat, as well as his lack ofjewelry, were proof positive to them that he did not merit any greatconsideration. It was very evident that the ticket-seller, not merelyfrom his natural self-assertion but even more because of his enviableacquaintance with certain actresses and his occasional privileges in theway of free passes, was the acknowledged autocrat of the table. Underhis guidance the conversation quickly turned to theatrical and "show"talk. Much of it was vulgar, and all of it was dull. It was made theworse by the fact that they all tried to show, off a little before thenewcomer, to prove their superiority and extreme knowingness to him. Tomake Peter the more conscious of this, they asked him various questions. 

"Do you like--?" a popular soubrette of the day. 

"What, never seen her? Where on earth have you been living?"

"Oh? Well, she's got too good legs to waste herself on such a littleplace. "

They would like to have asked him questions about himself, but feared toseem to lower themselves from their fancied superiority, by showinginterest in Peter. One indeed did ask him what business he was in. 

"I haven't got to work yet, " answered Peter

"Looking for a place" was the mental comment of all, for they could notconceive of any one entitled to practise law not airing his advantage. So they went on patronizing Peter, and glorifying themselves. When timehad developed the facts that he was a lawyer, a college graduate, and aman who seemed to have plenty of money (from the standpoint of dry-goodsclerks) their respect for him considerably increased. He could not, however, overcome his instinctive dislike to them. After the manlyhigh-minded, cultivated Harvard classmates, every moment of theirsociety was only endurable, and he neither went to their rooms nor askedthem to his. Peter had nothing of the snob in him, but he found readingor writing, or a tramp about the city, much the pleasanter way ofpassing his evenings. 

The morning after this first day in New York, Peter called on hisfriend, the civil engineer, to consult him about an office; for Wattshad been rather hazy in regard to where he might best locate that. Mr. Converse shook his head when Peter outlined his plan. 

"Do you know any New York people, " he asked, "who will be likely to giveyou cases?"

"No, " said Peter. 

"Then it's absolutely foolish of you to begin that way, " said Mr. Converse. "Get into a lawyer's office, and make friends first before youthink of starting by yourself. You'll otherwise never get a client. "

Peter shook his head. "I've thought it out, " he added, as if thatsettled it. 

Mr. Converse looked at him, and, really liking the fellow, was about toexplain the real facts to him, when a client came in. So he only said, "If that's so, go ahead. Locate on Broadway, anywhere between theBattery and Canal Street. " Later in the day, when he had time, he shookhis head, and said, "Poor devil! Like all the rest. "

Anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street represented a fairly largerange of territory, but Peter went at the matter directly, and for thenext three days passed his time climbing stairs, and inspecting roomsand dark cells. At the end of that time he took a moderate-sized office, far back in a building near Worth Street. Another day saw it fitted witha desk, two chairs (for Peter as yet dreamed only of single clients) anda shelf containing the few law books that were the monuments of hisHarvard law course, and his summer reading. On the following Monday, when Peter faced his office door he felt a glow of satisfaction atseeing in very black letters on the very newly scrubbed glass the signof:

 PETER STIRLING

 ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW. 

He had come to his office early, not merely because at his boardingplace they breakfasted betimes, but because he believed that early hourswere one way of winning success. He was a little puzzled what to do withhimself. He sat down at his desk and thrummed it for a minute. Then herose, and spread his books more along the shelf, so as to leave littlespaces between them, thinking that he could make them look more imposingthereby. After that he took down a book--somebody "On Torts, "--and duginto it. In the Harvard course, he had had two hours a week of thisbook, but Peter worked over it for nearly three hours. Then he tookpaper, and in a very clear, beautifully neat hand, made an abstract ofwhat he had read. Then he compared his abstract with the book. Returningthe book to the shelf, very much pleased with the accuracy of hismemory, he looked at his watch. It was but half-past eleven. Peter satdown at his desk. "Would all the days go like this?" he asked himself. He had got through the first week by his room and office-seeking andfurnishing. But now? He could not read law for more than four hours aday, and get anything from it. What was to be done with the rest of thetime? What could he do to keep himself from thinking of--from thinking?He looked out of his one window, over the dreary stretch of roofs andthe drearier light shafts spoken of flatteringly as yards. He compressedhis lips, and resorted once more to his book. But he found his mindwandering, and realized that he had done all he was equal to on a hotJuly morning. Again he looked out over the roofs. Then he rose and stoodin the middle at his room, thinking. He looked at his watch again, tomake sure that he was right. Then he opened his door and glanced aboutthe hall. It was one blank, except for the doors. He went down the twoflights of stairs to the street. Even that had the deserted look ofsummer. He turned and went back to his room. Sitting down once more athis desk, and opening somebody "On Torts" again, he took up his pen andbegan to copy the pages literally. He wrote steadily for a time, thenwith pauses. Finally, the hand ceased to follow the lines, and becamestraggly. Then he ceased to write. The words blurred, the paper fadedfrom view, and all Peter saw was a pair of slate-colored eyes. He laidhis head down on the blotter, and the erect, firm figure relaxed. 

There is no more terrible ordeal of courage than passive waiting. Mostof us can be brave with something to do, but to be brave for months, foryears, with nothing to be done and without hope of the future! So it wasin Peter's case. It was waiting--waiting--for what? If clients came, iffame came, if every form of success came, --for what?

There is nothing in loneliness to equal the loneliness of a big city. About him, so crowded and compressed together as to risk life andhealth, were a million people. Yet not a soul of that million knew thatPeter sat at his desk, with his head on his blotter, immovable, fromnoon one day till daylight of the next. 

CHAPTER IX. 

HAPPINESS BY PROXY. 

The window of Peter's office faced east, and the rays of the morning sunshining dazzlingly in his eyes forced him back to a consciousness ofthings mundane. He rose, and went downstairs, to find the nightwatch-man just opening the building. Fortunately he had already met theman, so that he was not suspected as an intruder; and giving him apleasant "good-morning, " Peter passed into the street. It was a goodmorning indeed, with all that freshness and coolness which even a greatcity cannot take from a summer dawn. For some reason Peter felt moreencouraged. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having beaten hisloneliness and misery by mere physical endurance. Perhaps it was onlythe natural spring of twenty years. At all events, he felt dimly, thatmiserable and unhopeful as the future looked, he was not conquered yet;that he was going to fight on, come what might. 

He turned to the river front, and after bargaining with a passing cartfor a pint of what the poorer people of the city buy as milk, he turnednorth, and quickening his pace, walked till he had left the city properand had reached the new avenue or "drive, " which, by the liberality ofMr. Tweed with other people's money, was then just approachingcompletion. After walking the length of it, he turned back to hisboarding-place, and after a plunge, felt as if he could face and fightthe future to any extent. 

As a result of this he was for the first time late at breakfast Thepresider over the box-office had ascertained that Peter had spent thenight out, and had concluded he would have a gird or two at him. Hefailed, however, to carry out his intention. It was not the first timethat both he and his companions had decided to "roast" Peter, absent, but had done other wise with Peter, present. He had also decided to sayto Peter, "Who's your dandy letter-writer?" But he also failed to dothat. This last intention referred to a letter that lay at Peters place, and which was examined by each of the four in turn. That letter had anair about it. It was written on linen paper of a grade which, if nowcommon enough, was not so common at that time. Then it was postmarkedfrom one of the most, fashionable summer resorts of the country. Finally, it was sealed with wax, then very unusual, and the wax bore theimpression of a crest. They were all rather disappointed when Peter putthat letter in his pocket, without opening it. 

Peter read the letter at his office that morning. It was as follows:

 GREY-COURT, July 21st. 

 DEAR. OLD MAN--

 Like a fool I overslept myself on the morning you left, so did not get my talk with you. You know I never get up early, and never can, so you have only your refusal to let me in that night to blame for our not having a last chat. If I had had the news to tell you that I now have, I should not have let you keep me out, even if you had forced me to break my way in. 

 Chum, the nicest girl in the world has told me that she loves me, and we are both as happy as happy can be, I know you will not be in a moment's doubt as to who she is, I have only run down here to break it to my family, and shall go back to the Shrubberies early next week--to talk to Mr. Pierce, you understand!

 My governor has decided that a couple of years' travel will keep me out of mischief as well as anything else he can devise, and as the prospect is not unpleasant, I am not going to let my new plans interfere with it, merely making my journeyings a _solitude à deux_, instead of solus. So we shall be married in September, at the Shrubberies, and sail for Europe almost immediately. 

 Now, I want you to stand by me in this, as you have in other things, and help me through. I want you, in short, to be my "best man" as you have been my Best friend. "Best man, " I should inform you, is an English wedding institution, which our swell people have suddenly discovered is a necessity to make a marriage ceremony legal. He doesn't do much. Holding his principal's hat, I believe, is the most serious duty that falls to him, though perhaps not stepping on the bridal dresses is more difficult. 

 My Mamma wants me to drive with her, so this must be continued in our next. 

 Aff. , W. 

Peter did not read law that morning. But after sitting in his chair fora couple of hours, looking at the opposite wall, and seeing somethingquite different, he took his pen, and without pause, or change of face, wrote two letters, as follows:

 DEAR WATTS:

 You hardly surprised me by your letter. I had suspected, both from your frequent visits to the Shrubberies, and from a way in which you occasionally spoke of Miss Pierce, that you loved her. After seeing her, I felt that it was not possible you did not. So I was quite prepared for your news. You have indeed been fortunate in winning such a girl. That I wish you every joy and happiness I need not say. 

 I think you could have found some other of the fellows better suited to stand with you, but if you think otherwise, I shall not fail you. 

 You will have to tell me about details, clothes, etc. Perhaps you can suggest a gift that will do? I remember Miss Pierce saying she was very fond of pearls. Would it be right to give something of that kind?

 Faithfully yours, PETER. 

 DEAR MISS PIERCE:

 A letter from Watts this morning tells me of his good fortune. Fearing lest my blindness may perhaps still give you pain, I write to say that your happiness is the most earnest wish of my life, and nothing which increases it can be other than good news to me. If I can ever serve you in any way, you will be doing me a great favor by telling me how. 

 Please give my regards to Mr. And Mrs. Pierce, and believe me, Yours ever sincerely, PETER STIRLING. 

After these letters were written, Peter studied the wall again for atime. Studied it till long after the hour when he should have lunched. The wall had three cracks in it which approximated to an outline ofItaly, but though Peter gazed at this particular wall a good many hoursin the next few weeks, he did not discover this interesting fact tilllong after this time of wall-gazing. 

In the early morning and after dinner, in spite of the summer heat, hetook long walks. During the day he sat in his office doing nothing, withthe exception of an occasional letter to his mother, and one or two toWatts in respect to the coming wedding. Two visits to the tailor's, andanother to Tiffany's, which resulted in a pearl pin rather out ofproportion to his purse, were almost the sole variations of thisroutine. It was really a relief to this terrible inactivity, when hefound himself actually at the Shrubberies, the afternoon before thewedding. 

Peter was rather surprised at the ease with which he went through thenext twenty-four hours. It is true that the house was too full, and eachperson too busy, to trouble the silent groomsman with attention, so hemight have done pretty much what he wished, without being noticed. Hearrived late, thus having no chance for greetings till after a hurrieddressing for dinner, when they were made in the presence of the wholeparty, who had waited his coming to go to the meal. He went through theordeal well, even that with Miss Pierce, actually showing lessembarrassment than she did. What was more astonishing, he calmly offeredhis arm to the bridesmaid who fell to his lot, and, after seating her, chatted without thinking that he was talking. Indeed, he hardly heededwhat he did say, but spoke mechanically, as a kind of refuge fromthought and feeling. 

"I didn't find him a bit so, " the girl said to Miss Pierce, later in theevening, with an indefiniteness which, if not merely feminine, mustpresuppose a previous conversation. "He isn't exactly talkative, but heis perfectly easy to get on with. I tried him on New York, and found hehad gone into a good many odd places and can tell about them. Hedescribes things very well, so that one sees them. "

"It must be your tact, then, Miss Leroy, " said Mrs. Pierce, "for wecould get nothing out of him before. "

"No? I had nothing to do with it, and, between ourselves, I think hedisapproved of me. If Helen hadn't told me about him, I should have beenvery cool to him, his manner was so objectionable. He clearly talked tome because he felt it a duty, and not a pleasure. "

"That's only that unfortunate manner of his, " said Helen. "I reallythink at heart he's dreadfully afraid of us. At least that's what Wattssays. But he only behaves as if--as if--well, you know what I mean, Alice!"

"Exactly, " said Alice. "You can't describe it. He's so cool, and stolid, and silent, that you feel shoddy and cheap, and any simple little remarkdoesn't seem enough to say. You try to talk up to him, and yet feelsmall all the time. "

"Not at all, " said Helen. "You talk down to him, as if hewere--were--your old grandfather, or some one else you admired, butthought very dull and old-fashioned. "

"But the worst is the way he looks at you. So gravely, even when you tryto joke. Now I really think I'm passably pretty, but Mr. Stirling saidas plainly as could be: 'I look at you occasionally because that's theproper thing to do, when one talks, but I much prefer looking at thatpicture over your head. ' I don't believe he noticed how my hair wasdressed, or the color of my eyes. Such men are absolutely maddening. When they've finished their smoke, I'm going to make him notice me. "

But Miss Leroy failed in her plan, try as she would. Peter did notnotice girls any more. After worrying in his school and college days, over what women thought of him and how they treated him, he had suddenlyceased to trouble himself about them. It was as if a man, after longstriving for something, had suddenly discovered that he did not wishit--that to him women's opinions had become worthless. Perhaps in thiscase it was only the Fox and the Grapes over again. At all events, fromthis time on Peter cared little what women did. Courteous he tried tobe, for he understood this to be a duty. But that was all. They mightlaugh at him, snub him, avoid him. He cared not. He had struck women outof his plan of life. And this disregard, as we have already suggested, was sure to produce a strange change, not merely in Peter, but inwomen's view and treatment of him. Peter trying to please them, by dull, ordinary platitudes, was one thing. Peter avoiding them and talking tothem when needs must, with that distant, uninterested look and voice, was quite another. 

The next morning, Peter, after finding what a fifth wheel in a coach allmen are at weddings, finally stood up with his friend. He had not beenasked to stay on for another night, as had most of the bridal party, sohe slipped away as soon as his duty was done, and took a train that puthim into New York that evening. A week later he said good-bye to theyoung couple, on the deck of a steamship. 

"Don't forget us, Peter, " shouted Watts, after the fasts were cast offand the steamer was slowly moving into mid-stream. 

Peter waved his hat, and turning, walked off the pier. 

"Could he forget them?" was the question he asked himself. 

CHAPTER X

WAITING. 

"My friend, " said an old and experienced philosopher to a young man, whowith all the fire and impatience of his years wished to conquer theworld quickly, "youth has many things to learn, but one of the mostimportant is never to let another man beat you at waiting. "

Peter went back to his desk, and waited. He gave up looking at the wallof his office, and took to somebody "On Torts" again. When that wasfinished he went through the other law books of his collection. Thosedone, he began to buy others, and studied them with great thoroughnessand persistence. In one of his many walks, he stumbled upon theApprentices' Library. Going in, he inquired about its privileges, andbecame a regular borrower of books. Peter had always been a reader, butnow he gave from three or four hours a day to books, aside from his lawstudy. Although he was slow, the number of volumes, he not merely read, but really mastered was marvellous. Books which he liked, without muchregard to their popular reputation, he at once bought; for his simplelife left him the ability to indulge himself in most respects withinmoderation. He was particularly careful to read a classic occasionallyto keep up his Greek and Latin, and for the same reason he read Frenchand German books aloud to himself. Before the year was out, he was arecognized quantity in certain book-stores, and was privileged tobrowse at will both among old and new books without interference orsuggestion from the "stock" clerks. "There isn't any good trying to sellhim anything, " remarked one. "He makes up his mind for himself. "

His reading was broadened out from the classic and belles-lettresgrooves that were still almost a cult with the college graduate, byanother recreation now become habitual with him. In his long trampsabout the city, to vary the monotony, he would sometimes stop and chatwith people--with a policeman, a fruit-vender, a longshoreman or atruckster. It mattered little who it was. Then he often enteredmanufactories and "yards" and asked if he could go through them, studying the methods, and talking to the overseer or workers about thetrade. When he occasionally encountered some one who told him "your kindain't got no business here" he usually found the statement "my fatherwas a mill-overseer" a way to break down the barrier. He had to use itseldom, for he dressed plainly and met the men in a way which seldomfailed to make them feel that he was one of them. After such inspectionand chat, he would get books from the library, and read up about thebusiness or trade, finding that in this way he could enjoy worksotherwise too technical, and really obtain a very good knowledge of manysubjects. Just how interesting he found such books as "OurFire-Laddies, " which he read from cover to cover, after an inspectionof, and chat with, the men of the nearest fire-engine station; orLatham's "The Sewage Difficulty, " which the piping of uptown New Yorkinduced him to read; and others of diverse types is questionable. Probably it was really due to his isolation, but it was much healthierthan gazing at blank walls. 

When the courts opened, Peter kept track of the calendars, and whenevera case or argument promised to be interesting, or to call out the greatlights of the profession, he attended and listened to them. He tried towrite out the arguments used, from notes, and finally this practiceinduced him to give two evenings a week during the winter masteringshorthand. It was really only a mental discipline, for any case ofimportance was obtainable in print almost as soon as argued, but Peterwas trying to put a pair of slate-colored eyes out of his thoughts, andemployed this as one of the means. 

When winter came, and his long walks became less possible, he turned toother things. More from necessity than choice, he visited the art andother exhibitions as they occurred, he went to concerts, and to plays, all with due regard to his means, and for this reason the latter werethe most seldom indulged in. Art and music did not come easy to him, buthe read up on both, not merely in standard books, but in the reviews ofthe daily press, and just because there was so much in both that hefailed to grasp, he studied the more carefully and patiently. 

One trait of his New England training remained to him. He had brought aletter from his own Congregational church in his native town, to one ofthe large churches of the same sect in New York, and when admitted, hired a sitting and became a regular attendant at both morning andevening service. In time this produced a call from his new pastor. Itwas the first new friend he had gained in New York. "He seems a quiet, well-informed fellow, " was the clergyman's comment; "I shall make apoint of seeing something of him. " But he was pastor of a very large andrich congregation, and was a hard-worked and hard-entertained man, sohis intention was not realized. 

Peter spent Christmastide with his mother, who worried not a little overhis loss of flesh. 

"You have been overworking, " she said anxiously. 

"Why mother, I haven't had a client yet, " laughed Peter. 

"Then you've worried over not getting on, " said his mother, knowingperfectly well that it was nothing of the sort. She had hoped that Peterwould be satisfied with his six months' trial, but did not mention herwish. She marvelled to herself that New York had not yet discovered hisgreatness. 

When Peter returned to the city, he made a change in his livingarrangements. His boarding-place had filled up with the approach ofwinter, but with the class of men he already knew too well. Even thoughhe met them only at meals, their atmosphere was intolerable to him. Whena room next his office fell vacant, and went begging at a very cheapprice, he decided to use it as a bedroom. So he moved his few belongingson his return from his visit to his mother's. 

Although he had not been particularly friendly to the other boarders, nor made himself obtrusive in the least, not one of them failed to speakof his leaving. Two or three affected to be pleased, but"Butter-and-cheese" said he "was a first-rate chap, " and this seemed togain the assent of the table generally. 

"I'm dreadfully sorry to lose him, " his landlady informed her otherboarders, availing herself, perhaps, of the chance to deliver a side hitat some of them. "He never has complained once, since he came here, andhe kept his room as neat as if he had to take care of it himself. "

"Well, " said the box-office oracle, "I guess he's O. K. , if he is a bitstiff; and a fellow who's best man to a big New York swell, and gets hisname in all the papers, doesn't belong in a seven-dollar, hash-seven-days-a-week, Bleecker Street boarding-house. "

Peter fitted his room up simply, the sole indulgence (if properly socalled) being a bath, which is not a usual fitting of a New Yorkbusiness office, consciences not yet being tubbable. He had made hismother show him how to make coffee, and he adopted the Continentalsystem of meals, having rolls and butter sent in, and making a Frenchbreakfast in his own rooms. Then he lunched regularly not far from hisoffice, and dined wherever his afternoon walk, or evening plans carriedhim. He found that he saved no money by the change, but he saved hisfeelings, and was far freer to come and go as he chose. 

He did not hear from the honeymoon party. Watts had promised to write tohim and send his address "as soon as we decide whether we pass thewinter in Italy or on the Nile. " But no letter came. Peter called on thePierces, only to find them out, and as no notice was taken of hispasteboard, he drew his own inference, and did not repeat the visit. 

Such was the first year of Peter's New York life. He studied, he read, he walked, and most of all, he waited. But no client came, and he seemedno nearer one than the day he had first seen his own name on his officedoor. "How much longer will I have to wait? How long will my patiencehold out?" These were the questions he asked himself, when for a momenthe allowed himself to lose courage. Then he would take to a bit ofwall-gazing, while dreaming of a pair of slate-colored eyes. 

CHAPTER XI. 

NEW FRIENDS. 

Mr. Converse had evidently thought that the only way for Peter to get onwas to make friends. But in this first year Peter did not made a singleone that could be really called such. His second summer broadened hisacquaintance materially, though in a direction which promised him littlelaw practice. 

When the warm weather again closed the courts and galleries, and broughtan end to the concerts and theatres, Peter found time harder to kill, the more, because he had pretty well explored the city. Still he walkedmuch to help pass the time, and to get outside of his rooms into theair. For the same reason he often carried his book, after the heat ofthe day was over, to one of the parks, and did his reading there. Notfar from his office, eastwardly, where two streets met at an angle, wasa small open space too limited to be called a square, even if its shapehad not been a triangle. Here, under the shade of two very sickly trees, surrounded by tall warehouses, were a couple of benches. Peter sat heremany evenings smoking his pipe. Though these few square feet madeperhaps the largest "open" within half a mile of his office, the anglewas confined and dreary. Hence it is obvious there must have been someattraction to Peter, since he was such a walker, to make him preferspending his time there rather than in the parks not far distant Theattraction was the children. 

Only a few hundred feet away was one of the most densely crowdedtenement districts of New York. It had no right to be there, for theland was wanted for business purposes, but the hollow on which it wasbuilt had been a swamp in the old days, and the soft land, and perhapsthe unhealthiness, had prevented the erection of great warehouses andstores, which almost surrounded it. So it had been left to the storageof human souls instead of merchandise, for valuable goods need carefulhousing, while any place serves to pack humanity. It was not a nicedistrict to go through, for there was a sense of heat and dirt, andsmell, and crowd, and toil and sorrow throughout. It was probably nonicer to live in, and nothing proved it better than the overflow of thechildren therefrom into the little, hot, paved, airless angle. Here theycould be found from five in the morning till twelve at night. Here, withguards set, to give notice of the approach of the children'sjoy-destroying Siva--otherwise the policeman--they played ball. Here"cat" and "one old cat" render bearable many a wilting hour for thelittle urchins. Here "Sally in our Alley" and "Skip-rope" made thelittle girls forget that the temperature was far above blood-heat. Hereof an evening, Peter smoked and watched them. 

At first he was an object of suspicion, and the sport visibly ceasedwhen he put in an appearance. But he simply sat on one of the benchesand puffed his pipe, and after a few evenings they lost all fear of him, and went on as if he were not there. In time, an intercourse sprang upbetween them. One evening Peter appeared with a stick of wood, and as hesmoked, he whittled at it with a _real_ jack-knife! He was scrutinizedby the keen-eyed youngsters with interest at once, and before he hadwhittled long, he had fifty children sitting in the shape of asemicircle on the stone pavement, watching his doings with almostbreathless Interest. When the result of his work actually developed intoa "cat" of marvellous form and finish, a sigh of intense joy passedthrough the boy part of his audience. When the "cat" was passed over totheir mercies, words could not be found to express their emotions. Another evening, the old clothes-line that served for a jump-rope, afterhaving bravely rubbed against the pavement many thousand times in itsendeavor to lighten the joyless life of the little pack, finallysuccumbed, worn through the centre and quite beyond hope of furtherknotting. Then Peter rose, and going to one of the little shops thatsupplied the district, soon returned with a _real_ jump-rope, with_wooden handles!_ So from time to time, _real_ tops, _real_ dolls, _real_ marbles and various other _real_, if cheap, things, hitherto onlyenjoyed in dreams, or at most through home-made attempts, found theirway into the angle, and were distributed among the little imps. Theycould not resist such subtle bribery, and soon Peter was on as familiarand friendly a footing as he could wish. He came to know each by name, and was made the umpire in all their disputes and the confidant in alltheir troubles. They were a dirty, noisy, lawless, and godless littlecommunity, but they were interesting to watch, and the lonely fellowgrew to like them much, for with all their premature sharpness, theywere really natural, and responded warmly to his friendly overtures. 

After a time, Peter tried to help them a little more than by mere smallgifts. A cheap box of carpenter's tools was bought, and under hissuperintendence, evenings were spent in the angle, in making variousarticles. A small wheel barrow, a knife-and-fork basket, a clock-bracketand other easy things were made, one at a time. All boys, and indeedsome girls, were allowed to help. One would saw off the end of a plank;another would rule a pencil line; the next would plane the plank down tothat line; the next would bore the holes in it; the next would screw itinto position; the next would sandpaper it The work went very slowly, but every one who would, had his share in it, while the rest sat andwatched. When the article was completed, lots were drawn for it, andhappy was the fortunate one who drew the magnificent prize in life'slottery!

Occasionally too, Peter brought a book with him, and read it aloud tothem. He was rather surprised to find that they did not take toSunday-school stories or fairy tales. Wild adventures in foreign landswere the most effective; and together they explored the heart of Africa, climbed the Swiss mountains, fought the Western Indians, and attemptedto discover the North Pole. They had a curious liking for torture, blood-letting, and death. Nor were they without discrimination. 

"I guess that fellow is only working his jaw, " was one little chap'scriticism at a certain point of the narrative of a well-known Africanexplorer, rather famous for his success in advertising himself. Again, "that's bully, " was the comment uttered by another, when Peter, ratherthan refuse their request to read aloud, had been compelled to choosesomething in Macaulay's Essays, and had read the description of theBlack Hole of Calcutta, "Say, mister, " said another, "I don't believethat fellow wasn't there, for he never could a told it like that, if hewasn't. "

As soon as his influence was secure, Peter began to affect them in otherways. Every fight, every squabble, was investigated, and the blame putwhere it belonged. Then a mandate went forth that profanity was tocease: and, though contrary to every instinct and habit, cease it didafter a time, except for an occasional unconscious slip. "Sporadicswearing, " Peter called it, and explained what it meant to the children, and why he forgave that, while punishing the intentional swearer withexclusion from his favor. So, too, the girls were told that to "poke"tongues at each other, and make faces, was but another way of swearing;"for they all mean that there is hate in your hearts, and it is thatwhich is wrong, and not the mere words or faces. " He ran the risk ofbeing laughed at, but they didn't laugh, for something in his way oftalking to them, even when verging on what they called "goody-goody, "inspired them with respect. 

Before many weeks of this intercourse, Peter could not stroll east fromhis office without being greeted with yells of recognition. The elders, too, gave him "good-evening" pleasantly and smiled genially. Thechildren had naturally told their parents about him of his wonderfulpresents, and great skill with knife and string. 

"He can whittle anything you ask!"

"He knows how to make things you want!"

"He can tie a knot sixteen different kinds!"

"He can fold a newspaper into soldiers' and firemen's caps!"

"He's friends with the policeman!"

Such laudations, and a hundred more, the children sang of him to theirelders. 

"Oh, " cried one little four-year-old girl, voicing the unanimous feelingof the children, "Mister Peter is just shplendid. "

So the elders nodded and smiled when they met him, and he was prettywell known to several hundred people whom he knew not. 

But another year passed, and still no client came. 

CHAPTER XII. 

HIS FIRST CLIENT. 

Peter sat in his office, one hot July day, two years after his arrival, writing to his mother. He had but just returned to New York, after avisit to her, which had left him rather discouraged, because, for thefirst time, she had pleaded with him to abandon his attempt and returnto his native town. He had only replied that he was not yet prepared toacknowledge himself beaten; but the request and his mother'sdisappointment had worried him. While he wrote came a knock at the door, and, in response to his "come in, " a plain-looking laborer entered andstood awkwardly before him. 

"What can I do for you?" asked Peter, seeing that he must assist the manto state his business. 

"If you please, sir, " said the man, humbly, "it's Missy. And I hopeyou'll pardon me for troubling you. "

"Certainly, " said Peter. "What about Missy?"

"She's--the doctor says she's dying, " said the man, adding, with aslight suggestion of importance, blended with the evident grief he felt:"Sally, and Bridget Milligan are dead already. "

"And what can I do?" said Peter, sympathetically, if very much at sea. 

"Missy wants to see you before she goes. It's only a child's wish, sir, and you needn't trouble about it. But I had to promise her I'd come andask you. I hope it's no offence?"

"No. " Peter rose, and, passing to the next room, took his hat, and thetwo went into the street together. 

"What is the trouble?" asked Peter, as they walked. 

"We don't know, sir. They were all took yesterday, and two are deadalready. " The man wiped the tears from his eyes with his shirtsleeve, smearing the red brick dust with which it was powdered, over his face. 

"You've had a doctor?"

"Not till this morning. We didn't think it was bad at first. "

"What is your name?"

"Blackett, sir--Jim Blackett. "

Peter began to see daylight. He remembered both a Sally and MatildaBlackett. --That was probably "Missy. "

A walk of six blocks transferred them to the centre of the tenementdistrict. Two flights of stairs brought them to the Blackett's rooms. Onthe table of the first, which was evidently used both as a kitchen andsitting-room, already lay a coffin containing a seven-year-old girl. Candles burned at the four corners, adding to the bad air and heat. Inthe room beyond, in bed, with a tired-looking woman tending her, lay achild of five. Wan and pale as well could be, with perspiration standingin great drops on the poor little hot forehead, the hand of death, as itso often does, had put something into the face never there before. 

"Oh, Mister Peter, " the child said, on catching sight of him, "I saidyou'd come. "

Peter took his handkerchief and wiped the little head. Then he took anewspaper, lying on a chair, twisted it into a rude fan, and beganfanning the child as he sat on the bed. 

"What did you want me for?" he asked. 

"Won't you tell me the story you read from the book? The one about thelittle girl who went to the country, and was given a live dove and realflowers. "

Peter began telling the story as well as he could remember it, but itwas never finished. For while he talked another little girl went to thecountry, a far country, from which there is no return--and a veryordinary little story ended abruptly. 

The father and mother took the death very calmly. Peter asked them a fewquestions, and found that there were three other children, the eldest ofwhom was an errand boy, and therefore away. The others, twin babies, hadbeen cared for by a woman on the next floor. He asked about money, andfound that they had not enough to pay the whole expenses of the doublefuneral. 

"But the undertaker says he'll do it handsome, and will let the part Ihaven't money for, run, me paying it off in weekly payments, " the manexplained, when Peter expressed some surprise at the evident needlessexpense they were entailing on themselves. 

While he talked, the doctor came in. 

"I knew there was no chance, " he said, when told of the death. "And youremember I said so, " he added, appealing to the parents. 

"Yes, that's what he said, " responded the father. 

"Well, " said the doctor, speaking in a brisk, lively way peculiar tohim, "I've found what the matter was. "

"No?" said the mother, becoming interested at once. 

"It was the milk, " the doctor continued. "I thought there was somethingwrong with it, the moment I smelt it, but I took some home to makesure. " He pulled a paper out of his pocket. "That's the test, and Dr. Plumb, who has two cases next door, found it was just the same there. "

The Blacketts gazed at the written analysis, with wonder, notunderstanding a word of it. Peter looked too, when they had satisfiedtheir curiosity. As he read it, a curious expression came into his face. A look not unlike that which his face had worn on the deck of the"Sunrise. " It could hardly be called a change of expression, but rathera strengthening and deepening of his ordinary look. 

"That was in the milk drunk by the children?" he asked, placing hisfinger on a particular line. 

"Yes, " replied the doctor. "The milk was bad to start with, and wasdrugged to conceal the fact. These carbonates sometimes work veryunevenly, and I presume this particular can of milk got more than itsshare of the doctoring. 

"There are almost no glycerides, " remarked Peter, wishing to hold thedoctor till he should have had time to think. 

"No, " said the doctor. "It was skim milk. "

"You will report it to the Health Board?" asked Peter. 

"When I'm up there, " said the doctor. "Not that it will do any good. Butthe law requires it"

"Won't they investigate?"

"They'll investigate too much. The trouble with them is, theyinvestigate, but don't prosecute. "

"Thank you, " said Peter. He shook hands with the parents, and wentupstairs to the fourth floor. The crape on a door guided him to whereBridget Milligan lay. Here preparations had gone farther. Not merelywere the candles burning, but four bottles, with the corks partly drawn, were on the cold cooking stove, while a wooden pail filled with beer, reposed in the embrace of a wash-tub, filled otherwise with ice. Peterasked a few questions. There was only an elder brother and sister. Patrick worked as a porter. Ellen rolled cigars. They had a little moneylaid up. Enough to pay for the funeral. "Mr. Moriarty gave us the whiskyand beer at half price, " the girl explained incidentally. "Thank you, sir. We don't need anything. " Peter rose to go. "Bridget was oftenspeaking of you to us. And I thank you for what you did for her. "

Peter went down, and called next door, to see Dr. Plumb's patients. These were in a fair way for recovery. 

"They didn't get any of the milk till last night, " the gray-haired, rather sad-looking doctor told him, "and I got at them early thismorning. Then I suspected the milk at once, and treated themaccordingly. I've been forty years doing this sort of thing, and it'sgenerally the milk. Dr. Sawyer, next door, is a new man, and doesn't gethold quite as quick. But he knows more of the science of the thing, andcan make a good analysis. "

"You think they have a chance?"

"If this heat will let up a bit" said the doctor, mopping his forehead. "It's ninety-eight in here; that's enough to kill a sound child. "

"Could they be moved?"

"To-morrow, perhaps. "

"Mrs. Dooley, could you take your children away to the countryto-morrow, if I find a place for you?"

"It's very little money I have, sir. "

"It won't cost you anything. Can you leave your family?"

"There's only Moike. And he'll do very well by himself, " he was told. 

"Then if the children can go, be ready at 10:15 to-morrow, and you shallall go up for a couple of weeks to my mother's in Massachusetts. They'llhave plenty of good food there, " he explained to the doctor, "grass andflowers close to the house and woods not far away. "

"That will fix them, " said the doctor. 

"About this milk. Won't the Health Board punish the sellers?" Peterasked. 

"Probably not, " he was told "It's difficult to get them to do anything, and at this season so many of them are on vacations, it is doubly hardto make them stir. "

Peter went to the nearest telegraph, and sent a dispatch to his mother. Then he went back to his office, and sitting down, began to study hiswall. But he was not thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. He wasthinking of his first case. He had found a client. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE CASE. 

Peter went to work the next morning at an hour which most of us, if weare indiscreet enough to wake, prefer to use as the preface to a furthertwo to four hours' nap. He had spent his evening in a freshening of hisknowledge in certain municipal laws, and other details which he thoughthe might need, and as early as five o clock he was at work in thetenement district, asking questions and taking notes. The inquiry tooklittle skill The milk had come from the cart of a certain company, whichpassed daily through the locality, not to supply orders, but to peddlemilk to whoever cared to buy. Peter had the cart pointed out thatmorning, but, beyond making a note of the exact name of the company, hepaid no attention to it. He was aiming at bigger game than a milk cartor its driver. 

His work was interrupted only by his taking Mrs. Dooley and the twochildren to the train. That done, Peter walked northwardly andwestwardly, till he had nearly reached the river front. It took somelittle inquiry, but after a while he stumbled on a small shanty whichhad a sign:

NATIONAL MILK COMPANY. 

OFFICE. 

The place, however, was closed and no one around seemed connected withit, though a number of milk carts were standing about. Close to thesewas a long line of sheds, which in turn backed up against a greatbrewery. A couple of men lounged at the door of the sheds. Peter walkedup to them, and asked if they could tell him where he could find any oneconnected with the milk company. 

"The boss is off for lunch, " said one. "I can take an order, if that'swhat you want. "

Peter said it was not an order, and began chatting with the men. Beforehe had started to question them, a third man, from inside the sheds, joined the group at the door. 

"That cow's dead, " he remarked as he came up. 

"Is it?" said the one called Bill. Both rose, and went into the shed. Peter started to go with them. 

"You can't come in, " said the new-comer. 

But Peter passed in, without paying the least attention to him. 

"Come back, " called the man, following Peter. 

Peter turned to him: "You are one of the employees of the National MilkCompany?" he asked. 

"Yes, " said the man, "and we have orders--"

Peter usually let a little pause occur after a remark to him, but inthis case he spoke before the man completed his speech. He spoke, too, with an air of decision and command that quieted the man. 

"Go back to your work, " he said, "and don't order me round. I know whatI'm about. " Then he walked after the other two men as rapidly as thedimness permitted. The employee scratched his head, and then followed. 

Dim as the light was, Peter could discern that he was passing betweentwo rows of cows, with not more than space enough for men to pass eachother between the rows. It was filthy, and very warm, and there was apeculiar smell in the air which Peter did not associate with a cowstable. It was a kind of vapor which brought some suggestion to hismind, yet one he could not identify. Presently he came upon the two men. One had lighted a lantern and was examining a cow that lay on theground. That it was dead was plain. But what most interested Peter, although he felt a shudder of horror at the sight, were the rotted tailand two great sores on the flank that lay uppermost. 

"That's a bad-looking cow, " he said. 

"Ain't it?" replied the one with the lantern. "But you can't help theirhavin' them, if you feed them on mash. "

"Hold your tongue, Bill, " said the man who had followed Peter. 

"Take some of your own advice, " said Peter, turning quickly, andspeaking in a voice that made the man step back. A terrible feeling waswelling up in Peter's heart. He thought of the poor littlefever-stricken children. He saw the poor fever-stricken cow. He wouldlike to--to--. 

He dropped the arm he had unconsciously raised. "Give me that lantern, "he demanded. 

The man hesitated and looked at the others. 

"Give me that lantern, " said Peter, speaking low, but his voice ringingvery clear. 

The lantern was passed to him, and taking it, he walked along the lineof cows. He saw several with sores more or less developed. One or two hesaw in the advanced stages of the disease, where the tail had begun torot away. The other men followed him on his tour of inspection, andwhispered together nervously. It did not take Peter long to examine allhe wanted to see. Handing back the lantern at the door, he said: "Giveme your names. "

The men looked nonplussed, and shifted their weights uneasily from legto leg. 

"You, " said Peter, looking at the man who had interfered with him. 

"Wot do yer want with it?" he was asked. 

"That's my business. What's your name?"

"John Tingley. "

"Where do you live?"

"310 West 61st Street. "

Peter obtained and wrote down the names and addresses of the trio. Hethen went to the "office" of the company, which was now opened. 

"Is this an incorporated company?" he asked of the man tilted back in achair. 

"No, " said the man, adding two chair legs to terra firma, and looking atPeter suspiciously. 

"Who owns it?" Peter queried. 

"I'm the boss. "

"That isn't what I asked. "

"That's what I answered. "

"And your name is?"

"James Coldman. "

"Do you intend to answer my question?"

"Not till I know your business. "

"I'm here to find out against whom to get warrants for a criminalprosecution. "

"For what?"

"The warrant will say. "

The man squirmed in his chair. "Will you give me till to-morrow?"

"No. The warrant is to be issued to-day. Decide at once, whether you oryour principal, shall be the man to whom it shall be served. "

"I guess you'd better make it against me, " said the man. 

"Very well, " said Peter. "Of course you know your employer will be rundown, and as I'm not after the rest of you, you will only get him a fewdays safety at the price of a term in prison. "

"Well, I've got to risk it, " said the man. 

Peter turned and walked away. He went down town to the Blacketts. 

"I want you to carry the matter to the courts, " he told the father. "These men deserve punishment, and if you'll let me go on with it, itshan't cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well, you'llprobably get some money out of it. "

Blackett gave his assent. So too did Patrick Milligan, and "Moike"Dooley. They had won fame already by the deaths and wakes, but a "coortcase" promised to give them prestige far beyond what even thesedistinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter, andwarrants were sworn to and issued against the "boss" as principal, andthe driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on thefollowing morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night, nothing else was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in theneighborhood. Even Mrs. Blackett and Ellen Milligan forgot their grief, and held a joint _soirée_ on their front stoop. 

"Shure, it's mighty hard for Mrs. Dooley, that she's away!" said one. "She'll be feeling bad when she knows what she's missed. "

The next morning, Peter, the two doctors, the Blacketts, the Milligans, Dooley, the milk quintet, and as many inhabitants of the "district" ascould crush their way in, were in court by nine o'clock. The plaintiffsand their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of theproceedings. The examinations were purely formal except in one instance, when Peter asked for the "name or names of the owner or owners" of theNational Milk Company. Here the defendant's attorney, a shrewd criminallawyer, interfered, and there was a sharp passage at arms, in which anattempt was made to anger Peter. But he kept his head, and in the endcarried his point. The owner turned out to be the proprietor of thebrewery, as Peter had surmised, who thus utilized the mash from his vatsin feeding cattle. But on Peter's asking for an additional warrantagainst him, the defendant's lawyer succeeded in proving, if thestatement of the overseer proved it, that the brewer was quite ignorantthat the milk sold in the "district" was what had been unsalable the daybefore to better customers, and that the skimming and doctoring of itwas unknown to him. So an attempt to punish the rich man as a criminalwas futile. He could afford to pay for straw men. 

"Arrah!" said Dooley to Peter as they passed out of the court, "Oi thinkye moight have given them a bit av yer moind. "

"Wait till the trial, " said Peter. "We mustn't use up our powder on theskirmish line. "

So the word was passed through the district that "theer'd be fun at therale trial, " and it was awaited with intense interest by five thousandpeople. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

NEW YORK JUSTICE. 

Peter saw the District Attorney the next morning for a few moments, andhanded over to him certain memoranda of details that had not appeared inthe committing court's record. 

"It shall go before the grand jury day after to-morrow, " that officialtold him, without much apparent interest in the matter. 

"How soon can it be tried, if they find a true bill? asked Peter. 

"Can't say, " replied the official. 

"I merely wished to know, " said Peter, "because three of the witnessesare away, and I want to have them back in time. "

"Probably a couple of weeks, " yawned the man, and Peter, taking thehint, departed. 

The rest of the morning was spent in drawing up the papers in threecivil suits against the rich brewer. Peter filed them as soon ascompleted, and took the necessary steps for their prompt service. 

These produced an almost immediate result, in the shape of a call thenext morning from the same lawyer who had defended the milkmen in thepreliminary examination. Peter, as he returned from his midday meal, metthe lawyer on the stairs. 

"Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning, " said the man, whose name was Dummer. "I've just left your office, finding it closed. "

"Come in, " said Peter. 

The lawyer glanced around the plain room, and a quiet look ofsatisfaction came over his face. The two sat down. 

"About those cases, Mr. Stirling?"

"Well?"

"For reasons you can easily understand, we don't wish them to come totrial. "

"Well?"

"And we take it for granted that your clients will be quite willing tosettle them. "

"We will talk about that, after the criminal trial is over"

"Why not now?"

"Because we hope to make Coldman speak the truth in the trial, and thusbe able to reach Bohlmann. "

"You're wasting your time. "

"Not if there's the smallest chance of sending the brewer to prison. "

"There isn't. Coldman will stick to what he said if the thing is evertried, which it won't be. "

Peter eyed Dummer without changing a muscle. "The District Attorneytold me that it ought to be in the courts in a couple of weeks. "

Dummer smiled blandly, and slowly closed one eye. "The District Attorneytries to tell the truth, " he said, "and I have no doubt he thought thatwas what he was telling you. Now, name your figure?"

"The civil suits will not be compromised till the criminal one isfinished. "

"But I tell you the criminal one is dead. Squashed. Bohlmann and I haveseen the right people, and they've seen the District Attorney. That casewon't even go to the grand jury. So now, drop it, and say what you'llsettle the civil suits for?"

"James Coldman shall go to prison for killing those children, " saidPeter, "and till he does, it is waste time to talk of dropping orsettling anything. "

"Humph, " half laughed the lawyer, though with obvious disgust at themulishness in Peter's face and voice. "You think you know it all. Butyou don't. You can work for ten years, and that case will be no nearertrial than it is to-day. I tell you, young man, you don't know NewYork. "

"I don't know New York, " said Peter, "but--"

"Exactly, " interrupted Dummer. "And I do. "

"Probably, " replied Peter quietly, "You may know New York, Mr. Dummer, but you don't know me. That case shall be tried. "

"Well, " laughed Dummer, "if you'll agree not to press the civil suits, till that's out of the way, we shall have no need to compromise. Good-day. "

The next morning Peter went to the District Attorney's office, andinquired for him. 

"He's gone to Bar Harbor for a couple of weeks' vacation, " he was told. 

"Whom must I see in his stead?" And after some time Peter was broughtface to face with the acting official. 

"Mr. Nelson told me he should present the Coldman case to the grand juryto-day, and finding he has left the city, I wish to know who has it incharge?" asked Peter. 

"He left all the presentments with me, " the deputy replied, "but therewas no such case as that. "

"Could he have left it with some one else to attend to?"

"No. "

Peter went back to his office, took down the Code and went over certainsections. His eyes had rather a sad look as they gazed at his wall, after his study, as if what he had read had not pleased him. But if theeyes were sad, the heavy jaw had a rigidness and setness which gave noindication of weakness or yielding. 

For two weeks Peter waited, and then once more invaded officialdom. 

"The District Attorney's engaged, and can't see you, " he was told. Petercame again in the afternoon, with the same result. The next morning, brought only a like answer, and this was duplicated in the afternoon. The third day he said he would wait, and sat for hours in the ante-room, hoping to be called, or to intercept the officer. But it was only to seeman after man ushered into the private office, and finally to be toldthat the District Attorney had gone to lunch, and would not return thatday. The man who told him this grinned, and evidently considered it agood joke, nor had Peter been unconscious that all the morning theclerks and underlings had been laughing, and guying him as he waited. Yet his jaw was only set the more rigidly, as he left the office. 

He looked up the private address of the officer in the directory, andwent to see him that evening. He was wise enough not to send in hisname, and Mr. Nelson actually came into the hall to see him. 

The moment he saw Peter, however, he said: "Oh, it's you. Well, I nevertalk business except in business hours. "

"I have tried to see you--" began Peter. 

"Try some more, " interrupted the man, smiling, and going toward theparlor. 

Peter followed him, calmly. "Mr. Nelson, " he said, "do you intend topush that case?"

"Of course, " smiled Nelson. "After I've finished four hundredindictments that precede it. "

"Not till then?"

"No. "

"Mr. Nelson, can't you overlook politics for a moment, and think of--"

"Who said anything of politics?" interrupted Nelson, "I merely tell youthere are indictments which have been in my office for five years andare yet to be tried, and that your case is going to take its turn. "Nelson passed into the back room, leaving his caller alone. 

Peter left the room, and passed out of the front door, just as a man wasabout to ring the bell. 

"Is Mr. Nelson in?" asked the man. 

"I have just left him, Mr. Dummer, " said Peter. 

"Ah! Good-evening, Mr. Stirling. I think I can guess your business. Well. How do you come on?" Dummer was obviously laughing internally. 

Peter started down the steps without answering. 

"Perhaps I can help you?" said Dummer. "I know Mr. Nelson very well inpolitics, and so does Mr. Bohlmann. If you'll tell me what you areafter, I'll try to say a good word for you?"

"I don't need your help, thank you, " said Peter calmly. 

"Good, " said Dummer. "You think a briefless lawyer of thirty can go italone, do you, even against the whole city government?"

"I know I have not influence enough to get that case pushed, Mr. Dummer, but the law is on my side, and I'm not going to give up yet. "

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" said Dummer, sneeringly. 

"Fight, " said Peter, walking away. 

He went back to his office, and sitting at his desk, wrote a formalletter to the District Attorney, calling his attention to the case, andasking information as to when it would be brought to trial. Then hecopied this, and mailed the original. Then he read the Code again. Afterthat he went over the New York reports, making notes. For a second timethe morning sun found Peter still at his desk. But this time his headwas not bowed upon his blotter, as if he were beaten or dead. His wholefigure was stiff with purpose, and his jaw was as rigid as a mastiff's. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE FIGHT. 

The only reply which Peter received to his letter to theDistrict-Attorney, was a mere formal reiteration of that officer'sverbal statement, that the case would be taken up in its due order, after those which preceded it had been dealt with. Peter knew enough ofthe numberless cases which never reach trial to understand that thismeant in truth, the laying aside of the case, till it was killed by thestatute of limitations. 

On receiving this reply, Peter made another move, by going to threenewspapers, and trying to see their managing editors. One declined tosee him. A second merely told Peter, after his statement, which theeditor only allowed him partly to explain, that he was very busy andcould not take time to look into it, but that Peter might come again inabout a month. The third let Peter tell his story, and then shook hishead:

"I have no doubt you are right, but it isn't in shape for us to use. Such a case rarely goes to trial for six months or a year, and so, if webegin an attack now, it will simply fall flat. If you can get us awritten statement from the District Attorney that he doesn't intend topush the case, we can do something, but I suppose he's far too shrewd tocommit himself. "

"Yes. "

"Then there's no use in beginning an attack, for you really have nopowder. Come in again a year from now, and then we may be able to saysomething, if he hasn't acted in the meantime. "

Peter left the office, knowing that that chance of pressure was gone. Ifthe papers of the Republican party would not use it, it was idlespending time in seeing or trying to see the editors of the Democraticpapers. He wasted therefore no more efforts on newspapers. 

The next three days Peter passed in the New York Law Institute Library, deep in many books. Then he packed his bag, and took an afternoon trainfor Albany. He was going to play his last card, with the odds of athousand to one against his winning. But that very fact only nerved himthe more. 

Promptly at ten o'clock, the morning after his arrival at the statecapital, he sent in his card to the Governor. Fortunately for him, themiddle of August is not a busy time with that official, and after aslight delay, he was ushered into the executive chamber. 

Peter had been planning this interview for hours, and withoutexplanation or preamble, he commenced his statement. He knew that hemust interest the Governor promptly, or there would be a good chance ofhis being bowed out. So he began with a description of the cow-stables. Then he passed to the death of the little child. He sketched bothrapidly, not taking three minutes to do it, but had he been pleading forhis own life, he could not have spoken more earnestly nor feelingly. 

The Governor first looked surprised at Peter's abruptness; then weary;then interested; and finally turned his revolving chair so as to put hisback to Peter. And after Peter had ended his account, he remained so fora moment. That back was very expressive to Peter. For the first time hefelt vanquished. 

But suddenly the Governor turned, and Peter saw tears on his cheek. Andhe said, after a big swallow, "What do you want of me?" in a voice thatmeant everything to Peter. 

"Will you listen to me for five minutes?" asked Peter, eagerly. 

"Yes. "

Than Peter read aloud a statement of the legal proceedings, and of hisinterviews with the District Attorney and with Dummer, in the clearestand most compact sentences he had been able to frame. 

"You want me to interfere?" asked the Governor. 

"Yes. "

"I'm afraid it's not possible. I can of course remove the DistrictAttorney, but it must be for cause, and I do not see that you canabsolutely prove his non intention to prosecute those scoundrels. "

"That is true. After study, I did not see that you could remove him. Butthere's another remedy. "

"What is that?"

"Through the State Attorney you can appoint a special counsel for thiscase. "

"Are you sure?"

Peter laid one of the papers in his hands before the Governor. Afterreading it, the Governor rang a bell. 

"Send for Mr. Miller, " he said to the boy. Then he turned, and withPeter went over the court papers, till Mr. Miller put in an appearance. 

"State the matter to Mr. Miller, " said the Governor, and Peter read hispaper again and told what he wished. 

"The power unquestionably exists, " said the Attorney-General. "But ithas not been used in many years. Perhaps I had better look into it abit. "

"Go with Mr. Miller, Mr. Stirling, and work over your papers with him, "said the Governor. 

"Thank you, " said Peter simply, but his hand and face and voice said farmore, as he shook hands. He went out with the first look of hope hisface had worn for two years. 

The ground which the Attorney-General and his subordinates had totraverse was that over which Peter had so well travelled already, thathe felt very much at home, while his notes indeed aided the study, andwere doubly welcomed, because the summer season had drained the officeof its underlings. Half as assistant, and half as principal, he workedtill three o'clock, with pleasure that grew, as he saw that the opinionof the Attorney-General seemed to agree more and more with his own. Thenthey returned to the Governor, to whom the Attorney-General gave hisopinion that his present conclusion was that the Governor could empowerhim, or some appointee, to prosecute the case. 

"Well, " said the Governor, "I'm glad you think so. But if we find thatit isn't possible, Mr. Stirling, I'll have a letter written to theDistrict Attorney that may scare him into proceeding with the case. "

Peter thanked him, and rose to go. 

"Are you going to New York at once?" asked the Governor. 

"Yes. Unless I can be of use here. "

"Suppose you dine with me, and take a late train?"

"It will be a great pleasure, " said Peter. 

"Very well. Six sharp. " Then after Peter had left the room, the Governorasked, "How is he on law?"

"Very good. Clear-headed and balanced. "

"He knows how to talk, " said the Governor. "He brought my heart up in mymouth as no one has done in years. Now, I must get word to some of thepeople in New York to find out who he is, and if this case has anyconcealed boomerang in it. "

The dinner was a very quiet one with only the Governor and his wife. Theformer must have told his better-half something about Peter, for shestudied him with a very kind look in her face, and prosaic and silent asPeter was, she did not seem bored. After the dinner was eaten, and someone called to talk politics with the Governor, she took Peter off toanother room, and made him tell her about the whole case, and how hecame to take it up, and why he had come to the Governor for help. Shecried over it, and after Peter had gone, she went upstairs and looked ather own two sleeping boys, quite large enough to fight the world ontheir own account, but still little children to the mother's heart, andhad another cry over them. She went downstairs later to the Governor'sstudy, and interrupting him in the work to which he had settled down, put her arms about his neck, and kissed him. "You must help him, William, " she said. "Do everything you can to have those scoundrelspunished, and let him do it. "

The Governor only laughed; but he pushed back his work, and his wife satdown, and told of her admiration and sympathy for Peter's fight. Therewas a bad time ahead for the criminal and his backers. They might havepolitical influence of the strongest character, fighting their battle, but there was a bigger and more secret one at work. Say what we please, the strongest and most subtle "pull" this world as yet contains is theunder-current of a woman's influence. 

Peter went back to New York that night, feeling hopeful, yet doubtful. It almost seemed impossible that he had succeeded, yet at twenty-three, failure is hard to believe in. So he waited, hoping to see some move onthe part of the State, and dreaming of nothing better. But better came, for only five days after his return his mail brought him a largeenvelope, and inside that envelope was a special commission, which madePeter a deputy of the Attorney-General, to prosecute in the Court ofSessions, the case of "The People of the State of New York _versus_James Goldman. " If any one could have seen Peter's face, as he read thepurely formal instrument, he would not have called it dull or heavy. ForPeter knew that he had won; that in place of justice blocking andhindering him, every barrier was crushed down; that this prosecutionrested with no officials, but was for him to push; that that littlepiece of parchment bound every court to support him; that if necessaryfifty thousand troops would enforce the power which granted it. Withinthree hours, the first formal steps to place the case in the courts hadbeen taken, and Peter was working at the evidence and law in the matter. 

These steps produced a prompt call from Dummer, who showed considerablyless assurance than hitherto, even though he tried to take Peter'ssuccess jauntily. He wanted Peter to drop the whole thing, and hinted atlarge sums of money, but Peter at first did not notice his hints, andfinally told him that the case should be tried. Then Dummer pleaded fordelay. Peter was equally obdurate. Later they had a contest in the courtover this. But Peter argued in a quiet way, which nevertheless caughtthe attention of the judge, who ended the dispute by refusing topostpone. The judge hadn't intended to act in this way, and was rathersurprised at his own conduct. The defendant's lawyer was furious. 

No stone was left unturned, however, to prevent the case going to trial. Pressure of the sharpest and closest kind was brought to bear on theGovernor himself--pressure which required backbone to resist. But hestood by his act: perhaps because he belonged to a different party thanthat in control of the city government; perhaps because of Peter'saccount, and the truthfulness in his face as he told it; perhaps becausethe Attorney-General had found it legal; perhaps because of his wife;perhaps it was a blending of all these. Certain it is, that all attemptsto block failed, and in the last week in August it came before thecourt. 

Peter had kept his clients informed as to his struggles, and they weretremendously proud of the big battle and ultimate success, as indeedwere the residents of the whole district, who felt that it was reallytheir own case. Then the politicians were furious and excited over it, while the almost unexampled act of the Governor had created a good dealof public interest in the case. So the court was packed and the presshad reporters in attendance. Since the trial was fully reported, it isneedless to go over the testimony here. What Peter could bring out, isalready known. The defence, by "experts, " endeavored to prove that thecowsheds were not in a really unhygienic condition; that feeding cows on"mash" did not affect their milk, nor did mere "skin sores;" that themilk had been sold by mistake, in ignorance that it was thirty-six hoursold, and skimmed; and that the proof of this particular milk being thecause of the deaths was extremely inadequate and doubtful. The onlydramatic incident in the testimony was the putting the two littleDooleys (who had returned in fat and rosy condition, the day before) onthe stand. 

"Did you find country milk different from what you have here?" Peterasked the youngest. 

"Oh, yes, " she said. "Here it comes from a cart, but in the country itsquirts from a cow. "

"Order, " said the judge to the gallery. 

"Does it taste differently?"

"Yes. It's sweet, as if they put sugar in it. It's lovely I like cowmilk better than cart milk. "

"Damn those children!" said Dummer, to the man next him. 

The event of the trial came, however, when Peter summed up. He spokequietly, in the simplest language, using few adjectives and noinvective. But as the girl at the Pierces' dinner had said, "hedescribes things so that one sees them. " He told of the fever-strickencows, and he told of the little fever-stricken children in such a waythat the audience sobbed; his clients almost had to be ordered out ofcourt; the man next Dummer mopped his eyes with his handkerchief; thejudge and jury thoughtfully covered their eyes (so as to think thebetter); the reporters found difficulty (owing to the glary light), inwriting the words despite their determination not to miss one; and eventhe prisoner wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Peter was unconscious that hewas making a great speech; great in its simplicity, and great in itspathos. He afterwards said he had not given it a moment's thought andhad merely said what he felt. Perhaps his conclusion indicated why hewas able to speak with the feeling he did. For he said:

"This is not merely the case of the State _versus_ James Goldman. It isthe case of the tenement-house children, against the inhumanity of man'sgreed. "

Dummer whispered to the man next him, "There's no good. He's done forus. " Then he rose, and made a clever defence. He knew it was wasting histime. The judge charged against him, and the jury gave the full verdict:"Man-slaughter in the first degree. " Except for the desire for it, thesentence created little stir. Every one was still feeling and thinkingof Peter's speech. 

And to this day that speech is talked of in "the district. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE CONSEQUENCES. 

Nor was it the district alone which talked of the speech. Perhaps theresidents of it made their feelings most manifest, for they organized atorchlight procession that night, and went round and made Peter anaddress of thanks. Mr. Dennis Moriarty being the spokesman. The judgeshook hands with him after the trial, and said that he had handled hiscase well. The defendant's lawyer told him he "knew his business. " Anumber of the reporters sought a few words with him, and blended praisewith questions. 

The reporters did far more than this, however. It was the dull newspaperseason, and the case had turned out to be a thoroughly "journalistic"one. So they questioned and interviewed every one concerned, and aftercleverly winnowing the chaff, which in this case meant the dull, fromthe gleanings, most of them gave several columns the next morning to thestory. Peter's speech was printed in full, and proved to read almost aswell as it had sounded. The reporters were told, and repeated the taleswithout much attempt at verification, that Peter had taken the matter upwithout hope of profit; had paid the costs out of his own pocket; hadrefused to settle "though offered nine thousand dollars:" had "saved theDooley children's lives by sending them into the country;" and "had paidfor the burials of the little victims. " So all gave him a puff, and twoof the better sort wrote really fine editorials about him. At electiontime, or any other than a dull season, the case would have had smallattention, but August is the month, to reverse an old adage, when "anynews is good news. "

The press began, too, a crusade against the swill-milk dealers, and themen who had allowed all this to be possible. "What is the Health Boardabout, that poison for children can be sold in the public streets?""Where is the District Attorney, that prosecutions for the public goodhave to be brought by public-spirited citizens?" they demanded. Lynx-eyed reporters tracked the milk-supplies of the city, and thoughthe alarm had been given, and many cows had been hastily sent to thecountry, they were able to show up certain companies, and print detailswhich were quite lurid enough, when sufficiently "colored" by theirskilful pens. Most residents of New York can remember the "swill-milk"or "stump-tail milk" exposures and prosecutions of that summer, and ofthe reformation brought about thereby in the Board of Health. As thedetails are not pleasant reading, any one who does not remember isreferred to the daily press, and, if they want horrible pictures, toFrank Leslie's Illustrated Weekly. Except for the papers, it is to bequestioned if Peter's case would have resulted in much more than thepunishment of the man actually convicted; but by the press taking thematter up, the moment's indignation was deepened and intensified to adegree which well-nigh swept every cow-stable off the island, and drovethe proper officials into an activity leading to great reforms. 

No one was more surprised than Peter, at the sudden notoriety, or at thefar-reaching results. He collected the articles, and sent them to hismother. He wrote:

 "Don't think that this means any great start. In truth, I am a hundred dollars the poorer for the case, and shall have to cut off a few expenses for the rest of the year. I tell you this, because I know you will not think for a moment that I grudge the money, and you are not to spoil my trifling self-denial by any offer of assistance You did quite enough in taking in those two little imps. Were they very bad? Did they tramp on your flowers, and frighten poor old Russet [Russet was the cat] out of his fast waning lives? It was a great pleasure to me to see them so plump and brown, and I thank you for it. Their testimony in court was really amusing, though at the same time pathetic. People tell me that my speech was a good one. What is more surprising, they tell me that I made the prisoner, and Mr. Bohlmann, the brewer, who sat next to Dummer, both cry. I confess I grieve over the fact that I was not prosecuting Bohlmann. He is the real criminal, yet goes scot free. But the moral effect is, I suppose, the important thing, and any one to whom responsibility could be traced (and convicted) gives us that. I find that Mr. Bohlmann goes to the same church I attend!"

His mother was not surprised. She had always known her Peter was a hero, and needed no "York papers" to teach her the fact. Still she read everyline of the case, and of the subsequent crusade. She read Peter's speechagain and again, stopping to sob at intervals, and hugging the clippingto her bosom from time to time, as the best equivalent for Peter, whilesobbing: "My boy, my darling boy. " Every one in the mill-town knew ofit, and the clippings were passed round among Peter's friends, beginningwith the clergyman and ending with his school-boy companions. They allwondered why Peter had spoken so briefly. "If I could talk like that, "said a lawyer to the proud mother, "I'd have spoken for a couple ofhours. " Mrs. Stirling herself wished it had been longer. Four columns ofevidence, and only a little over a half column of speech! It couldn'thave taken him twenty minutes at the most. "Even the other lawyer, whohad nothing to say but lies, took over a column to his speech. And hiswas printed close together, while that of Peter's was spread out (_e. G. _solid and leaded) making the difference in length all the greater. " Mrs. Stirling wondered if there could be a conspiracy against her Peter, onthe part of the Metropolitan press. She had promptly subscribed for ayear to the New York paper which glorified Peter the most, supposingthat from this time on his name would appear on the front page. When shefound it did not and that it was not mentioned in the press and HealthBoard crusade against the other "swill-milk" dealers, she becameconvinced that there was some definite attempt to rob Peter of his duefame. "Why, Peter began it all, " she explained, "and now the papers andHealth Board pretend it's all their doings. " She wrote a letter to theeditor of the paper--a letter which was passed round the office, andlaughed over not a little by the staff. She never received an answer, nor did the paper give Peter the more attention because of it. 

Two days after the trial, Peter had another call from Dummer. 

"You handled that case in great style, Mr. Stirling, " he told Peter. "You know the ropes as well as far older men. You got just the rightevidence out of your witnesses, and not a bit of superfluous rubbish. That's the mistake most young men make. They bury their testimony inunessential details, I tell you, those two children were worth all therest put together. Did you send them to the country on purpose to getthat kind of evidence?"

"No, " said Peter. 

"Well, every man in that jury was probably a father, and that child'stalk took right hold of them. Not but that your speech would have donethe business. You were mighty clever in just telling what you saw, andnot going into the testimony. You could safely trust the judge to dothat. It was a great speech. "

"Thank you, " said Peter. 

"He's not to be taffied, " thought the lawyer. "Plain talking's the wayto deal with him. " He ended his allusions to the trial, and said: "Now, Mr. Stirling, Mr. Bohlmann doesn't want to have these civil suits go anyfurther. Mr. Bohlmann's a man of respectability, with a nice wife andsome daughters. The newspapers are giving him quite enough music withoutyour dragging him into court. "

"It's the only way I can reach him, " said Peter. 

"But you mustn't want to reach him. He's really a well-meaning man, andif you ask your clergyman--for I believe you go to Dr. Purple'schurch?--you'll find he's very charitable and generous with his money. "

Peter smiled curiously. "Distributing money made that way is not much ofa charity. "

"He didn't know, " said the lawyer. Then catching a look which came intoPeter's face, he instantly added, "at least, he had no idea it was thatbad. He tells me that he hadn't been inside those cow-sheds for fouryears. "

"Come and see me to-morrow, " said Peter. 

After Dummer had gone, Peter walked uptown, and saw his clergyman. 

"Yes, " he was told, "Mr. Bohlmann has always stood high in the church, and has been liberal and sensible with his money. I can't tell you howthis whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling. It must beterrible for his wife. His daughters, too, are such nice sweet girls. You've probably noticed them in church?"

"No, " Peter had not noticed them. He did not add that he did not noticeyoung girls--that for some reason they had not interested himsince--since--

"Where does he live?" inquired Peter. 

"Not ten blocks from here, " replied Dr. Purple, and named the street andnumber. 

Peter looked at his watch and, thanking the clergyman, took his leave. He did not go back to his office, but to the address, and asked for Mr. Bohlmann. A respectable butler showed him into a handsome parlor andcarried his name to the brewer. 

There were already two girls in the room. One was evidently a caller. The other, a girl with a sweet, kindly, German face, was obviously oneof the "nice" daughters. His arrival checked the flow of conversationsomewhat, but they went on comparing their summer experiences. When thebutler came back and said aloud, "Mr. Bohlmann will see you in thelibrary, Mr. Stirling, " Peter noticed that both girls turned impulsivelyto look at him, and that the daughter flushed red. 

He found Mr. Bohlmann standing uneasily on the rug by the fireplace, anda stout woman gazing out of the window, with her back to the room. 

"I had a call from your lawyer this morning, Mr. Bohlmann, " said Peter, "and I have taken the liberty of coming to see you about the cases. "

"Sid down, sid down, " said his host, nervously, though not sittinghimself. 

Peter sat down. "I want to do what is best about the matter, " he said. 

The woman turned quickly to look at him, and Peter saw that there weretears in her eyes. 

"Vell, " said the brewer, "what is dat?"

"I don't know, " said Peter, "and that's why I've come to see you. "

Mr. Bohlmann's face worked for a moment. Then suddenly he burst intotears. "I give you my word, Mr. Stirling, " he said, "that I didn't knowit was so. I haven't had a happy moment since you spoke that day incourt. " He had heretofore spoken in English with a slight German accent. But this he said in German. He sat down at the table and buried his facein his arms. His wife, who was also weeping, crossed to him, and triedto comfort him by patting him on the back. 

"I think, " said Peter, "we had best drop the suits. "

Mr. Bohlmann looked up. "It is not the money, Mr. Stirling, " he said, still speaking in German. "See. " He drew from a drawer in his desk acheck-book, and filling up a check, handed it to Peter. It was dated andsigned, but the amount was left blank. "There, " he said, "I leave it toyou what is right. "

"I think Mr. Dummer will feel we have not treated him fairly, " saidPeter, "if we settle it in this way. "

"Do not think of him. I will see that he has no cause for complaint, "the brewer said. "Only let me know it is ended, so that my wife and mydaughters--" he choked, and ended the sentence thus. 

"Very well, " said Peter. "We'll drop the suits. "

The husband and wife embraced each other in true German fashion. 

Peter rose and came to the table. "Three of the cases were for fivethousand each, and the other two were for two thousand each, " he said, and then hesitated. He wished to be fair to both sides. "I will ask youto fill in the check for eight thousand dollars. That will be two eachfor three, and one each for two. "

Mr. Bohlmann disengaged himself from his wife, and took his pen. "You donot add your fee, " he said. 

"I forgot it, " laughed Peter, and the couple laughed with him in theirhappiness. "Make it for eight thousand, two hundred and fifty. "

"Och, " said the brewer once more resuming his English. "Dat is tooleedle for vive cases. "

"No, " said Peter. "It was what I had decided to charge in case I got anydamages. "

So the check was filled in, and Peter, after a warm handshake from both, went back to his office. 

"Dat iss a fine yoong mahn, " said the brewer. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A NEW FRIEND. 

The day after this episode, Peter had the very unusual experience of anote by his morning's mail. Except for his mother's weekly letter, itwas the first he had received since Watts had sailed, two years before. For the moment he thought that it must be from him, and the color cameinto his face at the mere thought that he would have news of--of--Watts. But a moment's glance at the writing showed him he was wrong, and hetore the envelope with little interest in his face. Indeed after he hadopened it, he looked at his wall for a moment before he fixed his mindon it. 

It contained a brief note, to this effect:

 "A recent trial indicates that Mr. Stirling needs neither praise not reward as incentives for the doing of noble deeds. 

 "But one who prefers to remain unknown cannot restrain her grateful thanks to Mr. Stirling for what he did; and being debarred from such acts herself, asks that at least she may be permitted to aid him in them by enclosing a counsel fee for 'the case of the tenement children of New York against the inhumanity of men's greed. '

 "September third. "

Peter looked at the enclosure, and found it was a check for five hundreddollars. He laid it on his desk, and read the note over again. It wasbeyond question written by a lady. Every earmark showed that, from thedelicate scent of the paper, to the fine, even handwriting. Peter wantedto know who she was. He looked at the check to see by whom it wassigned; to find that it was drawn by the cashier of the bank at which itwas payable. 

Half an hour later, a rapid walk had brought him to the bank the name ofwhich was on the check. It was an uptown one, which made a specialty offamily and women's accounts. Peter asked for the cashier. 

"I've called about this check, " he said, when that officialmaterialized, handing the slip of paper to him. 

"Yes, " said the cashier kindly, though with a touch of the resignedsorrow in his voice which cashiers of "family's" and women's banksacquire. "You must sign your name on the back, on the left-hand end, andpresent it to the paying-teller, over at that window. You'll have to beidentified if the paying-teller doesn't know you. "

"I don't want the money, " said Peter, "I want to know who sent the checkto me?"

The cashier looked at it more carefully. "Oh!" he said. Then he lookedup quickly at Peter? with considerable interest, "Are you Mr. Stirling?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I filled this up by order of the president, and you'll have tosee him about it, if you want more than the money. "

"Can I see him?"

"Come this way. "

They went into a small office at the end of the bank. 

"Mr. Dyer, " said the cashier, "this is Mr. Stirling, and he's come tosee about that check. "

"Glad to see you, Mr. Stirling. Sit down. "

"I wish to learn who sent the check. "

"Very sorry we can't oblige you. We had positive instructions from theperson for whom we drew it, that no name was to be given. "

"Can you receive a letter?"

"That was forbidden too. "

"A message?"

"Nothing was said about that. "

"Then will you do me the favor to say to the lady that the check willnot be cashed till Mr. Stirling has been able to explain something toher. "

"Certainly. She can't object to that. "

"Thank you. "

"Not at all. " The president rose and escorted him to the door. "That wasa splendid speech of yours, Mr. Stirling, " he added. "I'm not a bitashamed to say that it put salt water in my old eyes. "

"I think, " said Peter, "it was the deaths of the poor little children, more than anything I said, that made people feel it. "

The next morning's mail brought Peter a second note, in the samehandwriting as that of the day before. It read:

 "Miss De Voe has received Mr. Stirling's message and will be pleased to see him in regard to the check, at half after eleven to-day (Wednesday) if he will call upon her. 

 "Miss De Voe regrets the necessity of giving Mr. Stirling such brief notice, but she leaves New York on Thursday. "

As Peter walked up town that morning, he was a little surprised that hewas so cool over his intended call. In a few minutes he would be in thepresence of a lady, the firmness of whose handwriting indicated that shewas not yet decrepit. Three years ago such a prospect would have beenreplete with terror to him. Down to that--that week at the Pierce's, hehad never gone to a place where he expected to "encounter" (for that wasthe word he formerly used) women without dread. Since that week--exceptfor the twenty-four hours of the wedding, he had not "encountered" alady. Yet here he was, going to meet an entire stranger without anyconscious embarrassment or suffering. He was even in a sense curious. Peter was not given to self-analysis, but the change was too marked aone for him to be unconscious of it. Was it merely the poise of addedyears? Was it that he had ceased to care what women thought of him? Orwas it that his discovery that a girl was lovable had made the sex lessterrible to him? Such were the questions he asked himself as he walked, and he had not answered them when he rang the bell of the old-fashioned, double house on Second Avenue. 

He was shown into a large drawing-room, the fittings of which were stillshrouded in summer coverings, preventing Peter from inferring much, evenif he had had time to do so. But the butler had scarcely left him when, with a well-bred promptness from which Peter might have drawn aninference, the rustle of a woman's draperies was heard. Rising, Peterfound himself facing a tall, rather slender woman of between thirty-fiveand forty. It did not need a second glance from even Peter's untrainedeye, to realize the suggestion of breeding in the whole atmosphere abouther. The gown was of the simplest summer material, but its verysimplicity, and a certain lack of "latest fashion" rather than"old-fashionedness" gave it a quality of respectability. Every line ofthe face, the set of the head, and even more the carriage of the figure, conveyed the "look of race. "

"I must thank you, Mr. Stirling, " she said, speaking deliberately, in alow, mellow voice, by no means so common then as our women's imitationof the English tone and inflexion has since made it, "for suiting yourtime to mine on such short notice. "

"You were very kind, " said Peter, "to comply with my request. Any timewas convenient to me. "

"I am glad it suited you. "

Peter had expected to be asked to sit down, but, nothing being said, began his explanation. 

"I am very grateful, Miss De Voe, for your note, and for the check. Ithank you for both. But I think you probably sent me the latter througha mistake, and so I did not feel justified in accepting it. "

"A mistake?"

"Yes. The papers made many errors in their statements. I'm not a 'pooryoung lawyer' as they said. My mother is comfortably off, and gives mean ample allowance. "

"Yes?"

"And what is more, " continued Peter, "while they were right in sayingthat I paid some of the expenses of the case, yet I was more than repaidby my fees in some civil suits I brought for the relatives of thechildren, which we settled very advantageously. "

"Won't you sit down, Mr. Stirling?" said Miss De Voe. "I should like tohear about the cases. "

Peter began a very simple narrative of the matter. But Miss De Voeinterjected questions or suppositions here and there, which led to otherexplanations, and before Peter had finished, he had told not merely thehistory of the cases, but much else. His mention of the two Dooleychildren had brought out the fact of their visit to his mother, and thishad explained incidentally her position in the world. The settlement ofthe cases involved the story of the visit to the brewer's home, andPeter, to justify his action, added his interview with his pastor, Peter's connection with the case compelled him to speak of his eveningsin the "angle, " and the solitary life that had sent him there. Afterwards, Peter was rather surprised at how much he had told. He didnot realize that a woman with tact and experience can, without making itevident, lead a man to tell nearly anything and everything he knows, ifshe is so minded. If women ever really take to the bar seriously, mayProvidence protect the average being in trousers, when on the witnessstand. 

As Peter talked, a clock struck. Stopping short, he rose. "I must askyour pardon, " he said. "I had no idea I had taken so much of your time. "Then putting his hand in his pocket, he produced the check. "You seethat I have made a very good thing out of the whole matter and do notneed this. "

"One moment, Mr. Stirling, " said the lady, still sitting. "Can you sparethe time to lunch with me? We will sit down at once, and you shall befree to go whenever you wish. "

Peter hesitated. He knew that he had the time, and it did not seem easyto refuse without giving an excuse, which he did not have. Yet he didnot feel that he had the right to accept an invitation which he hadperhaps necessitated by his long call. 

"Thank you, " said his hostess, before he had been able to frame ananswer. "May I trouble you to pull that bell?"

Peter pulled the bell, and coming back, tendered the check ratherawkwardly to Miss De Voe. She, however, was looking towards a doorway, which the next moment was darkened by the butler. 

"Morden, " she said, "you may serve luncheon at once. "

"Luncheon is served, madam, " said Morden. 

Miss De Voe rose. "Mr. Stirling, I do not think your explanation hasreally affected the circumstances which led me to send that check. Youacknowledge yourself that you are the poorer for that prosecution, andreceived no fees for trying it. As I wrote you, I merely was giving aretaining fee in that case, and as none other has been given, I stillwish to do it. I cannot do such things myself, but I am weal--I--I canwell afford to aid others to do them, and I hope you will let me havethe happiness of feeling that I have done my little in this matter. "

"Thank you, " said Peter. "I was quite willing to take the money, but Iwas afraid you might have sent it under a misconception. "

Miss De Voe smiled at Peter with a very nice look in her face. "I am theone to say 'thank you, ' and I am most grateful. But we will considerthat as ended, and discuss luncheon in its place. "

Peter, despite his usual unconsciousness could not but notice the beautyof the table service. The meal itself was the simplest of summerluncheons, but the silver and china and glass were such as he had neverseen before. 

"What wine will you have with your luncheon, Mr. Stirling?" he was askedby his hostess. 

"I don't--none for me, " replied Peter. 

"You don't approve of wine?" asked his hostess. 

"Personally I have no feeling about it. "

"But?" And there was a very big question mark in Miss De Voe's voice. 

"My mother is strongly prejudiced against it, so I do not take it. It isreally no deprivation to me, while it would mean great anxiety to her ifI drank. "

This started the conversation on Peter's mother and his early years, andbefore it had ended, his hostess had succeeded in learning much moreabout his origin and his New York life. The clock finally cut him shortagain, for they lingered at the table long after the meal was finished, though Miss De Voe made the pretence of eating a grape occasionally. When three o'clock struck, Peter, without the least simulating any othercause for going, rose hastily. 

"I have used up your whole afternoon, " he said, apologetically. 

"I think, " smiled Miss De Voe, "that we are equal culprits in that. Ileave town to-morrow, Mr. Stirling, but return to the city late inOctober, and if your work and inclination favor it, I hope you will cometo see me again?"

Peter looked at the silver and the china. Then he looked at Miss De Voe, so obviously an aristocrat. 

"I shall be happy to, " he said, "if, when you return, you will send meword that you wish to see me. "

Miss De Voe had slightly caught her breath while Peter hesitated. "Ibelieve he is going to refuse!" she thought to herself, a sort ofstunned amazement seizing her. She was scarcely less surprised at hisreply. 

"I never ask a man twice to call on me, Mr. Stirling, " she said, with aslight hauteur in her voice. 

"I'm sorry for that, " said Peter quietly. 

Miss De Voe caught her breath again. "Good-afternoon, " she said, holdingout her hand. "I shall hope to see you. "

"Good-bye, " said Peter, and the next moment was walking towards hisoffice. 

Miss De Voe stood for a moment thinking. "That was curious, " shethought, "I wonder if he intends to come?"

The next evening she was dining with relatives in one of the fashionablesummering places, and was telling them about her call "from Mr. Stirling, the lawyer who made that splendid speech. "

"I thought, " she said, "when I received the message, that I was going tobe buried under a bathos of thanks, or else have my gift declined withthe expectation that I would gush over the disinterestedness of therefusal. Since I couldn't well avoid seeing him, I was quite prepared tosnub him, or to take back the money without a word. But he wasn't a bitthat kind of creature. He isn't self-assured nor tonguey--rather thereverse. I liked him so, that I forced him to stay to luncheon, and madehim tell me a good deal about himself, without his knowing I was doingso. He leads a very unusual life, without seeming conscious that hedoes, and he tells about it very well. Uses just the right word everytime, so that you know exactly what he means, without taxing your ownbrain to fill up blanks. He has such a nice voice too. One that makesyou certain of the absolute truth underneath. No. He isn't good looking, though he has fine eyes, and hair. His face and figure are both tooheavy. "

"Is he a gentleman, cousin Anneke?" asked one of the party. 

"He is a little awkward, and over-blunt at moments, but nothing to whichone would give a second thought. I was so pleased with him that I askedhim to call on me. "

"It seems to me, " said another, "that you are over-paying him. "

"That was the most curious part, " replied Miss De Voe. "I'm not at allsure that he means to come. It was really refreshing not to be truckledto, but it is rather startling to meet the first man who does not wantto win his way to my visiting list. I don't think he even knows who MissDe Voe is. "

"He will find out quick enough, " laughed a girl, "and then he will dowhat they all do. "

"No, " said Miss De Voe. "I suspect it will make no difference. He isn'tthat kind, I think. I really am curious to see if I have to ask him asecond time. It will be the only case I can remember. I'm afraid, mydears, your cousin is getting to be an old woman. "

Peter, had in truth, met, and spent over four hours in the company of awoman whom every one wished to know. A woman equally famous for herlineage, her social position, her wealth and her philanthropy. It wouldnot have made any difference, probably, had he known it, though it mighthave increased his awkwardness a little. That he was not quite asunconscious as Miss De Voe seemed to think, is shown by a passage in aletter he wrote to his mother:

 "She was very much interested in the case, and asked a good many questions about it, and about myself. Some which I would rather not have answered, but since she asked them I could not bring myself to dodge them. She asked me to come and see her again. It is probably nothing but a passing interest, such as this class feel for the moment. "--[Then Peter carefully inked out "such as this class feel for the moment, " and reproved himself that his bitterness at--at--at one experience, should make him condemn a whole class]--"but if she asks me again I shall go, for there is something very sweet and noble about her. I think she is probably some great personage. "

Later on in the letter he wrote:

 "If you do not disapprove, I will put this money in the savings bank, in a special or trustee account, and use it for any good that I can do for the people about here. I gave the case my service, and do not think I am entitled to take pay when the money can be so much better employed for the benefit of the people I tried to help. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

ANOTHER CLIENT. 

Peter had seen his clients on the morning following the settlement ofthe cases, and told them of their good fortune. They each had a look atBohlmann's check, and then were asked how they would like their shares. 

"Sure, " said Dooley, "Oi shan't know what to do wid that much money. "

"I think, " said Peter, "that your two thousand really belongs to thechildren. "

"That it does, " said Mrs. Dooley, quite willing to deprive her husbandof it, for the benefit of her children. 

"But what shall Oi do wid it?" asked Mr. Dooley. 

"I'd like Mr. Stirling to take charge of mine, " said Blackett. 

"That's the idea, " said Dooley. 

And so it was settled by all. Peter said the best thing would be to putit in the savings bank. "Perhaps later we'll find something better. "They all went around to a well-known institution on the Bowery, andPeter interviewed the cashier. It proved feasible to endorse over thecheck to the bank, and credit the proper share to each. 

"I shall have to ask you to give me the odd two hundred and fifty, "Peter said, "as that is my legal fee. "

"You had better let me put that in your name, Mr. Stirling?" said thepresident, who had been called into the consultation. 

"Very well, " said Peter. "I shall want some of it before long, but therest will be very well off here. " So a book was handed him, and thepresident shook him by the hand with all the warmth that eight thousandtwo hundred and fifty dollars of increased assets and four newdepositors implied. 

Peter did not need to draw any of the two hundred and fifty dollars, however. In November he had another knock at his door. 

It proved to be Mr. Dennis Moriarty, of whom we have incidentally spokenin connection with the half-price drinks for the Milligan wake, and asspokesman of the torchlight procession. 

"Good-mornin' to yez, sir, " said the visitor. 

It was a peculiarity of Peter's that he never forgot faces. He did notknow Mr. Moriarty's name, never having had it given him, but he placedhim instantly. 

"Thank you, " said Peter, holding out his hand. Peter did not usuallyshake hands in meeting people, but he liked the man's face. It wouldnever take a prize for beauty. The hair verged on a fiery red, the nosewas a real sky-scraper and the upper lip was almost proboscidian inits length. But every one liked the face. 

"It's proud Oi'm bein' shakin' the hand av Misther Stirling, " said theIrishman. 

"Sit down, " said Peter. 

"My name's Moriarty, sir, Dinnis Moriarty, an' Oi keeps a saloon nearCentre Street, beyant. "

"You were round here in the procession. "

"Oi was, sir. Shure, Oi'm not much at a speech, compared to the likes avyez, but the b'ys would have me do it. "

Peter said something appropriate, and then there was a pause. 

"Misther Stirling, " finally said Moriarty, "Oi was up before JusticeGallagher yesterday, an' he fined me bad. Oi want yez to go to him, an'get him to be easier wid me. It's yezself can do it. "

"What were you fined for?" asked Peter. 

"For bein' open on Sunday. "

"Then you ought to be fined. "

"Don't say that till Oi tell yez. Oi don't want to keep my place open, but it's in my lease, an' so Oi have to. "

"In your lease?" enquired Peter. 

"Yes. " And the paper was handed over to him. 

Peter ran over the three documents. "I see, " he said, "you are only thecaretaker really, the brewer having an assignment of the lease and achattel mortgage on your fixtures and stock. "

"That's it, " said Dennis. "It's mighty quick yez got at it. It'scaretaker Oi am, an' a divil of a care it is. Shure, who wants to workseven days a week, if he can do wid six?"

"You should have declined to agree to that condition?"

"Then Oi'd have been turned out. Begobs, it's such poor beer that it'slittle enough Oi sell even in seven days. "

"Why don't you get your beer elsewhere then?"

"Why, it's Edelhein put me in there to sell his stuff, an' he'd neverlet me sell anythin' else. "

"Then Edelhein is really the principal, and you are only put in to keephim out of sight?"

"That's it"

"And you have put no money in yourself?"

"Divil a cent. "

"Then why doesn't he pay the fine?"

"He says Oi have no business to be afther bein' fined. As if any onesellin' his beer could help bein' fined!"

"How is that?" said Peter, inferring that selling poor beer was afinable offence, yet ignorant of the statute. 

"Why yez see, sir, the b'ys don't like that beer--an' sensible theyare--so they go to other places, an' don't come to my place. "

"But that doesn't explain your fines. "

"Av course it does. Shure, if the boys don't come to my place, it'slittle Oi can do at the primary, an' so it's no pull Oi have inpolitics, to get the perlice an' the joodges to be easy wid me, likethey are to the rest. "

Peter studied his blank wall a bit. 

"Shure, if it's good beer Oi had, " continued Moriarty, "Oi'd be aftherbeatin' them all, for Oi was always popular wid the b'ys, on account ofmy usin' my fists so fine. "

Peter smiled. "Why don't you go into something else?" he asked. 

"Well, there's mother and the three childers to be supported, an' thenOi'd lose my influence at the primary. "

"What kind of beer does Mr. Bohlmann make?" asked Peter, somewhatirrelevantly. 

"Ah, " said Moriarty, "that's the fine honest beer! There's neveranythin' wrong wid his. An' he treats his keepers fair. Lets them do asthey want about keepin' open Sundays, an' never squeezes a man when he'sdown on his luck. "

Peter looked at his wall again. Peter was learning something. 

"Supposing, " he asked, "I was able to get your fine remitted, and thatclause struck out of the lease. Would you open on Sunday?"

"Divil a bit. "

"When must you pay the fine?"

"Oi'm out on bail till to-morrow, sir. "

"Then leave these papers with me, and come in about this time. "

Peter studied his wall for a bit after his new client was gone. He didnot like either saloon-keepers or law-breakers, but this case seemed tohim to have--to have--extenuating circumstances. His cogitationsfinally resulted in his going to Justice Gallagher's court. He found thejudge rather curt. 

"He's been up here three times in as many months, and I intend to makean example of him. "

"But why is only he arrested, when every saloon keeper in theneighborhood does the same thing?"

"Now, sir, " said the judge, "don't waste any more of my time. What's thenext case?"

A look we have mentioned once or twice came into Peter's face. Hestarted to leave the court, but encountered at the door one of thepolicemen whom he was "friends with, " according to the children, whichmeant that they had chatted sometimes in the "angle. "

"What sort of a man is Dennis Moriarty?" he asked of him. 

"A fine young fellow, supporting his mother and his younger brothers. "

"Why is Justice Gallagher so down on him?"

The policeman looked about a moment. "It's politics, sir, and he's hadorders. "

"From whom?"

"That's more than we know. There was a row last spring in the primary, and we've had orders since then to lay for him. "

Peter stood and thought for a moment. "What saloon-keeper round here hasthe biggest pull?" he asked. 

"It's all of them, mostly, but Blunkers is a big man. "

"Thank you, " said Peter. He stood in the street thinking a little. Thenhe walked a couple of blocks and went into Blunkers's great gin palace. 

"I want to see the proprietor, " he said. 

"Dat's me, " said a man who was reading a paper behind the bar. 

"Do you know Justice Gallagher?"

"Do I? Well, I guess, " said the man. 

"Will you do me the favor to go with me to his court, and get him toremit Dennis Moriarty's fine?"

"Will I? No. I will not. Der's too many saloons, and one less will bebully. "

"In that case, " said Peter quietly, "I suppose you won't mind my closingyours up?"

"Wot der yer mean?" angrily inquired the man. 

"If it comes to closing saloons, two can play at that game. "

"Who is yer, anyway?" The man came out from behind the bar, squaring hisshoulders in an ugly manner. 

"My name's Stirling. Peter Stirling. "

The man looked at him with interest. "How'll yer close my place?"

"Get evidence against you, and prosecute you. "

"Dat ain't de way. "

"It will be my way. "

"Wot yer got against me?"

"Nothing. But I intend to see Moriarty have fair play. You want to fighton the square too. You're not a man to hit a fellow in the dark. "

Peter was not flattering the man. He had measured him and was tellinghim the result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made theother man realize the opinion behind the words. 

"Come on, " said Blunkers, good-naturedly. 

They went over to the court, and a whispered colloquy took place betweenthe justice and the bartender. 

"That's all right, Mr. Stirling, " presently said the judge. "Clerk, strike Dennis Moriarty's fine off the list. "

"Thank you, " said Peter to the saloon-keeper. "If I can ever do a turnfor you, let me know it. "

"Dat's hunky, " said the man, and they parted. 

Peter went out and walked into the region of the National Milk Company, but this time he went to the brewery. He found Mr. Bohlmann, and toldhim the story, asking his advice at the end. 

"Dondt you vool von minute mit dod Edelheim. I dells you vot I do. Iharf choost a blace vacant down in Zender Streed, and your frient heshall it haf. "

So they chatted till all the details had been arranged. Dennis was to goin as caretaker, bound to use only Bohlmann's beer, with a percentage onthat, and the profits on all else. He was to pay the rent, receiving asub-lease from Bohlmann, who was only a lesee himself, and to give achattel mortgage on the stock supplied him. Finally he was to have theright of redemption of stock, lease, and good-will at any time withinfive years, on making certain payments. 

"You draw up der babers, Misder Stirling, and send der bill to me. Vevill give der yoonger a chance, " the brewer said. 

When Dennis called the next day, he was "spacheless" at the newdevelopments. He wrung Peter's hand. 

"Arrah, what can Oi say to yez?" he exclaimed finally. Then having foundsomething, he quickly continued: "Now, Patsy Blunkers, lookout foryezself. It's the divil Oi'll give yez in the primary this year. "

He begged Peter to come down the opening night, and help to "celebratethe event. "

"Thank you, " said Peter, "but I don't think I will. "

"Shure, " said Dennis, "yez needn't be afraid it won't be orderly. It'smyself can do the hittin', an' the b'ys know it. "

"My mother brought me up, " Peter explained, "not to go into saloons, andwhen I came to New York I promised her, if I ever did anything she hadtaught me not to, that I would write her about it. She would hardlyunderstand this visit, and it might make her very unhappy. "

Peter earned fifty dollars by drawing the papers, and at the end of thefirst month Dennis brought him fifty more. 

"Trade's been fine, sir, an' Oi want to pay something for what yez did. "

So Peter left his two hundred and fifty dollars in the bank, havingrecouped the expenses of the first case out of his new client. 

He wrote all about it to his mother:

 "I am afraid you won't approve of what I did entirely, for I know your strong feeling against men who make and sell liquor. But I somehow have been made to feel in the last few days that more can be done in the world by kindness and help than by frowns and prosecutions. I had no thought of getting money out of the case, so I am sure I was not influenced by that. It seemed to me that a man was being unfairly treated, and that too, by laws which are meant for other purposes. I really tried to think it out, and do what seemed right to me. My last client has a look and a way of speaking that makes me certain he's a fine fellow, and I shall try to see something of him, provided it will not worry you to think of me as friendly with a saloon-keeper. I know I can be of use to him. "

Little did Peter know how useful his last client would be to him. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE PRIMARY. 

After this rush of work, Peter's life became as routine as of yore. Thewinter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadilygrowing acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July anew phase was injected into it by a call from Dennis Moriarty. 

"Good-mornin' to yez, sir, an' a fine day it is, " said the latter, withhis usually breezy way. 

"Yes, " said Peter. 

"Misther Stirling. An' is it engaged yez are for this night?"

"No. " Peter had nothing. 

"Then, " said Dennis, "maybe ye'll be afther goin' wid me to theprimary?"

"What primary?"

"For the election of delegates to the convention, shure. "

"No. What party?"

"What party is it?"

"Yes. "

"Misther Stirling, do yez know my name?"

"Dennis Moriarty, isn't it?"

"Yes. An' what's my business?"

"You keep a saloon. "

"Yes. An' what ward do Oi live in?"

"The sixth, don't you?"

"Then, " said Dennis, his upper lip twisting into a smile of enormousproportions, "Oi suppose yez afther thinkin' Oi'm a dirty blackRepublican. "

Peter laughed, as few could help doing, when Dennis led the way. "Lookhere, Dennis, " he said, "don't you run down that party. My father was aDemocrat, but he voted for Lincoln, and fought for the blacks when thetime came, and though I'm a Democrat like him, the Republicans are onlyblack in their sympathies, and not in their acts. "

"An' what do yez say to the whisky frauds, an' black Friday, an' creditmobilier?" asked Dennis. 

"Of course I don't like them, " said Peter; "but that's the politicians, not the party. "

"Shure, " said Dennis, "what's the party but the men that run it?"

"You've seen something of Mr. Bohlmann lately, Dennis?"

"Yes. "

"Well, he was the man who put Goldman in charge of that cow stable. Yethe's an honest man. "

Dennis scratched his head. "It's a convincin' way yez have wid yez, " hesaid; "but it's scoundrels the Republicans are, all the same. Look atthem in the district; there's not one a decent man would invite to drinkwid him. "

"I think, Dennis, " said Peter, "that when all the decent men get intoone party, there'll be only one worth talking about. "

"Av course, " replied Dennis. "That's the reason there's only theDemocratic party in New York City. "

"Tell me about this primary, " said Peter, concluding that abstractpolitical philosophy was not the way to liberalize Dennis. 

"It's most important, it is, " he was told, "it's on top Patsy Blunkersan' his gang av dirty spalpeens (Dennis seemed to forget that he hadjust expressed the opinion that all the "decent" men were Democrats)have been this two years, but we've got orders for a new enrollment atlast, an' if we don't knock them this time, my name isn't DinnisMoriarty. "

"What is the question before the meeting?"

"Afther the enrollment, it's to vote for delegates. "

"Oh! Then it's just a struggle over who shall be elected?"

"That's it. But a fine, big fight it will be. The whole district's soexcited, sir, that it's twice Oi've had to pound the b'ys a bit in mysaloon to keep the peace. "

"What do you want of me?"

"Shure, every vote counts on a night like this. An' ye'd be aftherhelpin' us big, for the district likes yez. "

"But, Dennis, I can't vote without knowing something about the waythings are. I shouldn't know whether I was voting rightly. "

"Why, a man votes right when he votes for his friends!"

"No; a man votes right when he votes for his convictions. "

"Convictions, is it?"

"Yes. That is, he votes as he thinks is best for the country. "

"That, maybe, is the way yez do it where yez come from, " said Dennis, "but it's no good it would be here. Convictions, whatever they be, arenever nominated here. It's real things we're afther votin' for in NewYork. "

Peter laughed. "I've got to take you in hand, Dennis, and you've got totake me in hand. I think we both need each other's help. Yes, I'll cometo the primary. Will they let me vote?"

"The dirty spalpeens will never dare to stop yez! Thank yez, sir. Oi'llbe along for yez about eight. "

"Remember, though, Dennis--I don't say how I'll vote. "

"Yez just listen, an I'm not afraid av what ye'll do. "

That evening, Peter was ushered into a large hot room, pretty wellpacked with men, and the interstices already filled in with densetobacco smoke. He looked about him curiously, and was surprised to findhow many of the faces he knew. Blackett, Dooley, and Milligan werethere, and shook hands with him warmly. Judge Gallagher and Blunkerswere in evidence. In plain clothes were two policemen, and three of the"fire-laddies, " who formed part of the "crew" of the nearest engine, with all of whom he had often chatted. Mr. Dummer, his rival lawyer inthe case, and one of the jurymen in it, likewise were visible. Also manyfaces which were familiar to Peter by a former occasional friendly wordor nod exchanged in passing. Intense excitement evidently reigned, andevery one was whispering in a sort of breathless way, which showed howdeeply interested they were. 

At Dennis's suggestion, made in walking to the room, Peter presentedhimself without guidance, at the desk. Some one behind him asked if helived in the ward, and for how long, but this was the only apparentopposition made to the prompt entering of his name. Then Peter strolledround and talked to those whom he knew, and tried to find out, withoutmuch success, just what was the division. Every one knew that a fightwas on, but in just what it consisted they seemed neither to know norcare. 

He noticed that hot words were constantly exchanged at the enrollingdesk, over would-be members, but not understanding the exact nature ofthe qualifications needed, he could not follow the disputes. Finallythese ceased, for want of applicants. 

"Misther Stirling, " said Dennis, coming up to him hurriedly. "Will yezbe afther bein' chairman for us?"

"No. I don't know anything about the proceedings. "

"It don't take any, " said Dennis. "It's only fair play we're afther. "

He was gone again before Peter could say anything. The next instant, theenrolling officer rose and spoke. 

"Are there any more to be enrolled?" he called. No one came forward, soafter a moment he said: "Will the meeting choose a presiding officer?"

"Mr. Chairman, " rang two voices so quickly that they in truth cut thepresiding officer off in his suggestion. 

"Mr. Muldoon, " said that officer. 

"Oi spoke first, " shouted Dennis, and Peter felt that he had, and thathe was not having fair play. 

Instantly a wave of protest, denials, charges, and counter-charges sweptthrough the room, Peter thought there was going to be a fight, but theposition was too critical to waste a moment on what Dennis styled "adiversion. " It was business, not pleasure, just then. 

"Mr. Muldoon, " said the officer again, not heeding the tempest in theleast. 

"Mr. Chairman, " shouted Muldoon, "I am proud to nominate JusticeGallagher, the pride of the bar, for chairman of this distinguishedmeeting, and I move to make his election unanimous. "

"Misther Chairman, " shouted Dennis. 

"Mr. Moriarty, " said the officer. 

"Misther Chairman, Oi have the honor to nominate for chairman av thismeetin' the people's an' the children's friend, Misther Peter Stirling, an' Oi don't have to move to make it unanimous, for such is theintelligince an' manhood av this meetin' that it will be that way forshure. "

Peter saw a hurried consultation going on between Gallagher, Muldoon, and two others, during the latter part of this speech, and barely hadDennis finished his remarks, when Justice Gallagher spoke up. 

"Mr. Chairman. "

"The Honorable Justice Gallagher, " said that gentleman. 

"I take pride in withdrawing in favor of Mr. Stirling, who so justlymerits the honor of presiding on this important occasion. From recentevents too well known to need mention, I am sure we can all look to himfor justice and fairness. "

"Bad cess to him!" groaned Dennis. "Oi hoped they'd be just fools enoughto oppose yez, an' then we'd have won the first blood. "

Peter was chosen without dissent, and was escorted to the seat behindthe desk. 

"What is the first business before the meeting?" he asked of Gallagher, aside, as he was taking his seat. 

"Election of delegates to the State convention. That's all to-night, " hewas told. 

Peter had presided at college in debates, and was not flurried. "Willyou stay here so as to give me the names of those I don't know?" he saidto the enrolling officer. "The meeting will please come to order, " hecontinued aloud. "The nomination of delegates to the State convention isthe business to be acted upon. "

"Misther Chairman, " yelled Dennis, evidently expecting to find anotherrival as before. But no one spoke. 

"Mr. Moriarty, " said Peter. 

"Misther Chairman. It's my delight to nominate as delegates to the Stateconvention, the Honorable Misther Schlurger, our distinguishedrepresentative in the Assembly, the Honorable Misther Kennedy, our noblePolice-commissioner, an' Misther Caggs, whom it would be insult for meto praise in this company. "

"Second the motion, " said some one. 

"Mr. Chairman, " shouted a man. 

"That's Caggs, " said the enrolling officer. 

"Mr. Caggs, " said Peter. 

"Mr. Chairman, " said Caggs. "I must decline the honor offered me fromsuch a source. "

"What?" shrieked Dennis, amazement and rage contesting for first placein voice and expression. 

"Mr. Chairman, " said Dummer. 

"Mr. Dummer, " said Peter. 

"I have the honor to nominate the Honorable Justice Gallagher, Mr. PeterSweeney, and Mr. Caggs, to whom Mr. Moriarty has just paid so glowing atribute, as delegates to the State convention. "

"Second the--" shouted some one, but the rest was drowned by anotherstorm which swept through the room. Even above the tumult, Peter couldhear Dennis challenging and beseeching Mr. Caggs to come "outside an'settle it like gentlemen. " Caggs, from a secure retreat behindBlunkers's right arm, declined to let the siren's song tempt him forth. Finally Peter's pounding brought a degree of quiet again. 

"Misther Chairman, " said Dennis. 

"Mr. Moriarty, " said Peter. 

"Misther Chairman. Oi'll not take the valuable time av this meetin' tospeak av dirty, cowardly, black-hearted, treacherous snakes, wid soulsblacker than the divil's own--"

"Order!" said Peter to the crowd. 

"No, " continued Dennis, in answer to the audible remarks of theopposition. "It's no names Oi'm callin'. If yez know such a beast, sucha snake, fit it to him. Oi'm mentionin' no names. As Oi was sayin', Misther Chairman, Oi'll not waste the time av this meetin' widdiscribin' the conduct av a beast so vile that he must be the contemptav every honest man. Who would have been driven out by St. Patrick, widthe rest av the reptiles, if he'd lived at that time. Oi only rise towiddraw the name av Caggs from the list Oi nominated for delegates tothe state convention, an' to put in place av it that av a man who is asnoble an' true, as some are false an' divilish. That of Misther PeterStirling, God bless him!"

Once more chaos came. Peter pounded in vain. Both sides were at feverheat. Finally Peter rose. 

"Gentlemen, " he shouted, in a voice that rang through the hall aboveeven the tumult, "if this meeting does not come to order, I shalldeclare it adjourned. "

Instant quiet fell, for all had paused a moment to hear his words, andthey concluded that he was in earnest. 

"Was the last motion seconded?" asked the chairman calmly. 

"I seconded it, " shouted Blackett and Milligan together. 

"You have heard the nominations, gentlemen. Has any one any remarks tomake?"

A man next Justice Gallagher said, "Mr. Chairman, " and being dulyrecognized, proceeded to talk for ten minutes in a very useless way. Butduring this time, Peter noticed first a good deal of whispering amongBlunkers's friends, and then an interview between Gallagher and Dennis. The latter was apparently not reconcilable, and shook his head in a waythat meant war. Then there was more consultation between the opposition, and another confab with Dennis, with more headshakes on his part. Finally a compromise having been evidently made impossible, the oratorwas "called down" and it was voted to proceed to an election. Peternamed one of the firemen, Dooley, and Blunkers, tellers, who, after aballot, announced that Dennis had carried his nominations, Peter headingthe list with two hundred and twelve votes, and the others getting onehundred and seventy-two, and one hundred and fifty-eight respectively. The "snake" got but fifty-seven votes. 

"Shure, " said Dennis, later, "maybe we don't vote for convictions here, but we don't vote for the likes av him!"

"Then you are voting for convictions, " said Peter. 

"It's yezself is the convictions then, " said Dennis. 

Perhaps he was right. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A POLITICAL DEBUT. 

Peter declared the meeting adjourned as soon as the results of theelection had been read, and slipped away in the turmoil that immediatelyfollowed, without a word to any one. He was in truth notbewildered--because he had too much natural poise and phlegm--but he wassurprised by the suddenness of it all, and wanted to think beforetalking with others. So he took advantage of the mutual bickerings andrecriminations which seemed the order of the day, to get back to hisoffice, and there he sat, studying his wall for a time. Then he went tobed, and slept as quickly and as calmly as if he had spent his eveningin reading the "Modern Cottage Architecture" or "Questions deSociologie, " which were on his table instead of presiding at a red-hotprimary, and being elected a delegate. 

The next morning Dennis came to see him as early as well could be. 

"Misther Stirling, " he said, his face expanding into the broadest ofgrins, "let me salute the delegate to the State convention. "

"Look here, Dennis, " said Peter, "you know you had no business to springthat on me. "

"Ah, sir! Shure, when that dirty little spalpeen av a Caggs went back onus so, what could Oi do? Oi know it's speak to yez Oi ought, but wid deroom yellin' like that it's divilish tryin' to do the right thing quick, barrin' it's not hittin' some one's head, which always comes natural. "

"Well, " said Peter, "of course I'm very much pleased to have beenchosen, but I wish it could have been done with less hard feeling. "

"Hard feelin, ' is it?"

"Yes. "

"Shure, the b'ys are as pleased and kindly this mornin' as can be. It'sa fight like that makes them yieldin' an' friendly. Nothin' but a littlehead-punchin' could make them in a sweeter mood, an' we'd a given themthat if little Caggs had had any sense in him. "

"You mean Gallagher and Blunkers and the rest of them?"

"Av course. That little time last night didn't mean much. No one feelsbad over that. Shure, it's Gallagher was in my place later last night, an' we had a most friendly time, he treatin' the whole crowd twice. We've got to fight in the primary to keep the b'ys interested, but it'sseldom that they're not just as friendly the next day. "

Peter looked at his wall. He had not liked Gallagher at either time hehad met him. "Still, " he thought to himself, "I have no right to preventhim and Dennis being friends, from the little I've seen. "

"Now, sir, about the convention?" said Dennis. 

"I suppose Porter is the best man talked of for the nomination, "remarked Peter. 

"Begobs, sir, that he's not, " said Dennis. "It's Justice Gallagher wastellin' me himself that he was a poor kind av creature, wid a strongobjection to saloons. "

Peter's eye lost its last suggestion of doubt. "Oh, Justice Gallaghertold you that?" he asked. "When?"

"Last night. "

"After the primary?"

"Av course. "

"Whom does he favor?"

"Catlin. "

"Well, Dennis, you've made me a delegate, but I've got to vote my ownway. "

"Shure, sir, Oi'd not have yez do any thin' else. It's yezself knowsbetter than me. Oi was only tellin' yez what the Justice--"

A knock at the door interrupted him. It proved to be Gallagher, whogreeted them both in a hearty, friendly way. Peter brought another chairfrom his bedroom. 

"Well, Mr. Stirling, that was a fine contest we had last night, " saidhis honor. 

"It seemed to be earnest, " said Peter. 

"It's just as well our friend here sprang your nomination on us as asurprise, for if we had known, we should not have put up an oppositioncandidate. You are just the sort of a man we want to represent us in theconvention. "

"I have never met my colleagues, " said Peter. "What kind of men arethey?"

So he got Gallagher's opinion, and Dennis's opinion. Then he wanted toknow about the candidates, asking questions about them at considerablelength. The intentions of the other city delegates were next introduced. Finally the probable planks of the platform were brought up. While theywere still under discussion Gallagher said the sitting of his courtcompelled him to leave. 

"I'll come in some time when I have more to spare. "

Gallagher went to his court, and found a man waiting for him there. 

"He's either very simple or very deep, " said Gallagher. "He did nothingbut ask questions; and try my best I could not get him to show his hand, nor commit himself. It will be bad if there's a split in a soliddelegation!"

"I hope it will be a lesson to you to have things better arranged. "

"Blunkers would have it that way, and he's not the kind of man tooffend. We all thought he would win. "

"Oh, let them have their fights, " said the man crossly; "but it's yourbusiness to see that the right men are put up, so that it doesn't makeany difference which side wins. "

"Well, " said Gallagher, "I've done all I could to put things straight. I've made peace, and got Moriarty on our side, and I've talked to thisStirling, and made out a strong case for Catlin, without seeming to carewhich man gets the nomination. "

"Is there any way of putting pressure on him?"

"Not that I can find out. He's a young lawyer, who has no business. "

"Then he's a man we don't need to conciliate, if he won't behave?"

"No. I can't say that. He's made himself very popular round here by thatcase and by being friendly to people. I don't think, if he's going intopolitics, that it will do to fight him. "

"He's such a green hand that we ought to be able to down him. "

"He's new, but he's a pretty cool, knowing chap, I think. I had oneexperience with him, which showed me that any man who picked him up fora fool would drop him quick. " Then he told how Dennis's fine had beenremitted. 

In the next few weeks Peter met a good many men who wanted to talkpolitics with him. Gallagher brought some; Dennis others; hisfellow-ward delegates, more. But Peter could not be induced to commithimself. He would talk candidates and principles endlessly, but withoutexpressing his own mind. Twice he was asked point blank, "Who's yourman?" but he promptly answered that he had not yet decided. He hadalways read a Democratic paper, but now he read two, and a Republicanorgan as well. His other reading lessened markedly, and the time gainedwas spent in talking with men in the "district. " He even went into thesaloons and listened to the discussions. 

"I don't drink, " he had to explain several times, "because my motherdoesn't like it. " For some reason this explanation seemed to beperfectly satisfactory. One man alone sneered at him. "Does she feed yerstill on milk, sonny?" he asked. "No, " said Peter, "but everything Ihave comes from her, and that's the kind of a mother a fellow wants toplease; don't you think so?" The sneerer hesitated, and finally said he"guessed it was. " So Peter was made one of them, and smoked andlistened. He said very little, but that little was sound, good sense, and, if he did not talk, he made others do so; and, after the men hadargued over something, they often looked at Peter, rather than at theiropponents, to see if he seemed to approve of their opinions. 

"It's a fine way he has wid the b'ys, " Dennis told his mother. "He makesthem feel that he's just the likes av them, an' that he wants theirminds an' opinions to help him. Shure, they'd rather smoke one pipe avhis tobaccy than drink ten times at Gallagher's expense. "

After Peter had listened carefully and lengthily, he wrote to "TheHonorable Lemuel Porter, Hudson, N. Y. , " asking him if he could give himan hour's talk some day. The reply was prompt, and told Peter thatPorter would be glad to see him any time that should suit hisconvenience. So Peter took a day off and ran up to Hudson. 

"I am trying to find out for whom I should vote, " he explained toPorter. "I'm a new man at this sort of thing, and, not having met any ofthe men talked of, I preferred to see them before going to theconvention. "

Porter found that Peter had taken the trouble to go over a back file ofpapers, and read some of his speeches. 

"Of course, " Peter explained, "I want, as far as possible, to know whatyou think of questions likely to be matters for legislation. "

"The difficulty in doing that, Mr. Stirling, " he was told, "is thatevery nominee is bound to surrender his opinions in a certain degree tothe party platform, while other opinions have to be modified to newconditions. "

"I can see that, " said Peter. "I do not for a moment expect that whatyou say to-day is in any sense a pledge. If a man's honest, the poorestthing we can do to him is to tie him fast to one course of action, whenthe conditions are constantly changing. But, of course, you haveopinions for the present state of things?"

Something in Peter's explanation or face pleased Mr. Porter. He demurredno more, and, for an hour before lunch, and during that meal, he talkedwith the utmost freedom. 

"I'm not easily fooled on men, " he told his secretary afterwards, "andyou can say what you wish to that Stirling without danger of its beingused unfairly or to injure one. And he's the kind of man to be won bysquare dealing. "

Peter had spoken of his own district "I think, " he said, "that some goodcan be done in the way of non-partisan legislation. I've been studyingthe food supplies of the city, and, if I can, I shall try to get a billintroduced this winter to have official inspections systematized. "

"That will receive my approval if it is properly drawn. But you'llprobably find the Health Board fighting you. It's a nest ofpoliticians. "

"If they won't yield, I shall have to antagonize them, but I have hadsome talks with the men there, in connection with the 'swill-milk'investigations, and I think I can frame a bill that will do what I want, yet which they will not oppose. I shall try to make them help me in thedrafting, for they can make it much better through their practicalexperience. "

"If you do that, the opposition ought not to be troublesome. What elsedo you want?"

"I've been thinking of a general Tenement-house bill, but I don't thinkI shall try for that this winter. It's a big subject, which needs verycareful study, in which a lot of harm may be done by ignorance. There'sno doubt that anything which hurts the landlord, hurts the tenant, andif you make the former spend money, the tenant pays for it in the longrun. Yet health must be protected. I shall try to find out what can bedone. "

"I wish you would get into the legislature yourself, Mr. Stirling. "

"I shall not try for office. I want to go on with my profession. But Ishall hope to work in politics in the future. "

Peter took another day off, and spent a few minutes of it with the othermost promising candidate. He did not see very much of him, for they wereinterrupted by another caller, and Peter had to leave before he couldhave a chance to continue the interview. 

"I had a call to-day from that fellow Stirling, who's a delegate fromthe sixth ward, " the candidate told a "visiting statesman" later. "I'mafraid he'll give us trouble. He asks too many questions. FortunatelyDewilliger came to see me, and though I shouldn't have seen himordinarily, I found his call very opportune as a means of putting an endto Stirling's cross-examination. "

"He's the one doubtful man on the city's delegation, " said thestatesman. "It happened through a mistake. It will be very unfortunateif we can't cast a solid city vote. "

Peter talked more in the next few days. He gave the "b'ys" hisimpressions of the two candidates, in a way which made them trust hisconclusions. He saw his two fellow delegates, and argued long andearnestly with them. He went to every saloon-keeper in the district, anddiscussed the change in the liquor law which was likely to be aprominent issue in the campaign, telling them what he had been able todraw from both candidates about the subject. 

"Catlin seems to promise you the most, " he told them, "and I don't wantto say he isn't trying to help you. But if you get the law passed whichhe promises to sign, you won't be much better off. In the first place, it will cost you a lot of money, as you know, to pass it; and then itwill tempt people to go into the business, so that it will cut yourprofits that way. Then, you may stir up a big public sentiment againstyou in the next election, and so lay yourselves open to unfriendlylegislation. It is success, or trying to get too much, which has beatenevery party, sooner or later, in this country. Look at slavery. If theSoutherners had left things as they were under the Missouri Compromise, they never would have stirred up the popular outbreak that destroyedslavery. Now, Porter is said to be unfriendly to you, because he wants abill to limit the number of licenses, and to increase the fee to newsaloons. Don't you see that is all in your favor, though apparentlyagainst you? In the first place, you are established, and the law willbe drawn so as to give the old dealer precedence over a new one ingranting fresh licenses. This limit will really give the establishedsaloon more trade in the future, by reducing competition. While theincrease in fee to new saloons will do the same. "

"By ----, yer right, " said Blunkers. 

"That's too good a name to use that way, " said Peter, but more as if hewere stating a fact than reproving. 

Blunkers laughed good-naturedly. "Yer'll be gittin' usen to close upyet, Mister Stirling. Yer too good for us. "

Peter looked at him. "Blunkers, " he said warmly, "no man is too good notto tell the truth to any one whom he thinks it will help. "

"Shake, " said Blunkers. Then he turned to the men at the tables. "Stepup, boys, " he called. "I sets it up dis time to drink der health of derfeller dat don't drink. "

The boys drank

CHAPTER XXI. 

A POLITICAL DINNER. 

Peter had only a month for work after reaching his own conclusions, before the meeting of the convention, but in that month he worked hard. As the result, a rumor, carrying dismay to the party leaders, becamecurrent. 

"What's this I hear?" said Gallagher's former interviewer to thatgentleman. "They say Schlurger says he intends to vote for Porter, andKennedy's getting cold?"

"If you'll go through the sixth you'll hear more than that. "

"What do you mean?"

"There was a torchlight last night, of nearly every voter in the ward, and nothing but Stirling prevented them from making the three delegatespledge themselves to vote for Porter. He said they must go unbound. "

The interviewer's next remark is best represented by several "blankits, " no allusion however being intended to bed-coverings. Then he citedthe lower regions to know what it all meant. 

"It means that that chap Stirling has got to be fixed, and fixed big. Ithought I knew how to wire pull, and manage men, but he's taken hold andjust runs it as he wants. It's he makes all the trouble. "

The interviewer left the court, and five minutes later was in Stirling'soffice. 

"My name's Green, " he said. "I'm a delegate to the convention, and oneof the committee who has the arranging of the special train andaccommodations at Saratoga. "

"I'm glad you came in, " said Peter. "I bought my ticket yesterday, andthe man at headquarters said he'd see that I was assigned a room at theUnited States. "

"There'll be no trouble about the arrangements. What I want to see youfor, is to ask if you won't dine with me this evening? There's to beseveral of the delegates and some big men there, to talk over thesituation. "

"I should like to, " said Peter. 

The man pulled out a card, and handed it to Peter. "Six o'clock sharp, "he said. Then he went to headquarters, and told the result of his twointerviews. "Now who had better be there?" he asked. After consultation, a dinner of six was arranged. 

The meal proved to be an interesting one to Peter. First, he found thatall the guests were well-known party men, whose names and opinions werematters of daily notice in the papers. What was more, they talkedconvention affairs, and Peter learned in the two hours' generalconversation more of true "interests" and "influences" and "pulls" and"advantages" than all his reading and talking had hitherto gained him. He learned that in New York the great division of interest was betweenthe city and country members, and that this divided interest played apart in nearly every measure. "Now, " said one of the best known men atthe table, "the men who represent the city, must look out for the city. Porter's a fine man, but he has no great backing, and no matter how wellhe intends by us, he can't do more than agree to such bills as we canget passed. But Catlin has the Monroe members of the legislature underhis thumb, and his brother-in-law runs Onandaga. He promises they shallvote for all we want. With that aid, we can carry what New York Cityneeds, in spite of the country members. "

"Would the country members refuse to vote for really good and neededcity legislation?" asked Peter. 

"Every time, unless we agree to dicker with them on some country job. The country members hold the interest of the biggest city in thiscountry in their hands, and threaten or throttle those interests everytime anything is wanted. "

"And when it comes to taxation, " added another, "the country members arealways giving the cities the big end to carry. "

"I had a talk with Catlin, " said Peter. "It seemed to me that he wasn'tthe right kind of man. "

"Catlin's a timid man, who never likes to commit himself. That's becausehe always wants to do what his backers tell him. Of course when a mandoes that, he hasn't decided views of his own, and naturally doesn'twish to express what he may want to take back an hour later. "

"I don't like straw men, " said Peter. 

"A man who takes other people's opinions is not a bad governor, Mr. Stirling. It all depends on whose opinion he takes. If we could find aman who was able to do what the majority wants every time, we couldre-elect him for the next fifty years. You must remember that in thiscountry we elect a man to do what we want--not to do what he wantshimself. "

"Yes, " said Peter. "But who is to say what the majority wants?"

"Aren't we--the party leaders--who are meeting daily the ward leaders, and the big men in the different districts, better able to know what thepeople want than the man who sits in the governor's room, with adoorkeeper to prevent the people from seeing him?"

"You may not choose to do what the people want. "

"Of course. I've helped push things that I knew were unpopular. But thisis very unusual, because it's risky. Remember, we can only do thingswhen our party is in power, so it is our interest to do what will pleasethe people, if we are to command majorities and remain in office. Individually we have got to do what the majority of our party wantsdone, or we are thrown out, and new men take our places. And it's justthe same way with the parties. "

"Well, " said Peter, "I understand the condition better, and can see whatI could not fathom before, why the city delegates want Catlin. But myown ward has come out strong for Porter. We've come to the conclusionthat his views on the license question are those which are best for us, and besides, he's said that he will stand by us in some food andtenement legislation we want. "

"I know about that change, and want to say, Mr. Stirling, that few menof your years and experience, were ever able to do as much so quickly. But there are other sides, even to these questions, which you may nothave yet considered. Any proposed restriction on the license will notmerely scare a lot of saloon-keepers, who will only understand that itsounds unfriendly, but it will alienate every brewer and distiller, fortheir interest is to see saloons multiplied. Then food and tenementlegislation always stirs up bad feeling in the dealers and owners. Ifthe opposite party would play fair, we could afford to laugh at it, butyou see the party out of power can oppose about anything, knowing that aminority is never held responsible, and so by winning over themalcontents which every piece of legislation is sure to make, beforelong it goes to the polls with a majority, though it has really beenopposing the best interests of the whole state. We can't sit still, anddo nothing, yet everything we do will alienate some interest. "

"It's as bad as the doctrine of fore-ordination, " laughed another of theparty:

 "You can't if you will, You can if you won't, You'll be damned if you do, You'll be damned if you don't. "

"You just said, " stated Peter, "that the man who could do what themajority wants done every time, would be re-elected. Doesn't it holdtrue as to a party?"

"No. A party is seldom retained in power for such reasons. If it has along tenure of office it is generally due to popular distrust of theother party. The natural tendency otherwise is to make office-holding asort of see-saw. Let alone change of opinion in older men, there areenough new voters every four years to reverse majorities in almost everystate. Of course these young men care little for what either party hasdone in the past, and being young and ardent, they want to changethings. The minority's ready to please them, naturally. Reform theycall it, but it's quite as often 'Deform' when they've done it. "

Peter smiled and said, "Then you think my views on license, andfood-inspection, and tenement-house regulation are 'Deformities'?"

"We won't say that, but a good many older and shrewder heads have workedover those questions, and while I don't know what you hope to do, you'llnot be the first to want to try a change, Mr. Stirling. "

"I hope to do good. I may fail, but it's not right as it is, and I musttry to better it. " Peter spoke seriously, and his voice was very clear. "I'm glad to have had this talk, before the convention meets. You areall experienced men, and I value your opinions. "

"But don't intend to act on them, " said his host good-naturedly. 

"No. I'm not ready to say that. I've got to think them over. "

"If you do that, Mr. Stirling, you'll find we are right. We have notbeen twenty and thirty years in this business for nothing. "

"I think you know how to run a party--but poisoned milk was peddled inmy ward. I went to law to punish the men who sold it. Now I'm going intopolitics to try and get laws and administration which will prevent suchevils. I've told my district what I want. I think it will support me. Iknow you can help me, and I hope you will. We may disagree on methods, but if we both wish the good of New York, we can't disagree on results. "Peter stopped, rather amazed himself at the length of his speech. 

"What do you want us to do?"

"You say that you want to remain in control. You say you can only do soby majorities. I want you to give this city such a government thatyou'll poll every honest vote on our side, " said Peter warmly. 

"That's only the generalization of a very young man, " said the leader. 

Peter liked him all the better for the snub. "I generalized, because itwould make clear the object of my particular endeavors. I want to havethe Health Board help me to draft a food-inspection bill, and I want thelegislature to pass it, without letting it be torn to pieces for thebenefit of special interests. I don't mind fair amendments, but theymust be honest ones. "

"And if the Health Board helps you, and the bill is made a law?"

Peter looked Mr. Costell in the face, and spoke quietly: "I shall tellmy ward that you have done them a great service. "

Two of the men moved uneasily in their seats, as if not comfortable, anda third scowled. 

"And if we can give you some tenement-house legislation?"

"I shall tell my ward that you have done them a great service. " Peterspoke in the same tone of voice, and still looked Mr. Costell in theface. 

"And if we don't do either?"

"What I shall do then will depend on whether you refuse for a goodreason or for none. In either case I shall tell them the facts. "

"This is damned----" began one of the dinner-party, but the lifting ofMr. Costell's hand stopped the speech there. 

"Mr. Stirling, " said Mr. Costell, rising as he spoke, "I hope when youcome to think it over, that you will vote with us for Catlin. Butwhether you do or not, we want you to work with us. We can help you, andyou can help us. When you are ready to begin on your bills, come and seeme. "

"Thank you, " said Peter. "That is just what I want. " He said good-nightto the company, and left the house. 

"That fellow is going to be troublesome, " said Green. 

"There's no good trying to get anything out of him. Better split withhim at once, " said the guest who had used the expletive. 

"He can't have any very big hold, " said a third. "It's only that trialwhich has given him a temporary popularity. "

"Wait and see if he goes back on Catlin, and if he does, lay for him, "remarked Green. 

A pause came, and they all looked at Costell, who was smiling a certaindeep smile that was almost habitual with him, and which no one had everyet been able to read. "No, " he said slowly. "You might beat him, but heisn't the kind that stays beat. I'll agree to outwit any man inpolitics, except the man who knows how to fight and to tell the peoplethe truth. I've never yet seen a man beaten in the long run who can doboth those, unless he chose to think himself beaten. Gentlemen, thatStirling is a fighter and a truth-teller, and you can't beat him in hisward. There's no use having him against us, so it's our business to seethat we have him with us. We may not be able to get him into line thistime, but we must do it in the long run. For he's not the kind that letsgo. He's beaten Nelson, and he's beaten Gallagher, both of whom are oldhands. Mark my words, in five years he'll run the sixth ward. Drop alltalk of fighting him. He is in politics to stay, and we must make itworth his while to stay with us. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

POLITICS. 

Peter sat up later than was prudent that night, studying his blank wall. Yet when he rose to go to bed, he gave his head a puzzled shake. When hehad gone through his papers, and drunk his coffee the next morning, hewent back to wall-gazing again. He was working over two conundrums notvery easy to answer, which were somewhat to this effect:

Does the best man always make the best official?

Is the honest judgment of a fellow verging on twenty-four better thanthe experienced opinion of many far older men?

Peter began to think life had not such clear and direct "right" and"wrong" roads as he had thought. He had said to himself long ago that itwas easy to take the right one, but he had not then discovered that itis often difficult to know which is the right, in order to follow it. Hehad started in to punish Bohlmann, and had compromised. He haddisapproved of Dennis breaking the law, and had compromised hisdisapproval. He had said he should not go into saloons, and had ended bygoing. Now he was confronted with the problem whether the interests ofhis ward would be better served by the nomination of a man of goodrecord, whom Peter personally liked, or by that of a colorless man, whowould be ruled by the city's leaders. In the one case Peter feared nosupport for his measures from his own party. In the other case he sawaid that was tantamount to success. Finally he shook himself. 

"I believe Dennis is right, " he said aloud. "There are more 'real'things than 'convictions' in New York politics, and a 'real' thing ismuch harder to decide about in voting than a 'conviction. '"

He went to his bedroom, packed his bag, and took his way to the station. There he found a dense crowd of delegates and "well-wishers, " bothsurrounding and filling the special train which was to carry New York'scontribution to the collected party wisdom, about to concentrate atSaratoga. 

Peter felt like a stranger in the crowd, but on mingling in it hequickly found himself a marked man. He was seized upon by one of thediners of the evening before, and soon found himself forming part of agroup, which constantly changed its components, but continued to talkconvention affairs steadily. Nor did the starting of the train, withcheers, brass bands, flags, and other enthusing elements, make more thana temporary break. From the time the special started, till it rolledinto Saratoga, six hours later, there was one long series of politicaldebates and confabs. Peter listened much, and learned much, for the talkwas very straight and plain. He had chats with Costell and Green. Histwo fellow-delegates from "de sixt" sought him and discussed intentions. He liked Schlurger, a simple, guileless German, who wanted only to dowhat his constituents wished him to do, both in convention and Assembly. Of Kennedy he was not so sure. Kennedy had sneered a little at Peter'stalk about the "best man, " and about "helping the ward, " and had onlyfound that Peter's ideas had value after he had been visited by variousof the saloon-keepers, seen the vast torchlight meeting, and heard thecheers at Peter's arguments. Still, Peter was by no means sure thatKennedy was not a square man, and concluded he was right in notcondemning him, when, passing through one of the cars, he overheard thefollowing:

"What kind of man is that Stirling, who's raised such ---- in thesixth?"

"I don't know him, but Kennedy told me, before he'd swung round, that hewas a darned good sort of a cuss. "

This was flattery, Peter understood, however questionable the form mightseem, and he was pleased. Very few of us do not enjoy a real compliment. What makes a compliment uncomfortable is either a suspicion that themaker doesn't mean it, or a knowledge that it is not merited. 

Peter went at once to his room on reaching the hotel in Saratoga, intending to make up the sleep of which his long "think" the nightbefore had robbed him. But scarcely had the colored gentleman bowedhimself out, after the usual "can I git de gentleman a pitcher of icewater" (which translated means: "has de gentleman any superfluouschange?") when a knock came at the door. Peter opened it, to find a manoutside. 

"Is this Mr. Stirling's room?" inquired the individual. 

"Yes. "

"Can I see him?"

"Come in. " Peter moved his bag off one of his chairs, and his hat andovercoat off the other. 

"Mr. Stirling, " said the stranger as he sat down, "I am Senator Maguire, and am, as perhaps you know, one of Porter's managers. "

"Yes. "

"We understand that you are friendly to us. Now, I needn't say that NewYork is otherwise a unit in opposing us. "

"No, " said Peter. "My fellow-delegates from the sixth, Schlurger andKennedy, stand as I do!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. "

"The change must have been very sudden. They were elected as Catlin men, we were told. "

"Yes. But there's quite a different feeling in the ward now, and theyhave yielded to it. "

"That's good news. "

"We all three come here prepared to do what seems best. "

The Senator's expression lost some of the satisfaction Peter's news hadput into it. He gave a quick look at Peter's face, as if to try and findfrom it what lay behind the words. He hesitated, as if divided in mindover two courses of action. Finally he said:

"I needn't tell you that this opposition of practically the whole of theNew York City delegation, is the most serious set-back to Porter'schance. Now, we have talked it over, and it seemed to us that it wouldbe a great card for him if he could be nominated by a city delegate. Will you do it?"

"I don't know him well enough, do I? Doesn't the nominating delegatehave to make a speech in his favor?"

"Yes. But I can give you the material to-night. Or if you prefer, we'llgive it to you all written for delivery?"

"I don't make other men's speeches, Mr. Maguire. "

"Suit yourself about that. It shall be just as you please. "

"The difficulty is that I have not decided myself, yet, how I shallvote, and of course such an act is binding. "

Mr. Maguire's countenance changed again. "I'm sorry to hear that. Ihoped you were for Porter. He's far away the best man. "

"So I think. "

The Senator leaned back in his chair, and tucked his thumbs into thearmholes of his waistcoat. He thought he had fathomed Peter, and feltthat the rest was plain sailing. "This is not a chap to be tolled. I'llgive him the gaff at once, " was his mental conclusion. Then he askedaloud:

"What do you want?"

It was a question susceptible of many different constructions, but asMr. Maguire asked it, it seemed to him to have but one, and that notvery honest. Peter hesitated. The temptation was strong to lead theSenator on, but he did not like to do it. It seemed to savor of traps, and Peter had never liked traps. Still--he did want to know if themanagers on Porter's side would stoop to buy his support by somebargain. As Peter hesitated, weighing the pros and cons, Maguire spokeagain. 

"What does the other side offer you?"

Peter spoke quickly. "They haven't offered me anything, but advice. Thatis, Costell said he'd try and help me on some legislation I want--"

"Special?" interrupted Maguire. 

"No, General. I've talked about it with Porter as well"

"Oh! Indeed?"

"I'm really anxious to get that. Otherwise I want nothing. "

"Whew, " said the Senator to himself. "That was a narrow squeak. If hehadn't spoken so quickly, I should have shown my hand before the call. Iwonder if he got any inkling?" He never dreamed that Peter had spokenquickly to save that very disclosure. 

"I needn't say, Mr. Stirling, that if you can see your way to nominatePorter, we shall not forget it. Nor will he. He isn't the kind of manwho forgets his friends. Many a man in to-morrow's convention would giveanything for the privilege we offer you. "

"Well, " said Peter, "I realize the honor offered me, but I don't see myway to take it. It will please me better to see him nominated by someone who has really stood close to him, than to gain his favor by doingit myself. "

"Think twice, Mr. Stirling. "

"If you would rather, I will not give you my answer till to-morrowmorning?"

"I would, " said Maguire rising, "Try and make it favorable. It's a greatchance to do good for yourself and for your side. Good-night. "

Peter closed his door, and looked about for a bit of blank wall. But onsecond thought he sat down on his window-sill, and, filling his pipe, tried to draw conclusions as well as smoke from it. 

"I wonder, " he pondered to himself, "how much of that was Maguire, andhow much Porter? Ought I, for the sake of doing my best for my ward, tohave let him go on? Has an agent any right to refuse what will help isclient, even if it comes by setting pitfalls?"

Rap, rap, rap. 

"Come in, " called Peter, forgetting he had turned down his light. 

The door opened and Mr. Costell came in. "Having a quiet smoke?" heasked. 

"Yes. I haven't a cigar to offer you. Can you join me in a pipe?"

"I haven't come to that yet. Suppose you try one of my cigars. " Costellsat down on the window-ledge by Peter. 

"Thank you, " said Peter. "I like a cigar, but it must be a good one, andthat kind I can't afford. " He lit the cigar, and leaned back toluxuriate in it. 

"You'll like that, I'm sure. Pretty sight, isn't it?" Costell pointed tothe broad veranda, three stories below them, gay with brilliant dresses. 

"Yes. It's my first visit here, so it's new to me. "

"It won't be your last. You'll be attending other conventions thanthis. "

"I hope so. "

"One of my scouts tells me you've had a call from Maguire?"

"Yes. " Peter hesitated a moment. "He wants me to nominate Porter, " hecontinued, as soon as he had decided that plain speaking was fair toMaguire. 

"We shall be very sorry to see you do it. "

"I don't think I shall. They only want me because it would give theimpression that Porter has a city backing, and to try to give thatamounts to a deception. "

"Can they get Schlurger or Kennedy?"

"Schlurger is safe. I don't know about Kennedy. "

"Can you find out for us?"

"Yes. When would you like to know?"

"Can you see him now? I'll wait here. "

Peter rose, looking at his cigar with a suggestion of regret. But herubbed out the light, and left the room. At the office, he learned thenumber of Kennedy's room, and went to it. On knocking, the door wasopened only a narrow crack. 

"Oh! it's you, " said Kennedy. "Come in. "

Peter entered, and found Maguire seated in an easy attitude on a lounge. He noticed that his thumbs were once more tucked into his waistcoat. 

"Mr. Kennedy, " said Peter without seating himself, "there is an attemptbeing made to get a city delegate to nominate Porter. It seems to methat is his particular friends' business. "

Maguire spoke so quickly that Kennedy had no chance to reply: "Kennedy'spromised to nominate him, Mr. Stirling, if you won't. "

"Do you feel that you are bound to do it?" asked Peter. 

Kennedy moved uneasily in his chair. "Yes, I suppose I have promised. "

"Will you release Mr. Kennedy from his promise if he asks it?" Peterqueried to Maguire. 

"Why, Mr. Stirling, I don't think either he or you ought to ask it. "

"That was not my question. "

It was the Senator's turn to squirm. He did not want to say no, for fearof angering Peter, yet he did not like to surrender the advantage. Finally he said: "Yes, I'll release him, but Mr. Kennedy isn't the kindof a man that cries off from a promise. That's women's work. "

"No, " said Kennedy stiffening suddenly in backbone, as he saw the outletopened by Maguire, between antagonizing Peter, and retracting hisconsent. "I don't play baby. Not me. "

Peter stood thinking for a longer time than the others foundcomfortable. Maguire whistled to prove that he was quite at ease, but hewould not have whistled if he had been. 

"I think, Mr. Kennedy, that I'll save you from the difficulty bynominating Mr. Porter myself, " said Peter finally. 

"Good!" said Maguire; and Kennedy, reaching down into his hip pocket, produced a version of the holy text not yet included in anybibliography. Evidently the atmosphere was easier. "About your speech, Mr. Stirling?" continued the Senator. 

"I shall say what I think right. "

Something in Peter's voice made Maguire say: "It will be of the usualkind, of course?"

"I don't know, " said Peter, "I shall tell the facts. "

"What sort of facts?"

"I shall tell how it is that a delegate of the sixth ward nominatesPorter. "

"And that is?"

"I don't see, " said Peter, "why I need say it. You know it as well as Ido. "

"I know of many reasons why you should do it. "

"No, " said Peter. "There's only one, and that has been created in thelast ten minutes. Mr. Maguire, if you insist on the sixth wardnominating Mr. Porter, the sixth ward is going to tell why it does so. I'm sorry, for I like Porter, but the sixth ward shan't lend itself to afraud, if I can help it. "

Kennedy had been combining things spiritual and aqueous at hiswash-stand. But his interest in the blending seemed suddenly to cease. Maguire, too, took his thumbs from their havens of rest, and lookeddissatisfied. 

"Look here, Mr. Stirling, " he said, "it's much simpler to leave it toKennedy. You think you're doing what's right, but you'll only do harm tous, and to yourself. If you nominate Porter, the city gang won't forgiveyou, and unless you can say what we want said, we shall be down on you. So you'll break with both sides. "

"I think that is so. That is why I want some real friend of Porter's todo it. "

Maguire laughed rather a forced laugh. "I suppose we've got to satisfyyou. We'll have Porter nominated by one of our own crowd. "

"I think that's best. Good-evening. " Peter went to the door. 

"Mr. Stirling, " called Kennedy. "Won't you stay and take some whisky andwater with us?"

"Thank you, " said Peter. "Mr. Costell's in my room and he must be tiredof waiting. " He closed the door, and walked away. 

The couple looked at each other blankly for a moment. 

"The ---- cuss is playing a double game, " Maguire gasped. 

"I don't know what it means!" said Kennedy. 

"Mean?" cried Maguire. "It can mean only one thing. He's acting underCostell's orders. "

"But why should he give it away to us?"

"How the ---- should I know? Look here, Kennedy, you must do it, afterall. "

"I don't want to. "

"Tut, tut, man, you must. "

"But my ward?"

"Come. We'll make it quarantine, as you want. That's six years, and youcan ---- your ward. "

"I'll do it. "

"That's the talk. "

They sat and discussed plans and whisky for nearly an hour. Then Maguiresaid good-night. 

"You shall have the speech the first thing in the morning, " he said atparting. Then as he walked down the long corridor, he muttered, "Nowthen, Stirling, look out for the hind heel of the mule. "

Peter found Costell still waiting for him. 

"It took me longer than I thought, for Maguire was there. "

"Indeed!" said Costell, making room for Peter on the window-ledge. 

Peter re-lit his cigar, "Maguire promises me that Porter shall benominated by one of his friends. "

"He had been trying Kennedy?"

"I didn't ask. "

Costell smiled. "I had no business to ask you that?"

"No, " Peter said frankly. 

Both puffed their cigars for a time in silence. 

Then Costell began talking about Saratoga. He told Peter where the"Congress" spring was, and what was worth seeing. Finally he rose to go. He held out his hand, and said:

"Mr. Stirling, you've been as true as steel with us, and with the othermen. I don't want you to suppose we are not conscious of it. I thinkyou've done us a great service to-night, although it might have beenvery profitable to you if you had done otherwise. I don't think thatyou'll lose by it in the long run, but I'm going to thank you now, formyself. Good-night. "

Peter had a good night. Perhaps it was only because he was sleepy, but apleasant speech is not a bad night-cap. At least it is better than amental question-mark as to whether one has done wrong. Peter did notknow how it was coming out, but he thought he had done right, and neednot spend time on a blank wall that evening. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CONVENTION. 

Though Peter had not gone to bed so early as he hoped, he was up thenext morning, and had tramped his eight miles through and aroundSaratoga, before the place gave many evidences of life. He ended histramp at the Congress spring, and tasted the famous water, withexceeding disgust at the result. As he set down his half-finishedtumbler, and turned to leave, he found Miss De Voe at his elbow, aboutto take her morning glass. 

"This is a very pleasant surprise, " she said, holding out her hand. "When did you arrive?"

"I only came last night. "

"And how long shall you be here?"

"I cannot say. I am attending the convention, and my stay will depend onthat. "

"Surely you are not a Democrat?" said Miss De Voe, a shade of horrorshowing itself in her face, in spite of her good breeding. In those daysit was not, to put it mildly, a guarantee of respectability to belong tothat party, and Miss De Voe had the strong prejudices of her socialstation, all the more because she was absolutely ignorant of politicalevents. 

Peter said he was. 

"How can you be? When a man can ally himself with the best, why shouldhe choose the worst?"

"I think, " said Peter quietly, "that a Pharisee said the same thing, indifferent words, many hundred years ago. "

Miss De Voe caught her breath and flushed. She also became suddenlyconscious of the two girls who had come to the spring with her. They hadbeen forgotten in the surprise over Peter, but now Miss De Voe wonderedif they had heard his reply, and if they had enough Bible lore to enablethem to understand the reproof. 

"I am sure you don't mean that, " she said, in the sting of the moment. 

"I am very sorry, " said Peter, "if I made an unkind speech. What Imeant was that no one has a right to pick out the best for himself. I amsure, from your letter to me, that you think a man should help those notas well off as himself. "

"Oh, but that is very different. Of course we should be charitable tothose who need our help, but we need not mix in their low politics. "

"If good laws, and good administration can give the poor good food, andgood lodgings, don't you think the best charity is to 'mix' in politics, and try to obtain such results?"

"I want you to know my two cousins, " Miss De Voe replied. "Dorothy, Iwish to present Mr. Stirling. My cousin, Miss Ogden, and Miss MinnaOgden. "

Peter saw two very pretty girls, and made a bow to them. 

"Which way are you walking?" asked Miss De Voe. 

"I have been tramping merely for exercise, " said Peter, "and stoppedhere to try the spring, on my way to the United States. "

"It is hardly worth while, but if you will get into our carriage, wewill drop you there. Or if you can spare the time, we will drive to ourcottage, and then send you back to the hotel. "

"Thank you, " said Peter, "but I shall only crowd you, I fear. "

"No. There is plenty of room. "

"Will the convention be interesting to watch, Mr. Stirling?" asked oneof the girls, as soon as they were seated. 

"I don't know, " Peter told her. "It is my first experience at it. Thereis pretty strong feeling, and that of course makes it interesting to thedelegates, but I am not sure that it would be so to others. "

"Will there be speeches, and cheers, and all that sort of thing?"

"Yes. "

"Cousin Anneke, won't you take us? It will be such fun!"

"Are spectators admitted, Mr. Stirling?"

"I believe so. I heard something about tickets last night. If you careto go, I'll see if I can get you some?"

"Oh, please, " cried both girls. 

"If you can do so, Mr. Stirling, we should like to see the interestingpart, " said Miss De Voe. 

"I'll try. "

"Send word back by Oliver. " The carriage had drawn up at the cottage, and farewells were made. 

As soon as Peter reached the hotel, he went to the New York Citydelegation room, and saw Costell. He easily secured admissions, andpencilling on a card, "At headquarters they tell me that the nominationswill begin at the afternoon session, about two o'clock, " he sent themback by the carriage. Then bearding the terrors of the colored "monarchof all he surveys, " who guards the dining-room of every well-orderedSaratoga hotel, he satisfied as large an appetite as he remembered in along time. 

The morning proceedings in the convention were purely formal. Theelection of the chairman, the roll-call, the naming of the committees, and other routine matter was gotten through with, but the real interestcentred in the undertone of political talk, going on with little regardto the business in hand. After the committees were named, an unknown mancame up to Peter, and introduced himself by a name which Peter at oncerecognized as that of one of the committee on the platform. 

"Mr. Costell thinks you might like to see this, and can perhaps suggesta change, " explained Mr. Talcott, laying several sheets of manuscript onPeter's desk and indicating with his finger a certain paragraph. 

Peter read it twice before saying anything. "I think I can better it, "he said. "If you can give me time I'm very slow about such things. "

"All right. Get it in shape as quickly as possible, and send it to thecommittee-room. "

Left alone Peter looked round for a blank wall. Failing in his search, he put his head into his hands, and tried to shut out the seething, excited mass of men about him. After a time he took a sheet of paper andwrote a paragraph for the platform. It pledged the party to investigatethe food and tenement questions, and to pass such remedial legislationas should seem best. It pledged the party to do this, with as littledisturbance and interference with present conditions as possible, "butfully recognizing the danger of State interference, we place human lifeabove money profits, and human health above annual incomes, and shalluse the law to its utmost to protect both. " When it appeared in theplatform, there was an addition that charged the failure to obtainlegislation "which should have rendered impossible the recent terriblelesson in New York City" to "the obstruction in the last legislature inthe interest of the moneyed classes and landlords, by the Republicanparty. " That had not been in Peter's draft and he was sorry to see it. Still, the paragraph had a real ring of honesty and feeling in it. Thatwas what others thought too. "Gad, that Stirling knows how to slingEnglish, " said one of the committee, when the paragraph was read aloud. "He makes it take right hold. " Many an orator in that fall's campaignread the nineteenth section of the Democratic platform aloud, feelingthat it was ammunition of the right kind. It is in all the New Yorkpapers of September 24th, of that year. 

Immediately after the morning adjournment, Green came up to Peter. 

"We've had a count, and can't carry Catlin. So we shan't even put himup. What do you think of Milton?"

"I don't know him personally, but he has a very good record, I believe. "

"He isn't what we want, but that's not the question. We must take whatwe can get. "

"I suppose you think Porter has a chance. "

"Not if we take Milton. "

"Between the two I have no choice. "

An hour later, the convention was called to order by the chairman. A fewmoments sufficed to complete the unfinished business, and then thechairman's gavel fell, and every one knew without his announcement thatthe crucial moment had been reached. 

Much to Peter's surprise, Kennedy was one of the members who wasinstantly on his feet, and was the one selected for recognition by thechairman. He was still more surprised when Kennedy launched at once intoa glowing eulogium of Porter. Peter was sitting next Kennedy, and thoughhe sat quietly, a sad look came into the face usually so expressionless. He felt wronged. He felt that he had been an instrument in the deceivingof others. Most of all he grieved to think that a delegate of his ward, largely through his own interference, was acting discreditably. Peterwanted others to do right, and he felt that that was not what Kennedywas doing. 

The moment Kennedy finished, Peter rose, as did Maguire. The conventionwas cheering for Porter, and it took some time to quiet it to acondition when it was worth while recognizing any one. During this timethe chairman leaned forward and talked with Green, who sat right belowhim, for a moment. Green in turn spoke to Costell, and a little slip ofpaper was presently handed up to the chairman, who from that momentbecame absolutely oblivious of the fact that Maguire was on his feet. When silence finally came, in spite of Maguire's, "Mr. Chairman, " thatindividual said, "Mr. Stirling. "

Peter began in a low voice, "In rising, Mr. Chairman, to second thenomination of Mr. Porter, I feel that it would be idle in me to praiseone so well known to all of us, even if he had not just been the subjectof so appreciative a speech from my colleague--"

Here cries of "louder" interrupted Peter, during which interruptionGreen said to Costell, "We've been tricked. "

"I'm not so sure, " replied Costell, "Maguire's on his feet yet, anddoesn't look happy. Something's happening which has not been slated. "

When Peter resumed, there were no more cries of "louder. " Hisintroduction had been a matter of trouble and doubt to him, for he likedPorter, and feared he might not show it. But now he merely had somethingto tell his audience, and that was easy work. So, his voice ringing veryclear and distinct, he told them of the original election of thedelegates; of the feeling of his ward; of the attempts to obtain a citynomination of Porter; of Maguire's promise. "Gad, he hits from theshoulder, " said Green. As soon as the trend of his remarks was realized, Porter's supporters began to hiss and hoot. Peter at once stopped, butthe moment silence came he began again, and after a repetition of this afew times, they saw they could neither embarrass nor anger him, so theylet him have his say. He brought his speech to an end by saying:

"I have already expressed my admiration of Mr. Porter, and as soon as Ihad made up my mind to vote for him, I made no secret of thatintention. But he should not have been nominated by a city delegate, forhe is not the choice of New York City, and any attempt to show that heis, or that he has any true backing there, is only an attempt todeceive. In seconding his nomination therefore, I wish it to bedistinctly understood that both his nomination and seconding arepersonal acts, and in no sense the act of the delegates of the city ofNew York. "

There was a mingling of hoots and cheers as Peter sat down, thoughneither was very strong. In truth, the larger part of the delegates werevery much in the dark as to the tendency of Peter's speech. "Was itfriendly or unfriendly to Porter?" they wondered. 

"Mr. Maguire, " said the chairman. 

"Mr. Chairman, the gentleman who has just sat down is to be complimentedon his speech. In my whole life I have never heard so deceptive andblinding a narration. We know of Brutus stabbing his friend. But whatshall we say of a pretended Brutus who caresses while he stabs?"

Here the Porter adherents became absolutely sure of the character ofPeter's speech, and hissed. 

"Nor is it Imperial Caesar alone, " continued Maguire, "against whom heturns his poniard. Not content with one foul murder, he turns againstCaesar's friends. By devilish innuendo, he charges the honorable Mr. Kennedy and myself with bargaining to deceive the American people. Icall on him for proof or retraction. "

The convention laughed. Peter rose and said: "Mr. Chairman, I gave atruthful account of what actually took place last evening in the UnitedStates hotel. I made no charges. "

"But you left the impression that Mr. Kennedy and I had made a deal, "shrieked Maguire. 

"If the gentleman draws that conclusion from what passed, it is not myfault. "

The convention laughed. "Do you mean to charge such a bargain?" angrilyshouted Maguire. 

"Will you deny it?" asked Peter calmly. 

"Then you do charge it?"

Here the convention laughed for the third time. Green shouted "deny it, "and the cry was taken up by many of the delegates. 

"Yes, " screamed Maguire. "I do deny it"

Peter turned to Kennedy. "Do you too, deny it?"

"Yes, " shouted Kennedy, loudly. 

Again the convention laughed. 

"Then, " said Peter, "if I had charged you with a bargain, I should nowfind it necessary to apologize. "

The convention roared. Maguire screamed something, but it could not beheard. The tenor of his remarks was indicated by his red face andclinched fist. 

Costell smiled his deep smile. "I'm very glad, " he said to the man nexthim, "that we didn't pick Stirling up. "

Then Milton was nominated and seconded, as were also Catlin, and fourminor stars. That done, a ballot was taken and the vote stood:

 Porter 206 Milton 197 Catlin 52 Scattering 29

A second ballot showed:

 Porter 206 Milton 202 Catlin 54 Scattering 22

A third ballot gave:

 Porter 206 Milton 210 Catlin 52 Scattering 16

"Porter's done for on the next, " was whispered round the hall, thoughwhere it started, no one knew. Evidently his adherents thought so, forone made a motion to adjourn. It was voted down, and once more the rollcall started. 

"I shall vote for Milton, " Peter told Schlurger, and the changes in thedelegations as the call proceeded, proved that many changes were beingmade the same way. Yet the fourth ballot showed:

 Porter 125 Milton 128 Catlin 208 Scattering 14

The wildest excitement broke out in the Porter delegates. "They'vebeaten us, " screamed Kennedy, as much to himself as to those about. "They've used Milton to break our ranks, meaning Catlin all the time. "So in truth, it was. Milton had been put up to draw off Porter'sdelegates, but the moment they had begun to turn to Milton, enough NewYork City delegates had been transferred to Catlin to prevent Miltonbeing chosen. Amid protests and angry words on all sides another ballotwas taken:

 Catlin 256 Porter 118 Milton 110

Before the result was announced. Green was at Peter's elbow. 

"Will you move to make it unanimous?" he asked. 

"Yes. " And Peter made the formal motion, which was carried byacclamation. Half an hour served to choose the Lieutenant-Governor andthe rest of the ticket, for the bulk of it had already been slated. Theplatform was adopted, and the convention dissolved. 

"Well, " said Kennedy angrily to Peter, "I guess you've messed it thistime. A man can't please both sides, but he needn't get cussed by both. "

Peter went out and walked to his hotel. "I'm afraid I did mess it, " hethought, "yet I don't see what else I could have done. "

CHAPTER XXIV. 

MISUNDERSTANDINGS AND UNDERSTANDINGS. 

"Did you understand what it all meant, Cousin Anneke?" asked Dorothy, asthey were coming downstairs. 

"No. The man who got so angry seemed to think Mr. Stirling had--"

She stopped short. A group of men on the sidewalk were talking, and shepaused to hear one say:

"To see that young chap Stirling handling Maguire was an eye-opener. "

Another man laughed, rather a deep, quiet laugh. "Maguire understandseverything but honesty, " he said. "You can always beat him with that. "

Miss De Voe would have like to stay and listen, but there were too manymen. So the ladies entered the carriage. 

"At least we know that he said he was trying to tell the truth, " shewent on, "and you just heard what that man said. I don't know why theyall laughed. "

"He didn't seem to mind a bit. "

"No. Hasn't he a funny half-embarrassed, half-cool manner?"

"He wasn't embarrassed after he was fairly speaking. You know he wasreally fine-looking, when he spoke. "

"Yes, " said Dorothy. "You said he had a dull, heavy face. "

"That was the first time I saw him, Dorothy. It's a face which variesvery much. Oliver, drive to the United States. We will take him home todinner. "

"Oh, good, " cried the youngest. "Then he will tell us why they laughed. "

As they drove up to the hotel, Peter had just reached the steps. Heturned to the carriage, the moment he saw that they wanted him. 

"We wish to carry you off to a simple country dinner, " Miss De Voe toldhim. 

"I am going to take the special to New York, and that leaves in half anhour. "

"Take a later train. "

"My ticket wouldn't be good on it. "

Most men Miss De Voe would have snubbed on the spot, but to Peter shesaid: "Then get another ticket. "

"I don't care to do that, " said Peter. 

"Oh, please, Mr. Stirling, " said Minna. "I want to ask you a lot ofquestions about the convention. "

"Hush, Minna, " said Miss De Voe. She was nettled that Peter shouldrefuse, and that her niece could stoop to beg of "a criminal lawyer andward politician, " as she put it mentally. But she was determined not toshow it "We are sorry. Good-evening. Home, Oliver. "

So they did not learn from Peter why the convention laughed. The subjectwas brought up at dinner, and Dorothy asked the opinion of the voters ofthe family. 

"Probably he had made a fluke of some kind, " one said. 

"More probably he had out-sharped the other side, " suggested a second. 

"It will be in the papers to-morrow, " said the first suggestor. 

The three women looked in the next day's papers, but the reporters wereas much at sea in regard to the Stirling-sixth-ward incident, as hadbeen the rank-and-file in the convention. Three took their views fromMaguire, and called it "shameful treason, " and the like. Two called it"unprincipled and contradictory conduct. " One alone said that "Mr. Stirling seemed to be acting conscientiously, if erratically. " Just whateffect it had had on the candidates none of the papers agreed in. Onesaid it had killed Porter. Another, that "it was a purely personalmatter without influence on the main question. " The other papers shadedbetween these, though two called it "a laughable incident. " Theopposition press naturally saw in it an entire discrediting of bothfactions of the Democratic party, and absolute proof that the nomineefinally selected was unfit for office. 

Unable to sift out the truth, the ladies again appealed to the voters ofthe family. 

"Oh, " said one, "Stirling did something tricky and was caught in it. "

"I don't believe that, " said Miss De Voe. 

"Nor I, " said Dorothy. 

"Well, if you want to make your political heeler an angel, I have noobjection, " laughed the enfranchised being. 

"I don't think a man who made that speech about the children can be ascoundrel, " said Dorothy. 

"I don't either, " said Minna. 

"That's the way you women reason, " responded he of the masculineintellect. "Because a man looks out for some sick kittens, ergo, he is apolitical saint. If you must take up with politicians, do takeRepublicans, for then, at least, you have a small percentage of chancein your favor that they are gentlemen. "

"Don't be a Pharisee, Lispenard, " said Miss De Voe, utilizing Peter'srebuke. 

"Then don't trouble me with political questions. Politics are so vulgarin this country that no gentleman keeps up with them. "

Miss De Voe and the two girls dropped the "vulgar" subject, but Miss DeVoe said later:

"I should like to know what they laughed at?"

"Do ask him--if he comes to call on you, this winter, Cousin Anneke. "

"No. I asked him once and he did not come. " Miss De Voe paused a moment. "I shall not ask him again, " she added. 

"I don't think he intends to be rude, " said Dorothy. 

"No, " responded Miss De Voe. "I don't think he knows what he is doing. He is absolutely without our standards, and it is just as well for boththat he shouldn't call. " Woman-like, Miss De Voe forgot that she hadsaid Peter was a gentleman. 

If Peter had found himself a marked man in the trip up, he was doubly soon the return train. He sat most of the time by himself, pondering onwhat had happened, but he could not be unconscious of the number ofpeople to whom he was pointed out. He was conscious too, that his coursehad not been understood, and that many of those who looked at him withinterest, did so without approbation. He was not buoyed up either, by asense that he had succeeded in doing the best. He had certainly hurtPorter, and had made enemies of Maguire and Kennedy. Except for the factthat he had tried to do right, he could see no compensating balance. 

Naturally the newspapers the next morning did not cheer him, thoughperhaps he cared less for what they said than he ought. He sent them, good, bad, and indifferent, to his mother, writing her at the same timea long letter, telling her how and why he had taken this course. Hewrote also a long letter to Porter, explaining his conduct. Porter hadalready been told that Peter was largely responsible for his defeat, butafter reading Peter's letter, he wrote him a very kind reply, thankinghim for his support and for his letter. "It is not always easy to dowhat one wants in politics, " he wrote, "but if one tries with highmotives, for high things, even defeat loses its bitterness. I shall notbe able to help you, in your wished-for reforms as greatly as I hoped, but I am not quite a nonentity in politics even now, and if at any timeyou think my aid worth the asking, do not hesitate to call on me forit. I shall always be glad to see you at my house for a meal or a night, whether you come on political matters or merely for a chat. "

Peter found his constituents torn with dissensions over his andKennedy's course in the convention. He did not answer in kind the blameand criticism industriously sowed by Kennedy; but he dropped into ahalf-a-dozen saloons in the next few days, and told "the b'ys" a prettyfull history of the "behind-the-scenes" part. 

"I'm afraid I made mistakes, " he frankly acknowledged, "yet even now Idon't see how I could have done differently. I certainly thought I wasdoing right. "

"An' so yez were, " shouted Dennis. "An' if that dirty beast Kennedyshows his dirty face inside these doors, it's a washin' it will get widthe drainin' av the beer-glasses. We wants none av his dirty bargainshere. "

"I don't know that he had made any bargain, " said Peter. 

"But we do, " shouted one of the men. "It's a bargain he's alwaysmakin'. "

"Yes, " said Dennis. "It's Kennedy looks out for himself, an' we'll lethim do it next time all by himself. " It could not be traced to itsorigin, but in less than a week the consensus of opinion in the ward wasthat: "Kennedy voted for himself, but Stirling for us. "

The ward, too, was rather proud of the celebrity it had achieved. Thepapers had not merely paragraphed Peter, and the peculiar position ofthe "district" in the convention, but they had begun now askingquestions as to how the ward would behave. "Would it support Catlin?""Was it true that the ward machine had split, and intended to nominaterival tickets?" "Had one faction made a deal with the Republicans?"

"Begobs, " said Dennis, "it's the leaders an' the papers are just aftherdiscoverin' there is a sixth ward, an' it's Misther Stirling's made themdo it. "

The chief party leaders had stayed over at Saratoga, but Peter had acall from Costell before the week was out. 

"The papers gave it to you rather rough, " Costell said kindly, "but theydidn't understand it. We thought you behaved very square. "

"They tell me I did Porter harm. "

"No. It was Maguire did the harm. You simply told about it. Of courseyou get the blame. "

"My constituents stand by me. "

"How do they like Catlin?"

"I think they are entirely satisfied. I'm afraid they never cared muchwho got it. "

"I'm told Kennedy is growling, and running amuck?"

"He's down on Catlin and me. "

"Well, if you think best, we'll placate him? But Gallagher seemed tothink he couldn't do much?"

"I don't think he has much of a following. Even Moriarty, who was hisstrong card, has gone back on him. "

"Will you make a couple of speeches for us in this ward?"

"If you'll let me say what I want?"

"You can support us?"

"Yes. "

"Then we'll leave it to you. Only beware of making too many statements. You'll get dates and places from the committee as soon as they aresettled. We pay twenty-five dollars a night. If you hit the right key, we may want you in some of the other wards, too. "

"I shall be glad to talk. It's what I've been doing to small crowds inthe saloons. "

"So I'm told. You'll never get a better place. Men listen there, as theynever will at a mass-meeting. " Costell rose. "If you are free nextSunday, come up into Westchester and take a two o'clock dinner with me. We won't talk politics, but you shall see a nice little woman, who'sgood enough to make my life happier, and after we've looked over mystables, I'll bring you back to the city behind a gray mare that willpass about anything there is on the road. "

So Peter had a half day in the country and enjoyed it very much. Helooked over Mrs. Costell's flower-garden, in which she spent almost herwhole time, and chatted with her about it. He saw the beautiful stables, and their still more beautiful occupants. He liked the couple very much. Both were simple and silent people, of little culture, but it seemed toPeter that the atmosphere had a gentle, homely tone that was verypleasing. As he got into the light buggy, he said to Mrs. Costell:

"I'll get the seed of that mottled gillyflower from my mother as soon aspossible. Perhaps you'll let me bring it up myself?"

"Do, " she said. "Come again, whether you get the seed or not. "

After they had started, Mr. Costell said: "I'm glad you asked that. Mrs. Costell doesn't take kindly to many of the men who are in politics withme, but she liked you, I could see. "

Peter spoke twice in the next week in small halls in his ward. He hadgood audiences, and he spoke well, if simply. 

"There ain't no fireworks in his stuff, " said the ward satirist. "Hedon't unfurl the American flag, nor talk about liberty and theconstitution. He don't even speak of us as noble freemen. He talks justas if he thought we was in a saloon. A feller that made that speechabout the babies ought to treat us to something moving. "

That was what many of the ward thought. Still they went because theywanted to see if he wouldn't burst out suddenly. They felt that Peterhad unlimited potentialities in the way of eloquence (for eloquence tothem meant the ability to move the emotions) and merely saved hispowers. Without quite knowing it they found what he had to sayinteresting. He brought the questions at issue straight back toelementary forms. He showed just how each paragraph in the platformwould directly affect, not the state, but the "district. "

"He's thoroughly good, " the party leaders were told. "If he would abusethe other side a little more, and stick in a little tinsel and calciumlight he would be great. "

So he was called upon to speak elsewhere in the city. He worked at oneof the polls on election day, and was pleased to find that he was ableto prevent a little of the "trading" for which Kennedy had arranged. Hisward went Democratic, as was a foregone conclusion, but by an unusuallylarge majority, and Peter found that he and Dennis were given the creditfor it, both in the ward, and at headquarters. Catlin was elected, andthe Assembly had been won. So Peter felt that his three months' work hadnot been an entire failure. The proceeds of his speeches had added alsotwo hundred and fifty dollars to his savings bank account, and onehundred more to the account of "Peter Stirling, Trustee. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

VARIOUS KINDS OF SOCIETY. 

Peter spent Christmas with his mother, and found her very much worriedover his "salooning. "

"It's first steps, Peter, that do the mischief, " she told him. 

"But, mother, I only go to talk with the men. Not to drink. "

"You'll come to that later. The devil's paths always start straight, myboy, but they end in wickedness. Promise me you won't go any more. "

"I can't do that, mother. I am trying to help the men, and you ought notask me to stop doing what may aid others. "

"Oh, my boy, my boy!" sobbed the mother. 

"If you could only understand it, mother, as I have come to, youwouldn't mind. Here, the saloon is chiefly a loafing place for the lazyand shiftless, but in New York, it's very different. It's the poor man'sclub. If you could see the dark, cold, foul-aired tenements where theylive, and then the bright, warm, cheerful saloons, that are open to all, you would see that it isn't the drink that draws the men. I even wishthe women could come. The bulk of the men are temperate, and only take aglass or two of beer or whisky, to pay for their welcome. They really gofor the social part, and sit and talk, or read the papers. Of course aman gets drunk, sometimes, but usually it is not a regular customer, andeven such cases would be fewer, it we didn't tax whisky so outrageouslythat the dishonest barkeepers are tempted to doctor their whisky withdrugs which drive men frantic if they drink. But most of the men are toosensible, and too poor, to drink so as really to harm themselves. "

"Peter, Peter! To think that three years in New York should bring you totalk so! I knew New York was a sink-hole of iniquity, but I thought youwere too good a boy to be misled. "

"Mother, New York has less evil in it than most places. Here, after themills shut down, there's no recreation for the men, and so they amusethemselves with viciousness. But in a great place like New York, thereare a thousand amusements specially planned for the evening hours. Exhibitions, theatres, concerts, libraries, lectures--everything totempt one away from wrong-doing to fine things. And there wickedness iskept out of sight as it never is here. In New York you must go to it, but in these small places it hunts one out and tempts one. "

"Oh, Peter! Here, where there's room in church of a Sabbath for all thefolks, while they say that in New York there isn't enough seats inchurches for mor'n a quarter of the people. A missionary was saying onlylast week that we ought to help raise money to build churches in NewYork. Just think of there being mor'n ten saloons for every church! Andthat my son should speak for them and spend nights in them!"

"I'm sorry it troubles you so. If I felt I had any right to stop, I'd doit. "

"You haven't drunk in them yet, Peter?"

"No. "

"And you'll promise to write me if you do. "

"I'll promise you I won't drink in them, mother. "

"Thank you, Peter. " Still his mother was terrified at the mere thought, and at her request, her clergyman spoke also to Peter. He was easier todeal with, and after a chat with Peter, he told Mrs. Stirling:

"I think he is doing no harm, and may do much good. Let him do what hethinks best. "

"It's dreadful though, to have your son's first refusal be about goingto saloons, " sighed the mother. 

"From the way he spoke I think his refusal was as hard to him as to you. He's a good boy, and you had better let him judge of what's right. "

On Peter's return to the city, he found an invitation from Mrs. Bohlmannto come to a holiday festivity of which the Germans are so fond. He wastoo late to go, but he called promptly, to explain why he had notresponded. He was very much surprised, on getting out his dress-suit, now donned for the first time in three years, to find how badly itfitted him. 

"Mother is right, " he had to acknowledge. "I have grown much thinner. "

However, the ill-fit did not spoil his evening. He was taken into thefamily room, and passed a very pleasant hour with the jolly brewer, hisfriendly wife, and the two "nice girls. " They were all delighted withCatlin's election, and Peter had to tell them about his part in it. Theydid not let him go when he rose, but took him into the dining-room, where a supper was served at ten. In leaving a box of candy, saved forhim from the Christmas tree, was given him. 

"You will come again, Mr. Stirling?" said Mrs. Bohlmann, warmly. 

"Thank you, " said Peter. "I shall be very glad to. "

"Yah, " said Mr. Bohlmann. "You coom choost as ofden as you blease. "

Peter took his dress-suit to a tailor the next day, and ordered it to betaken in. That individual protested loudly on the ground that the coatwas so old-fashioned that it would be better to make a new suit. Petertold him that he wore evening dress too rarely to make a new suit worththe having, and the tailor yielded rather than lose the job. Scarcelyhad it been put in order, when Peter was asked to dine at hisclergyman's, and the next day came another invitation, to dine withJustice Gallagher. Peter began to wonder if he had decided wisely invamping the old suit. 

He had one of the pleasantest evenings of his life at Dr. Purple's. Itwas a dinner of ten, and Peter was conscious that a real compliment hadbeen paid him in being included, for the rest of the men were not merelyolder than himself, but they were the "strong" men of the church. Twowere trustees. All were prominent in the business world. And it pleasedPeter to find that he was not treated as the youngster of the party, buthad his opinions asked. At one point of the meal the talk drifted to aBethel church then under consideration, and this in turn brought up thetenement-house question. Peter had been studying this, both practicallyand in books, for the last three months. Before long, the whole tablewas listening to what he had to say. When the ladies had withdrawn, there was political talk, in which Peter was much more a listener, butit was from preference rather than ignorance. One of the men, awholesale dealer in provisions, spoke of the new governor'srecommendation for food legislation. 

"The leaders tell me that the legislature will do something about it, "Peter said. 

"They'll probably make it worse, " said Mr. Avery. 

"Don't you think it can be bettered?" asked Peter. 

"Not by politicians. "

"I'm studying the subject, " Peter said. "Will you let me come down someday, and talk with you about it?"

"Yes, by all means. You'd better call about lunch hour, when I'm free, and we can talk without interruption. "

Peter would much have preferred to go on discussing with the men, whenthey all joined the ladies, but Mrs. Purple took him off, and placed himbetween two women. They wanted to hear about "the case, " so Peterpatiently went over that well-worn subject. Perhaps he had his pay bybeing asked to call upon both. More probably the requests were due towhat Mrs. Purple had said of him during the smoking time:

"He seems such a nice, solid, sensible fellow. I wish some of you wouldask him to call on you. He has no friends, apparently. "

The dinner at Justice Gallagher's was a horse of a very different color. The men did not impress him very highly, and the women not at all. Therewas more to eat and drink, and the talk was fast and lively. Peter wasvery silent. So quiet, that Mrs. Gallagher told her "take in" that she"guessed that young Stirling wasn't used to real fashionable dinners, "and Peter's partner quite disregarded him for the rattling, breezytalker on her other side. After the dinner Peter had a pleasant chatwith the Justice's seventeen-year-old daughter, who was just from aCatholic convent, and the two tried to talk in French. It is wonderfulwhat rubbish is tolerable if only talked in a foreign tongue. 

"I don't see what you wanted to have that Stirling for?" said HonorableMrs. Justice Gallagher, to him who conferred that proud title upon her, after the guests had departed. 

"You are clever, arn't you?" said Gallagher, bitingly. 

"That's living with you, " retorted the H. M. J. , who was not easily putdown. 

"Then you see that you treat Stirling as if he was somebody. He'sgetting to be a power in the ward, and if you want to remain Mrs. Justice Gallagher and spend eight thousand--and pickings--a year, yousee that you keep him friendly. "

"Oh, I'll be friendly, but he's awful dull. "

"Oh, no, mamma, " said Monica. "He really isn't. He's read a great manymore French books than I have. "

Peter lunched with the wholesale provision-dealer as planned. The lunchhour proving insufficient for the discussion, a family dinner, a fewdays later, served to continue it. The dealer's family were not veryenthusiastic about Peter. 

"He knows nothing but grub talk, " grumbled the heir apparent, who fromthe proud altitude of a broker's office, had come to scorn the familytrade. 

"He doesn't know any fashionable people, " said one of the girls, whohaving unfulfilled ambitions concerning that class, was doublyinterested and influenced by its standards and idols. 

"He certainly is not brilliant, " remarked the mother. 

"Humph, " growled the pater-familias, "that's the way all you women goon. Brilliant! Fashionable! I don't wonder marriage is a failure when Isee what you like in men. That Stirling is worth all your dancing men, but just because he holds his tongue when he hasn't a sensible thing tosay, you think he's no good. "

"Still he is 'a nobody. '"

"He's the fellow who made that big speech in the stump-tail milk case. "

"Not that man?"

"Exactly. But of course he isn't 'brilliant. '"

"I never should have dreamed it. "

"Still, " said the heir, "he keeps his eloquence for cows, and not fordinners. "

"He talked very well at Dr. Purple's, " said the mamma, whose opinion ofPeter had undergone a change. 

"And he was invited to call by Mrs. Dupont and Mrs. Sizer, which is morethan you've ever been, " said Avery senior to Avery junior. 

"That's because of the prog, " growled the son, seeing his opportunity tosquare accounts quickly. 

Coming out of church the next Sunday, Peter was laid hold of by theBohlmanns and carried off to a mid-day dinner, at which were a lot ofpleasant Germans, who made it very jolly with their kindly humor. He didnot contribute much to the laughter, but every one seemed to think himan addition to the big table. 

Thus it came to pass that late in January Peter dedicated a week ofevenings to "Society, " and nightly donning his dress suit, calleddutifully on Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Sizer, Mrs. Purple, Mrs. Avery, Mrs. Costell, Mrs. Gallagher and Mrs. Bohlmann. Peter was becoming veryfrivolous. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

AN EVENING CALL. 

But Peter's social gadding did not end with these bread-and-buttercalls. One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famouspicture-dealer, to look over an exhibition then advertised, and hadnearly finished his patient examination of each picture, which alwaysinvolved quite as much mental gymnastics as aesthetic pleasure to Peter, when he heard a pleasant:

"How do you do, Mr. Stirling?"

Turning, he found Miss De Voe and a well-dressed man at his elbow. Peter's face lighted up in a way which made the lady say to herself: "Iwonder why he wouldn't buy another ticket?" Aloud she said, "I want youto know another of my cousins. Mr. Ogden, Mr. Stirling. "

"Charmed, " said Mr. Ogden genially. Any expression which Peter hadthought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this passiveparticiple, that he merely bowed. 

"I did not know you cared for pictures, " said Miss De Voe. 

"I see most of the public exhibitions, " Peter told her. "I try to likethem. "

Miss De Voe looked puzzled. 

"Don't, " said Mr. Ogden. "I tried once, when I first began. But it'smuch easier to notice what women say, and answer 'yes' and 'no' at theright points. "

Peter looked puzzled. 

"Nonsense, Lispenard, " said Miss De Voe. "He's really one of the bestconnoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling. "

"There, " said Lispenard. "You see. Only agree with people, and theythink you know everything. "

"I suppose you have seen the pictures, and so won't care to go roundwith us?" inquired Miss De Voe. 

"I've looked at them, but I should like to go over again with you, " saidPeter. Then he added, "if I shan't be in the way. "

"Not a bit, " said Lispenard heartily. "My cousin always wants alistener. It will be a charity to her tongue and my ears. " Miss De Voemerely gave him a very pleasant smile. "I wonder why he wouldn't buy aticket?" she thought. 

Peter was rather astonished at the way they looked at the pictures. Theywould pass by a dozen without giving them a second glance, and then stopat one, and chat about it for ten minutes. He found that Miss De Voe hadnot exaggerated her cousin's art knowledge. He talked familiarly andbrilliantly, though making constant fun of his own opinions, and oftenjeering at the faults of the picture. Miss De Voe also talked well, soPeter really did supply the ears for the party. He was very much pleasedwhen they both praised a certain picture. 

"I liked that, " he told them, making the first remark (not a question)which he had yet made. "It seemed to me the best here. "

"Unquestionably, " said Lispenard. "There is poetry and feeling in it. "

Miss De Voe said: "That is not the one I should have thought of yourliking. "

"That's womanly, " said Lispenard, "they are always deciding what a manshould like. "

"No, " denied Miss De Voe. "But I should think with your liking forchildren, that you would have preferred that piece of Brown's, ratherthan this sad, desolate sand-dune. "

"I cannot say why I like it, except, that I feel as if it had somethingto do with my own mood at times. "

"Are you very lonely?" asked Miss De Voe, in a voice too low forLispenard to hear. 

"Sometimes, " said Peter, simply. 

"I wish, " said Miss De Voe, still speaking low, "that the next time youfeel so you would come and see me. "

"I will, " said Peter. 

When they parted at the door, Peter thanked Lispenard: "I've reallylearned a good deal, thanks to Miss De Voe and you. I've seen thepictures with eyes that know much more about them than mine do. "

"Well, we'll have to have another turn some day. We're always in searchof listeners. "

"If you come and see me, Mr. Stirling, " said Miss De Voe, "you shall seemy pictures. Good-bye. "

"So that is your Democratic heeler?" said Lispenard, eyeing Peter'sretreating figure through the carriage window. 

"Don't call him that, Lispenard, " said Miss De Voe, wincing. 

Lispenard laughed, and leaned back into a comfortable attitude. "Thenthat's your protector of sick kittens?"

Miss De Voe made no reply. She was thinking of that dreary wintrystretch of sand and dune. 

Thus it came to pass that a week later, when a north-easter had met asouth-wester overhead and both in combination had turned New Yorkstreets into a series of funnels, in and through which wind, sleet andsnow fought for possession, to the almost absolute dispossession ofhumanity and horses, that Peter ended a long stare at his blank wall byputting on his dress-suit, and plunging into the streets. He had, veryfoolishly, decided to omit dinner, a couple of hours before, rather thanface the storm, and a north-east wind and an empty stomach are enough toset any man staring at nothing, if that dangerous inclination is at allhabitual. Peter realized this, for the opium eater is always keenlyalive to the dangers of the drug. Usually he fought the tendencybravely, but this night he felt too tired to fight himself, andpreferred to battle with a little thing like a New York storm. So hestruggled through the deserted streets until he had reached hisobjective point in the broad Second Avenue house. Miss De Voe was athome, but was "still at dinner. "

Peter vacillated, wondering what the correct thing was under thecircumstances. The footman, remembering him of old, and servants inthose simple days being still open to impressions, suggested that hewait. Peter gladly accepted the idea. But he did not wait, for hardlyhad the footman left him than that functionary returned, to tell Peterthat Miss De Voe would see him in the dining-room. 

"I asked you to come in here, because I'm sure, after venturing out sucha night, you would like an extra cup of coffee, " Miss De Voe explained. "You need not sit at the table. Morden, put a chair by the fire. "

So Peter found himself sitting in front of a big wood-fire, drinking acup of coffee decidedly better in quality than his home-brew. Blankwalls ceased to have any particular value for the time. 

In a moment Miss De Voe joined him at the fire. A small table was movedup, and a plate of fruit, and a cup of coffee placed upon it. 

"That is all, Morden, " she said. "It is so nice of you to have come thisevening. I was promising myself a very solitary time, and was dawdlingover my dinner to kill some of it. Isn't it a dreadful night?"

"It's blowing hard. Two or three times I thought I should have to giveit up. "

"You didn't walk?"

"Yes. I could have taken a solitary-car that passed, but the horses wereso done up that I thought I was better able to walk. "

Miss De Voe touched the bell. "Another cup of coffee, Morden, and bringthe cognac, " she said. "I am not going to let you please your motherto-night, " she told Peter. "I am going to make you do what I wish. " Soshe poured a liberal portion of the eau-de-vie into Peter's second cup, and he most dutifully drank it. "How funny that he should be soobstinate sometimes, and so obedient at others, " thought Miss De Voe. "Idon't generally let men smoke, but I'm going to make an exceptionto-night in your case, " she continued. 

It was a sore temptation to Peter, but he answered quickly, "Thank youfor the thought, but I won't this evening. "

"You have smoked after dinner already?"

"No. I tried to keep my pipe lighted in the street, but it blew andsleeted too hard. "

"Then you had better. "

"Thank you, no. "

Miss De Voe thought her former thought again. 

"Where do you generally dine?" she asked. 

"I have no regular place. Just where I happen to be. "

"And to-night?"

Peter was not good at dodging. He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I saw rather a curious thing, as I was walking up. Would you like tohear about it?"

Miss De Voe looked at him curiously, but she did not seem particularlyinterested in what Peter had to tell her, in response to her "yes. " Itconcerned an arrest on the streets for drunkenness. 

"I didn't think the fellow was half as drunk as frozen, " Peterconcluded, "and I told the policeman it was a case for an ambulancerather than a station-house. He didn't agree, so I had to go with themboth to the precinct and speak to the superintendent. "

"That was before your dinner?" asked Miss De Voe, calmly. 

It was a very easily answered question, apparently, but Peter was silentagain. 

"It was coming up here, " he said finally. 

"What is he trying to keep back?" asked Miss De Voe mentally. "I supposesome of the down-town places are not quite--but he wouldn't--" then shesaid out loud: "I wonder if you men do as women do, when they dinealone? Just live on slops. Now, what did you order to-night? Were you anascetic or a sybarite?"

"Usually, " said Peter, "I eat a very simple dinner. "

"And to-night?"

"Why do you want to know about to-day?"

"Because I wish to learn where you dined, and thought I could form someconclusion from your menu. " Miss De Voe laughed, so as to make it appeara joke, but she knew very well that she was misbehaving. 

"I didn't reply to your question, " said Peter, "because I would havepreferred not. But if you really wish to know, I'll answer it. "

"Yes. I should like to know. " Miss De Voe still smiled. 

"I haven't dined. "

"Mr. Stirling! You are joking?" Miss De Voe's smile had ended, and shewas sitting up very straight in her chair. Women will do without eatingfor an indefinite period, and think nothing of it, but the thought of ahungry man fills them with horror--unless they have the wherewithal tomitigate the consequent appetite. Hunger with woman, as regards herself, is "a theory. " As regards a man it is "a condition. "

"No, " said Peter. 

Miss De Voe touched the bell again, but quickly as Morden answered it, Peter was already speaking. 

"You are not to trouble yourself on my account, Miss De Voe. I wish fornothing. "

"You must have--"

Peter was rude enough to interrupt with the word "Nothing. "

"But I shall not have a moment's pleasure in your call if I think of youas--"

Peter interrupted again. "If that is so, " he said, rising, "I had bettergo. "

"No, " cried Miss De Voe. "Oh, won't you please? It's no trouble. I'llnot order much. "

"Nothing, thank you, " said Peter. 

"Just a chop or--"

Peter held out his hand. 

"No, no. Sit down. Of course you are to do as you please. But I shouldbe so happy if--?" and Miss De Voe looked at Peter appealingly. 

"No. Thank you. "

"Nothing, Morden. " They sat down again. "Why didn't you dine?" askedMiss De Voe. 

"I didn't care to face the storm. "

"Yet you came out?"

"Yes. I got blue, and thought it foolish to stay indoors by myself. "

"I'm very glad you came here. It's a great compliment to find an eveningwith me put above dinner. You know I had the feeling that you didn'tlike me. "

"I'm sorry for that. It's not so. "

"If not, why did you insist on my twice asking you to call on me?"

"I did not want to call on you without being sure that you really wishedto have me. "

"Then why wouldn't you stay and dine at Saratoga?"

"Because my ticket wouldn't have been good. "

"But a new ticket would only cost seven dollars. "

"In my neighborhood, we don't say 'only seven dollars. '"

"But you don't need to think of seven dollars. "

"I do. I never have spent seven dollars on a dinner in my life. "

"But you should have, this time, after making seven hundred and fiftydollars in one month. I know men who would give that amount to dine withme. " It was a foolish brag, but Miss De Voe felt that her usual means ofinspiring respect were not working, --not even realized. 

"Very likely. But I can't afford such luxuries. I had spent more thanusual and had to be careful. "

"Then it was economy?"

"Yes. "

"I had no idea my dinner invitations would ever be held in so littlerespect that a man would decline one to save seven dollars. " Miss De Voewas hurt. "I had given him five hundred dollars, " she told herself, "andhe ought to have been willing to spend such a small amount of it toplease me. " Then she said; "A great many people economize in foolishways. "

"I suppose so, " said Peter. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you. I reallydidn't think I ought to spend the money. "

"Never mind, " said Miss De Voe. "Were you pleased with the nominationand election of Catlin?"

"I was pleased at the election, but I should have preferred Porter. "

"I thought you tried to prevent Porter's nomination?"

"That's what the papers said, but they didn't understand. "

"I wasn't thinking of the papers. You know I heard your speech in theconvention. "

"A great many people seem to have misunderstood me. I tried to make itclear. "

"Did you intend that the convention should laugh?"

"No. That surprised and grieved me very much!"

Miss De Voe gathered from this and from what the papers had said that itmust be a mortifying subject to Peter, and knew that she ought todiscontinue it. But she could not help saying, "Why?"

"It's difficult to explain, I'm afraid. I had a feeling that a man wastrying to do wrong, but I hoped that I was mistaken. It seemed to methat circumstances compelled me to tell the convention all about it, butI was very careful not to hint at my suspicion. Yet the moment I toldthem they laughed. "

"Why?"

"Because they felt sure that the man had done wrong. "

"Oh!" It was a small exclamation, but the expression Miss De Voe putinto it gave it a big meaning. "Then they were laughing at Maguire?"

"At the time they were. Really, though, they were laughing at humanweakness. Most people seem to find that amusing. "

"And that is why you were grieved?"

"Yes. "

"But why did the papers treat you so badly?"

"Mr. Costell tells me that I told too much truth for people tounderstand. I ought to have said nothing, or charged a bargain rightout, for then they would have understood. A friend of--a fellow I usedto know, said I was the best chap for bungling he ever knew, and I'mafraid it's true. "

"Do you know Costell? I thought he was such a dishonest politician?"

"I know Mr. Costell. I haven't met the dishonest politician yet. "

"You mean?"

"He hasn't shown me the side the papers talk about. "

"And when he does?"

"I shall be very sorry, for I like him, and I like his wife. " Then Petertold about the little woman who hated politics and loved flowers, andabout the cool, able manager of men, who could not restrain himself fromputting his arms about the necks of his favorite horses, and who hadtold about the death of one of his mares with tears in his eyes. "He hadhis cheek cut open by a kick from one of his horses once, and he speaksof it just as we would speak of some unintentional fault of a child. "

"Has he a great scar on his cheek?"

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"Once. Just as we were coming out of the convention. He said somethingabout you to a group of men which called my attention to him. " Miss DeVoe thought Peter would ask her what it was. "Would you like to knowwhat he said?" she asked, when Peter failed to do so. 

"I think he would have said it to me, if he wished me to hear it. "

Miss De Voe's mind reverted to her criticism of Peter. "He is soabsolutely without our standards. " Her chair suddenly ceased to becomfortable. She rose, saying, "Let us go to the library. I shall notshow you my pictures now. The gallery is too big to be pleasant such anight. You must come again for that. Won't you tell me about some of theother men you are meeting in politics?" she asked when they had sat downbefore another open fire. "It seems as if all the people I know are justalike--I suppose it's because we are all so conventional--and I am verymuch interested in hearing about other kinds. "

So Peter told about Dennis and Blunkers, and the "b'ys" in the saloons;about Green and his fellow delegates; about the Honorable Mr. , Mrs. , andMiss Gallagher, and their dinner companions. He did not satirize in theleast. He merely told various incidents and conversations, in a sober, serious way; but Miss De Voe was quietly amused by much of the narrativeand said to herself, "I think he has humor, but is too serious-minded toyield to it. " She must have enjoyed his talk for she would not let Petergo early, and he was still too ignorant of social usages to know how toget away, whether a woman wished or no. Finally he insisted that he mustleave when the clock pointed dangerously near eleven. 

"Mr. Stirling, " said Miss De Voe, in a doubtful, "won't-you-please"voice, such as few men had ever heard from her, "I want you to let mesend you home? It will only take a moment to have the carriage here. "

"I wouldn't take a horse out in such weather, " said Peter, in a verysettling kind of voice. 

"He's obstinate, " thought Miss De Voe. "And he makes his obstinacy sodreadfully--dreadfully pronounced!" Aloud she said: "You will comeagain?"

"If you will let me. "

"Do. I am very much alone too, as perhaps you know?" Miss De Voe did notchoose to say that her rooms could be filled nightly and thateverywhere she was welcome. 

"No. I really know nothing about you, except what you have told me, andwhat I have seen. "

Miss De Voe laughed merrily at Peter's frankness. "I feel as if I knewall about you, " she said. 

"But you have asked questions, " replied Peter. 

Miss De Voe caught her breath again. Try as she would, she could not getaccustomed to Peter. All her social experience failed to bridge thechasm opened by his speech. "What did he mean by that plain statement, spoken in such a matter-of-fact voice?" she asked herself. Of course thepause could not continue indefinitely, and she finally said: "I havelived alone ever since my father's death. I have relatives, but preferto stay here. I am so much more independent. I suppose I shall have tomove some day. This part of the city is beginning to change so. " Miss DeVoe was merely talking against time, and was not sorry when Peter shookhands, and left her alone. 

"He's very different from most men, " she said to the blazing logs. "Heis so uncomplimentary and outspoken! How can he succeed in politics?Still, after the conventional society man he is--he is--very refreshing. I think I must help him a little socially. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

A DINNER. 

The last remark made by Miss De Voe to her fire resulted, after a fewdays, in Peter's receiving a formal dinner invitation, which he acceptedwith a promptness not to be surpassed by the best-bred diner-out. Heregretted now his vamping of the old suit. Peter understood that he wasin for quite another affair than the Avery, the Gallagher, or even thePurple dinner. He did not worry, however, and if in the dressing-room helooked furtively at the coats of the other men, he entirely forgot thesubject the moment he started downstairs, and thought no further of ittill he came to take off the suit in his own room. 

When Peter entered the drawing-room, he found it well filled with youngpeople, and for a moment a little of the bewildered feeling of fouryears before came over him. But he found himself chatting with Miss DeVoe, and the feeling left him as quickly as it had come. In a moment hewas introduced to a "Miss Lenox, " who began talking in an easy way whichgave Peter just as much or as little to say as he chose. Peter wonderedif many girls were as easy to talk to as--as--Miss Lenox. 

He took Miss De Voe in, and found Dorothy Ogden sitting on his otherside. He had barely exchanged greetings with her, when he heard his namespoken from across the table, and looking up, he found Miss Leroysitting opposite. 

"I hope you haven't entirely forgotten me, " that girl said, the momenthis attention was caught. 

"Not at all, " said Peter. 

"Nor my dress, " laughed Miss Leroy. 

"I remember the style, material, and train. "

"Especially the train I am sure. "

"Do explain these mysterious remarks, " said Dorothy. 

"Mr. Stirling and I officiated at a wedding, and I was in such mortalterror lest some usher should step on my gown, that it became a joke. "

"Whose wedding was that?" asked Miss De Voe. 

"Miss Pierce's and Watts D'Alloi's, " said the bridesmaid. 

"Do you know Watts D'Alloi?" exclaimed Miss De Voe to Peter. 

"Yes. "

"Indeed! When?"

"At college. "

"Are you a Harvard man?"

"Yes. "

"You were Mr. D'Alloi's chum, weren't you?" said Miss Leroy. 

"Yes. "

"Watts D'Alloi?" again exclaimed Miss De Voe. 

"Yes. "

"But he's a mere boy. "

"He's two years my senior. "

"You don't mean it?"

"Yes. "

"I thought you were over thirty. "

"Most people do. "

Miss De Voe said to herself, "I don't know as much about him as Ithought I did. He may be very frank, but he doesn't tell all one thinks. Now I know where he gets his nice manner. I ought to have recognized theHarvard finish. "

"When did you last hear from the D'Allois?" asked Miss Leroy. 

"Not since they sailed, " said Peter, wincing internally. 

"Not really?" said the bridesmaid. "Surely you've heard of the baby?"

"No. " Lines were coming into Peter's face which Miss De Voe had neverbefore seen. 

"How strange. The letters must have gone astray. But you have writtenhim?"

"I did not know his address. "

"Then you really haven't heard of the little baby--why, it was borntwo--no, three years ago--and of Helen's long ill-health, and of theirtaking a villa on the Riviera, and of how they hope to come home thisspring?"

"No. "

"Yes. They will sail in June if Helen is well enough. I'm to begod-mother. "

"If you were Mr. D'Alloi's chum, you must have known Ray Rivington, "said Dorothy. 

"Yes. But I've not seen him since we graduated. He went out West. "

"He has just returned. Ranching is not to his taste. "

"Will you, if you see him, say that I'm in New York and should like torun across him?"

"I will. He and Laurence--my second brother--are old cronies, and heoften drops in on us. I want you to know my brothers. They are both herethis evening. "

"I have met the elder one, I suppose. "

"No. That was a cousin, Lispenard Ogden. He spoke of meeting you. Youwould be amused to hear his comment about you. "

"Mr. Stirling doesn't like to have speeches repeated to him, Dorothy, "said Miss De Voe. 

"What do you mean?" asked Dorothy, looking from one to the other. 

"He snubbed me the other evening when I tried to tell him what we heard, coming out of the convention last autumn, " explained Miss De Voe, smiling slightly at the thought of treating Peter with a dose of his ownmedicine. 

Peter looked at Miss De Voe. "I hope you don't mean that?"

"How else could I take it?"

"You asked me if I wished something, and I merely declined, I think. "

"Oh, no. You reproved me. "

"I'm very sorry if I did. I'm always blundering. "

"Tell us what Lispenard said, Dorothy. I'm curious myself. "

"May I, Mr. Stirling?

"I would rather not, " said Peter. 

And Dorothy did not tell him, but in the drawing-room she told Miss DeVoe:

"He said that except his professor of archaeology at Heidelberg, Mr. Stirling was the nicest old dullard he'd ever met, and that he must be avery good chap to smoke with. "

"He said that, Dorothy?" exclaimed Miss De Voe, contemptuously. 

"Yes. "

"How ridiculous, " said Miss De Voe. "Lispenard's always trying to hitthings off in epigrams, and sometimes he's very foolish. " Then sheturned to Miss Leroy. "It was very nice, your knowing Mr. Stirling. "

"I only met him that once. But he's the kind of man somehow that youremember. It's curious I've never heard of him since then. "

"You know he's the man who made that splendid speech when the poorchildren were poisoned summer before last. "

"I can't believe it!"

"It's so. That is the way I came to know him. "

Miss Leroy laughed. "And Helen said he was a man who needed help intalking!"

"Was Mrs. D'Alloi a great friend of his?"

"No. She told me that Watts had brought him to see them only once. Idon't think Mr. Pierce liked him. "

"He evidently was very much hurt at Watts's not writing him. "

"Yes. I was really sorry I spoke, when I saw how he took it. "

"Watts is a nice boy, but he always was thoughtless. "

In passing out of the dining-room, Dorothy had spoken to a man for amoment, and he at once joined Peter. 

"You know my sister, Miss Ogden, who's the best representative of us, "he said. "Now I'll show you the worst. I don't know whether sheexploited her brother Ogden to you?"

"Yes. She talked about you and your brother this evening. "

"Trust her to stand by her family. There's more loyalty in her thanthere was in the army of the Potomac. My cousin Lispenard says it'swrecking his nervous system to live up to the reputation she makes forhim. "

"I never had a sister, but it must be rather a good thing to live upto. "

"Yes. And to live with. Especially other fellows' sisters. "

"Are you ready to part with yours for that purpose?"

"No. That's asking too much. By the way, I think we are in the samework. I'm in the office of Jarvis, Redburn and Saltus. "

"I'm trying it by myself. "

"You've been very lucky. "

"Yes. I've succeeded much better than I hoped for. But I've had very fewclients. "

"Fortunately it doesn't take many. Two or three rich steady clients willkeep a fellow running. I know a man who's only got one, but he runs himfor all he's worth, and gets a pretty good living out of him. "

"My clients haven't been of that sort. " Peter smiled a little at thethought of making a steady living out of the Blacketts, Dooleys orMilligans. 

"It's all a matter of friends. "

Peter had a different theory, but he did not say so. Just at that pointthey were joined by Laurence Ogden, who was duly introduced, and in amoment the conversation at their end of the table became general. Peterlistened, enjoying his Havana. 

When they joined the ladies, they found Lispenard Ogden there, and heintercepted Peter. 

"Look here, " he said. "A friend of mine has just come back from Europe, with a lot of prints. He's a fellow who thinks he has discrimination, and he wants me to come up and look them over to-morrow evening. Hehopes to have his own taste approved and flattered. I'm not a bit goodat that, with men. Won't you go with me, and help me lie?"

"Of course I should like to. "

"All right. Dine with me at six at the Union Club. "

"I'm not going to let you talk to each other, " said Miss De Voe. "Lispenard, go and talk with Miss McDougal. "

"See how quickly lying brings its own punishment, " laughed Lispenard, walking away. 

"What does he mean?" asked Miss De Voe. 

"The opposite of what he says, I think, " said Peter. 

"That is a very good description of Lispenard. Almost good enough tohave been said by himself. If you don't mind, I'll tell him. "

"No. "

"Do tell me, Mr. Stirling, how you and Watts D'Alloi came to roomtogether?"

"He asked me. "

"Yes. But what ever made him do that?"

"I've often wondered myself. "

"I can easily understand his asking you, but what first threw youtogether?"

"A college scrape. "

"Were you in a college scrape?"

"Yes. I was up before the faculty twice. "

"Do tell me what you had done?"

"I was charged with stealing the chapel Bible, and with painting a frontdoor of one of the professors. "

"And had you done these things?"

"No. "

The guests began to say good-night, so the dialogue was interrupted. When it came Peter's turn to go, Miss De Voe said:

"I hope you will not again refuse my dinner invitations. "

"I have had a very pleasant evening, " said Peter. "But I had apleasanter one, the other night. "

"Good-evening, " said Miss De Voe mechanically. She was really thinking"What a very nice speech. He couldn't have meant anything by his remarkabout the questions. "

Peter dined the next evening with Lispenard, who in the course of themeal turned the conversation to Miss De Voe. Lispenard was curious tolearn just what Peter knew of her. 

"She's a great swell, of course, " he said incidentally. 

"I suppose so. I really know nothing about her, but the moment I saw herI felt that she was different from any other woman I had ever met. "

"But you've found out about her since?"

"No. I was tempted to question Dr. Purple, but I didn't like to askabout a friend. "

Lispenard laughed. "You've got a pretty bad case of conscience, I'mafraid. It's a poor thing to have in New York, too. Well, my cousin isone of the richest, best born women in this country, though I say it. You can't do better than cultivate her. "

"Is that what you do?"

"No. You have me there. She doesn't approve of me at all. You see, womenin this country expect a man to be serious and work. I can't do either. I suppose its my foreign education. She likes my company, and finds myescortage very convenient. But while she thinks I'm a pretty goodcompanion, she is sure I'm a poor sort of a man. If she takes a shine toyou, make the most of it. She can give you anything she pleasessocially. "

"I suppose you have anything you please socially?"

"Pretty much. "

"And would you advise me to spend time to get it?"

"Um. I wouldn't give the toss of a copper for it--but I can have it. It's not being able to have it that's the bad thing. "

"So I have found, " said Peter gravely. 

Lispenard laughed heartily, as he sipped his "Court France. " "I wish, "he said, "that a lot of people, whose lives are given to nothing else, could have heard you say that, in that tone of voice. You don't spellSociety with a capital, do you?"

"Possibly, " said Peter, "if I had more capital, I should use some onsociety. "

"Good, " said Lispenard. "Heavens, " he said to himself, "he's made ajoke! Cousin Anneke will never believe it. "

He told her the next day, and his statement proved correct. 

"I know you made the joke, " she said. "He didn't. "

"And why shouldn't he joke as well as I?"

"It doesn't suit him. "

"Why not?"

"Parlor tricks are all right in a lap-dog, but they only belittle amastiff. "

Lispenard laughed good-naturedly. He was used to his cousin's hits athis do-nothingness, and rather enjoyed them. "He is a big beast, isn'the? But he's a nice fellow. We had such a good time over Le Grand'setchings last night. Didn't get away till after one. It's really apleasure to find a man who can smoke and keep quiet, and yet enjoythings strongly. Le Grand was taken with him too. We just fitted eachother. "

"I'm glad you took him. I'm going to give him some society. "

"Did you ever hear the story of Dr. Brown?"

"No. What is it?"

"A certain widow announced to her son that she was to marry Dr. Brown. 'Bully for you, Ma, ' said the son, 'Does Dr. Brown know it?'"

"What do you mean?"

Lispenard laughed. "Does Stirling know it? Because I advise you to tellhim before you decide to do anything with him. He's not easy to drive. "

"Of course he'll be glad to meet nice people. "

"Try him. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Peter Stirling won't give a raparee for all the society youcan give him. "

"You don't know what you are talking about. "

But Lispenard was right. Peter had enjoyed the dinner at Miss De Voe'sand the evening at Mr. Le Grand's. Yet each night on reaching his rooms, he had sat long hours in his straight office chair, in the dark. He wasthinking of what Miss Leroy had told him of--of--He was not thinking of"Society. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

COMMISSIONS. 

Peter made his dinner call at Miss De Voe's, but did not find her athome. He received a very pleasant letter expressing her regret atmissing him, and a request to lunch with her two days later, and to gowith some friends to an afternoon piano recital, "if you care for music. If not, merely lunch with us. " Peter replied that he was very sorry, butbusiness called him to Albany on that day. 

"I really regret it, " said Miss De Voe to Dorothy. "It is getting solate in the season, that unless he makes his call quickly, I shallhardly be able to give him more than one other chance. "

Peter's business in Albany had been sprung on him suddenly. It wasneither more nor less than a request sent verbally through Costell fromGovernor Catlin, to come up and see him. 

"It's about the food and tenement commission bills, " Costell told him. "They'll be passed by the Senate to-day or to-morrow, and be in Catlin'shands. "

"I hope he'll make good appointments, " said Peter, anxiously. 

"I think he will, " said Costell, smiling quietly. "But I don't believethey will be able to do much. Commissions are commonly a way of stavingoff legislation. "

Peter went up to Albany and saw Catlin. Much to his surprise he foundthe Governor asking his advice about the bills and the personnel of thecommissions. But after a few minutes he found that this seeking for aidand support in all matters was chronic, and meant nothing special in hisown case. 

"Mr. Schlurger tells me, though he introduced the bills, that youdrafted both. Do you think I had better sign them?"

"Yes. "

"Mr. Costell told me to take your advice. You really think I hadbetter?"

"Yes. "

The Governor evidently found something solacing in the firm voice inwhich Peter spoke his "yes. " He drew two papers towards him. 

"You really think I had better?"

"Yes. "

The Governor dipped his pen in the ink, but hesitated. 

"The amendments haven't hurt them?" he queried. 

"Not much. "

"But they have been hurt?"

"They have been made better in some ways. "

"Really?"

"Yes. "

Still the Governor hesitated, but finally began a big G. Havingcommitted himself, he wrote the rest rapidly. He paused for a momentover the second bill, and fingered it nervously. Then he signed itquickly. "That's done. " He shoved them both away much as if they weredangerous. 

"I wonder, " thought Peter, "if he enjoys politics?"

"There's been a great deal of trouble about the commissioners, " said theGovernor. 

"I suppose so, " said Peter. 

"Even now, I can't decide. The leaders all want different men. "

"The decision rests with you. "

"That's the trouble, " sighed the Governor. "If only they'd agree. "

"You should make your own choice. You will be held responsible if theappointments are bad. "

"I know I shall. Just look over those lists, and see if you thinkthey'll do?"

Peter took the slips of paper and read them. 

"I needn't say I'm pleased to see my name, " he said. "I had no idea youwould think of me. "

"That was done by Costell, " said the Governor, hastening to shift theresponsibility. 

"I really don't know any of the rest well enough to express an opinion. Personally, I should like to see some scientific men on eachcommission. "

"Scientific! But we have none in politics. "

"No? But this isn't politics. "

"I hoped you'd think these lists right. "

"I think they are good. And the bills give us the power to takeevidence; perhaps we can get the scientific part that way. "

Peter did his best to brace Catlin up; and his talk or other pressureseemed to have partially galvanized the backbone of that limpindividual, for a week later the papers announced the naming of the twocommissions. The lists had been changed, however. That on food consistedof Green, a wholesale grocer, and a member of the Health Board. Peter'sname had been dropped. That on tenements, of five members, was made upof Peter; a very large property-owner in New York, who was a member aswell of the Assembly; a professional labor agitator; a well-knownpolitician of the better type, and a public contractor. Peter, who hadbeen studying some reports of a British Royal Commission on the samesubject, looked grave, thinking that what the trained men in England hadfailed in doing, he could hardly hope to accomplish with suchill-assorted instruments. The papers were rather down on the lists. "Theappointments have destroyed any chance of possible benefit, " was theirgeneral conclusion, and Peter feared they were right. 

Costell laughed when Peter spoke of the commissions. "If you want Catlinto do anything well, you've got to stand over him till it's done. Iwanted you on both commissions, so that you could see how useless theyall are, and not blame us politicians for failing in our duty. Greenpromises to get you appointed Secretary of the Food Commission, which isthe next best thing, and will give you a good salary for a time. "

The Tenement Commission met with little delay, and Peter had a chance toexamine its motley members. The big landlord was a great swell, who hadpolitical ambitions, but was too exclusive, and too much of a dilettanteto be a real force. Peter took a prejudice against him before meetinghim, for he knew just how his election to the Assembly had beenobtained--even the size of the check--and Peter thought buying anelection was not a very creditable business. He did not like what heknew of the labor agitator, for such of the latter's utterances andopinions as he had read seemed to be the cheapest kind of demagogism. The politician he had met and liked. Of the contractor he knew nothing. 

The Commission organized by electing the politician as chairman. Thenthe naming of a secretary was discussed, each member but Peter having acandidate. Much to Peter's surprise, the landlord, Mr. Pell, named RayRivington. 

"I thought he was studying law?" Peter said. 

"He is, " said Pell. "But he can easily arrange to get off for the fewhours we shall meet a week, and the five dollars a day will be a verynice addition to his income. Do you know him?"

"We were in college together. I thought he was rich. "

"No. He's of good family, but the Rivingtons are growing poorer everyyear. They try to live on their traditions, and traditions don't paygrocers. I hope you'll help him. He's a very decent fellow. "

"I shall vote for him, " replied Peter, marvelling that he should be ableto give a lift to the man who, in the Harvard days, had seemed sothoroughly the mate of Watts and the other rich fellows of the "gang. "Rivington being the only candidate who had two votes, he was promptlyselected. 

Thirty arduous minutes were spent in waiting for the arrival of thefifth member of the Commission, and in the election of chairman andsecretary. A motion was then made to adjourn, on the ground that theCommission could not proceed without the secretary. 

Peter promptly objected. He had been named secretary for this particularmeeting, and offered to act until Rivington could be notified. "Ithink, " he said, "that we ought to lay out our programme. "

The labor agitator agreed with him, and, rising, delivered an extemporespeech, declaring that "we must not delay. The leeches (here he lookedat Mr. Pell) are sucking the life-blood of the people, " etc. 

The chairman started to call him to order, but Peter put his hand on thechairman's arm. "If you stop him, " he said in a low voice, "he'll thinkwe are against him, and he'll say so outside. "

"But it's such foolishness. "

"And so harmless! While he's talking, look over this. " Peter produced anoutline of action which he had drawn up, and having written it induplicate, he passed one draft over to Mr. Pell. 

They all let the speech go on, Peter, Mr. Pell and the chairman chattingover the plan, while the contractor went to sleep. The agitator tried tocontinue, but as the inattention became more and more evident, hisspeech became tamer and tamer. Finally he said, "That is my opinion, "and sat down. 

The cessation of the oration waked up the contractor, and Peter'soutline was read aloud. 

"I don't move its adoption, " said Peter. "I merely submit it as abasis. "

Not one of the members had come prepared with knowledge of how to go towork, except the chairman, who had served on other commissions. He said:

"I think Mr. Stirling's scheme shows very careful thought and isadmirable. We cannot do better than adopt it. "

"It is chiefly copied from the German committee of three years ago, "Peter told them. "But I have tried to modify it to suit the differentconditions. "

Mr. Pell objected to the proposed frequent sittings. Thereupon theagitator praised that feature. The hour of meeting caused discussion. But finally the scheme was adopted, and the date of the first sessionfixed. 

Peter went downstairs with Mr. Pell, and the latter offered to drop himat his office. So they drove off together, and talked about theCommission. 

"That Kurfeldt is going to be a nuisance, " said Pell

"I can't say yet. He evidently has no idea of what our aim is. Perhaps, though, when we really get to work, he'll prove useful. "

Peter had a call the next day from Rivington. It was made up of thanks, of college chat, and of inquiry as to duties. Peter outlined thepreliminary work, drafted the "Inquiries" and other printed papersnecessary to be sent out before the first meeting, and told him aboutthe procedure at the meetings. 

"I know I shall get into all kinds of pickles, " said Ray. "I write sucha bad hand that often I can't read it myself. How the deuce am I to takedown evidence?"

"I shall make notes for my own use, and you will be welcome to them, ifthey will help you. "

"Thanks, Peter. That's like you. "

The Commission began its inquiry, on the date fixed, and met three timesa week from that time on. Peter did not try to push himself forward, buthe was by far the best prepared on the subject, and was able to suggestthe best sources of information. He asked good questions, too, of thevarious witnesses summoned. Finally he was the one regular attendant, and therefore was the one appealed to for information elicited atprevious meetings. He found the politician his best helper. Pell wasuseful when he attended, which was not very often, and even thisintermittent attendance ceased in June. "I'm going to Newport, " heexplained, and did not appear again till late in the fall. Thecontractor really took no part in the proceedings beyond a fairlyfrequent attendance, and an occasional fit of attention whenever theinquiry related to building. The labor-agitator proved quite a good man. He had, it is true, no memory, and caused them to waste much time inreading over the minutes of previous meetings. But he was in earnest, and proved to be perfectly reasonable as soon as he found that thecommissioners' duties were to inquire and not to make speeches. Peterwalked home with him several times, and they spent evenings together inPeter's rooms, talking over the evidence, and the possibilities. 

Peter met a great many different men in the course of the inquiry;landlords, real-estate agents, architects, engineers, builders, plumbers, health officials, doctors and tenants. In many cases he wentto see these persons after they had been before the Commission, andtalked with them, finding that they were quite willing to give facts inprivate which they did not care to have put on record. 

He had been appointed the Secretary of the Food Commission, and spentmuch time on that work. He was glad to find that he had considerableinfluence, and that Green not merely acted on his suggestions, butencouraged him to make them. The two inquiries were so germane that theyhelped him reciprocally. No reports were needed till the next meeting ofthe Legislature, in the following January, and so the two commissionstook enough evidence to swamp them. Poor Ray was reduced almost todespair over the mass of "rubbish" as he called it, which he wouldsubsequently have to put in order. 

Between the two tasks, Peter's time was well-nigh used up. It wasespecially drawn upon when the taking of evidence ceased and thedrafting of the reports began. Ray's notes proved hopeless, so Petercopied out his neatly, and let Ray have them, rather glad thatirrelevant and useless evidence was thus omitted. It was left to Peterto draw the report, and when his draft was submitted, it was accompaniedby a proposed General Tenement-house Bill. Both report and bill wereslightly amended, but not in a way that Peter minded. 

Peter drew the Food-Commission report as well, although it went beforethe Commission as Green's. To this, too, a proposed bill was attached, which had undergone the scrutiny of the Health Board, and had beenconformed to their suggestions. 

In November Peter carried both reports to Albany, and had a long talkwith Catlin over them. That official would have preferred no reports, but since they were made, there was nothing to do but to submit them tothe Legislature. Peter did not get much encouragement from him about thechances for the bills. But Costell told him that they could be "whippedthrough. The only danger is of their being amended, so as to spoilthem. "

"Well, " said Peter, "I hope they will be passed. I've done my best, whatever happens. "

A very satisfactory thing to be able to say of yourself, if you believein your own truthfulness. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

IN THE MEANTIME. 

In spite of nine months' hard work on the two Commissions, it is not tobe supposed that Peter's time was thus entirely monopolized. If onespends but seven hours of the twenty-four in sleep, and but two more onmeals, there is considerable remaining time, and even so slow a workeras Peter found spare hours not merely for society and saloons, but forwhat else he chose to undertake. 

Socially he had an evening with Miss De Voe, just before she left thecity for the summer; a dinner with Mr. Pell, who seemed to have taken aliking to Peter; a call on Lispenard; another on Le Grand; and a familymeal at the Rivingtons, where he was made much of in return for his aidto Ray. 

In the saloons he worked hard over the coming primary, and spentevenings as well on doorsteps in the district, talking over objects andcandidates. In the same cause, he saw much of Costell, Green, Gallagher, Schlurger and many other party men of greater or less note in the city'spolitics. He had become a recognized quantity in the control of thedistrict, and the various ward factions tried hard to gain his support. When the primary met, the proceedings, if exciting, were never for amoment doubtful, for Gallagher, Peter, Moriarty and Blunkers had beenable to agree on both programme and candidates. An attempt had been madeto "turn down" Schlurger, but Peter had opposed it, and had carried hispoint, to the great gratitude of the silent, honest German. What wasmore important to him, this had all been done without exciting hardfeelings. 

"Stirling's a reasonable fellow, " Gallagher told Costell, not knowinghow much Peter was seeing of the big leader, "and he isn't dead set oncarrying his own schemes. We've never had so little talk of mutiny andsulking as we have had this paring. Moriarty and Blunkers swear by him. It's queer. They've always been on opposite sides till now. "

When the weather became pleasant, Peter took up his "angle"' visitingsagain, though not with quite the former regularity. Yet he rarely let aweek pass without having spent a couple of evenings there. Thespontaneous welcome accorded him was payment enough for the time, letalone the pleasure and enjoyment he derived from the imps. There waslittle that could raise Peter in their estimation, but they understoodvery well that he had become a man of vast importance, as it seemed tothem. They had sharp little minds and ears, and had caught what the"district" said and thought of Peter. 

"Cheese it, the cop, Tim, " cried an urchin one evening to another, whowas about to "play ball. "

"Cheese it yerself. He won't dare tech me, " shouted Tim, "so long asMister Peter's here. "

That speech alone showed the magnitude of his position in their eyes. He was now not merely, "friends wid de perlice;" he was held in fear bythat awesome body!

"If I was as big as him, " said one, "I'd fire all the peelers. "

"Wouldn't that be dandy!" cried another. 

He won their hearts still further by something he did in midsummer. Blunkers had asked him to attend what brilliant posters throughout thatpart of the city announced as:

 HO FOR THE SEA-SHORE!

 SIXTH ANNUAL

 CLAM BAKE

 OF THE

 PATRICK N. BLUNKERS'S ASSOCIATION. 

When Peter asked, he found that it was to consist of a barge party(tickets fifty cents) to a bit of sand not far away from the city, withmusic, clams, bathing and dancing included in the price of the ticket, and unlimited beer for those who could afford that beverage. 

"The beer just pays for it, " Blunkers explained. "I don't give um whiskycause some ---- cusses don't drink like as dey orter. " Then catching alook in Peter's face, he laughed rather shamefacedly. "I forgits, " heexplained. "Yer see I'm so da--" he checked himself--"I swears widoutknowin' it. "

"I shall be very glad to go, " said Peter. 

"Dat's bully, " said Blunkers. Then he added anxiously: "Dere's somethin'else, too, since yer goin'. Ginerally some feller makes a speech. Yerwouldn't want to do it dis time, would yer?"

"What do they talk about?"

"Just what dey--" Blunkers swallowed a word, nearly choking in so doing, and ended "please. "

"Yes. I shall be glad to talk, if you don't mind my taking a dullsubject?"

"Yer just talk what yer want. We'll listen. "

After Peter had thought it over for a day, he went to Blunkers's ginpalace. 

"Look here, " he said. "Would it be possible to hire one more barge, andtake the children free? I'll pay for the boat, and for the extra food, if they won't be in the way. "

"I'm damned if yer do, " shouted Blunkers. "Yer don't pay for nothinks, but der childers shall go, or my name ain't Blunkers. "

And go they did, Blunkers making no secret of the fact that it wasPeter's idea. So every child who went, nearly wild with delight, feltthat the sail, the sand, the sea, and the big feed, was all owed toPeter. 

It was rather an amusing experience to Peter. He found many of his partyfriends in the district, not excluding such men as Gallagher, Kennedyand others of the more prominent rank. He made himself very pleasant tothose whom he knew, chatting with them on the trip down. He went intothe water with the men and boys, and though there were many goodswimmers, Peter's country and river training made it possible for him togive even the "wharf rats, " a point or two in the way of water feats. Then came the regulation clam-bake, after which Peter talked about thetenement-house question for twenty minutes. The speech was verydifferent from what they expected, and rather disappointed them all. However, he won back their good opinions in closing, for he ended with avery pleasant "thank you, " to Blunkers, so neatly worded, and containingsuch a thoroughly apt local joke, that it put all in a good humor, andgave them something to tell their neighbors, on their return home. Theadvantage of seldom joking is that people remember the joke, and it getsrepeated. Peter almost got the reputation of a wit on that one joke, merely because it came after a serious harangue, and happened to bequotable. Blunkers was so pleased with the end of the speech that he gotPeter to write it out, and to this day the "thank you" part of theaddress, in Peter's neat handwriting, handsomely framed, is to be seenin Blunkers's saloon. 

Peter also did a little writing this summer. He had gone to see three orfour of the reporters, whom he had met in "the case, " to get them towrite up the Food and Tenement subjects, wishing thereby to stir uppublic feeling. He was successful to a certain degree, and they notmerely wrote articles themselves, but printed three or four which Peterwrote. In two cases, he was introduced to "staff" writers, and evenwrote an editorial, for which he was paid fifteen dollars. This moneywas all he received for the time spent, but he was not working forshekels. All the men told him to let them know when he had more"stories" for them, and promised him assistance when the reports shouldgo in to the legislature. 

Peter visited his mother as usual during August. Before going, he calledon Dr. Plumb, and after an evening with him, went to two tenements inthe district. As the result of these calls, he carried three childrenwith him when he went home. Rather pale, thin little waifs. It is aserious matter to charge any one with so grave a crime as changling, butPeter laid himself open to it, for when he came back, after two weeks, he returned very different children to the parents. The fact that theydid not prosecute for the substitution only proves how little the reallypoor care for their offspring. 

But this was not his only summering. He spent four days with theCostells, as well as two afternoons later, thoroughly enjoying, notmerely the long, silent drives over the country behind the fast horses, but the pottering round the flower-garden with Mrs. Costell. He had beenreading up a little on flowers and gardening, and he was glad to swaphis theoretical for her practical knowledge. Candor compels thestatement that he enjoyed the long hours stretched on the turf, orsitting idly on the veranda, puffing Mr. Costell's good Havanas. 

Twice Mr. Bohlmann stopped at Peter's office of a Saturday and took himout to stay over Sunday at his villa in one of the Oranges. The familyall liked Peter and did not hesitate to show it. Mr. Bohlmann told him:

"I sbend about dree dousand a year on law und law-babers. Misder Dummerid does for me, but ven he does nod any longer it do, I gifts id you. "

On the second visit Mrs. Bohlmann said:

"I tell my good man that with all the law-business he has, he must get alawyer for a son-in-law. "

Peter had not heard Mrs. Bohlmann say to her husband the evening before, as they were prinking for dinner:

"Have you told Mr. Stirling about your law business?"

Nor Mr. Bohlmann's prompt:

"Yah. I dells him der last dime. "

Yet Peter wondered if there were any connection between the twostatements. He liked the two girls. They were nice-looking, sweet, sincere women. He knew that Mr. Bohlmann was ranked as a millionairealready, and was growing richer fast. Yet--Peter needed no blank walls. 

During this summer, Peter had a little more law practice. A small grocerin one of the tenements came to him about a row with his landlord. Peterheard him through, and then said: "I don't see that you have any case;but if you will leave it to me to do as I think best, I'll try if I cando something, " and the man agreeing, Peter went to see the landlord, aretail tobacconist up-town. 

"I don't think my client has any legal grounds, " he told the landlord, "but he thinks that he has, and the case does seem a little hard. Suchmaterial repairs could not have been foreseen when the lease was made. "

The tobacconist was rather obstinate at first. Finally he said, "I'lltell you what I'll do. I'll contribute one hundred dollars towards therepairs, if you'll make a tenant named Podds in the same building payhis rent; or dispossess him if he doesn't, so that it shan't cost meanything. "

Peter agreed, and went to see the tenant in arrears. He found that theman had a bad rheumatism and consequently was unable to work. The wifewas doing what she could, and even the children had been sent on thestreets to sell papers, or by other means, to earn what they could. Theyalso owed a doctor and the above-mentioned grocer. Peter went back tothe landlord and told him the story. 

"Yes, " he said, "it's a hard case, I know, but, Mr. Stirling, I owe amortgage on the place, and the interest falls due in September. I'm outfour months' rent, and really can't afford any more. " So Peter tookthirty-two dollars from his "Trustee" fund, and sent it to thetobacconist. "I have deducted eight dollars for collection, " he wrote. Then he saw his first client, and told him of his landlord's concession. 

"How much do I owe you?" inquired the grocer. 

"The Podds tell me they owe you sixteen dollars. "

"Yes. I shan't get it. "

"My fee is twenty-five. Mark off their bill and give me the balance. "

The grocer smiled cheerfully. He had charged the Podds roundly fortheir credit, taking his chance of pay, and now got it paid in anequivalent of cash. He gave the nine dollars with alacrity. 

Peter took it upstairs and gave it to Mrs. Podds. "If things look upwith you later, " he said, "you can pay it back. If not, don't troubleabout it. Ill look in in a couple of weeks to see how things are going. "

When this somewhat complicated matter was ended, he wrote about it tohis mother:

 "Many such cases would bankrupt me. As it is, my fund is dwindling faster than I like to see, though every lessening of it means a lessening of real trouble to some one. I should like to tell Miss De Voe what good her money has done already, but fear she would not understand why I told her. It has enabled me to do so much that otherwise I could not have afforded. There is only one hundred and seventy-six dollars left. Most of it though, is merely loaned and perhaps will be repaid. Anyway, I shall have nearly six hundred dollars for my work as secretary of the Food Commission, and I shall give half of it to this fund. "

CHAPTER XXX. 

A "COMEDY. "

When the season began again, Miss De Voe seriously undertook herself-imposed work of introducing Peter. He was twice invited to dinnerand was twice taken with opera parties to sit in her box, besidesreceiving a number of less important attentions. Peter accepteddutifully all that she offered him. Even ordered a new dress-suit of atailor recommended by Lispenard. He was asked by some of the people hemet to call, probably on Miss De Voe's suggestion, and he dutifullycalled. Yet at the end of three months Miss De Voe shook her head. 

"He is absolutely a gentleman, and people seem to like him. Yetsomehow--I don't understand it. "

"Exactly, " laughed Lispenard. "You can't make a silk purse out of asow's ear. "

"Lispenard, " angrily said Miss De Voe, "Mr. Stirling is as much betterthan--"

"That's it, " said Lispenard. "Don't think I'm depreciating Peter. Thetrouble is that he is much too good a chap to make into a society or alady's man. "

"I believe you are right. I don't think he cares for it at all. "

"No, " said Lispenard. "Barkis is not willin'. I think he likes you, andsimply goes to please you. "

"Do you really think that's it?"

Lispenard laughed at the earnestness with which the question was asked. "No, " he replied. "I was joking. Peter cultivates you, because he wantsto know your swell friends. "

Either this conversation or Miss De Voe's own thoughts, led to a changein her course. Invitations to formal dinners and to the opera suddenlyceased, and instead, little family dinners, afternoons in galleries, andevenings at concerts took their place. Sometimes Lispenard went withthem, sometimes one of the Ogden girls, sometimes they went alone. Itwas an unusual week when Peter's mail did not now bring at least onelittle note giving him a chance to see Miss De Voe if he chose. 

In February came a request for him to call. "I want to talk with youabout something, " it said. That same evening he was shown into herdrawing-rooms. She thanked him with warmth for coming so quickly, andPeter saw that only the other visitors prevented her from showing somestrong feeling. He had stumbled in on her evening--for at that timepeople still had evenings--but knowing her wishes, he stayed till theywere left alone together. 

"Come into the library, " she said. As they passed across the hall shetold Morden, "I shall not receive any more to-night. "

The moment they were in the smaller and cosier room, without waiting tosit even, she began: "Mr. Stirling, I dined at the Manfreys yesterday. "She spoke in a voice evidently endeavoring not to break. Peter lookedpuzzled. 

"Mr. Lapham, the bank president, was there. "

Peter still looked puzzled. 

"And he told the table about a young lawyer who had very little money, yet who put five hundred dollars--his first fee--into his bank, and hadused it to help--" Miss De Voe broke down, and, leaning against themantel, buried her face in her handkerchief. 

"It's curious you should have heard of it, " said Peter. 

"He--he didn't mention names, b-bu-but I knew, of course. "

"I didn't like to speak of it because--well--I've wanted to tell you thegood it's done. Suppose you sit down. " Peter brought a chair, and MissDe Voe took it. 

"You must think I'm very foolish, " she said, wiping her eyes. 

"It's nothing to cry about. " And Peter began telling her of some of thethings which he had been able to do:--of the surgical brace it hadbought; of the lessons in wood-engraving it had given; of thesewing-machine it had helped to pay for; of the arrears in rent it hadsettled. "You see, " he explained, "these people are too self-respectingto go to the big charities, or to rich people. But their troubles aretalked over in the saloons and on the doorsteps, so I hear of them, andcan learn whether they really deserve help. They'll take it from me, because they feel that I'm one of them. "

Miss De Voe was too much shaken by her tears to talk that evening. MissDe Voe's life and surroundings were not exactly weepy ones, and whentears came they meant much. She said little, till Peter rose to go, andthen only:

"I shall want to talk with you, to see what I can do to help you in yourwork. Please come again soon. I ought not to have brought you here thisevening, only to see me cry like a baby. But--I had done you suchinjustice in my mind about that seven dollars, and then to findthat--Oh!" Miss De Voe showed signs of a recurring break-down, butmastered herself. "Good-evening. "

Peter gone, Miss De Voe had another "good" cry--which is a femininephrase, quite incomprehensible to men--and, going to her room, bathedher eyes. Then she sat before her boudoir fire, thinking. Finally sherose. In leaving the fire, she remarked aloud to it:

"Yes. He shall have Dorothy, if I can do it. "

So Dorothy became a pretty regular addition to the informal meals, exhibitions and concerts. Peter was once more taken to the opera, butDorothy and Miss De Voe formed with him the party in the box on suchnights. Miss De Voe took him to call on Mrs. Odgen, and sang his praisesto both parents. She even went so far as to say frankly to them what wasin her mind. 

Mr. Ogden said, "Those who know him speak very well of him. I heard'Van' Pell praise him highly at Newport last summer. Said all thepoliticians thought of him as a rising man. "

"He seems a nice steady fellow, " said the mamma. "I don't suppose he hasmuch practice?"

"Oh, don't think of the money, " said Miss De Voe. "What is that comparedto getting a really fine man whom one can truly love?"

"Still, money is an essential, " said the papa. 

"Yes. But you both know what I intend to do for Dorothy and Minna. Theyneed not think of money. If he and Dorothy only will care for eachother!"

Peter and Dorothy did like each other. Dorothy was very pretty, and hadall the qualities which make a girl a strong magnet to men. Peter couldnot help liking her. As for Dorothy, she was like other women. Sheenjoyed the talking, joking, "good-time" men in society, and chatted anddanced with them with relish. But like other women, when she thought ofmarriage, she did not find these gingerbread ornamentations soattractive. The average woman loves a man, aside from his love for her, for his physical strength, and his stiff truth-telling. The first isattractive to her because she has it not. Far be it from man to say whythe second attracts. So Dorothy liked Peter. She admired many qualitiesin him which she would not have tolerated in other men. It is true thatshe laughed at him, too, for many things, but it was the laughter ofthat peculiar nature which implies admiration and approval, rather thanthe lower feelings. When the spring separation came, Miss De Voe wasreally quite hopeful. 

"I think things have gone very well. Now, Mr. Stirling has promised tospend a week with me at Newport. I shall have Dorothy there at the sametime, " she told Mrs. Ogden. 

Lispenard, who was present, laughed as usual. "So you are tired of yournew plaything already?"

"What do you mean?"

"Arn't you marrying him so as to get rid of his calls and hisescortage?"

"Of course not. We shall go on just the same. "

"Bully for you, Ma. Does Dr. Brown know it?"

Miss De Voe flushed angrily, and put an end to her call. 

"What a foolish fellow Lispenard is!" she remarked unconsciously toWellington at the carriage door. 

"Beg pardon, mum?" said Wellington, blank wonderment filling his face. 

"Home, Wellington, " said Miss De Voe crossly. 

Peter took his week at Newport on his way back from his regular Augustvisit to his mother. Miss De Voe had told him casually that Dorothywould be there, and Dorothy was there. Yet he saw wonderfully little ofher. It is true that he could have seen more if he had tried, but Peterwas not used to practice finesse to win minutes and hours with a girl, and did not feel called upon, bluntly, to take such opportunities. Hisstay was not so pleasant as he had expected. He had thought a week inthe same house with Miss De Voe, Dorothy and Lispenard, without muchregard to other possible guests, could not but be a continual pleasure. But he was conscious that something was amiss with his three friends. Nor was Peter the only one who felt it. Dorothy said to her family whenshe went home:

"I can't imagine what is the matter with Cousin Anneke. All last springshe was nicer to me than she has ever been before, but from the moment Iarrived at Newport, and before I could possibly have said or doneanything to offend her, she treated me in the snippiest way. After twodays I asked her what the matter was, but she insisted there wasnothing, and really lost her temper at my suggesting the idea. There wassomething, I know, for when I said I was coming home sooner than I hadat first intended, she didn't try to make me stay. "

"Perhaps, " said Mrs. Ogden, "she was disappointed in something, and sovented her feeling on you. "

"But she wasn't cross--except when I asked her what the matter was. Shewas just--just snippy. "

"Was Mr. Stirling there?"

"Yes. And a lot of other people. I don't think anybody had a good time, unless it was Cousin Lispenard. And he wasn't a bit nice. He had somejoke to himself, and kept making remarks that nobody could understand, and chuckling over them. I told him once that he was rude, but he saidthat 'when people went to a play they should laugh at the right points. 'That's the nice thing about Mr. Stirling. You know that what he says isthe real truth. "

"Lispenard's always trying to be clever. "

"Yes. What do you suppose he said to me as I came away!"

"What?"

"He shook my hand, laughing, and said, 'Exit villain. It is to be acomedy, not a tragedy. ' What could he mean?"

Lispenard stayed on to see the "comedy, " and seemed to enjoy it, if theamused expression on his face when he occasionally gave himself up tomeditation was any criterion. Peter had been pressed to stay beyond theoriginal week, and had so far yielded as to add three days to his visit. These last three days were much pleasanter than those which had gonebefore, although Dorothy had departed and Peter liked Dorothy. But hesaw much more of Miss De Voe, and Miss De Voe was in a much pleasantermood. They took long drives and walks together, and had long hours oftalk in and about the pleasant house and grounds. Miss De Voe had cutdown her social duties for the ten days Peter was there, giving far moretime for them to kill than usually fell to Newporters even in thosecomparitively simple days. 

In one of these talks, Miss De Voe spoke of Dorothy. 

"She is such a nice, sweet girl, " she said. "We all hope she'll marryLispenard. "

"Do you think cousins ought to marry?"

Miss De Voe had looked at Peter when she made her remark. Peter hadreplied quietly, but his question, as Miss De Voe understood it, waspurely scientific, not personal. Miss De Voe replied:

"I suppose it is not right, but it is so much better than what mayhappen, that it really seems best. It is so hard for a girl in Dorothy'sposition to marry as we should altogether wish. "

"Why?" asked Peter, who did not see that a girl with prospective wealth, fine social position, and personal charm, was not necessarily wellsituated to get the right kind of a husband. 

"It is hard to make it clear--but--I'll tell you my own story, so thatyou can understand. Since you don't ask questions, I will take theinitiative. That is, unless your not asking them means you are notinterested?" Miss De Voe laughed in the last part of this speech. 

"I should like to hear it. "

People, no matter what Peter stated, never said "Really?" "You are inearnest?" or "You really mean it?" So Miss De Voe took him at his word. 

"Both my father and mother were rich before they married, and the risein New York real estate made them in time, much richer. They bothbelonged to old families. I was the only child--Lispenard says oldfamilies are so proud of themselves that they don't dare to have largefamilies for fear of making the name common. Of course they lavished alltheir thought, devotion and anxiety on me. I was not spoiled; but I waswatched and tended as if I were the most precious thing the worldcontained. When I grew up, and went into society, I question if I everwas a half-hour out of the sight of one or the other of my parents. Ihad plenty of society, of course, but it was restricted entirely to ourset. None other was good enough for me! My father never had anybusiness, so brought no new element into our household. It was oldfamilies, year in and year out! From the moment I entered society I wassought for. I had many suitors. I had been brought up to fearfortune-hunting, and suspected the motives of many men. Others did notseem my equals--for I had been taught pride in my birth. Those who werefit as regarded family were, many of them, unfit in brains ormorals--qualities not conspicuous in old families. Perhaps I might havefound one to love--if it had not been for the others. I was surroundedwherever I went and if by chance I found a pleasant man to talk to, _téte-à-téte, _ we were interrupted by other men coming up. Only a feweven of the men whom I met could gain an _entrée_ to our house. --Theyweren't thought good enough. If a working, serious man had ever beenable to see enough of me to love me, he probably would have had verylittle opportunity to press his suit. But the few men I might have caredfor were frightened off by my money, or discouraged by my popularity andexclusiveness. They did not even try. Of course I did not understand itthen. I gloried in my success and did not see the wrong it was doing me. I was absolutely happy at home, and really had not the slightestinducement to marry--especially among the men I saw the most. I ledthis life for six years. Then my mother's death put me in mourning. WhenI went back into society, an almost entirely new set of men hadappeared. Those whom I had known were many of them married--others weregone. Society had lost its first charm to me. So my father and Itravelled three years. We had barely returned when he died. I did nottake up my social duties again till I was thirty-two. Then it was as thespinster aunt, as you have known me. Now do you understand how hard itis for such a girl as Dorothy to marry rightly?"

"Yes. Unless the man is in love. Let a man care enough for a woman, andmoney or position will not frighten him off. "

"Such men are rare. Or perhaps it is because I did not attract them. Idid not understand men as well then as I do now. Of some whom I thoughtunlovable or dull at that time, I have learned to think better. A womandoes not marry to be entertained--or should not. "

"I think, " said Peter, "that one marries for love and sympathy. "

"Yes. And if they are given, it does not matter about the rest. Evennow, thirty-seven though I am, if I could find a true man who could loveme as I wish to be loved, I could love him with my whole heart. It wouldbe my happiness not merely to give him social position and wealth, butto make his every hope and wish mine also. "

All this had been said in the same natural manner in which they bothusually spoke. Miss De Voe had talked without apparent emotion. But whenshe began the last remark, she had stopped looking at Peter, and hadgazed off through the window at the green lawn, merely showing him herprofile. As a consequence she did not see how pale he suddenly became, nor the look of great suffering that came into his face. She did not seethis look pass and his face, and especially his mouth, settle into arigid determination, even while the eyes remained sad. 

Miss De Voe ended the pause by beginning, "Don't you"--but Peterinterrupted her there, by saying:

"It is a very sad story to me--because I--I once craved love andsympathy. "

Miss De Voe turned and looked at him quickly. She saw the look ofsuffering on his face, but read it amiss. "You mean?" she questioned. 

"There was a girl I loved, " said Peter softly, "who did not love me. "

"And you love her still?"

"I have no right to. "

"She is married?"

"Yes. "

"Will you tell me about it?"

"I--I would rather not. "

Miss De Voe sat quietly for a moment, and then rose. "Dear friend, " shesaid, laying her hand on Peter's shoulder, "we have both missed thegreat prize in life. Your lot is harder than the one I have told youabout. It is very, "--Miss De Voe paused a moment, --"it is very sad tolove--without being loved. "

And so ended Lispenard's comedy. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

CONFLICTS. 

Lispenard went back with Peter to the city. He gave his reason on thetrain:

"You see I go back to the city occasionally in the summer, so as to makethe country bearable, and then I go back to the country, so as to makethe city endurable. I shall be in Newport again in a week. When will youcome back?"

"My summering's over. "

"Indeed. I thought my cousin would want you again!"

"She did not say so. "

"The deuce she didn't. It must be the only thing she didn't say, then, in your long confabs?"

Peter made no reply, though Lispenard looked as well as asked aquestion. 

"Perhaps, " continued Lispenard, "she talked too much, and so did notremember to ask you?"

Still Peter said nothing. 

"Are you sure she didn't give you a chance to have more of her society?"Lispenard was smiling. 

"Ogden, " said Peter gently, "you are behaving contemptibly and you knowit. "

The color blazed up into Lispenard's face and he rose, saying:

"Did I understand you aright?" The manner and attitude were boththreatening though repressed. 

"If you tell me that I misunderstood you, I will apologize. If you thinkthe statement insulting, I will withdraw it. I did not speak to insultyou; but because I wished you to know how your questions impressed me. "

"When a man tells another he is contemptible, he cannot expect to escaperesults. This is no place to have a scene. You may send me your apologywhen we reach New York--"

Peter interrupted. "I shall, if you will tell me I wronged you insupposing your questions to be malicious. "

Lispenard paid no attention to the interjection. "Otherwise, " hefinished, "we will consider our relations ended. " He walked away. 

Peter wrote Lispenard that evening a long letter. He did not apologizein it, but it ended:

 "There should be no quarrel between us, for we ought to be friends. If alienation has come, it is due to what has occurred to-day, and that shall not cause unkind feelings, if I can help it. An apology is due somewhere. You either asked questions you had no right to ask, or else I misjudged you. I have written you my point of view. You have your own. I leave the matter to your fairness. Think it over, and if you still find me in the wrong, and will tell me so, I will apologize. "

He did not receive a reply. Meeting Ogden Ogden a few days later, he wastold that Lispenard had gone west for a hunting trip, quiteunexpectedly. "He said not to expect him back till he came. He seemedout of sorts at something. " In September Peter had a letter from Miss DeVoe. Merely a few lines saying that she had decided to spend the winterabroad, and was on the point of sailing. "I am too hurried to see myfriends, but did not like to go without some good-byes, so I writethem. " On the whole, as in the case of most comedies, there was littleamusement for the actual performers. A great essayist has definedlaughter as a "feeling of superiority in the laugher over the objectlaughed at. " If this is correct, it makes all humor despicable. Certainly much coarseness, meanness and cruelty are every daytolerated, because of the comic covering with which it is draped. 

It is not to be supposed that this comedy nor its winter prologue haddiverted Peter from other things. In spite of Miss De Voe's demands onhis time he had enough left to spend many days in Albany when thelegislature took up the reports of the Commissions. He found stronglobbies against both bills, and had a long struggle with them. He hadthe help of the newspapers, and he had the help of Costell, yet evenwith this powerful backing, the bills were first badly mangled, andfinally were side-tracked. In the actual fight, Pell helped him most, and Peter began to think that a man might buy an election and yet not beentirely bad. Second only to Pell, was his whilom enemy, the formerDistrict-Attorney, now a state senator, who battled himself into Peter'sreluctant admiration and friendship by his devotion and loyalty to thebills. Peter concluded that he had not entirely done the man justice inthe past. Curiously enough, his chief antagonist was Maguire. 

Peter did not give up the fight with this defeat. His work for the billshad revealed to him the real under-currents in the legislative body, andwhen it adjourned, making further work in Albany only a waste of time, he availed himself of the secret knowledge that had come to him, tosingle out the real forces which stood behind and paid the lobby, and tointerview them. He saw the actual principals in the opposition, andspoke with utmost frankness. He told them that the fight would berenewed, on his part, at every session of the legislature till the billswere passed; that he was willing to consider proposed amendments, andwould accept any that were honest. He made the fact very clear to themthat they would have to pay yearly to keep the bills off the statutebook. Some laughed at him, others quarrelled. But a few, after listeningto him, stated their true objections to the bills, and Peter tried tomeet them. 

When the fall elections came, Peter endeavored to further his cause inanother way. Three of the city's assemblymen and one of her senators hadvoted against the bills. Peter now invaded their districts, and talkedagainst them in saloons and elsewhere. It very quickly stirred up hardfeeling, which resulted in attempts to down him. But Peter's bloodwarmed up as the fight thickened, and hisses, eggs, or actual attemptsto injure him physically did not deter him. The big leaders wereappealed to to call him off, but Costell declined to interfere. 

"He wouldn't stop anyway, " he told Green, "so we should do no good. Letthem fight it out by themselves. " Both of which sentences showed thatMr. Costell understood his business. 

Peter had challenged his opponents to a joint debate, and when that wasdeclined by them, he hired halls for evenings and spoke on the subject. He argued well, with much more feeling than he had shown since hisspeech in "the case. " After the first attempt of this kind, he had nodifficulty in filling his halls. The rumor came back to his own districtthat he was "talkin' foin, " and many of his friends there turned out tohear him. The same news went through other wards of the city and drewmen from them. People were actually excluded, for want of room, andtherefore every one became anxious to hear his speeches. Finally, bysubscription of a number of people who had become interested, headed byMr. Pell, the Cooper Union was hired, and Peter made a really greatspeech to nearly three thousand people. 

The papers came to his help too, and stood by him manfully. By theiraid, it was made very clear that this was a fight against a selfishlobby. By their aid, it became one of the real questions of the localcampaign, and was carried beyond the borders of the city, so as to playa part in the county elections. Peter met many of the editors, andbetween his expert knowledge, acquired on the Commissions, and hispractical knowledge, learned at Albany, proved a valuable man to them. They repaid his help by kind words and praise in their columns, andbrought him forward as the chief man in the movement. Mrs. Stirlingconcluded that the conspiracy to keep Peter in the background had beenabandoned. 

"Those York papers couldn't help my Peter's getting on, " was the way sheput it. 

The results of this fight were even better than he had hoped. OneAssemblyman gave in and agreed no longer to oppose the bills. Anotherwas defeated. The Senator had his majority so cut down that he retiredfrom the opposition. The questions too had become so much morediscussed and watched, and the blame so fastened upon the lobby thatmany members from the country no longer dared to oppose legislation onthe subject. Hence it was that the bills, newly drawn by Peter, toreduce opposition as far as possible, when introduced by Schlurger soonafter the opening of the legislature, went through with a rush, not evenayes and nays being taken. Aided by Mr. Costell, Peter secured theirprompt signing by Catlin, his long fight had ended in victory. 

The "sixt" was wild with joy over the triumph. Whether it was because itwas a tenement ward, or because Peter had talked there so much about it, or because his success was felt to redound to their credit, the votersgot up a display of fireworks on the night when the news of the signingof the bills reached New York. When Peter returned to the city, he wascalled down to a hall one evening, to witness a torchlight processionand receive resolutions "engrossed and framed" from his admiringfriends. Blunkers was chairman and made a plain speech which set theboys cheering by its combination of strong feeling and lack of grammar. Then Justice Gallagher made a fine-sounding, big-worded presentation. Inthe enthusiasm of the moment, Dennis broke the programme by rising andgiving vent to a wild burst of feeling, telling his audience all thatthey owed to Peter, and though they knew already what he told them, theycheered and cheered the strong, natural eloquence. 

"Yer was out a order, " said Blunkers, at the end of the speech. 

"Yez loi!" said Dennis, jumping on his feet again. "It's never out avorder to praise Misther Stirling. "

The crowd applauded his sentiment. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE END OF THE CONFLICT. 

Peter had had some rough experiences two or three times in his fallcampaign, and Dennis, who had insisted on escorting him, took him totask about his "physical culture. "

"It's thirty pounds yez are too heavy, sir, " he told Peter. "An' it'stoo little intirely yez afther knowin' av hittin'. "

Peter asked his advice, bought Indian clubs, dumb-bells, andboxing-gloves, and under Dennis's tutelage began to learn the art ofself-defence. He was rather surprised, at the end of two months, to findhow much flesh he had taken off, how much more easily he moved, how muchmore he was eating, and how much more he was able to do, both mentallyand physically. 

"It seems as if somebody had oiled my body and brain, " he told Dennis. 

Dennis let him into another thing, by persuading him to join the militiaregiment most patronized by the "sixth, " and in which Dennis was alreadya sergeant. Peter received a warm welcome from the regiment, for Dennis, who was extremely popular, had heralded his fame, and Peter's physicalstrength and friendly way did the rest. Ogden Ogden laughed at him forjoining a "Mick" regiment, and wanted to put Peter into the Seventh. Peter only said that he thought his place was where he was. 

Society did not see much of Peter this winter. He called on his friendsdutifully, but his long visits to Albany, his evenings with Dennis, andhis drill nights, interfered badly with his acceptance of theinvitations sent him. He had, too, made many friends in his commissionwork and politics, so that he had relatively less time to give to hisolder ones. The absence of Miss De Voe and Lispenard somewhat reducedhis social obligations it is true, but the demands on his time weremultiplying fast. 

One of these demands was actual law work. The first real case to come tohim was from the contractor who had served on the tenement-commission. He was also employed by the Health Board as special counsel in a numberof prosecutions, to enforce clauses of his Food Bill. The papers said itwas because of his familiarity with the subject, but Peter knew it wasthe influence of Green, who had become a member of that Board. Then hebegan to get cases from the "district, " and though there was not muchmoney in each case, before long the number of them made a veryrespectable total. 

The growth of his practice was well proven by a suggestion from Dummerthat they should join forces. "Mr. Bohlmann wants to give you some ofhis work, and it's easier to go into partnership than to divide hispractice. "

Peter knew that Dummer had a very lucrative business of a certain kind, but he declined the offer. 

"I have decided never to take a case which has not right on its side. "

"A lawyer is just as much bound to try a case as a physician is bound totake a patient. "

"That is what lawyers say outside, but they know better. "

"Well, have your scruples. We'll make the firm cases only such as youchoose. I'll manage the others. "

"I should like to, " said Peter. "I'm very grateful for the offer--but wecould hardly do that successfully. If the firm was good for anything, weshould be known as belonging to it, and the public could not welldiscriminate. "

So that chance of success was passed. But every now and then Bohlmannsent him something to do, and Dummer helped him to a joint caseoccasionally. 

So, though friends grew steadily in numbers, society saw less and lessof Peter. Those who cared to study his tastes came to recognize that toforce formal entertaining on him was no kindness, and left it to Peterto drop in when he chose, making him welcome when he came. 

He was pleased to get a letter from Lispenard during the winter, fromJapan. It was long, but only the first paragraph need be quoted, for therest related merely to his travels:

 "The breezes of the Pacific have blown away all my bad temper, " he wrote, "and I want to say that I was wrong, and regret my original fault, as well as what it later led me into. You are quite right. We must continue friends. "

Peter wrote a reply, which led to a regular correspondence. He sent MissDe Voe, also, a line of Christmas greetings, and received a long letterfrom her at Nice, which told him something of Watts and Helen:

 "She is now well again, but having been six years in Europe, she and her husband have become wedded to the life. I question if they ever return. I spoke of you, and they both inquired with great warmth about you. "

Peter replied, sending his "remembrance to Mr. And Mrs. D'Alloi in caseyou again meet them. " From that time on Miss De Voe and he corresponded, she telling him of her Italian, Greek and Egyptian wanderings, and hewriting of his doings, especially in regard to a certain savings bankfund standing in the name of "Peter Stirling, trustee" to which Miss DeVoe had, the winter before, arranged to contribute a thousand dollarsyearly. 

As his practice increased he began to indulge himself a little. Throughthe instrumentality of Mr. Pell, he was put first into one and laterinto a second of the New York clubs, and his dinners became far lesssimple in consequence. He used these comforters of men, indeed, almostwholly for dining, and, though by no means a club-man in other senses, it was still a tendency to the luxurious. To counteract this danger heasked Mr. Costell to pick him up a saddle-horse, whereupon that friendpromptly presented him with one. He went regularly now to a good tailor, which conduct ought to have ruined him with the "b'ys, " but it didn't. He still smoked a pipe occasionally in the saloons or on the doorstepsof the district, yet candor compels us to add that he now had in hisroom a box of cigars labelled "Habana. " These were creature pleasures, however, which he only allowed himself on rare occasions. And most ofthese luxuries did not appear till his practice had broadened beyond thepoint already noted. 

Broaden it did. In time many city cases were thrown in his way. As hebecame more and more a factor in politics, the judges began to send himvery profitable referee cases. Presently a great local corporation, withmany damage suits, asked him to accept its work on a yearly salary. 

"Of course we shall want you to look out for us at Albany, " it wasadded. 

"I'll do what I can to prevent unfair legislation. That must be all, though. As for the practice, you must let me settle every case where Ithink the right is with the plaintiff. " This caused demur at first, buteventually he was employed, and it was found that money was saved in thelong run, for Peter was very successful in getting people to settle outof court. 

Then the savings bank, for which Peter had done his best (not merely asrecorded, but at other times), turned over its law business to him, giving him many real estate transactions to look into, besides papers todraw. "He brings us a good many depositors, " Mr. Lapham told histrustees, "and is getting to be a large depositor himself. "

Peter began to find help necessary, and took a partner. He did this atthe suggestion of Ogden Ogden, who had concluded his clerkship, and whosaid to Peter:

"I have a lot of friends who promise me their work. I don't know howmuch it will be, but I should like to try it with you. Of course, yoursis the bigger practice, but we can arrange that. "

So after considerable discussion, the sign on Peter's door became"Stirling and Ogden, " and the firm blossomed out with an office boy--oneof Peter's original "angle" friends, now six years older than when Peterand he had first met. 

Ogden's friends did materialize, and brought good paying cases. As thecity, referee, corporation and bank work increased, their joint practiceneeded more help, and Ray Rivington was, on Ogden's request, taken in. 

"He doesn't get on with his law studies, though he pretends to work overthem hard. In fact he'll never be a good lawyer. He hasn't a legal mind. But he'll bring cases, for he's very popular in society, and he'll doall the palavering and running round very well. He's just the fellow toplease people. " This was what Ogden urged, adding, "I might as well tellyou that I'm interested for another reason, too. He and Dorothy willmarry, if he can ever get to the marrying point. This, of course, is tobe between us. "

"I'll be very glad to have him, both for his own sake, and for whatyou've just told me, " said Peter. 

Thus it was that the firm again changed its name, becoming "Stirling, Ogden and Rivington, " and actually spread into two other rooms, Peter'soriginal little "ten by twelve" being left to the possession of theoffice boy. That functionary gazed long hours at the map of Italy on theblank wall, but it did not trouble him. He only whistled and sang streetsongs at it. As for Peter, he was too busy to need blank walls. He hadfought two great opponents. The world and himself. He had conquered themboth. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A RENEWAL. 

If the American people had anglicized themselves as thoroughly intoliking three-volume stories, as they have in other things, it would be apleasure to trace the next ten years of Peter's life; for his growingreputation makes this period a far easier matter to chronicle than themore obscure beginnings already recorded. If his own life did not supplyenough material we could multiply our characters, as did Dickens, orjourney sideways, into little essays, as did Thackeray. His life and hisbiographer's pen might fail to give interest to such devices, but theplea is now for "realism, " which most writers take to mean microscopicalexamination of minutia. If the physical and psychical emotions of aheroine as she drinks a glass of water can properly be elaborated so asto fill two printed pages, Peter's life could be extended endlessly. There were big cases, political fights, globe trottings, and newfriends, all of which have unlimited potentialities for numerouschapters. But Americans are peculiar people, and do not buy a pound ofsugar any the quicker because its bulk has been raised by a skilfuladmixture of moisture and sand. So it seems best partly to take theadvice of the Bellman, in the "Hunting of the Snark, " to skip sundryyears. In resuming, it is to find Peter at his desk, reading a letter. He has a very curious look on his face, due to the letter, the contentsof which are as follows:

 MARCH 22. 

 DEAR OLD CHUM--

 Here is the wretched old sixpence, just as bad as ever--if not worse--come back after all these years. 

 And as of yore, the sixpence is in a dreadful pickle, and appeals to the old chum, who always used to pull him out of his scrapes, to do it once more. Please come and see me as quickly as possible, for every moment is important. You see I feel sure that I do not appeal in vain. "Changeless as the pyramids" ought to be your motto. 

 Helen and our dear little girl will be delighted to see you, as will

 Yours affectionately, WATTS. 

Peter opened a drawer and put the letter into it. Then he examined hisdiary calendar. After this he went to a door, and, opening it, said:

"I am going uptown for the afternoon. If Mr. Murtha comes, Mr. Ogdenwill see him. ". 

Peter went down and took a cab, giving the driver a number in GrammercyPark. 

The footman hesitated on Peter's inquiry. "Mr. D'Alloi is in, sir, butis having his afternoon nap, and we have orders he's not to bedisturbed. "

"Take him my card. He will see me. "

The footman showed Peter into the drawing-room, and disappeared. Peterheard low voices for a moment, then the curtains of the back room werequickly parted, and with hands extended to meet him, Helen appeared. 

"This is nice of you--and so unexpected!"

Peter took the hand, but said nothing. They sat down, and Mrs. D'Alloicontinued:

"Watts is asleep, and I have given word that he is not to be disturbed. I want to see you for a moment myself. You have plenty of time?"

"Yes. "

"That's very nice. I don't want you to be formal with us. Do say thatyou can stay to dinner?"

"I would, if I were not already engaged. "

"Then we'll merely postpone it. It's very good of you to come to see us. I've tried to get Watts to look you up, but he is so lazy! It's just aswell since you've found us out. Only you should have asked for both ofus. "

"I came on business, " said Peter. 

Mrs. D'Alloi laughed. "Watts is the poorest man in the world for that, but he'll do anything he can to help you, I know. He has the warmestfeeling for you. "

Peter gathered from this that Mrs. D'Alloi did not know of the "scrape, "whatever it was, and with a lawyer's caution, he did not attempt todisabuse her of the impression that he had called about his own affairs. 

"How you have changed!" Mrs. D'Alloi continued. "If I had not known whoit was from the card, I am not sure that I should have recognized you. "

It was just what Peter had been saying to himself of Mrs. D'Alloi. Wasit her long ill-health, or was it the mere lapse of years, which hadwrought such changes in her? Except for the eyes, everything hadaltered. The cheeks had lost their roundness and color; the hair hadthinned noticeably; lines of years and pain had taken away the sweetexpression that formerly had counted for so much; the pretty roundnessof the figure was gone, and what charm it now had was due to themodiste's skill. Peter felt puzzled. Was this the woman for whom he hadso suffered? Was it this memory that had kept him, at thirty-eight, still a bachelor? Like many another man, he found that he had beenloving an ideal--a creation of his own mind. He had, on a boyish fancy, built a dream of a woman with every beauty and attraction, and had beenloving it for many years, to the exclusion of all other womankind. Nowhe saw the original of his dream, with the freshness and glamour gone, not merely from the dream, but from his own eyes. Peter had met manypretty girls, and many sweet ones since that week at the Pierces. He hadgained a very different point of view of women from that callow time. 

Peter was not blunderer enough to tell Mrs. D'Alloi that he too, saw achange. His years had brought tact, if they had not made him lessstraightforward. So he merely said, "You think so?"

"Ever so much. You've really grown slender, in spite of your broadshoulders--and your face is so--so different. "

There was no doubt about it. For his height and breadth of shoulder, Peter was now by no means heavy. His face, too, had undergone a greatchange. As the roundness had left it, the eyes and the forehead had bothbecome more prominent features, and both were good. The square, firm jawstill remained, but the heaviness of the cheek and nose had melted intolines which gave only strength and character, and destroyed the dulnesswhich people used to comment upon. The face would never be calledhandsome, in the sense that regular features are supposed to givebeauty, but it was strong and speaking, with lines of thought andfeeling. 

"You know, " laughed Mrs. D'Alloi, "you have actually becomegood-looking, and I never dreamed that was possible!"

"How long have you been here?"

"A month. We are staying with papa, till the house in Fifty-seventhStreet can be put in order. It has been closed since Mrs. D'Alloi'sdeath. But don't let's talk houses. Tell me about yourself. "

"There is little to tell. I have worked at my profession, with success. "

"But I see your name in politics. And I've met many people in Europe whohave said you were getting very famous. "

"I spend a good deal of time in politics. I cannot say whether I havemade myself famous, or infamous. It seems to depend on which paper Iread. "

"Yes, I saw a paper on the steamer, that--" Mrs. D'Alloi hesitated, remembering that it had charged Peter with about every known sin ofwhich man is capable. Then she continued, "But I knew it was wrong. " Yetthere was quite as much of question as of assertion in her remark. Intruth, Mrs. D'Alloi was by no means sure that Peter was all that wasdesirable, for any charge made against a politician in this country hasa peculiar vitality and persistence. She had been told that Peter was anopen supporter of saloons, and that New York politics battened on allforms of vice. So a favorite son could hardly have retained the puritythat women take as a standard of measurement. "Don't you find wardpolitics very hard?" she asked, dropping an experimental plummet, to seewhat depths of iniquity there might be. 

"I haven't yet. "

"But that kind of politics must be very disagreeable to gentlemen. Themen must have such dirty hands!"

"It's not the dirty hands which make American politics disagreeable. It's the dirty consciences. "

"Are--are politics so corrupt and immoral?"

"Politics are what the people make them. "

"Really?"

"I suppose your life has not been of a kind to make you very familiarwith it all. Tell me what these long years have brought you?"

"Perfect happiness! Oh, Mr. Stirling--may I call you Peter?--thank you. Peter, I have the finest, noblest husband that ever lived! He iseverything that is good and kind!" Mrs. D'Alloi's face lighted up withhappiness and tenderness. 

"And your children?"

"We have only one. The sweetest, loveliest child you can imagine. "

"Fie, fie, Rosebud, " cried a voice from the doorway. "You shouldn'tspeak of yourself so, even if it is the truth. Leave that to me. How areyou, Peter, old fellow? I'd apologize for keeping you waiting, but ifyou've had Helen, there's no occasion. Isn't it Boileau who said that:'The best thing about many a man is his wife'?"

Mrs. D'Alloi beamed, but said, "It isn't so, Peter. He's much betterthan I. "

Watts laughed. "You'll have to excuse this, old man. Will happensometimes, even in the properest of families, if one marries an angel. "

"There, you see, " said Mrs. D'Alloi. "He just spoils me, Peter. "

"And she thrives on it, doesn't she, Peter?" said Watts. "Isn't sheprettier even than she was in the old days?"

Mrs. D'Alloi colored with pleasure, even while saying: "Now, Watts dear, I won't swallow such palpable flattery. There's one kiss for it--Peterwon't mind--and now I know you two want to talk old times, so I'll leaveyou together. Good-bye, Peter--or rather _au revoir_--for you must be aregular visitor now. Watts, arrange with Peter to dine with us some daythis week. "

Mrs. D'Alloi disappeared through the doorway. Peter's pulse did notchange a beat. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

HELP. 

The moment she was gone, Watts held out his hand, saying: "Here, oldman, let us shake hands again. It's almost like going back to collegedays to see my old chum. Come to the snuggery, where we shan't beinterrupted. " They went through two rooms, to one fitted up as asmoking-room and office. "It's papa-in-law's workshop. He can't drop hiswork at the bank, so he brings it home and goes on here. Sit down. Here, take a cigar. Now, are you comfortable?"

"Yes. "

"_Maintenant_, I suppose you want to know why I wrote you to come soquickly?"

"Yes. "

"Well, the truth of it is, I'm in an awful mess. Yesterday I was sodesperate I thought I should blow my brains out. I went round to theclub to see if I couldn't forget or drown my trouble, just as sick as aman could be. Fellows talking. First thing I heard was your name. 'Justwon a great case. ' 'One of the best lawyers in New York. ' Thinks I tomyself, 'That's a special providence. ' Peter always was the fellow topull me through my college scrapes. I'll write him. ' Did it, and playedbilliards for the rest of the evening, secure in the belief that youwould come to my help, just as you used to. "

"Tell me what it is?"

"Even that isn't easy, chum. It's a devilish hard thing to tell even toyou. "

"Is it money trou--?"

"No, no!" Watts interrupted. "It isn't that. The truth is I've a greatdeal more money than is good for me, and apparently always shall have. Iwish it were only that!"

"How can I help you?" began Peter. 

"I knew you would, " cried Watts, joyfully. "Just the same old reliableyou always were. Here. Draw up nearer. That's it. Now then, here goes. Ishan't mind if you are shocked at first. Be as hard on me as you like. "

"Well?"

"Well, to make a long story short, I'm entangled with a woman, andthere's the devil to pay. Now you'll pull me through, old man, won'tyou?"

"No. "

"Don't say that, Peter! You must help me. You're my only hope. 

"I do not care to mix myself in such a business, " said Peter, veryquietly. "I would rather know nothing about it. " Peter rose. 

"Don't desert me, " cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting hishand on Peter's shoulder, so as to prevent his progress to the door. "Don't. She's going to expose me. Think of the disgrace! My God, Peter, think--"

"Take your hand off my shoulder. "

"But Peter, think--"

"The time to think was before--not now, Watts. I will not concern myselfin this. "

"But, old man. I can't face it. It will kill Helen!"

Peter had already thrown aside the arm, and had taken a step towards thedoorway. He stopped and turned. "She does not know?"

"Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believeit. She worships me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore--if you won'tsave me!"

"Can they be saved?"

"That's what I want to know. Here--sit down, please! I'll tell you allabout it. "

Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down. 

"It began in Paris twelve years ago. Such affairs have a way ofbeginning in Paris, old man. It's in the atmosphere. She--"

"Stop. I will ask questions. There's no good going over the wholestory. " Peter tried to speak calmly, and to keep his voice and face fromshowing what he felt. He paused a moment, and then said: "She threatensto expose you. Why?"

"Well, after three years I tired of it and tried to end it. Then sheused it to blackmail me for ten years, till, in desperation, I came toAmerica, to see if I couldn't escape her. "

"And she followed you?"

"Yes. She was always tracking me in Europe, and making my life a hell onearth, and now she's followed me here. "

"If it's merely a question of money, I don't see what you want of me. "

"She says she doesn't want money now--but revenge. She's perfectlyfurious over my coming off without telling her--always had an awfultemper--and--well, you know an infuriated woman is capable of anything. The Spaniard was right who said it was easier to take care of a peck offleas than one woman, eh, chum?"

"So she threatens to tell your wife?"

"No. She says she's going to summon me into court. "

"On what grounds?"

"That's the worst part of it. You see, chum, there's a child, and shesays she's going to apply for a proper support for it. Proper support!Heavens! The money I've paid her would support ten children. It's onlytemper. "

Peter said, "Watts, Watts, " in a sad voice. 

"Pretty bad, isn't it? If it wasn't for the child I could--"

Peter interrupted. "Has she any proofs of paternity besides--?"

Watts interrupted in turn. "Yes. Confound it! I was fool enough to writeletters during my infatuation. Talleyrand was right when he said onlyfools and women wrote letters. "

"How could you?"

"That's what I've asked myself a hundred times. Oh, I'm sorry enough. I've sworn never to put pen to paper again. _Jamais!_"

"I did not mean the letters. But your vow. "

"My vow?"

"Your marriage vow. "

"Oh, yes. I know. But you know, chum, before you promise to love onewoman for all time you should have seen them all. "

"And that display ten minutes ago was all mockery?"

"No, no! Really, Peter, I'm awfully fond of the little woman. Really Iam. And you know Daudet says a man can love two women at the same time. "

"And if so, how about his honor?" Peter was trying to repress hisemotion, but it would jerk out questions. 

"Yes, I know. I've said that to myself over and over again. Why, lookhere. " Watts pulled a small revolver from his hip pocket. "This willshow you how close to the desperation point I have come. I've carriedthat for two days, so that if worse comes to worse--well. Phut!--_Voilatout_. "

Peter rose, speaking in a voice ringing with scorn. "You would escapeyour sin, to leave it with added disgrace for your wife and daughter tobear! Put up your pistol, Watts D'Alloi. If I am to help you, I want tohelp a man--not a skulker. What do you want me to do?"

"That's what I wish to know. What can I do?"

"You have offered her money?"

"Yes. I told her that--"

"Never mind details, " interrupted Peter, "Was it enough to put furtheroffers out of the question?"

"Yes. She won't hear of money. She wants revenge. "

"Give me her name and address. "

"Celestine--" The rest was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Well?"said Watts. 

The door was opened, and a footman entered. "If you please, Mr. D'Alloi, there's a Frenchwoman at the door who wants to see you. She won't giveme her name, but says you'll know who it is. "

"Say I won't see her. That I'm busy. "

"She told me to say that if you were engaged, she'd see Mrs. D'Alloi. "

"My God!" said Watts, under his breath. 

"Ask the woman to come in here, " said Peter, quietly, but in a way whichmade the man leave the room without waiting to see if Watts demurred. 

A complete silence followed. Then came the rustle of skirts, and a womanentered the room. Peter, who stood aside, motioned to the footman to go, and closed the door himself, turning the key. 

The woman came to the middle of the room. "So, Monsieur D'Alloi, " shesaid in French, speaking very low and distinctly, "you thought it bestnot to order your groom to turn me out, as you did that last day inParis, when you supposed your flight to America left you free to do asyou pleased? But you did not escape me. Here I am. "

Watts sat down in an easy-chair, and striking a match, lighted acigarette. "That, Celestine, " he said in French, "is what in English wecall a self-evident proposition. "

Celestine's foot began to tap the floor, "You needn't pretend youexpected I would follow you. You thought you could drop me, like an oldslipper. "

Watts blew a whiff of tobacco from his mouth. "It was a remark ofRicard's, I believe, 'that in woman, one should always expect theunexpected. '"

"_Mon Dieu_!" shrieked Celestine. "If I--if I could kill you--you--"

She was interrupted by Peter's bringing a chair to her and saying inFrench, "Will you not sit down, please?"

She turned in surprise, for she had been too wrought up to notice thatPeter was in the room. She stared at him and then sat down. 

"That's right, " said Watts. "Take it easy. No occasion to get excited. "

"Ah!" screamed Celestine, springing to her feet, "your name shall be inall the papers. You shall--"

Peter again interrupted. "Madame, will you allow me to say something?"He spoke gently and deferentially. 

Celestine looked at him again, saying rapidly: "Why should I listen toyou? What are you to me? I don't even know you. My mind's made up. Itell you--" The woman was lashing herself into a fury, and Peterinterrupted her again:

"Pardon me. We are strangers. If I ask anything of you for myself, Ishould expect a refusal. But I ask it for humanity, to which we all owehelp. Only hear what I have to say. I do not claim it as a right, but asa favor. "

Celestine sat down. "I listen, " she said. She turned her chair fromWatts and faced Peter, as he stood at the study table. 

Peter paused a moment, and then said: "After what I have seen, I feelsure you wish only to revenge yourself on Mr. D'Alloi?"

"Yes. "

"Now let me show you what you will do. For the last two days Mr. D'Alloihas carried a pistol in his pocket, and if you disgrace him he willprobably shoot himself. "

"Bon!"

"But where is your revenge? He will be beyond your reach, and you willonly have a human life upon your conscience ever after. "

"I shall not grieve!"

"Nor is that all. In revenging yourself on him, you do one of thecruelest acts possible. A wife, who trusts and believes in him, willhave her faith and love shattered. His daughter--a young girl, with allher life before her--must ever after despise her father and blush ather name. Do not punish the weak and innocent for the sin of theguilty!" Peter spoke with an earnestness almost terrible. Tears cameinto his eyes as he made his appeal, and his two auditors both rose totheir feet, under the impulse of his voice even more than of his words. So earnest was he, and so spell-bound were the others, that they failedto hear the door from the dining-room move, or notice the entrance ofMrs. D'Alloi as Peter ended his plea. 

A moment's silence followed Peter's outburst of feeling. Then theFrenchwoman cried:

"Truly, truly. But what will you do for me and my child? Haven't we beenill-treated? Don't you owe us help, too? Justice? Don't we deservetenderness and protection?"

"Yes, " said Peter. "But you wish revenge. Ask for justice, ask for help, and I will do what is within my power to aid you. "

"Watts, " cried Mrs. D'Alloi, coming forward, "of what child are youtalking? Whose child? Who is this woman?"

Watts jumped as if he had been shot. Celestine even retreated before theterrible voice and face with which Mrs. D'Alloi asked her questions. Asad, weary look came into Peter's eyes. No one answered Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"Answer me, " she cried

"My dear little woman. Don't get excited. It's all right. " Watts managedto say this much. But he did not look his last remark. 

"Answer me, I say. Who is this woman? Speak!"

"It's all right, really, it's all right. Here. Peter will tell you it'sall right. "

"Peter, " cried Mrs. D'Alloi. "Of whose child were you speaking?"

Peter was still standing by the desk. He looked sad and broken, as hesaid:

"This is the mother, Mrs. D'Alloi. "

"Yes? Yes?"

Peter raised his eyes to Helen's and looked at her. Then he saidquietly:

"And Watts--will tell you that--I am its father. "

CHAPTER XXXV. 

RUNNING AWAY. 

The dramatic pause which followed Peter's statement was first broken byMrs. D'Alloi, who threw her arms about Watt's neck, and cried: "Oh! myhusband. Forgive me, forgive me for the suspicion!"

Peter turned to Celestine. "Madame, " he said. "We are not wanted here. "He unlocked the door into the hall, and stood aside while she passedout, which she did quietly. Another moment found the two on thesidewalk. "I will walk with you to your hotel, if you will permit me?"Peter said to her. 

"Certainly, " Celestine replied. Nothing more was said in the walk of tenblocks. When they reached the hotel entrance, Peter asked: "Can you seeme for a few moments?"

"Yes. Come to my private parlor. " They took the elevator, and were but amoment in reaching that apartment. 

Peter spoke the moment the door was closed. "Madame, " he said, "you sawthat scene. Spare his wife and child? He is not worth your anger. "

"Ah, Ciel!" cried Celestine, emotionally. "Do you think so lowly of me, that you can imagine I would destroy your sacrifice? Your romantic, yourdramatic, _mon Dieu!_ your noble sacrifice? Non, non. Celestine Lacourcould never do so. She will suffer cruelty, penury, insults, before shebehaves so shamefully, so perfidiously. "

Peter did not entirely sympathize with the Frenchwoman's admiration forthe dramatic element, but he was too good a lawyer not to accept anadmission, no matter upon what grounds. He held out his hand promptly. "Madame, " he said, "accept my thanks and admiration for your generousconduct. "

Celestine took it and shook it warmly. 

"Of course, " said Peter. "Mr. D'Alloi owes you an ample income. "

"Ah!" cried Celestine, shrugging her shoulders. "Do not talk of him--Ileave it to you to make him do what is right. "

"And you will return to France?"

"Yes, yes. If you say so?" Celestine looked at Peter in a manner knownonly to the Latin races. Just then a side door was thrown open, and aboy of about twelve years of age dashed into the room, followed by aFrench poodle. 

"Little villain!" cried Celestine. "How dare you approach withoutknocking? Go. Go. Quickly. "

"Pardon, Madame, " said the child. "I thought you still absent. "

"Is that the child?" asked Peter. 

"Yes, " said Celestine. 

"Does he know?"

"Nothing. I do not tell him even that I am his mother. "

"Then you are not prepared to give him a mother's care and tenderness?"

"Never. I love him not. He is too like his father. And I cannot have itknown that I am the mother of a child of twelve. It would not bebelieved, even. " Celestine took a look at herself in the tall mirror. 

"Then I suppose you would like some arrangement about him?"

"Yes. "

Peter stayed for nearly an hour with the woman. He stayed so long, thatfor one of the few times in his life he was late at a dinner engagement. But when he had left Celestine, every detail had been settled. Peter didnot have an expression of pleasure on his face as he rode down-town, norwas he very good company at the dinner which he attended that evening. 

The next day did not find him in any better mood. He went down-town, andcalled on an insurance company and talked for a while with thepresident. Then he called at a steamship office. After that he spenttwenty minutes with the head of one of the large schools for boys in thecity. Then he returned to his office. 

"A Mr. D'Alloi is waiting for you in your private office, sir, " he wastold. "He said that he was an old friend and insisted on going inthere. "

Peter passed into his office. 

Watts cried: "My dear boy, how can I ever--"

He was holding out his hand, but Peter failed to take it, andinterrupted him. 

"I have arranged it all with Madame Lacour, " Peter said coldly. "Shesails on La Bretagne on Thursday. You are to buy an annuity for threethousand dollars a year. In addition, you are to buy an annuity for theboy till he is twenty-five, of one thousand dollars a year, payable tome as his guardian. This will cost you between forty and fifty thousanddollars. I will notify you of the amount when the insurance companysends it to me. In return for your check, I shall send you the lettersand other things you sent Madame Lacour, or burn them, as you direct. Except for this the affair is ended. I need not detain you further. "

"Oh, I say, chum. Don't take it this way, " cried Watts. "Do youthink--?"

"I end it as suits me, " said Peter. "Good-day. "

"But, at least you must let me pay you a fee for your work?"

Peter turned on Watts quickly, but checked the movement and the words onhis tongue. He only reiterated. "Good-day. "

"Well, if you will have it so. " Watts went to the door, but hesitated. "Just as you please. If, later, you change your mind, send me word. Ishan't cherish any feeling for this. I want to be friends. "

"Good-day, " said Peter. Watts passed out, closing the door. 

Peter sat down at his desk, doing nothing, for nearly an hour. How longhe would have sat will never be known, if his brown study had not beenended by Rivington's entrance. "The Appeals have just handed down theirdecision in the Henley case. We win. "

"I thought we should, " said Peter mechanically. 

"Why, Peter! What's the matter with you? You look as seedy as--"

"As I feel, " said Peter. "I'm going to stop work and take a ride, to seeif I can't knock some of my dulness out of me. " Within an hour he was atthe Riding Club. 

"Hello, " said the stable man. "Twice in one day! You're not often hereat this hour, sir. Which horse will you have?"

"Give me whichever has the most life in him. "

"It's Mutineer has the devil in him always, sir. Though it's notyourself need fear any horse. Only look out for the ice. "

Peter rode into the Park in ten minutes. He met Lispenard at the firstturn. 

"Hello! It's not often you are here at this hour. " Lispenard reined hishorse up alongside. 

"No, " said Peter. "I've been through a very revolt--a very disagreeableexperience, and I've come up here to get some fresh air. I don't want tobe sociable. "

"That's right. Truthful as ever. But one word before we separate. Keppelhas just received two proofs of Haden's last job. He asks awful pricesfor them, but you ought to see them. "

"Thanks. " And the two friends separated as only true friends canseparate. 

Peter rode on, buried in his own thoughts. The park was rather empty, for dark comes on early in March, and dusk was already in the air. Heshook himself presently, and set Mutineer at a sharp canter round thelarger circle of the bridle path. But before they had half swung thecircle, he was deep in thought again, and Mutineer was taking his ownpace. Peter deserved to get a stumble and a broken neck or leg, but hedidn't. He was saved from it by an incident which never won any creditfor its good results to Peter, however much credit it gained him. 

Peter was so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not hearthe clutter of a horse's feet behind him, just as he struck the longstretch of the comparatively straight path along the Reservoir. ButMutineer did, and pricked up his ears. Mutineer could not talkarticulately, but all true lovers of horses understand their language. Mutineer's cogitations, transmuted into human speech, were something tothis effect:

"Hello! What's that horse trying to do? He can't for a moment expect topass me!"

But the next moment a roan mare actually did pass him, going at a swiftgallop. 

Mutineer laid his ears back, "The impudence!" he said. "Does thatlittle whiffet of a roan mare think she's going to show me her heels?I'll teach her!" It is a curious fact that both the men and horses whoare most seldom passed by their kind, object to it most when it happens. 

Peter suddenly came back to affairs earthly to find Mutineer justsettling into a gait not permitted by Park regulations. He drew rein, and Mutineer, knowing that the fun was up, danced round the path in hisbad temper. 

"Really, " he said to himself, "if I wasn't so fond of you, I'd give youand that mare, an awful lesson. Hello! not another? This is too much!"

The last remarks had relation to more clattering of hoofs. In a moment agroom was in view, going also at a gallop. 

"Hout of the way, " cried the groom, to Peter, for Mutineer was waltzinground the path in a way that suggested "no thoroughfare. " "Hi'm afterthat runaway. "

Peter looked after the first horse, already a hundred feet away. He saidnothing to groom nor horse, but Mutineer understood the sudden change inthe reins, even before he felt that maddening prick of the spurs. Therewas a moment's wild grinding of horse's feet on the slippery road andthen Mutineer had settled to his long, tremendous stride. 

"Now, I'll show you, " he remarked, "but if only he wouldn't hold me sodamned tight. " We must forgive Mutineer for swearing. He lived so muchwith the stablemen, that, gentleman though he was, evil communicationscould not be entirely resisted. 

Peter was riding "cool. " He knew he could run the mare down, but henoticed that the woman, who formed the mount, was sitting straight, andhe could tell from the position of her elbows that she was still pullingon her reins, if ineffectually. He thought it best therefore to let themare wind herself before he forced himself up, lest he should only makethe runaway horse the wilder. So after a hundred yards' run, he drewMutineer down to the mare's pace, about thirty feet behind her. 

They ran thus for another hundred yards. Then suddenly Peter saw thewoman drop her reins, and catch at the saddle. His quick eye told him ina moment what had happened. The saddle-girth had broken, or the saddlewas turning. He dug his spurs into Mutineer, so that the horse, who hadnever had such treatment, thought that he had been touched by twobranding irons. He gave a furious shake of his ears, and really showedthe blood of his racing Kentucky forebears. In fifteen seconds the horsewas running even with the mare. 

Peter had intended merely to catch the reins of the runaway, trusting tohis strength to do what a woman's could not. But when he came upalongside, he saw that the saddle had turned so far that the rider couldnot keep her seat ten seconds longer. So he dropped his reins, bentover, and putting his arms about the woman lifted her off the precariousseat, and put her in front of him. He held her there with one arm, andreached for his reins. But Mutineer had tossed them over his head. 

"Mutineer!" said Peter, with an inflection of voice decidedlycommanding. 

"I covered a hundred yards to your seventy, " Mutineer told the roanmare. "On a mile track I could go round you twice, without getting outof breath. I could beat you now, even with double mount easily. But myPeter has dropped the reins and that puts me on my honor. Good-bye. "Mutineer checked his great racing stride, broke to a canter; dropped toa trot; altered that to a walk, and stopped. 

Peter had been rather astonished at the weight he had lifted. Peter hadnever lifted a woman before. His chief experience in the weight ofhuman-kind had been in wrestling matches at the armory, and only thelargest and most muscular men in the regiment cared to try a bout withhim. Of course Peter knew as a fact that women were lighter than men, but after bracing himself, much as he would have done to try thecross-buttock with two hundred pounds of bone and brawn, he marvelledmuch at the ease with which he transferred the rider. "She can't weighover eighty pounds, " he thought. Which was foolish, for the womanactually weighed one hundred and eighteen, as Peter afterwards learned. 

The woman also surprised Peter in another way. Scarcely had she beenplaced in front of him, than she put her arms about his neck and buriedher face in his shoulder. She was not crying, but she was drawing herbreath in great gasps in a manner which scared Peter terribly. Peter hadnever had a woman cling to him in that way, and frightened as he was, he made three very interesting discoveries:

1. That a man's shoulder seems planned by nature as a resting place fora woman's head. 

2. That a man's arm about a woman's waist is a very pleasant positionfor the arm. 

3. That a pair of woman's arms round a man's neck, with the claspedhands, even if gloved, just resting on the back of his neck, is verysatisfying. 

Peter could not see much of the woman. His arm told him that she wasdecidedly slender, and he could just catch sight of a small ear and acheek, whose roundness proved the youth of the person. Otherwise hecould only see a head of very pretty brown hair, the smooth dressing ofwhich could not entirely conceal its longing to curl. 

When Mutineer stopped, Peter did not quite know what to do. Of course itwas his duty to hold the woman till she recovered herself. That was aplain duty--and pleasant. Peter said to himself that he really was sorryfor her, and thought his sensations were merely the satisfaction of afather in aiding his daughter. We must forgive his foolishness, forPeter had never been a father, and so did not know the parental feeling. 

It had taken Mutineer twenty seconds to come to a stand, and for tenseconds after, no change in the condition occurred. Then suddenly thewoman stopped her gasps. Peter, who was looking down at her, saw thepale cheek redden. The next moment, the arms were taken from his neckand the woman was sitting up straight in front of him. He got a downwardlook at the face, and he thought it was the most charming he had everseen. 

The girl kept her eyes lowered, while she said firmly, though withtraces of breathlessness and tremulo in her voice, "Please help medown. "

Peter was out of his saddle in a moment, and lifted the girl down. Shestaggered slightly on reaching the ground, so that Peter said: "You hadbetter lean on me. "

"No, " said the girl, still looking down, "I will lean against thehorse. " She rested against Mutineer, who looked around to see who wastaking this insulting liberty with a Kentucky gentleman. Having lookedat her he said: "You're quite welcome, you pretty dear!" Peter thoughthe would like to be a horse, but then it occurred to him that equinescould not have had what he had just had, so he became reconciled to hislot. 

The girl went on flushing, even after she was safely leaning againstMutineer. There was another ten seconds' pause, and then she said, stillwith downcast eyes, "I was so frightened, that I did not know what I wasdoing. "

"You behaved very well, " said Peter, in the most comforting voice hecould command. "You held your horse splendidly. "

"I wasn't a bit frightened, till the saddle began to turn. " The girlstill kept her eyes on the ground, and still blushed. She was undergoingalmost the keenest mortification possible for a woman. She had for amoment been horrified by the thought that she had behaved in this way toa groom. But a stranger--a gentleman--was worse! She had not looked atPeter's face, but his irreproachable riding-rig had been noticed. "If ithad only been a policeman, " she thought. "What can I say to him?"

Peter saw the mortification without quite understanding it. He knew, however, it was his duty to ease it, and took the best way by giving hersomething else to think about. 

"As soon as you feel able to walk, you had better take my arm. We canget a cab at the 72d Street entrance, probably. If you don't feel ableto walk, sit down on that stone, and I'll bring a cab. It oughtn't totake me ten minutes. "

"You are very good, " said the girl, raising her eyes, and taking a lookat Peter's face for the first time. 

A thrill went through Peter. 

The girl had slate-colored eyes!!

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

A DREAM. 

Something in Peter's face seemed to reassure the girl, for though shelooked down after the glance, she ceased leaning against the horse, andsaid, "I behaved very foolishly, of course. Now I will do whatever youthink best. "

Before Peter had recovered enough from his thrill to put what he thoughtinto speech, a policeman came riding towards them, leading the roanmare. "Any harm done?" he called. 

"None, fortunately. Where can we get a cab? Or can you bring one here?"

"I'm afraid there'll be none nearer than Fifty-ninth Street. They leavethe other entrances before it's as dark as this. "

"Never mind the cab, " said the girl. "If you'll help me to mount, I'llride home. "

"That's the pluck!" said the policeman. 

"Do you think you had better?" asked Peter. 

"Yes. I'm not a bit afraid. If you'll just tighten the girth. "

It seemed to Peter he had never encountered such a marvellouslyfascinating combination as was indicated by the clinging position of aminute ago and the erect one of the present moment. He tightened thegirth with a pull that made the roan mare wonder if a steam-winch hadhold of the end, and then had the pleasure of the little foot beingplaced in his hand for a moment, as he lifted the girl into the saddle. 

"I shall ride with you, " he said, mounting instantly. 

"Beg pardon, " said the policeman. "I must take your names. We arerequired to report all such things to headquarters. "

"Why, Williams, don't you know me?" asked Peter. 

Williams looked at Peter, now for the first time on a level with him. "Ibeg your pardon, Mr. Stirling. It was so dark, and you are so seldomhere afternoons that I didn't know you. "

"Tell the chief that this needn't go on record, nor be given to thereporters. "

"Very well, Mr. Stirling. "

"I beg your pardon, " said the girl in a frank yet shy way, "but will youtell me your first name?"

Peter was rather astonished, but he said "Peter. "

"Oh!" cried the girl, looking Peter in the face. "I understand it now. Ididn't think I could behave so to a stranger! I must have felt it wasyou. " She was smiling joyfully, and she did not drop her eyes from his. On the contrary she held out her hand to him. 

Of course Peter took it. He did not stop to ask if it was right or wrongto hold a young girl's hand. If it was wrong, it was certainly a verysmall one, judging from the size of the hand. 

"I was so mortified! But if it's you it's all right. "

Peter thought this mood of the girl was both delightful andcomplimentary, but he failed to understand anything of it, except itsgeneral friendliness. His manner may have suggested this, for suddenlythe girl said:

"But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I amLeonore D'Alloi. "

It was Peter's turn to gasp. "Not--?" he began and then stopped. 

"Yes, " said the girl joyfully, as if Peter's "not" had had somethingdelightful in it. 

"But--she's a child. "

"I'll be eighteen next week, " said Leonore, with all the readiness ofthat number of years to proclaim its age. 

Peter concluded that he must accept the fact. Watts could have a childthat old. Having reached this conclusion, he said, "I ought to haveknown you by your likeness to your mother. " Which was an unintentionallie. Her mother's eyes she had, as well as the long lashes; and she hadher mother's pretty figure, though she was taller. But otherwise she wasfar more like Watts. Her curly hair, her curvy mouth, the dimple, andthe contour of the face were his. Leonore D'Alloi was a far greaterbeauty than her mother had ever been. But to Peter, it was merely arenewal of his dream. 

Just at this point the groom rode up. "Beg pardon, Miss D'Alloi, " hesaid, touching his cap. "My 'orse went down on a bit of hice. "

"You are not hurt, Belden?" said Miss D'Alloi. 

Peter thought the anxious tone heavenly. He rather wished he had brokensomething himself. 

"No. Nor the 'orse. "

"Then it's all right. Mr. Stirling, we need not interrupt your ride. Belden will see me home. "

Belden see her home! Peter would see him do it! That was what Peterthought. He said, "I shall ride with you, of course. " So they startedtheir horses, the groom dropping behind. 

"Do you want to try it again?" asked Mutineer of the roan. 

"No, " said the mare. "You are too big and strong. "

Leonore was just saying: "I could hear the pound of a horse's feetbehind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could neverovertake Fly-away. So when I felt the saddle begin to slip, I thought Iwas--was going to be dragged--as I once saw a woman in England--Oh!--andthen suddenly I saw a horse's head, and then I felt some one take holdof me so firmly that I didn't have to hold myself at all, and I knew Iwas safe. Oh, how nice it is to be big and strong!"

Peter thought so too. 

So it is the world over. Peter and Mutineer felt happy and proud intheir strength, and Leonore and Fly-away glorified them for it. Yet inspite of this, as Peter looked down at the curly head, from his own andMutineers altitude, he felt no superiority, and knew that the slightestwish expressed by that small mouth, would be as strong with him as if aEuropean army obeyed its commands. 

"What a tremendous horse you have?" said Leonore. "Isn't he?" assentedPeter. "He's got a bad temper, I'm sorry to say, but I'm very fond ofhim. He was given me by my regiment, and was the choice of a very dearfriend now dead. "

"Who was that?"

"No one you know. A Mr. Costell. "

"Oh, yes I do. I've heard all about him. "

"What do you know of Mr. Costell?"

"What Miss De Voe told me. "

"Miss De Voe?"

"Yes. We saw her both times in Europe. Once at Nice, and once in--in1882--at Maggiore. The first time, I was only six, but she used to tellme stories about you and the little children in the angle. The last timeshe told me all she could remember about you. We used to drift about thelake moonlight nights, and talk about you. "

"What made that worth doing to you?"

"Oh from the very beginning, that I can remember, papa was alwaystalking about 'dear old Peter'"--the talker said the last three wordsin such a tone, shot such a look up at Peter, half laughing and halftimid, that in combination they nearly made Peter reel in hissaddle--"and you seemed almost the only one of his friends he did speakof, so I became very curious about you as a little girl, and then MissDe Voe made me more interested, so that I began questioning Americans, because I was really anxious to learn things concerning you. Nearlyevery one did know something, so I found out a great deal about you. "

Peter was realizing for the first time in his life, how champagne madeone feel. 

"Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?"

"Oh, nearly everybody knew something. That is, every one we've met inthe last five years. Before that, there was Miss De Voe, and grandpapa, of course, when he came over in 1879--"

"But, " interrupted Peter, "I don't think I had met him once before thattime, except at the Shrubberies. "

"No, he hadn't seen you. But he knew a lot about you, from Mr. Lapharnand Mr. Avery, and some other men who had met you. "

"Who else?"

"Miss Leroy, mamma's bridesmaid, who spent two weeks at our villa nearFlorence, and Dr. Purple, your clergyman, who was in the same house withus at Ober-Ammergau, and--and--oh the best were Mr. And Mrs. Rivington. They were in Jersey, having their honeymoon. They told me more than allthe rest put together. "

"I feel quite safe in their hands. Dorothy and I formed a mutualadmiration society a good many years ago. "

"She and Mr. Rivington couldn't say enough good of you. "

"You must make allowance for the fact that they were on their weddingjourney, and probably saw everything rose-colored. "

"That was it. Dorothy told me about your giving Mr. Rivington a fullpartnership, in order that Mr. Ogden should give his consent. "

Peter laughed. 

"Ray swore that he wouldn't tell. And Dorothy has always appearedignorant. And yet she knew it on her wedding trip. "

"She couldn't help it. She said she must tell some one, she was sohappy. So she told mamma and me. She showed us your photograph. Papa andmamma said it was like you, but I don't think it is. "

Again Leonore looked up at him. Leonore, when she glanced at a man, hadthe same frank, fearless gaze that her mother had of yore. But she didnot look as often nor as long, and did not seem so wrapped up in theman's remarks when she looked. We are afraid even at seventeen thatLeonore had discovered that she had very fetching eyes, and did notintend to cheapen them, by showing them too much. During the whole ofthis dialogue, Peter had had only "come-and-go" glimpses of those eyes. He wanted to see more of them. He longed to lean over and turn the faceup and really look down into them. Still, he could see the curly hair, and the little ear, and the round of the cheek, and the long lashes. Forthe moment Peter did not agree with Mr. Weller that "life isn't all beerand skittles. "

"I've been so anxious to meet you. I've begged papa ever since we landedto take me to see you. And he's promised me, over and over again, to doit, but something always interfered. You see, I felt very strangeand--and queer, not knowing people of my own country, and I felt that Ireally knew you, and wouldn't have to begin new as I do with otherpeople. I do so dread next winter when I'm to go into society. I don'tknow what I shall do, I'll not know any one. "

"You'll know me. "

"But you don't go into society. "

"Oh, yes, I do. Sometimes, that is. I shall probably go more nextwinter. I've shut myself up too much. " This was a discovery of Peter'smade in the last ten seconds. 

"How nice that will be! And will you promise to give me a great deal ofattention?"

"You'll probably want very little. I don't dance. " Peter suddenly becameconscious that Mr. Weller was right. 

"But you can learn. Please. I do so love valsing. "

Peter almost reeled again at the thought of waltzing with Leonore. Wasit possible life had such richness in it? Then he said with a bitternote in his voice very unusual to him:

"I'm afraid I'm too old to learn. "

"Not a bit, " said Leonore. "You don't look any older than lots of menI've seen valsing. Young men I mean. And I've seen men seventy years olddancing in Europe. "

Whether Peter could have kept his seat much longer is to be questioned. But fortunately for him, the horses here came to a stop in front of astable. 

"Why, " said Leonore, "here we are already! What a short ride it hasbeen. "

Peter thought so too, and groaned over the end of it. But then hesuddenly remembered that Leonore was to be lifted from her horse. Hebecame cold with the thought that she might jump before he could get toher, and he was off his horse and by her side with the quickness of amilitary training. He put his hands up, and for a moment had--well, Peter could usually express himself but he could not put that momentinto words. And it was not merely that Leonore had been in his arms fora moment, but that he had got a good look up into her eyes. 

"I wish you would take my horse round to the Riding Club, " he told thegroom. "I wish to see Miss D'Alloi home. "

"Thank you very much, but my maid is here in the brougham, so I need nottrouble you. Good-bye, and thank you. Oh, thank you so much!" She stoodvery close to Peter, and looked up into his eyes with her own. "There'sno one I would rather have had save me. "

She stepped into the brougham, and Peter closed the door. He mounted hishorse again, and straightening himself up, rode away. 

"Hi thought, " remarked the groom to the stableman, "that 'e didn't know'ow to sit 'is 'orse, but 'e's all right, arter all. 'E rides like ha'orse guards capting, w'en 'e don't 'ave a girl to bother 'im. "

Would that girl bother him?

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

"FRIENDS. "

At first blush, judging from Peter's behavior, the girl was not going tobother him. Peter left his horse at the stable, and taking a hansom, went to his club. There he spent a calm half hour over the eveningpapers. His dinner was eaten with equal coolness. Not till he hadreached his study did he vary his ordinary daily routine. Then, insteadof working or reading, he rolled a comfortable chair up to the fire, puton a fresh log or two, opened a new box of Bock's, and lighting one, settled back in the chair. How many hours he sat and how many cigars hesmoked are not recorded, lest the statement should make people skepticalof the narrative. 

Of course Peter knew that life had not lost its troubles. He was notfooling himself as to what lay before him. He was not callous to thesufferings already endured. But he put them, past, and to come, from himfor one evening, and sat smoking lazily with a dreamy look on his face. He had lately been studying the subject of Asiatic cholera, but he didnot seem to be thinking of that. He had just been through what he calleda "revolting experience, " but it is doubtful if he was thinking of that. Whatever his thoughts were, they put a very different look on his facethan that which it used to wear while he studied blank walls. 

When Peter sat down, rather later than usual at his office desk the nextmorning, he took a sheet of paper, and wrote, "Dear sir, " upon it. Thenhe tore it up. He took another and wrote, "My dear Mr. D'Alloi. " He torethat up. Another he began, "Dear Watts. " A moment later it was in thepaper basket. "My dear friend, " served to bring a similar fate to thefourth. Then Peter rose and strolled about his office aimlessly. Finallyhe went out into a gallery running along the various rooms, and, openinga door, put his head in. 

"You hypocritical scoundrel, " he said. "You swore to me that you wouldnever tell a living soul. "

"Well?" came a very guilty voice back. 

"And Dorothy's known all this time. "

Dead silence. 

"And you've both been as innocent as--as you were guilty. "

"Look here, Peter, I can't make you understand, because you've--you'venever been on a honeymoon. Really, old fellow, I was so happy over yourgenerosity in giving me a full share, when I didn't bring a tenth of thebusiness, and so happy over Dorothy, that If I hadn't told her, I shouldhave simply--bust. She swore she'd never tell. And now she's told you!"

"No, but she told some one else. "

"Never!"

"Yes. "

"Then she's broken her word. She--"

"The Pot called the Kettle black. "

"But to tell one's own wife is different. I thought she could keep asecret. "

"How can you expect a person to keep a secret when you can't keep ityourself?" Peter and Ray were both laughing. 

Ray said to himself, "Peter has some awfully knotty point on hand, andis resting the brain tissue for a moment. " Ray had noticed, when Peterinterrupted him during office hours, on matters not relating tobusiness, that he had a big or complex question in hand. 

Peter closed the door and went back to his room. Then he took a fifthsheet of paper, and wrote:

 "WATTS: A day's thought has brought a change of feeling on my part. Neither can be the better for alienation or unkind thoughts. I regret already my attitude of yesterday. Let us cancel all that has happened since our college days, and put aside as if it had never occurred. 

 "PETER"

Just as he had finished this, his door opened softly. 'Peter did nothear it, but took the letter up and read it slowly. 

"Boo!"

Peter did not jump at the Boo. He looked up very calmly, but the momenthe looked up, jump he did. He jumped so that he was shaking handsbefore the impetus was lost. 

"This is the nicest kind of a surprise, " he said. 

"Bother you, you phlegmatic old cow, " cried a merry voice. "Here we havespent ten minutes palavering your boy, in order to make him let ussurprise you, and then when we spring it on you, you don't budge. Wasn'tit shabby treatment, Dot?"

"You've disappointed us awfully, Mr. Stirling. "

Peter was shaking hands more deliberately with Leonore than he had withWatts. He had been rather clever in shaking hands with him first, sothat he need not hurry himself over the second. So he had a very nicemoment--all too short--while Leonore's hand lay in his. He said, inorder to prolong the moment, without making it too marked, "It will takesomething more frightful than you, Miss D'Alloi, to make me jump. " ThenPeter was sorry he had said it, for Leonore dropped her eyes. 

"Now, old man, give an account of yourself. " Watts was speakingjauntily, but not quite as easily as he usually did. "Here Leonore and Iwaited all last evening, and you never came. So she insisted that wecome this morning. "

"I don't understand?" Peter was looking at Leonore as if she had madethe remark. Leonore was calmly examining Peter's room. 

"Why, even a stranger would have called last night to inquire aboutDot's health, after such an accident. But for you not to do it, wascriminal. If you have aught to say why sentence should not now be passedon you, speak now or forever--no--that's the wedding ceremony, isn't it?Not criminal sentence--though, on second thought, there's not muchdifference. "

"Did you expect me, Miss D'Alloi?"

Miss D'Alloi was looking at a shelf of law books with her back to Peter, and was pretending great interest in them. She did not turn, but said"Yes. "

"I wish I had known that, " said Peter, with the sincerest regret in hisvoice. 

Miss D'Alloi's interest in legal literature suddenly ceased. She turnedand Peter had a momentary glimpse of those wonderful eyes. Either hiswords or tone had evidently pleased Miss D'Alloi. The corners of hermouth were curving upwards. She made a deep courtesy to him and said:"You will be glad to know, Mr. Stirling, that Miss D'Alloi has sufferedno serious shock from her runaway, and passed a good night. It seemed toMiss D'Alloi that the least return she could make for Mr. Stirling'skindness, was to save him the trouble of coming to inquire about MissD'Alloi's health, and so leave Mr. Stirling more time to his grimy oldlaw books. "

"There, sir, I hope you are properly crushed for your wrong-doing, "cried Watts. 

"I'm not going to apologize for not coming, " said Peter, "for that is myloss; but I can say that I'm sorry. "

"That's quite enough, " said Leonore. "I thought perhaps you didn't wantto be friends. And as I like to have such things right out, I made papabring me down this morning so that I could see for myself. " She spokewith a frankness that seemed to Peter heavenly, even while he grew coldat the thought that she should for a moment question his desire to befriends. 

"Of course you and Peter will be friends, " said Watts. 

"But mamma told me last night--after we went upstairs, that she was sureMr. Stirling would never call. "

"Never, Dot?" cried Watts. 

"Yes. And when I asked her why, she wouldn't tell me at first, but atlast she said it was because he was so unsociable. I shan't be friendswith any one who won't come to see me. " Leonore was apparently lookingat the floor, but from under her lashes she was looking at somethingelse. 

Whatever Peter may have felt, he looked perfectly cool. Too cool, Leonore thought. "I'm not going to make any vows or protestations offriendship, " he said, "I won't even pledge myself to come and see you, Miss D'Alloi. Remember, friendship comes from the word free. If we areto be friends, we must each leave the other to act freely. "

"Well, " said Leonore, "that is, I suppose, a polite way of saying thatyou don't intend to come. Now I want to know why you won't?"

"The reasons will take too long to explain to you now, so I'll defer thetelling till the first time I call on you. " Peter was smiling down ather. 

Miss D'Alloi looked up at Peter, to see what meaning his face gave hislast remark. Then she held out her two hands. "Of course we are to bethe best of friends, " she said. Peter got a really good look down intothose eyes as they shook hands. 

The moment this matter had been settled, Leonore's manner changed. "Sothis is the office of the great Peter Stirling?" she said, with thenicest tone of interest in her voice, as it seemed to Peter. 

"It doesn't look it, " said Watts. "By George, with the business peoplesay your firm does, you ought to do better than this. It's worse eventhan our old Harvard quarters, and those were puritanical enough. "

"There is a method in its plainness. If you want style, go into Ogden'sand Rivington's rooms. "

"Why do you have the plain office, Mr. Stirling?"

"I have a lot of plain people to deal with, and so I try to keep my roomsimple, to put them at their ease. I've never heard of my losing aclient yet, because my room is as it is, while I should have frightenedaway some if I had gone in for the same magnificence as my partners. "

"But I say, chum, I should think that is the sort you would want tofrighten away. There can't be any money in their business?"

"We weren't talking of money. We were talking of people. I am very gladto say, that with my success, there has been no change in my relationswith my ward. They all come to me here, and feel perfectly at home, whether they come as clients, as co-workers, or merely as friends. "

"Ho, ho, " laughed Watts. "You wily old fox! See the four bare walls. Theone shelf of law books. The one cheap cabinet of drawers. The foursimple chairs, and the plain desk. Behold the great politician! The manof the people. "

Peter made no reply. But Leonore said to him, "I'm glad you help thepoor people still, Mr. Stirling, " and gave Peter another glimpse ofthose eyes. Peter didn't mind after that. 

"Look here, Dot, " said Watts. "You mustn't call chum Mr. Stirling. Thatwon't do. Call him--um--call him Uncle Peter. "

"I won't, " said Leonore, delighting Peter thereby. "Let me see. Whatshall I call you?" she asked of Peter. 

"Honey, " laughed Watts. 

"What shall I call you?" Miss D'Alloi put her head on one side, andlooked at Peter out of the corners of her eyes. 

"You must decide that, Miss D'Alloi. "

"I suppose I must. I--think--I--shall--call--you--Peter. " She spokehesitatingly till she said his name, but that went very smoothly. Peteron the spot fell in love with the five letters as she pronounced them. 

"Plain Peter?" inquired Watts. 

"Now what will you call me?"

"Miss D'Alloi, " said Peter. 

"No. You--are--to--call--me--call--me--"

"Miss D'Alloi, " re-affirmed Peter. 

"Then I will call you Mr. Stirling, Peter. "

"No, you won't. "

"Why?"

"Because you said you'd call me Peter. "

"But not if you won't--"

"You made no condition at the time of promise. Shall I show you thelaw?"

"No. And I shall not call you Peter, any more, Peter. "

"Then I shall prosecute you. "

"But I should win the case, for I should hire a friend of mine to defendme. A man named Peter. " Leonore sat down in Peter's chair. "I'm going towrite him at once about it. " She took one of his printed letter sheetsand his pen, and, putting the tip of the holder to her lips (Peter hasthat pen still), thought for a moment. Then she wrote:

 DEAR PETER:

 I am threatened with a prosecution. Will you defend me? Address your reply to "Dear Leonore. "

 LEONORE D'ALLOI. 

"Now" she said to Peter, "you must write me a letter in reply. Then youcan have this note. " Leonore rose with the missive in her hand. 

"I never answer letters till I've received them. " Peter took hold of theslender wrist, and possessed himself of the paper. Then he sat down athis desk and wrote on another sheet:

 DEAR MISS D'ALLOI:

 I will defend you faithfully and always. 

 PETER STIRLING

"That isn't what I said, " remarked Miss D'Alloi. "But I suppose it willhave to do. "

"You forget one important thing. "

"What is that?"

"My retaining fee. "

"Oh, dear, " sighed Leonore. "My allowance is nearly gone. Don't you everdo work for very, very poor people, for nothing?"

"Not if their poverty is pretence. "

"Oh, but mine isn't. Really. See. Here is my purse. Look for yourself. That's all I shall have till the first of the month. "

She gave Peter her purse. He was still sitting at his desk, and he verydeliberately proceeded to empty the contents out on his blotter. Hehandled each article. There was a crisp ten-dollar bill, evidently thelast of those given by the bank at the beginning of the month. Therewere two one-dollar bills. There was a fifty-cent piece, two quartersand a dime. A gold German twenty-mark piece, about eight inches ofnarrow crimson ribbon, and a glove button, completed the contents. Peterreturned the American money and the glove button to the purse and handedit back to Miss D'Alloi. 

"You've forgotten the ribbon and the gold piece, " said Leonore. 

"You were never more mistaken in your life, " replied Peter, withanything but legal guardedness concerning unprovable statements. Hefolded up the ribbon neatly and put it, with the coin, in his waistcoatpocket. 

"Oh, " said Leonore, "I can't let you have that That's my luck-piece. "

"Is it?" Peter expressed much surprise blended with satisfaction in histone. 

"Yes. You don't want to take my good luck. "

"I will think it over, and write you a legal opinion later. 

"Please!" Miss D'Alloi pleaded. 

"That is just what I have succeeded in doing--for myself. "

"But I want my luck-piece. I found it in a crack of the rocks crossingthe Ghemi. And I must have the ribbon. I need it to match for a gown itgoes with. " Miss D'Alloi put true anxiety into her voice, whatever shereally felt. 

"I shall be glad to help you match it, " said Peter, "and any time yousend me word, I will go shopping with you. As for your luck, I shallkeep that for the present. "

"Now I know, " said Leonore crossly, "why lawyers have such a badreputation. They are perfect thieves!" She looked at Peter with thecorners of her mouth drawn down. He gazed at her with a very grave lookon his face. They eyed each other steadily for a moment, and then thecorners of Leonore's mouth suddenly curled upwards. She tried hard for amoment to keep serious. Then she gave up and laughed. Then they bothlaughed. 

Many people will only see an amusing side to the dialogue here socarefully recorded. If so, look back to the time when everything that heor she said was worth listening to. Or if there has never been a he or ashe, imitate Peter, and wait. It is worth waiting for. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE HERMITAGE. 

It is not to be supposed from this last reflection of ours, that Leonorewas not heart-whole. Leonore had merely had a few true friends, owing toher roving life, and at seventeen a girl craves friends. When, therefore, the return to America was determined upon, she had at oncedecided that Peter and she would be the closest of friends. That shewould tell him all her confidences, and take all her troubles to him. Miss De Voe and Dorothy had told her about Peter, and from theirdescriptions, as well as from her father's reminiscences, Leonore hadconcluded that Peter was just the friend she had wanted for so long. That Leonore held her eyes down, and tried to charm yet tantalize herintended friend, was because Leonore could not help it, being onlyseventeen and a girl. If Leonore had felt anything but a friendlyinterest and liking, blended with much curiosity, in Peter, she neverwould have gone to see him in his office, and would never have talkedand laughed so frankly with him. 

As for Peter, he did not put his feelings into good docketed shape. Hedid not attempt to label them at all. He had had a delicious half-houryesterday. He had decided, the evening before, that he must see thoseslate-colored eyes again, if he had to go round the world in pursuit ofthem. How he should do it, he had not even thought out, till the nextmorning. He had understood very clearly that the owner of thoseslate-colored eyes was really an unknown quantity to him. He hadunderstood, too, that the chances were very much against his caring topursue those eyes after he knew them better. But he was adamant that hemust see those eyes again, and prove for himself whether they were butan _ignis fatuus_, or the radiant stars that Providence had cast for thehoroscope of Peter Stirling. He was studying those eyes, with theirconcomitants, at the present time. He was studying them very coolly, tojudge from his appearance and conduct. Yet he was enjoying the study ina way that he had never enjoyed the study of somebody "On Torts. "Somebody "On Torts, " never looked like that. Somebody "On Torts, " neverhad luck-pieces, and silk ribbons. Somebody "On Torts, " never wroteletters and touched the end of pens to its lips. Somebody "On Torts, "never courtesied, nor looked out from under its eyelashes, nor calledhim Peter. 

While this investigation had been progressing, Watts had looked at theshelf of law books, had looked out of the window, had whistled, and hadyawned. Finally, in sheer _ennui_ he had thrown open a door, and lookedto see what lay beyond. 

"Ha, ha!" he cried. "All is discovered. See! Here sits Peter Stirling, the ward politician, enthroned in Jeffersonian simplicity. But here, behind the arras, sits Peter Stirling, the counsellor of banks andrailroads, in the midst of all the gorgeousness of the golden East. "Watts passed into the room beyond. 

"What does he mean, Peter?"

"He has gone into my study. Would you like--"

He was interrupted by Watts calling, "Come in here, Dot, and see how theunsociable old hermit bestows himself. "

So Leonore and Peter followed Watts's lead. The room into which theywent was rather a curious one. It was at least twenty-five feet square, having four windows, two looking out on Broadway, and two on the sidestreet. It had one other door besides that by which they had entered. Here the ordinary quality ended. Except for the six openings alreadynoted and a large fireplace, the walls were shelved from floor toceiling (which was not a low one), with dusky oak shelving. The ceilingwas panelled in dark oak, and the floor was covered with a smoothsurface of the same wood. Yet though the shelves were filled with books, few could be seen, for on every upright of the shelving, were severalframes of oak, hinged as one sees them in public galleries occasionally, and these frames contained etchings, engravings, and paintings. Somewere folded back against the shelves. Others stood out at right anglesto them and showed that the frames were double ones, both sidescontaining something. Four easy-chairs, three less easy chairs, and alarge table desk, likewise of dusky oak were the sole other fittings ofthe room, if we except two large polar bear skins. 

"Oh, " cried Leonore looking about, "I'm so glad to see this. People havetold me so much about your rooms. And no two of them ever agreed. "

"No, " said Peter. "It seems a continual bone of contention with myfriends. They scold me because I shelved it to the ceiling, because Iput in one-colored wood, because I framed my pictures and engravingsthis way, and because I haven't gone in for rugs, and bric-à-brac, andthe usual furnishings. At times I have really wondered, from theirdetermination to change things, whether it was for them to live in, orfor my use?"

"It is unusual, " said Leonore, reluctantly, and evidently selecting aword that should not offend Peter. 

"You ought to be hung for treating fine pictures so, " said Watts. 

"I had to give them those broad flat mats, because the books gave nobackground. "

"It's--it's--" Leonore hesitated. "It's not so startling, after amoment. "

"You see they had to hang this way, or go unhung. I hadn't wall spacefor both pictures and books. And by giving a few frames a turn, occasionally, I can always have fresh pictures to look at. "

"Look here, Dot, here's a genuine Rembrandt's 'Three Crosses, '" calledWatts. "I didn't know, old man, that you were such a connoisseur. "

"I'm not, " said Peter. "I'm fond of such things, but I never should havehad taste or time to gather these. "

"Then how did you get them?"

"A friend of mine--a man of exquisite taste--gathered them. He lost hismoney, and I bought them of him. "

"That was Mr. Le Grand?" asked Leonore, ceasing her study of the "ThreeCrosses. "

"Yes. "

"Mrs. Rivington told me about it. "

"It must have been devilish hard for him to part with such acollection, " said Watts. 

"He hasn't really parted with them. He comes down here constantly, andhas a good time over them. It was partly his scheme to arrange them thisway. "

"And are the paintings his, too, Peter?"

Peter could have hugged her for the way she said Peter. "No, " he managedto remark. "I bought some of them, and Miss De Voe and Lispenard Ogdenthe others. People tell me I spoil them by the flat framing, and theplain, broad gold mats. But it doesn't spoil them to me. I think themixture of gold mats and white mats breaks the monotony. And thevariation just neutralizes the monotone which the rest of the room has. But of course that is my personal equation. "

"Then this room is the real taste of the 'plain man, ' eh?" inquiredWatts. 

"Really, papa, it is plain. Just as simple as can be. "

"Simple! Yes, sweet simplicity! Three-thousand-dollar-etchingsimplicity! Millet simplicity! Oh, yes. Peter's a simple old dog. "

"No, but the woodwork and the furniture. Isn't this an enticing chair? Imust try it. " And Leonore almost dissolved from view in its depths. Peter has that chair still. He would probably knock the man down whooffered to buy it. 

It occurred to Peter that since Leonore was so extremely near theground, and was leaning back so far, that she could hardly help but belooking up. So he went and stood in front of the fireplace, and lookeddown at her. He pretended that his hands were cold. Watts perhaps wasright. Peter was not as simple as people thought. 

It seemed to Peter that he had never had so much to see, all at once, inhis life. There were the occasional glimpses of the eyes (for Leonore, in spite of her position, did manage to cover the larger part of them)not one of which must be missed. Then there was her mouth. That wouldhave been very restful to the eye; if it hadn't been for the distractingchin below it. Then there were the little feet, just sticking out fromunderneath the tailor-made gown, making Peter think of Herrick's famouslines. Finally there were those two hands! Leonore was very deliberatelytaking off her gloves. Peter had not seen those hands ungloved yet, andwaited almost breathlessly for the unveiling. He decided that he mustwatch and shake hands at parting before Leonore put those gloves onagain. 

"I say, " said Watts, "how did you ever manage to get such a place here?"

"I was a tenant for a good many years of the insurance company that ownsthe building, and when it came to rebuild, it had the architect fit thisfloor for me just as I wished it. So I put our law-offices in front andarranged my other rooms along the side street. Would you like to seethem?" Peter asked this last question very obviously of Leonore. 

"Very much. "

So they passed through the other door, to a little square hall, lightedby a skylight, with a stairway going up to the roof. 

"I took the upper floor, so as to get good air and the view of the cityand the bay, which is very fine, " Peter said. "And I have a staircase tothe roof, so that in good weather I can go up there. "

"I wondered what the great firm was doing up ten stories, " said Watts. 

"Ogden and Rivington have been very good in yielding to myidiosyncracies. This is my mealing closet. "

It was a room nine feet square, panelled, ceiled and floored inmahogany, and the table and six chairs were made of the same material. 

"So this is what the papers call the 'Stirling political incubator?' Itdoesn't look like a place for hatching dark plots, " said Watts. 

"Sometimes I have a little dinner here. Never more than six, however, for it's too small. "

"I say, Dot, doesn't this have a jolly cosy feeling? Couldn't one sithere blowy nights, with the candles lit, eating nuts and tellingstories? It makes me think of the expression, 'snug as a bug. '"

"Miss Leroy told me, Peter, what a reputation your dinners had, and howevery one was anxious to be invited just once, " said Leonore. 

"But not a second time, old man. You caught Dot's inference, I hope?Once is quite enough. "

"Peter, will you invite me some day?"

"Would he?" Peter longed to tell her that the place and everything itcontained, including its owner--Then Peter said to himself, "You reallydon't know anything about her. Stop your foolishness. " Still Peter knewthat--that foolishness was nice. He said, "People only care for mydinners because they are few and far between, and their being way downhere in the city, after business hours, makes them something to talkabout. Society wants badly something to talk about most of the time. Ofcourse, my friends are invited. " Peter looked down at Leonore, and sheunderstood, without, his saying so, that she was to be a future guest. 

"How do you manage about the prog, chum?"

"Mr. Le Grand had a man--a Maryland darky--whom he turned over to me. Helooks after me generally, but his true forte is cooking. For oysters andfish and game I can't find his equal. And, as I never attempt veryelaborate dinners, he cooks and serves for a party of six in very goodshape. We are not much in haste down here after six, because it's sostill and quiet. The hurry's gone up-town to the social slaves. Supposeyou stay and try his skill at lunch to-day? My partners generally arewith me, and Jenifer always has something good for them. "

"By all means, " said Watts. 

But Leonore said: "No. We mustn't make a nuisance of ourselves the firsttime we come. " Peter and Watts tried to persuade her, but she was notpersuadable. Leonore had no intention, no matter how good a time itmeant, of lunching sola with four men. 

"I think we must be going, " she said. 

"You mustn't go without seeing the rest of my quarters, " said Peter, hoping to prolong the visit. 

Leonore was complaisant to that extent. So they went into the pantry, and Leonore proceeded, apparently, to show her absolute ignorance offood matters under the pretext that she was displaying greathousekeeping knowledge. She told Peter that he ought to keep hischampagne on ice. "That champagne will spoil if it isn't kept on ice. "She complained because some bottles of Burgundy had dust on them. "That's not merely untidy, " she said, "but it's bad for the wine. Itought to be stood on end, so that the sediment can settle. " Shecriticised the fact that a brace of canvas-backs were on ice. "All yourgame should be hung, " she said. She put her finger or her eyes intoevery drawer and cupboard, and found nothing to praise. She wasabsolutely grave over it, but before long Peter saw the joke and enteredinto it. It was wonderful how good some of the things that she touchedtasted later. 

Then they went into Peter's sleeping-room, Leonore said it was veryordinary, but promptly found two things to interest her. 

"Do you take care of your window flowers?"

"No, Mrs. Costell comes down to lunch with me once a week, and potterswith them. She keeps all the windows full of flowers--perhaps you havenoticed them in the other rooms, as well?"

"Yes. I liked them, but I didn't think they could be yours. They growtoo well for a man. "

"It seems as if Mrs. Costell had only to look at a plant, and it breaksout blossoming, " Peter replied. 

"What a nice speech, " said Leonore. 

"It's on a nice subject, " Peter told her. "When you have that, it's veryeasy to make a nice speech. "

"I want to meet Mrs. Costell. I've heard all about her. "

The second point of interest concerned the contents of what hadevidently been planned as an umbrella-stand. 

"Why do you have three swords?" she asked, taking the handsomest fromits resting place. 

"So that I can kill more people. "

"Why, Dot, you ought to know that an officer wants a service sword and adress-sword. "

"But these are all dress-swords. I'm afraid you are very proud of yourmajorship. "

Peter only smiled a reply down at her. 

"Yes, " said Leonore, "I have found out your weakness at last. You likegold lace and fixings. "

Still Peter only smiled. 

"This sword is presented to Captain Peter Stirling in recognition of hisgallant conduct at Hornellsville, July 25, 1877, " Leonore read on thescabbard. "What did you do at Hornellsville?"

"Various things. "

"But what did you do to get the sword?"

"My duty!"

"Tell me?"

"I thought you knew all about me. "

"I don't know this. "

Peter only smiled at her. 

"Tell me. If you don't, somebody else will. Please. "

"Why, Dot, these are all presentation swords. "

"Yes, " said Peter; "and so gorgeous that I don't dare use them. I keepthe swords I wear at the armory. "

"Are you going to tell me what you did to get them?"

"That one was given me by my company when I was made captain. That wassubscribed for by some friends. The one you have was given me by arailroad. "

"For what?"

"For doing my duty. "

"Come, papa. We'll go home. "

Peter surrendered. "There were some substitutes for strikers in freightcars that were fitted up with bunks. The strikers fastened the doors onthem, and pushed them into a car-shed. "

"And what did you do?"

"We rolled the cars back. "

"I don't think that was much. Nothing to give a sword for. Now, have youanything more to show us?"

"No. I have a spare room, and Jenifer has a kitchen and sleeping placebeyond, but they are not worth showing. "

They went out into the little square hall, and so into the study. Leonore began unfolding her gloves. 

"I've had a very nice time, " she said. "I think I shall come again veryoften, I like down-town New York. " Leonore was making her first trip toit, so that she spoke from vast knowledge. 

"I can't tell you how pleasant it has been to me. It isn't often thatsuch sunshine gets in here, " said Peter. 

"Then you do prefer sunshine to grimy old law books?" inquired Leonore, smiling demurely. 

"Some sunshine, " said Peter, meaningly. 

"Wherever there has been sunshine there ought to be lots of flowers. Ihave a good mind--yes, I will--leave you these violets, " Leonore took alittle bunch that she had worn near her throat and put them and her handin Peter's. And she hadn't put her glove on yet! Then she put her gloveson, and Peter shook hands. Then he remembered that he ought to see themto the elevator, so he took them out--and shook hands again. After thathe concluded it was his duty to see them to the carriage--and he shookhands again. 

Peter was not an experienced hand, but he was doing very well. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE DUDE. 

Just as Peter came back to his office, his lunch was announced. 

"What makes you look so happy?" asked Ray. 

"Being so, " said Peter, calmly. 

"What a funny old chap he is?" Ray remarked to Ogden, as they went backto work. "He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in theHall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning overthose awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn't make. Yethe came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air. "

When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop workand think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them nowand then. He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to have alook at that bit of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation. Hesaid: "Peter Stirling, go to work. " So all the treasures were put in adrawer of his study table, and Peter sat down at his office desk. First, after tearing up his note to Watts, he wrote another, as follows:

 WATTS:

 You can understand why I did not call last night, or bind myself as to the future. I shall hope to receive an invitation to call from Mrs. D'Alloi. How, I must leave to you; but you owe me this much, and it is the only payment I ask of you. Otherwise let us bury all that has occurred since our college days, forever. 

 PETER. 

Then he ground at the law till six, when he swung his clubs anddumb-bells for ten minutes; took a shower; dressed himself, and dined. Then he went into his study, and opened a drawer. Did he find therein abox of cigars, or a bunch of violets, gold-piece, ribbon and sheet ofpaper? One thing is certain. Peter passed another evening withoutreading or working. And two such idle evenings could not be shown inanother week of his life for the last twenty years. 

The next day Peter was considerably nearer earth. Not that he didn'tthink those eyes just as lovely, and had he been thrown within theirradius, he would probably have been as strongly influenced as ever. Buthe was not thrown within their influence, and so his strong nature andcommon sense reasserted themselves. He took his coffee, his earlymorning ride, and then his work, in their due order. After dinner, thatevening, he only smoked one cigar. When he had done that, he remarked tohimself--apropos of the cigars, presumably--"Peter, keep to your work. Don't burn yourself again. " Then his face grew very firm, and he read afrivolous book entitled: "Neun atiologische und prophylactische Satze. . . Uber die Choleræpidemien in Ostindien, " till nearly one o'clock. 

The following day was Sunday. Peter went to church, and in the afternoonrode out to Westchester to pass the evening there with Mrs. Costell. Peter thought his balance was quite recovered. Other men have said thesame thing. The fact that they said so, proved that they were by nomeans sure of themselves. 

This was shown very markedly on Monday in Peter's case, for after lunchhe did not work as steadily as he had done in the morning hours. He wasrestless. Twice he pressed his lips, and started in to work very, veryhard--and did it for a time. Then the restlessness would come on again. Presently he took to looking at his watch. Then he would snap it to, andgo to work again, with a great determination in his face, only to lookat the watch again before long. Finally he touched his bell. 

"Jenifer, " he said, "I wish you would rub off my spurs, and clean up myriding trousers. "

"For lohd, sar, I done dat dis day yesserday. "

"Never mind, then, " said Peter. "Tell Curzon to ring me up a hansom. "

When Peter rode into the park he did not vacillate. He put his horse ata sharp canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden farwhen he suddenly checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple ofriders. "I've been looking for you, " he said frankly. Peter had notceased to be straightforward. 

"Hello! This is nice, " said Watts. 

"Don't you think it's about time?" said Leonore. Leonore had her ownopinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry with Peter--notat all. But she did not look at him. 

Peter had drawn his horse up to the side on which Leonore was riding. "That is just what I thought, " he said deliberately, "and that's why I'mhere now. "

"How long ago did that occur to you, please?" said Leonore, withdignity. 

"About the time it occurred to me that you might ride here regularlyafternoons. "

"Don't you?" Leonore was mollifying. 

"No. I like the early morning, when there are fewer people. "

"You unsociable old hermit, " exclaimed Watts. 

"But now?" asked Leonore. 

When Leonore said those two words Peter had not yet had a sight of thoseeyes. And he was getting desperately anxious to see them. So he replied:"Now I shall ride in the afternoons. "

He was rewarded by a look. The sweetest kind of a look. "Now, that isvery nice, Peter, " said Leonore. "If we see each other every day in thePark, we can tell each other everything that we are doing or thinkingabout. So we will be very good friends for sure. " Leonore spoke andlooked as if this was the pleasantest of possibilities, and Peter wascertain it was. 

"I say, Peter, " said Watts. "What a tremendous dude we have come out. Iwanted to joke you on it the first time I saw you, but this afternoonit's positively appalling. I would have taken my Bible oath that it wasthe last thing old Peter would become. Just look at him, Dot. Doesn't hefill you with 'wonder, awe and praise?'"

Leonore looked at Peter a little shyly, but she said frankly:

"I've wondered about that, Peter. People told me you were a manabsolutely without style. "

Peter smiled. "Do you remember what Friar Bacon's brass head said?"

"Time is: Time was: Time will never be again?" asked Leonore. 

"That fits my lack of style, I think. "

"Pell and Ogden, and the rest of them, have made you what I never could, dig at you as I would. So you've yielded to the demands of your toneyfriends?"

"Of course I tried to dress correctly for my up-town friends, when I waswith them. But it was not they who made me careful, though they helpedme to find a good tailor, when I decided that I must dress better. "

"Then it was the big law practice, eh? Must keep up appearances?"

"I fancy my dressing would no more affect my practice, than does thefurnishing of my office. "

"Then who is she? Out with it, you sly dog. "

"Of course I shan't tell you that"

"Peter, will you tell me?" asked Leonore. 

Peter smiled into the frank eyes. "Who she is?"

"No. Why you dress so nicely. Please?"

"You'll laugh when I tell you it is my ward. "

"Oh, nonsense, " laughed Watts. "That's too thin. Come off that roof. Unless you're guardian of some bewitching girl?"

"Your ward, Peter?"

"Yes. I don't know whether I can make you understand it. I didn't atfirst. You see I became associated with the ward, in people's minds, after I had been in politics for a few years. So I was sometimes put inpositions to a certain extent representative of it. I never thoughtmuch how I dressed, and it seems that sometimes at public meetings, andparades, and that sort of thing, I wasn't dressed quite as well as theother men. So when the people of my ward, who were present, were askedto point me out to strangers, they were mortified about the way Ilooked. It seemed to reflect on the ward. The first inkling I had of itwas after one of these parades, in which, without thinking, I had worn asoft hat. I was the only man who did not wear a silk one, and my wardfelt very badly about it. So they made up a purse, and came to me to askme to buy a new suit and silk hat and gloves. Of course that set measking questions, and though they didn't want to hurt my feelings, Iwormed enough out of them to learn how they felt. Since then I've spenta good deal of money on tailors, and dress very carefully. "

"Good for 'de sixt'! Hurrah for the unwashed democracy, where one man'sas good as another! So a 'Mick' ward wants its great man to put on allthe frills? I tell you, chum, we may talk about equality, but the lowerclasses can't but admire and worship the tinsel and flummery ofaristocracy. "

"You are mistaken. They may like to see brilliant sights. Soldiers, ball-rooms or the like, and who does not? Beauty is aesthetic, notaristocratic. But they judge people less by their dress or money than isusually supposed. Far less than the people up-town do. They wanted me todress better, because it was appropriate. But let a man in the ward tryto dress beyond his station, and he'd be jeered out of it, or the ward, if nothing worse happened. "

"Oh, of course they'd hoot at their own kind, " said Watts. "The hardestthing to forgive in this world is your equal's success. But theywouldn't say anything to one of us. "

"If you, or Pell, or Ogden should go into Blunkers's place in my ward, this evening, dressed as you are, or better, you probably would be toldto get out. I don't believe you could get a drink. And you would stand achance of pretty rough usage. Last week I went right from a dinner toBlunkers's to say a word to him. I was in evening dress, newcastle, andcrush hat--even a bunch of lilies of the valley--yet every man therewas willing to shake hands and have me sit down and stay. Blunkerscouldn't have been dressed so, because it didn't belong to him. For thesame reason, you would have no business in Blunkers's place, because youdon't belong there. But the men know I dressed for a reason, and came tothe saloon for a reason. I wasn't putting on airs. I wasn't intruding mywealth on them. "

"Look here, chum, will you take me into Blunkers's place some night, andlet me hear you powwow the 'b'ys?' I should like to see how you do it. "

"Yes, " Peter said deliberately, "if some night you'll let me bringBlunkers up to watch one of your formal dinners. He would enjoy thesight, I'm sure. "

Leonore cocked her little nose up in the air, and laughed merrily. 

"Oh, but that's very different, " said Watts. 

"It's just as different as the two men with the toothache, " said Peter. "They both met at the dentist's, who it seems had only time to pull onetooth. The question arose as to which it should be. 'I'm so brave, ' saidone, 'that I can wait till to-morrow. ' 'I'm such a coward, ' said theother, 'that I don't dare have it done to-day. '"

"Haven't you ever taken people to those places, Peter?" asked Leonore. 

"No. I've always refused. It's a society fad now to have what are called'slumming parties, ' and of course I've been asked to help. It makes myblood tingle when I hear them talk over the 'fun' as they call it. Theyget detectives to protect them, and then go through the tenements--thehomes of the poor--and pry into their privacy and poverty, just out ofcuriosity. Then they go home and over a chafing dish of lobster orterrapin, and champagne, they laugh at the funny things they saw. If thepoor could get detectives, and look in on the luxury and comfort of therich, they wouldn't see much fun in it, and there's less fun in adown-town tenement than there is in a Fifth Avenue palace. I heard agirl tell the other night about breaking in on a wake by chance. 'Weren't we lucky?' she said. 'It was so funny to see the poor peopleweeping and drinking whisky at the same time. Isn't it heartless?' Yetthe dead--perhaps the bread-winner of the family, fallen in thestruggle--perhaps the last little comer, not strong enough to fightthis earth's battle--must have lain there in plain view of that girl. Who was the most heartless? The family and friends who had gathered overthat body, according to their customs, or the party who looked in onthem and laughed?" Peter had forgotten where he was, or to whom he wastalking. 

Leonore had listened breathlessly. But the moment he ceased speaking, she bowed her head and began to sob. Peter came down from his indignanttirade like a flash. "Miss D'Alloi, " he cried, "forgive me. I forgot. Don't cry so. " Peter was pleading in an anxious voice. He felt as if hehad committed murder. 

"There, there, Dot. Don't cry. It's nothing to cry about. "

Miss D'Alloi was crying and endeavoring at the same time to solve themost intricate puzzle ever yet propounded by man or woman--that is, tofind a woman's pocket. She complicated things even more by trying totalk. "I--I--know I'm ver--ver--very fooooooolish, " she managed to getout, however much she failed in a similar result with herpocket-handkerchief. 

"Since I caused the tears, you must let me stop them, " said Peter. Hehad produced his own handkerchief, and was made happy by seeing Leonorebury her face in it, and re-appear not quite so woe-begone. 

"I--only--didn't--know--you--could--talk--like--like that, " explainedLeonore. 

"Let this be a lesson for you, " said Watts. "Don't come any more of yourjury-pathos on my little girl. "

"Papa! You--I--Peter, I'm so glad you told me--I'll never go to one. "

Watts laughed. "Now I know why you charm all the women whom I heartalking about you. I tell you, when you rear your head up like that, andyour eyes blaze so, and you put that husk in your voice, I don't wonderyou fetch them. By George, you were really splendid to look at. "

That was the reason why Leonore had not cried till Peter had finishedhis speech. We don't charge women with crying whenever they wish, but weare sure that they never cry when they have anything better to do. 

CHAPTER XL. 

OPINIONS. 

When the ride was ended, Leonore was sent home in the carriage, Wattssaying he would go with Peter to his club. As soon as they were in thecab, he said:

"I wanted to see you about your letter. "

"Well?"

"Everything's going as well as can be expected. Of course the littlewoman's scandalized over your supposed iniquity, but I'm working theheavy sentimental 'saved-our-little-girl's life' business for all it'sworth. I had her crying last night on my shoulder over it, and no womancan do that and be obstinate long. She'll come round before a greatwhile. "

Peter winced. He almost felt like calling Watts off from the endeavor. But he thought of Leonore. He must see her--just to prove to himselfthat she was not for him, be it understood--and how could he see enoughof her to do that--for Peter recognized that it would take a good dealof that charming face and figure and manner to pall on him--if he wasexcluded from her home? So he justified the continuance of the attemptby saying to himself: "She only excludes me because of something ofwhich I am guiltless, and I've saved her from far greater suffering thanmy presence can ever give her. I have earned the privilege if ever manearned it" Most people can prove to themselves what they wish to prove. The successful orator is always the man who imposes his frame of mind onhis audience. We call it "saying what the people want said. " But many ofthe greatest speakers first suggest an idea to their listeners, and whenthey say it in plain English, a moment later, the audience say, mentally, "That's just what we thought a moment ago, " and are convincedthat the speaker is right. 

Peter remained silent, and Watts continued: "We get into our own houseto-morrow, and give Leonore a birthday dinner Tuesday week as acombined house-warming and celebration. Save that day, for I'mdetermined you shall be asked. Only the invitation may come a littlelate. You won't mind that?"

"No. But don't send me too many of these formal things. I keep out ofthem as much as I can. I'm not a society man and probably won't fit inwith your friends. "

"I should know you were not _de societé_ by that single speech. Ifthere's one thing easy to talk to, or fit in with, it's a society man orwoman. It's their business to be chatty and pleasant, and they would bepolite and entertaining to a kangaroo, if they found one next them atdinner. That's what society is for. We are the yolk of the egg, whichholds and blends all the discordant, untrained elements. The oil, vinegar, salt, and mustard We don't add much flavor to life, but peoplewouldn't mix without us. "

"I know, " said Peter, "if you want to talk petty personalities andtrivialities, that it's easy enough to get through endless hours oftime. But I have other things to do. "

"Exactly. But we have a purpose, too. You mustn't think society is allfrivolity. It's one of the hardest working professions. "

"And the most brainless. "

"No. Don't you see, that society is like any other kind of work, andthat the people who will centre their whole life on it must be theleaders of it? To you, the spending hours over a new _entrée_, or over acotillion figure, seems rubbish, but it's the exact equivalent of yourspending hours over who shall be nominated for a certain office. Becauseyou are willing to do that, you are one of the 'big four. ' Because weare willing to do our task, we differentiate into the 'four hundred. 'You mustn't think society doesn't grind up brain-tissue. But we use somuch in running it, that we don't have enough for other subjects, and soyou think we are stupid. I remember a woman once saying she didn't likeconversazioni, 'because they are really brain-parties, and there isnever enough to go round, and give a second help, ' Any way, how can youexpect society to talk anything but society, when men like yourself stayaway from it. "

"I don't ask you to talk anything else. But let me keep out of it. "

"'He's not the man for Galway', " hummed Watts. "He prefers talking to'heelers, ' and 'b'ys, ' and 'toughs, ' and other clever, intellectualmen. "

"I like to talk to any one who is working with a purpose in life. "

"I say, Peter, what do those fellows really say of us?"

"I can best describe it by something Miss De Voe once said. We were at adinner together, where there was a Chicago man who became irritated atone or two bits of ignorance displayed by some of the other guests overthe size and prominence of his abiding place. Finally he said: 'Why, look here, you people are so ignorant of my city, that you don't evenknow how to pronounce its name. ' He turned to Miss De Voe and said, 'Wesay Chicawgo. Now, how do you pronounce it in New York?' Miss De Voe puton that quiet, crushing manner she has when a man displeases her, andsaid, 'We never pronounce it in New York. '"

"Good for our Dutch-Huguenot stock! I tell you, Peter, blood does tell. "

"It wasn't a speech I should care to make, because it did no good, andcould only mortify. But it does describe the position of the lower wardsof New York towards society. I've been working in them for nearlysixteen years, and I've never even heard the subject mentioned. "

"But I thought the anarchists and socialists were always taking a whackat us?"

"They cry out against over-rich men--not against society. Don't confusethe constituents with the compound. Citric acid is a deadly poison, butweakened down with water and sugar, it is only lemonade. They growl atthe poison, not at the water and sugar. Before there can be hate, theremust be strength. "

The next day Peter turned up in the park about four, and had aride--with Watts. The day after that, he was there a little earlier, andhad a ride--with the groom. The day following he had another ride--withthe groom. Peter thought they were very wonderful rides. Some one toldhim a great many interesting things. About some one's European life, some one's thoughts, some one's hopes, and some one's feelings. Someone really wanted a friend to pour it all out to, and Peter listenedwell, and encouraged well. 

"He doesn't laugh at me, as papa does, " some one told herself, "and soit's much easier to tell him. And he shows that he really is interested. Oh, I always said he and I should be good friends, and we are going tobe. "

This put some one in a very nice frame of mind, and Peter thought he hadnever met such a wonderful combination of frankness, of confluence, andyet of a certain girlish shyness and timidity. Some one would tell himsomething, and then appeal to him, if he didn't think that was so? Petergenerally thought it was. Some one did not drop her little touch ofcoquetry, for that was ingrain, as it is in most pretty girls. But itwas the most harmless kind of coquetry imaginable. Someone was notthinking at all of winning men's hearts. That might come later. Atpresent all she wanted was that they should think her pretty, anddelightful, so that--that they should want to be friend. 

When Peter joined Watts and Leonore, however, on the fourth day, therewas a noticeable change in Leonore's manner to him. He did not get anywelcome except a formal "Good-afternoon, " and for ten minutes Watts andhe had to sustain the conversation by firing remarks at each other pasta very silent intermediary. Peter had no idea what was wrong, but whenhe found that she did not mollify at the end of that time, he said toher;

"What is the matter?"

"Matter with what?" asked Leonore, calmly. 

"With you. "

"Nothing. "

"I shan't take that for an answer. Remember, we have sworn to befriends. "

"Friends come to see each other. "

Peter felt relieved; and smiled, "They do, " he said, "when they can. "

"No, they don't, sometimes, " said Leonore severely. Then she unbent alittle. "Why haven't you been to see us? You've had a full week. "

"Yes, " said Peter, "I have had a very full week. "

"Are you going to call on us, Mr. Stirling?"

"To whom are you talking?"

"To you. "

"My name's Peter. "

"That depends. Are you going to call on us?"

"That is my hope and wish. "

Leonore unbent a little more. "If you are, " she said, "I wish you woulddo it soon, because mamma said to-day she thought of asking you to mybirthday dinner next Tuesday, but I said you oughtn't to be asked tillyou had called. "

"Did you know that bribery is unlawful?"

"Are you going to call?"

"Of course I am. "

"That's better. When?"

"What evening are you to be at home?"

"To-morrow, " said Leonore, beginning to curl up the corners of hermouth. 

"Well, " said Peter, "I wish you had said this evening, because that'snearer, but to-morrow isn't so far away. "

"That's right. Now we'll be friends again. "

"I hope so. "

"Are you willing to be good friends--not make believe, or half friends, but--real friends?"

"Absolutely. "

"Don't you think friends should tell each other everything?"

"Yes. " Peter was quite willing, even anxious, that Leonore should tellhim everything. 

"You are quite sure?"

"Yes. "

"Then, " said Leonore, "tell me about the way you got that sword. "

Watts laughed. "She's been asking every one she's met about that. Dotell her, just for my sake. "

"I've told you already. "

"Not the way I want it. I know you didn't try to make it interesting. Some of the people remembered there was something very fine, but Ihaven't found anybody yet who could really tell it to me. Please tellabout it nicely, Peter. " Leonore was looking at Peter with the mostpleading of looks. 

"It was during the great railroad strike. The Erie had brought some menup from New York to fill the strikers' places. The new hands were lodgedin freight cars, when off work, for it wasn't safe for them to passoutside the guard lines of soldiers. Some of the strikers applied forwork, and were reinstated. They only did it to get inside our lines. Atnight, when the substitutes in the cars were fast asleep, tired out withthe double work they had done, the strikers locked the car-doors. Theypulled the two cars into a shed full of freight, broke open a petroleumtank, and with it wet the cars and some others loaded with jute. Theyset fire to the cars and barricaded the shed doors. Of course we didn'tknow till the flames burst through the roof of the shed, when by thelight, one of the superintendents found the bunk cars gone. Thefire-department was useless, for the strikers two days before, had cutall the hose. So we were ordered up to get the cars out. Some strikershad concealed themselves in buildings where they could overlook theshed, and while we were working at the door, they kept firing on us. Wewere in the light of the blazing shed, and they were in the dark, whichgave them a big advantage over us, and we couldn't spare the time toattend to them. We tore up some rails and with them smashed in the door. The men in the cars were screaming, so we knew which to take, andfortunately they were the nearest to the door. We took our muskets--forthe frames of the cars were blazing, and the metal part too hot totouch--and fixing bayonets, drove them into the woodwork and so pushedthe cars out. When we were outside, we used the rails again, to smash anopening in the ends of the cars which were burning the least. We got themen out unharmed, but pretty badly frightened. "

"And were you not hurt?"

"We had eight wounded and a good many badly burned. "

"And you?"

"I had my share of the burn. "

"I wish you would tell me what you did--not what the others did. "

Peter would have told her anything while she looked like that at him. 

"I was in command at that point. I merely directed things, except takingup the rails. I happened to know how to get a rail up quickly, withoutwaiting to unscrew the bolts. I had read it, years before, in a book onrailroad construction. I didn't think that paragraph would ever help meto save forty lives--for five minutes' delay would have been fatal. Theinside of the shed was one sheet of flame. After we broke the door down, I only stood and superintended the moving of the cars. The men did thereal work. "

"But you said the inside of the shed was a sheet of flame. "

"Yes. The railroad had to give us all fresh uniforms. So we made newtoggery out of that night's work. I've heard people say militia are nogood. If they could have stood by me that night, and seen my companyworking over those blazing cars, in that mass of burning freight, withthe roof liable to fall any minute, and the strikers firing every time aman showed himself, I think they would have altered their opinion. "

"Oh, " said Leonore, her eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "How splendid itis to be a man, and be able to do real things! I wish I had known aboutit in Europe. "

"Why?"

"Because the officers were always laughing about our army. I used to getperfectly wild at them, but I couldn't say anything in reply. If I couldonly have told them about that. "

"Hear the little Frenchwoman talk, " said Watts. 

"I'm not French. "

"Yes you are, Dot. "

"I'm all American. I haven't a feeling that isn't all American. Doesn'tthat make me an American, Peter, no matter where I was born?"

"I think you are an American under the law. "

"Am I really?" said Leonore, incredulously. 

"Yes. You were born of American parents, and you will be living in thiscountry when you become of age. That constitutes nationality. "

"Oh, how lovely! I knew I was an American, really, but papa was alwaysteasing me and saying I was a foreigner. I hate foreigners. "

"Confound you, chum, you've spoiled one of my best jokes! It's been suchfun to see Dot bristle when I teased her. She's the hottest littlepatriot that ever lived. "

"I think Miss D'Alloi's nationality is akin to that of a case of which Ionce heard, " said Peter, smiling. "A man was bragging about the numberof famous men who were born in his native town. He mentioned awell-known personage, among others, and one of his auditors said: 'Ididn't know he was born there, ' 'Oh, yes, he was, ' replied the man. 'Hewas born there, but during the temporary absence of his parents!'"

"Peter, how much does a written opinion cost?" asked Leonore, eagerly. 

"It has a range about equal to the woman's statement that a certainobject was as long as a piece of string. "

"But your opinions?"

"I have given an opinion for nothing. The other day I gave one to asyndicate, and charged eight thousand dollars. "

"Oh, dear!" said Leonore. "I wonder if I can afford to get your opinionon my being an American? I should like to frame it and hang it in myroom. Would it be expensive?"

"It is usual with lawyers, " said Peter gravely, "to find out how much aclient has, and then make the bill for a little less. How much do youhave?"

"I really haven't any now. I shall have two hundred dollars on thefirst. But then I owe some bills. "

"You forget your grandmamma's money, Dot. "

"Oh! Of course. I shall be rich, Peter, I come into the income of myproperty on Tuesday. I forget how much it is, but I'm sure I can affordto have an opinion. "

"Why, Dot, we must get those papers out, and you must find some one toput the trust in legal shape, and take care of it for you, " said Watts. 

"I suppose, " said Leonore to Peter, "if you have one lawyer to do allyour work, that he does each thing cheaper, doesn't he?"

"Yes. Because he divides what his client has, on several jobs, insteadof on one, " Peter told her. 

"Then I think I'll have you do it all. We'll come down and see you aboutit. But write out that opinion at once, so that I can prove that I'm anAmerican. "

"Very well. But there's a safer way, even, of making sure that you're anAmerican. "

"What is that?" said Leonore, eagerly. 

"Marry one, " said Peter. 

"Oh, yes, " said Leonore, "I've always intended to do that, but not for agreat many years. "

CHAPTER XLI. 

CALLS. 

Peter dressed himself the next evening with particular care, even forhim. As Peter dressed, he was rather down on life. He had been kept fromhis ride that afternoon by taking evidence in a referee case. "I reallyneeded the exercise badly, " he said. He had tried to work hisdissatisfaction off on his clubs and dumb-bells, but whatever they haddone for his blood and tissue, they had not eased his frame of mind. Dinner made him a little pleasanter, for few men can remain cross over aproper meal. Still, he did not look happy, when, on rising from hiscoffee, he glanced at his watch and found that it was but ten minutespast eight. 

He vacillated for a moment, and then getting into his outside trappings, he went out and turned eastward, down the first side street. He walkedfour blocks, and then threw open the swing door of a brilliantly lightedplace, stepping at once into a blaze of light and warmth which was mostattractive after the keen March wind blowing outside. 

He nodded to the three barkeepers. "Is Dennis inside?" he asked. 

"Yes, Misther Stirling. The regulars are all there. "

Peter passed through the room, and went into another without knocking. In it were some twenty men, sitting for the most part in attitudesdenoting ease. Two, at a small table in the corner, were playingdominoes. Three others, in another corner, were amusing themselves with"High, Low, Jack. " Two were reading papers. The rest were collectedround the centre table, most of them smoking. Some beer mugs andtumblers were standing about, but not more than a third of the twentywere drinking anything. The moment Peter entered, one of the men jumpedto his feet. 

"B'ys, " he cried, "here's Misther Stirling. Begobs, sir, it's fine tosee yez. It's very scarce yez been lately. " He had shaken hands, andthen put a chair in place for Peter. 

The cards, papers, and dominoes had been abandoned the moment Dennisannounced Peter's advent, and when Peter had finished shaking the handsheld out to him, and had seated himself, the men were all gathered roundthe big table. 

Peter laid his hat on the table, threw back his Newcastle and lit acigar. "I've been very short of time, Dennis. But I had my choice thisevening before going uptown, of smoking a cigar in my own quarters, orhere. So I came over to talk with you all about Denton. "

"An' what's he been doin'?" inquired Dennis. 

"I saw him to-day about the Hummel franchise that comes up in the Boardnext Tuesday. He won't vote for it, he says. I told him I thought it wasin the interest of the city to multiply means of transit, and asked himwhy he refused. He replied that he thought the Hummel gang had beenoffering money, and that he would vote against bribers. "

"He didn't have the face to say that?" shouted one of the listeners. 

"Yes. "

"Oi never!" said Dennis. "An' he workin' night an' day to get the Boardto vote the rival road. "

"I don't think there's much doubt that money is being spent by bothsides, " said Peter. "I fear no bill could ever pass without it. But theHummel crowd are really responsible people, who offer the city a goodpercentage. The other men are merely trying to get the franchise, tosell it out at a profit to Hummel. I don't like the methods of either, but there's a road needed, and there'll be a road voted, so it's simplya choice between the two. I shouldn't mind if Denton voted against bothschemes, but to say he'll vote against Hummel for that reason, and yetvote for the other franchise shows that he's not square. I didn't say soto him, because I wanted to talk it over with the ward a little first tosee if they stood with me. "

"That we do, sir, " said Dennis, with a sureness which was cool, ifnothing more. Fortunately for the boldness of the speaker, no onedissented, and two or three couples nodded heads or pipes at each other. 

Peter looked at his watch. "Then I can put the screws on him safely, you think?"

"Yes, " cried several. 

Peter rose. "Dennis, will you see Blunkers and Driscoll this evening, orsome time to-morrow, and ask if they think so too? And if they don't, tell them to drop in on me, when they have leisure. "

"Begobs, sir, Oi'll see them inside av ten minutes. An' if they don'tagree widus, shure, Oi'll make them. "

"Thank you. Good-night. "

"Good-night, Mr. Stirling, " came a chorus, and Peter passed into thestreet by the much maligned side-door. 

Dennis turned to the group with his face shining with enthusiasm. "Didyez see him, b'ys? There was style for yez. Isn't he somethin' for theward to be proud av?"

Peter turned to Broadway, and fell into a long rapid stride. In spite ofthe cold he threw open his coat, and carried his outer covering on hisarm. Peter had no intention of going into an up-town drawing-room withany suggestion of "sixt" ward tobacco. So he walked till he reachedMadison Square, when, after a glance at his watch, he jumped into a cab. 

It was a quarter-past nine when the footman opened the door of theFifty-seventh Street house, in reply to Peter's ring. Yet he was toldthat, "The ladies are still at dinner. "

Peter turned and went down the stoop. He walked to the Avenue, andstopped at a house not far off. 

"Is Mrs. Pell at home?" he asked, and procured entrance for both hispasteboard and himself. 

"Welcome, little stranger, " was his greeting. "And it is so nice thatyou came this evening. Here is Van, on from Washington for two days. "

"I was going to look you up, and see what 'we, the people' were talkingabout, so that I could enlighten our legislators when I go back, " said aman of forty. 

"I wrote Pope a long letter to-day, which I asked him to show you, " saidPeter. "Things are in a bad shape, and getting worse. "

"But, Peter, " queried the woman, "if you are the leader, why do you letthem get so?"

"So as to remain the leader, " said Peter, smiling quietly. 

"Now that's what comes of ward politics, " cried Mrs. Pell, "You arebeginning to make Irish bulls. "

"No, " replied Peter, "I am serious, and because people don't understandwhat I mean, they don't understand American politics. "

"But you say in effect that the way you retain your leadership, is bynot leading. That's absurd!"

"No. Contradiction though it may seem the way to lose authority, is toexercise it too much. Christ enunciated the great truth of democraticgovernment, when he said, 'He that would be the greatest among you, shall be the servant of all'"

"I hope you won't carry your theory so far as to let them nominateMaguire?" said Mr. Pell, anxiously. 

"Now, please don't begin on politics, " said the woman. "Here is Van, whom I haven't seen for nine weeks, and here is Peter whom I haven'tseen for time out of mind, and just as I think I have a red-letterevening before me, you begin your everlasting politics. "

"I merely stopped in to shake hands, " said Peter. "I have a call to makeelsewhere, and can stay but twenty minutes. For that time we choose youspeaker, and you can make us do as it pleases you. "

Twenty minutes later Peter passed into the D'Alloi drawing-room. Heshook Mrs. D'Alloi's hand steadily, which was more than she did withhis. Then he was made happy for a moment, with that of Leonore. Then hewas introduced to a Madame Mellerie, whom he placed at once as thehalf-governess, half-companion, who had charge of Leonore's education; aMr. Maxwell, and a Marquis de somebody. They were both good-lookingyoung fellows; and greeted Peter in a friendly way. But Peter did notlike them. 

He liked them less when Mrs. D'Alloi told him to sit in a given place, and then put Madame Mellerie down by him. Peter had not called to seeMadame Mellerie. But he made a virtue of necessity, and he was tooinstinctively courteous not to treat the Frenchwoman with the same touchof deference his manner towards women always had. After they had beenchatting for a little on French literature, it occurred to Peter thather opinion of him might have some influence with Leonore, so he decidedthat he would try and please her. But this thought turned his mind toLeonore, and speaking of her to her governess, he at once became sointerested in the facts she began to pour out to him, that he forgotentirely about his diplomatic scheme. 

This arrangement continued half an hour, when a dislocation of the_statu quo_ was made by the departure of Mr. Maxwell. When the exit wascompleted, Mrs. D'Alloi turned to place her puppets properly again. Butshe found a decided bar to her intentions. Peter had formed his ownconclusions as to why he had been set to entertain Madame Mellerie, notmerely from the fact itself, but from the manner in which it had beendone, and most of all, from the way Mrs. D'Alloi had managed to standbetween Leonore and himself, as if protecting the former, till she hadbeen able to force her arrangements. So with the first stir Peter hadrisen, and when the little bustle had ceased he was already standing byLeonore, talking to her. Mrs. D'Alloi did not look happy, but for themoment she was helpless. 

Peter had had to skirt the group to get to Leonore, and so had stoodbehind her during the farewells. She apparently had not noticed hisadvent, but the moment she had done the daughter-of-the-house duty, sheturned to him, and said: "I wondered if you would go away without seeingme. I was so afraid you were one of the men who just say, 'How d'ye do'and 'Good-bye, ' and think they've paid a call. "

"I called to see you to-night, and I should not have gone till I hadseen you. I'm rather a persistent man in some things. "

"Yes, " said Leonore, bobbing her head in a very knowing manner, "Miss DeVoe told me. "

"Mr. Stirling, " said Mrs. D'Alloi, "can't you tell us the meaning of theLatin motto on this seal?" Mrs. D'Alloi held a letter towards him, butdid not stir from her position across the room. 

Peter understood the device. He was to be drawn off, and made to sit byMrs. D'Alloi, not because she wanted to see him, but because she did notwant him to talk to Leonore. Peter had no intention of being dragooned. So he said: "Madame Mellerie has been telling me what a good Latinscholar Miss D'Alloi is. I certainly shan't display my ignorance, tillshe has looked at it. " Then he carried the envelope over to Leonore, and in handing it to her, moved a chair for her, not neglecting one forhimself. Mrs. D'Alloi looked discouraged, the more when Peter andLeonore put their heads close together, to examine the envelope. 

"'_In bonam partem_, '" read Leonore. "That's easy, mamma. It's--why, sheisn't listening!"

"You can tell her later. I have something to talk to you about. "

"What is that?"

"Your dinner in my quarters. Whom would you like to have there?"

"Will you really give me a dinner?"

"Yes. "

"And let me have just whom I want?"

"Yes. "

"Oh, lovely! Let me see. Mamma and papa, of course. "

"That's four. Now you can have two more. "

"Peter. Would you mind--I mean----" Leonore hesitated a moment and thensaid in an apologetic tone--"Would you like to invite madame? I've beentelling her about your rooms--and you--and I think it would please herso. "

"That makes five, " said Peter. 

"Oh, goody!" said Leonore, "I mean, " she said, correcting herself, "thatthat is very kind of you. "

"And now the sixth?"

"That must be a man of course, " said Leonore, wrinkling up her foreheadin the intensity of puzzlement. "And I know so few men. " She looked outinto space, and Peter had a moment's fear lest she should see themarquis, and name him. "There's one friend of yours I'm very anxious tomeet. I wonder if you would be willing to ask him?"

"Who is that?"

"Mr. Moriarty. "

"No, I can't ask him, I don't want to cheapen him by making a show ofhim. "

"Oh! I haven't that feeling about him. I----"

"I think you would understand him and see the fine qualities. But do youthink others would?" Peter mentioned no names, but Leonore understood. 

"No, " she said. "You are quite right. "

"You shall meet him some day, " said Peter, "if you wish, but when we canhave only people who won't embarrass or laugh at him. "

"Really, I don't know whom to select. "

"Perhaps you would like to meet Le Grand?"

"Very much. He is just the man. "

"Then we'll consider that settled. Are you free for the ninth?"

"Yes. I'm not going out this spring, and mamma and papa haven't reallybegun yet, and it's so late in the season that I'm sure we are free. "

"Then I will ice the canvas-backs and champagne and dust off theBurgundy for that day, if your mamma accedes. "

"Peter, I wanted to ask you the other day about that. I thought youdidn't drink wine. "

"I don't. But I give my friends a glass, when they are good enough tocome to me. I live my own life, to please myself, but for that veryreason, I want others to live their lives to please themselves. Tryingto live other people's lives for them, is a pretty dog-in-the-mangerbusiness. "

Just then Mrs. D'Alloi joined them. "Were you able to translate it?" sheasked, sitting down by them. 

"Yes, indeed, " said Leonore. "It means 'Towards the right side, ' or as amotto it might be translated, 'For the right side. '"

Mrs. D'Alloi had clearly, to use a western expression, come determinedto "settle down and grow up with the country. " So Peter broached thesubject of the dinner, and when she hesitated, Leonore called Watts intothe group. He threw the casting ballot in favor of the dinner, and so itwas agreed upon. Peter was asked to come to Leonore's birthday festival, "If you don't mind such short notice, " and he didn't mind, apparently. Then the conversation wandered at will till Peter rose. In doing so, heturned to Leonore, and said:

"I looked the question of nationality up to-day, and found I was right. I've written out a legal opinion in my best hand, and will deliver it toyou, on receiving my fee. "

"How much is that?" said Leonore, eagerly. 

"That you come and get it. "

CHAPTER XLII. 

DOWN-TOWN NEW YORK. 

Peter had not been working long the next morning when he was told that"The Honorable Terence Denton wishes to see you, " "Very well, " he said, and that worthy was ushered in. 

"Good-morning, Denton. I'm glad to see you. I was going down to the Hallto-day to say something, but you've saved me the trouble. "

"I know you was. So I thought I'd get ahead of you, " said Denton, with asurly tone and manner. 

"Sit down, " said Peter. Peter had learned that, with a certain class ofindividuals, a distance and a seat have a very dampening effect onanger. It is curious, man's instinctive desire to stand up to and benear the object for which anger is felt. 

"You've been talking against me in the ward, and makin' them down onme. "

"No, I didn't talk against you. I've spoken with some of the peopleabout the way you think of voting on the franchises. "

"Yes. I wasn't round, but a friend heard Dennis and Blunkers a-goingover it last night. And it's you did it. "

"Yes. But you know me well enough to be sure, after my talk with youyesterday, that I wouldn't stop there. "

"So you try to set the pack on me. "

"No. I try to see how the ward wants its alderman to vote on thefranchises. "

"Look a-here. What are you so set on the Hummel crowd for?"

"I'm not. "

"Is it because Hummel's a big contractor and gives you lots of lawbusiness?"

"No, " said Peter, smiling. "And you don't think it is, either. "

"Has they offered you some stock cheap?"

"Come, come, Denton. You know the _tu quoque_ do here. "

Denton shifted in his seat uneasily, not knowing what reply to make. Those two little Latin words had such unlimited powers of concealment inthem. He did not know whether _tu quoque_ meant something about votes, an insulting charge, or merely a reply, and feared to make himselfridiculous by his response to them. He was not the first man who hasbeen hampered and floored by his own ignorance. He concluded he mustmake an entire change of subject to be safe. So he said, "I ain't goin'to be no boss's puppy dog. "

"No, " said Peter, finding it difficult not to smile, "you are not thatkind of a man. "

"I takes my orders from no one. "

"Denton, no one wants you to vote by order. We elected you alderman todo what was best for the ward and city, as it seems to you. You areresponsible for your votes to us, and no other man can be. I don't carewho orders you or advises you; in the end, you must vote yourself, andyou yourself will be held to account by us. "

"Yes. But if I don't vote as you wants, you'll sour the boys on me. "

"I shall tell them what I think. You can do the same. It's a fair gamebetween us. "

"No, it ain't. You're rich and you can talk more. "

"You know my money has nothing to do with it. You know I don't try todeceive the men in talking to them. If they trust what I tell them, it'sbecause it's reasonable, and because I haven't tricked them before. "

"Well, are you goin' to drive me out?"

"I hope not. I think you've made a good alderman, Denton, and you'llfind I've said so. "

"But now?"

"If you vote for that franchise, I shall certainly tell the ward that Ithink you've done wrong. Then the ward will do as they please. "

"As you please, you mean. "

"No. You've been long enough in politics to know that unless I can makethe ward think as I do, I couldn't do anything. What would you care formy opinion, if you didn't know that the votes are back of it?"

Just then the door swung open, and Dennis came in. "Tim said yez wasalone wid Denton, sir, so Oi came right in. It's a good-mornin', sir. How are yez, Terence?"

"You are just the man I want, Dennis. Tell Denton how the ward feelsabout the franchises. "

"Shure. It's one man they is. An' if Denton will step down to my placethis night, he'll find out how they think. "

"They never would have felt so, if Mister Stirling hadn't talked tothem. Not one in twenty knew the question was up. "

"That's because they are most of them too hard working to keep track ofall the things. Come, Denton; I don't attempt to say how you shall vote. I only tell you how it seems to me. Go round the ward, and talk withothers. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the futureor not. I don't want to fight you. We've been good friends in the past, and we can do more by pulling in double harness than by kicking, I don'tknow a man I would rather see at the Hall. " Peter held out his hand, andDenton took it. 

"All right, Mister Stirling. I'll do my best to stay friends, " he said, and went out. 

Peter turned and smiled at Dennis. "They can't find out that it's not I, but the ward. So every time there's trouble they lay it against me, andit's hard to keep them friendly. And I hate quarrels and surliness. "

"It's yezself can do it, though. Shure, Denton was in a great state avmind this mornin', they was tellin' me, but he's all right now, an' willvote right, or my name isn't Dennis Moriarty. "

"Yes. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll vote square on Tuesday. "

Just then Tim brought in the cards of Watts and Leonore, and strangelyenough, Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, andafter the greetings, Peter said:

"Miss D'Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis, MissD'Alloi has wanted to know you because she's heard of your being such afriend to me. "

"Shure, " said Dennis, taking the little hand so eagerly offered him, "Oim thinkin' we're both lucky to be in the thoughts at all, at all, avsuch a sweet young lady. "

"Oh, Mr. Moriarty, you've kissed the blarney stone. "

"Begobs, " responded Dennis, "it needs no blarney stone to say that. It's afther sayin' itself. "

"Peter, have you that opinion?"

"Yes. " Peter handed her out a beautifully written sheet of script, allin due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red inkmarginal references to such solid works as "Wheaton, " "Story, " and"Cranch's" and "Wallace's" reports. Peter had taken it practically froma "Digest, " but many apparently learned opinions come from the samesource. And the whole was given value by the last two lines, which read, "Respectfully submitted, Peter Stirling. " Peter's name had value at thebottom of a legal opinion, or a check, if nowhere else. 

"Look, Mr. Moriarty, " cried Leonore, too full of happiness over thisdecision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to shareit, "I've always thought I was French--though I didn't feel so abit--and now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I'm so happy. Ihate foreigners. "

Watts laughed. "Why, Dot. You mustn't say that to Mr. Moriarty. He's aforeigner himself. "

"Oh, I forgot. I didn't think that----" Poor Leonore stopped there, horrified at what she had said. 

"No, " said Peter, "Dennis is not a foreigner. He's one of the mostardent Americans I know. As far as my experience goes, to make one ofDennis's bulls, the hottest American we have to-day, is theIrish-American. "

"Oh, come, " said Watts. "You know every Irishman pins his loyalty to the'owld counthry. '"

"Shure, " said Dennis, "an' if they do, what then? Sometimes a man findsa full-grown woman, fine, an' sweet, an' strong, an' helpful to him, an'he comes to love her big like. But does that make him forget his oldweak mother, who's had a hard life av it, yet has done her best by him?Begobs! If he forgot her, he wouldn't be the man to make a good husband. Oi don't say Oi'm a good American, for its small Oi feel besides MistherStirling. But Oi love her, an' if she ever wants the arm, or the blood, or the life, av Dennis Moriarty, she's only got to say so. "

"Well, " said Watts, "this is very interesting, both as a point of viewand as oratory; but it isn't business. Peter, we came down this morningto take whatever legal steps are necessary to put Dot in possession ofher grandmother's money, of which I have been trustee. Here is a lot ofpapers about it. I suppose everything is there relating to it. "

"Papa seemed to think it would be very wise to ask you to take care ofit, and pay me the income, I can't have the principal till I'mtwenty-five. "

"You must tie it up some way, Peter, or Dot will make ducks and drakesof it. She has about as much idea of the value of money as she has ofthe value of foreigners. When we had our villa at Florence, shesupported the entire pauper population of the city. "

Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds. But it struck himthat this was really a chance--from a business standpoint, entirely! Itis true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trustcompany would handle that sum of money for four hundred and odd dollars, he was bound to do the same; and this would certainly not pay him forhis time. "Sometimes, however, " said Peter to himself, "these, trusteeships have very handsome picking's, aside from the half percent. " Peter did not say that the "pickings, " as they framed themselvesin his mind, were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiablereason at all times for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of lettersand other unearned increment. So Peter was not obstinate this time. "It's such a simple matter that I can have the papers drawn while youwait, if you've half an hour to spare. " Peter did this, thinking itwould keep them longer, but later it occurred to him it would have beenbetter to find some other reason, and leave the papers, because thenLeonore would have had to come again soon. Peter was not quite as cooland far-seeing as he was normally. 

He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion thatthey go into his study. Peter rang for his head clerk, and explainedwhat was needed with great rapidity, and then left the latter and wentinto the study. 

"I wonder what he's in such a hurry for?" said the clerk, retiring withthe papers. 

When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing inchairs, and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking. This was whatDennis was saying:

"'Schatter, boys, an' find me a sledge. ' Shure, we thought it wasdemented he was, but he was the only cool man, an' orders were orders. Dooley, he found one, an' then the captain went to the rails an' gave ita swing, an' struck the bolts crosswise like, so that the heads flewoff, like they was shootin' stars. Then he struck the rails sideways, soas to loosen them from the ties. Then says he: 'Half a dozen av yez takeoff yez belts an' strap these rails together!' Even then we didn'tunderstand, but we did it All this time the dirty spal--Oi ask yezpardon, miss--all this time the strikers were pluggin' at us, an'bullets flyin' like fun. 'Drop your muskets, ' says the captain, when wehad done; 'fall in along those rails. Pick them up, and double-quick forthe shed door, ' says he, just as if he was on parade. Then we saw whathe was afther, and double-quick we went. Begobs, that door went down asif it was paper. He was the first in. 'Stand back, ' says he, 'till Oisee what's needed. ' Yez should have seen him walk into that sheet avflame, an' stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin', an' it so hot that we atthe door were coverin' our faces to save them from scorchin'. Then hesays: 'Get your muskets!' We went, an' Moike says to me: 'It's no good. No man can touch them cars. He's goin' to attind to the strikers, ' Butnot he. He came out, an' he says: 'B'ys, it's hot in there, but, if youdon't mind a bit av a burn, we can get the poor fellows out. Will yeztry?' 'Yes!' we shouted. So he explained how we could push cars widouttouchin' them. 'Fall in, ' says he. 'Fix bayonets. First file to theright av the cars, second rank to the left. Forward, march!' An' we wentinto that hell, an' rolled them cars out just as if we was marchin' downBroadway, wid flags, an' music, an' women clappin' hands. "

"But weren't you dreadfully burnt?"

"Oh, miss, yez should have seen us! We was blacker thin the divilhimsilf. Hardly one av us but didn't have the hair burnt off the parthis cap didn't cover; an', as for eyelashes, an' mustaches, an'blisters, no one thought av them the next day. Shure, the whole companywas in bed, except them as couldn't lie easy. "

"And Mr. Stirling?"

"Shure, don't yez know about him?"

"No. "

"Why, he was dreadful burnt, an' the doctors thought it would be blindhe'd be; but he went to Paris, an' they did somethin' to him there thatsaved him. Oh, miss, the boys were nearly crazy wid fear av losin' him. They'd rather be afther losin' the regimental cat. "

Peter had been tempted to interrupt two or three times, but it was soabsorbing to watch Leonore's face, and its changing expression, as, unconscious of his presence, she listened to Dennis, that Peter had notthe heart to do it. But now Watts spoke up. 

"Do you hear that, Peter? There's value for you! You're better than thecat. "

So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennisleft. Then the necessary papers were brought in and looked over atPeter's study-table, and Miss D'Alloi took another of his pens. Peterhoped she'd stop and think a little, again, but she didn't. Just as shehad begun an L she hesitated, however. 

"Why, " she said, "this paper calls me 'Leonore D'Alloi, spinster!' I'mnot going to sign that. "

"That is merely the legal term, " Peter explained. Leonore pouted forsome time over it, but finally signed. "I shan't be a spinster, anyway, even if the paper does say so, " she said. 

Peter agreed with her. 

"See what a great blot I've made on your clean blotter, " said Leonore, who had rested the pen-point there. "I'm very sorry. " Then she wrote onthe blotter, "Leonore D'Alloi. Her very untidy mark. " "That was whatMadame Mellerie always made me write on my exercises. "

Then they said "Good-bye. " "I like down-town New York better andbetter, " said Leonore. 

So did Peter. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

A BIRTHDAY EVENING. 

Peter went into Ray's office on Monday. "I want your advice, " he said. "I'm going to a birthday dinner to-morrow. A girl for whom I'm trustee. Now, how handsome a present may I send her?"

"H'm. How well do you know her?"

"We are good friends. "

"Just about what you please, I should say, if you know her well, andmake money out of her?"

"That is, jewelry?"

"Ye--es. "

"Thanks. " Peter turned. 

"Who is she, Peter? I thought you never did anything so small as that. Nothing, or four figures, has always seemed your rule?"

"This had extenuating circumstances, " smiled Peter. 

So when Peter shook hands, the next evening, with the very swagger younglady who stood beside her mother, receiving, he was told:

"It's perfectly lovely! Look. " And the little wrist was held up to him. "And so were the flowers. I couldn't carry a tenth of them, so I decidedto only take papa's. But I put yours up in my room, and shall keep themthere. " Then Peter had to give place to another, just as he had decidedthat he would have one of the flowers from the bunch she was carrying, or--he left the awful consequences of failure blank. 

Peter stood for a moment unconscious of the other people, looking at thepretty rounded figure in the dainty evening dress of French open-workembroidery. "I didn't think she could be lovelier than she was in herstreet and riding dresses but she is made for evening dress, " was histhought. He knew this observation wasn't right, however, so he glancedround the room, and then walked up to a couple. 

"There, I told Mr. Beekman that I was trying to magnetize you, andthough your back was turned, you came to me at once. "

"Er--really, quite wonderful, you know, " said Mr. Beekman. "I positivelysharn't dare to be left alone with you, Miss De Voe. "

"You needn't fear me. I shall never try to magnetize you, Mr. Beekman, "said Miss De Voe. "I was so pleased, " she continued, turning to Peter, "to see you take that deliberate survey of the room, and then come overhere. "

Peter smiled. "I go out so little now, that I have turned selfish. Idon't go to entertain people. I go to be entertained. Tell me what youhave been doing?"

But as Peter spoke, there was a little stir, and Peter had to say"excuse me. " He crossed the room, and said, "I am to have the pleasure, Mrs. Grinnell, " and a moment later the two were walking towards thedining-room. Miss De Voe gave her arm to Beekman calmly, but her eyesfollowed Peter. They both could have made a better arrangement. Mostdinner guests can. 

It was a large dinner, and so was served in the ball-room. The sixtypeople gathered were divided into little groups, and seated at smalltables holding six or eight. Peter knew all but one at his table, to theextent of having had previous meetings. They were all fashionables, andthe talk took the usual literary-artistic-musical turn customary withthat set. "Men, not principles" is the way society words the old cry, orperhaps "personalities, not generalities" is a better form. So Peter atehis dinner quietly, the conversation being general enough not to forcehim to do more than respond, when appealed to. He was, it is true, appealed to frequently. Peter had the reputation, as many quiet menhave, of being brainy. Furthermore he knew the right kind of people, wasknown to enjoy a large income, was an eligible bachelor, and was"interesting and unusual. " So society no longer rolled its Juggernautover him regardlessly, as of yore. A man who was close friends with halfa dozen exclusives of the exclusives, was a man not to be disregarded, simply because he didn't talk. Society people applied much the same testas did the little "angle" children, only in place of "he's frinds widder perlice, " they substituted "he's very intimate with Miss De Voe, andthe Ogdens and the Pells. "

Peter had dimly hoped that he would find himself seated at Leonore'stable--He had too much self depreciation to think for a moment that hewould take her in--but hers was a young table, he saw, and he would nothave minded so much if it hadn't been for that Marquis. Peter began tohave a very low opinion of foreigners. Then he remembered that Leonorehad the same prejudice, so he became more reconciled to the fact thatthe Marquis was sitting next her. And when Leonore sent him a look and asmile, and held up the wrist, so as to show the pearl bracelet, Petersuddenly thought what a delicious _rissole_ he was eating. 

As the dinner waned, one of the footmen brought him a card, on whichWatts had written: "They want me to say a few words of welcome and ofDot. Will you respond?" Peter read the note and then wrote below it:"Dear Miss D'Alloi: You see the above. May I pay you a compliment? Onlyone? Or will it embarrass you?" When the card came back a new line said:"Dear Peter: I am not afraid of your compliment, and am very curious tohear it. " Peter said, "Tell Mr. D'Alloi that I will with pleasure. " Thenhe tucked the card in his pocket. That card was not going to be wasted. 

So presently the glasses were filled up, even Peter saying, "You maygive me a glass, " and Watts was on his feet. He gave "our friends" apleasant welcome, and after apologizing for their absence, said that atleast, "like the little wife in the children's play, 'We too have notbeen idle, ' for we bring you a new friend and introduce her to youto-night. "

Then Peter rose, and told the host: "Your friends have been grieved atyour long withdrawal from them, as the happy faces and welcome we tenderyou this evening, show. We feared that the fascination of European art, with its beauty and ease and finish, had come to over-weigh the love ofAmerican nature, despite its life and strength and freshness; that wehad lost you for all time. But to-night we can hardly regret even thislong interlude, if to that circumstance we owe the happiest and mostcharming combination of American nature and European art--Miss D'Alloi. "

Then there was applause, and a drinking of Miss D'Alloi's health, andthe ladies passed out of the room--to enjoy themselves, be itunderstood, leaving the men in the gloomy, quarrelsome frame of mind italways does. 

Peter apparently became much abstracted over his cigar, but theabstraction was not perhaps very deep, for he was on his feet the momentWatts rose, and was the first to cross the hall into the drawing-room. He took a quick glance round the room, and then crossed to a sofa. Dorothy and--and some one else were sitting on it. 

"Speaking of angels, " said Dorothy. 

"I wasn't speaking of you, " said Peter. "Only thinking. "

"There, " said Leonore. "Now if Mrs. Grinnell had only heard that. "

Peter looked a question, so Leonore continued:

"We were talking about you. I don't understand you. You are so differentfrom what I had been told to think you. Every one said you were verysilent and very uncomplimentary, and never joked, but you are not a bitas they said, and I thought you had probably changed, just as you hadabout the clothes. But Mrs. Grinnell says she never heard you make ajoke or a compliment in her life, and that at the Knickerbocker theycall you 'Peter, the silent. ' You are a great puzzle. "

Dorothy laughed. "Here we four women--Mrs. Grinnell, and Mrs. Winthropand Leonore and myself--have been quarrelling over you, and eachinsisting you are something different. I believe you are not a bit firmand stable, as people say you are, but a perfect chameleon, changingyour tint according to the color of the tree you are on. Leonore was theworst, though! She says that you talk and joke a great deal. We couldhave stood anything but that!"

"I am sorry my conversation and humor are held in such low estimation. "

"There, " said Leonore, "See. Didn't I tell you he joked? And, Peter, doyou dislike women?"

"Unquestionably, " said Peter. 

"Please tell me. I told them of your speech about the sunshine, and Mrs. Winthrop says that she knows you didn't mean it. That you are awoman-hater and despise all women, and like to get off by yourself. "

"That's the reason I joined you and Dorothy, " said Peter. 

"Do you hate women?" persisted Leonore. 

"A man is not bound to incriminate himself, " replied Peter, smiling. 

"Then that's the reason why you don't like society, and why you are sountalkative to women. I don't like men who think badly of women. Now, Iwant to know why you don't like them?"

"Supposing, " said Peter, "you were asked to sit down to a game of whist, without knowing anything of the game. Do you think you could like it?"

"No. Of course not!"

"Well, that is my situation toward women. They have never liked me, nortreated me as they do other men. And so, when I am put with asmall-talk woman, I feel all at sea, and, try as I may, I can't pleaseher. They are never friendly with me as they are with other men. "

"Rubbish!" said Dorothy. "It's what you do, not what she does, thatmakes the trouble. You look at a woman with those grave eyes and thatstern jaw of yours, and we all feel that we are fools on the spot, andreally become so. I never stopped being afraid of you till I found outthat in reality you were afraid of me. You know you are. You are afraidof all women. "

"He isn't a bit afraid of women, " affirmed Leonore. 

Just then Mr. Beekman came up. "Er--Mrs. Rivington. You know thisis--er--a sort of house-warming, and they tell me we are to go over thehouse, don't you know, if we wish. May I harve the pleasure?"

Dorothy conferred the boon. Peter looked down at Leonore with a laugh inhis eyes. "Er--Miss D'Alloi, " he said, with the broadest of accents, "you know this, --er--is a sort of a house-warming and--" He onlyimitated so far and then they both laughed. 

Leonore rose. "With pleasure. I only wish Mrs. Grinnell had heard you. Ididn't know you could mimic?"

"I oughtn't. It's a small business. But I am so happy that I couldn'tresist the temptation. "

Leonore asked, "What makes you so happy?"

"My new friend, " said Peter. 

Leonore went on up the stairs without saying anything. At the top, however, she said, enthusiastically: "You do say the nicest things! Whatroom would you like to see first?"

"Yours, " said Peter. 

So they went into the little bedroom, and boudoir, and looked over them. Of course Peter found a tremendous number of things of interest. Therewere her pictures, most of them her own purchases in Europe; and herbooks and what she thought of them; and her thousand little knick-knacksof one kind and another. Peter wasn't at all in a hurry to see the restof the house. 

"These are the photographs of my real friends, " said Leonore, "exceptyours. I want you to give me one to complete my rack. "

"I haven't had a photograph taken in eight years, and am afraid I havenone left. "

"Then you must sit. "

"Very well. But it must be an exchange. " Peter almost trembled at hisboldness, and at the thought of a possible granting. 

"Do you want mine?"

"Very much. "

"I have dozens, " said Leonore, going over to her desk, and pulling opena drawer. "I'm very fond of being taken. You may have your choice. "

"That's very difficult, " said Peter, looking at the different varieties. "Each has something the rest haven't. You don't want to be generous, andlet me have these four?"

"Oh, you greedy!" said Leonore, laughing. "Yes, if you'll do somethingI'm going to ask you. "

Peter pocketed the four. "That is a bargain, " he said, with a brashnesssimply disgraceful in a good business man. "Now, what is it?"

"Miss De Voe told me long ago about your savings-bank fund for helpingthe poor people. Now that I have come into my money, I want to do whatshe does. Give a thousand dollars a year to it--and then you are to tellme just what you do with it. "

"Of course I'm bound to take it, if you insist. But it won't do anygood. Even Miss De Voe has stopped giving now, and I haven't addedanything to it for over five years. "

"Why is that?"

"You see, I began by loaning the fund to people who were in trouble, orwho could be boosted a little by help, and for three or four years, Ifound the money went pretty fast. But by that time people began to payit back, with interest often, and there has hardly been a case when ithasn't been repaid. So what with Miss De Voe's contributions, and thereturn of the money, I really have more than I can properly use already. There's only about eight thousand loaned at present, and nearly fivethousand in bank. "

"I'm so sorry!" said Leonore. "But couldn't you give some of the money, so that it wouldn't come back?"

"That does more harm than good. It's like giving opium to killtemporary pain. It stops the pain for the moment, but only to weaken thesystem so as to make the person less able to bear pain in the future. That's the trouble with most of our charity. It weakens quite as much asit helps. "

"I have thought about this for five years as something I should do. I'mso grieved. " And Leonore looked her words. 

Peter could not stand that look. "I've been thinking of sending athousand dollars of the fund, that I didn't think there was much chanceof using, to a Fresh Air fund and the Day Nursery. If you wish I'll sendtwo thousand instead and then take your thousand? Then I can use thatfor whatever I have a chance. "

"That will do nicely. But I thought you didn't think regular charitiesdid much good?"

"Some don't. But it's different with children. They don't feel thestigma and are not humiliated or made indolent by help. We can't do toomuch to help them. The future of this country depends on its poorchildren. If they are to do right, they must be saved from ill-health, and ignorance, and vice; and the first step is to give them good foodand air, so that they shall have strong little bodies. A sound man, physically, may not be a strong man in other ways, but he stands a muchbetter chance. "

"Oh, it's very interesting, " said Leonore. "Tell me some more about thepoor people. "

"What shall I tell you?" said Peter. 

"How to help them. "

"I'll speak about something I have had in mind for a long time, tryingto find some way to do it. I think the finest opportunity forbenevolence, not already attempted, would be a company to lend money tothe poor, just as I have attempted, on a small scale, in my ward. Yousee there are thousands of perfectly honest people who are living on daywages, and many of them can lay up little or no money. Then comessickness, or loss of employment, or a fire which burns up all theirfurniture and clothes, or some other mischance, and they can turn onlyto pawnbrokers and usurers, with their fearful charges; or charity, withits shame. Then there are hundreds of people whom a loan of a littlemoney would help wonderfully. This boy can get a place if he had arespectable suit of clothes. Another can obtain work by learning atrade, but can't live while he learns it. A woman can support herself ifshe can buy a sewing-machine, but hasn't the money to buy it. Anothercan get a job at something, but is required to make a deposit to thevalue of the goods intrusted to her. Now, if all these people could goto some company, and tell their story, and get their notes discounted, according to their reputation, just as the merchant does at his bank, don't you see what a help it would be?"

"How much would it take, Peter?"

"One cannot say, because, till it is tested, there would be no way ofknowing how much would be asked for. But a hundred thousand dollarswould do to start with. "

"Why, that's only a hundred people giving a thousand each, " criedLeonore eagerly. "Peter, I'll give a thousand, and I'll make mamma andpapa give a thousand, and I'll speak to my friends and--"

"Money isn't the difficult part, " said Peter, longing to a fearfuldegree to take Leonore in his arms. "If it were only money, I could doit myself--or if I did not choose to do it alone, Miss De Voe and Pellwould help me. "

"What is it, then?"

"It's finding the right man to run such a company. I can't give thetime, for I can do more good in other directions. It needs a goodbusiness man, yet one who must have many other qualities which rarely gowith a business training. He must understand the poor, because he mustlook into every case, to see if it is a safe risk--or rather if the pastlife of the applicant indicates that he is entitled to help. Now if yourgrandfather, who is such an able banker, were to go into my ward, andask about the standing of a man in it, he wouldn't get any realinformation. But if I ask, every one will tell me what he thinks. Theman in control of such a bank must be able to draw out the truth. Unlessthe management was just what it ought to be, it would be bankrupt in afew months, or else would not lend to one quarter of the people whodeserve help. Yet from my own experience, I know, that money can beloaned to these people, so that the legal interest more than pays forthe occasional loss, and that most of these losses are due toinability, more than to dishonesty. "

"I wish we could go on talking, " sighed Leonore. "But the people arebeginning to go downstairs. I suppose I must go, so as to say good-bye. I only wish I could help you in charity. "

"You have given _me_ a great charity this evening, " said Peter. 

"You mean the photographs, " smiled Leonore. 

"No. "

"What else?"

"You have shown me the warmest and most loving of hearts, " said Peter, "and that is the best charity in the world. "

On the way down they met Lispenard coming up. "I've just said good-nightto your mother. I would have spoken to you while we were in your room, but you were so engrossed that Miss Winthrop and I thought we had betternot interrupt. "

"I didn't see you, " said Leonore. 

"Indeed!" said Lispenard, with immense wonderment. "I can't believethat. You know you were cutting us. " Then he turned to Peter. "You oldscamp, you, " he whispered, "you are worse than the Standard Oil. "

"I sent for you some time ago, Leonore, " said her mother, disapprovingly. "The guests have been going and you were not here. "

"I'm sorry, mamma. I was showing Peter the house. "

"Good-night, " said that individual. "I dread formal dinners usually, butthis one has been the pleasantest of my life. "

"That's very nice. And thank you, Peter, for the bracelet, and theflowers, and the compliment. They were all lovely. Would you like arose?"

Would he? He said nothing, but he looked enough to get it. 

"Can't we put you down?" said a man at the door. "It's not so far fromWashington Square to your place, that your company won't repay us. "

"Thank you, " said Peter, "but I have a hansom here. "

Yet Peter did not ride. He dismissed cabby, and walked down the Avenue. Peter was not going to compress his happiness inside a carriage thatevening. He needed the whole atmosphere to contain it. 

As he strode along he said:

"It isn't her beauty and grace alone"--(It never is with a man, oh, no!)--"but her truth and frankness and friendliness. And then shedoesn't care for money, and she isn't eaten up with ambition. She isabsolutely untouched by the world yet. Then she is natural, yetreserved, with other men. She's not husband-hunting, like so many ofthem. And she's loving, not merely of those about her, but ofeverything. "

Musicians will take a simple theme and on it build unlimited variations. This was what Peter proceeded to do. From Fifty-seventh Street toPeter's rooms was a matter of four miles. Peter had not half finishedhis thematic treatment of Leonore when he reached his quarters. He satdown before his fire, however, and went on, not with hope of exhaustingall possible variations, but merely for his own pleasure. 

Finally, however, he rose and put photographs, rose, and card away. 

"I've not allowed myself to yield to it, " he said (which was a whopper)"till I was sure she was what I could always love. Now I shall do mybest to make her love me. "

CHAPTER XLIV. 

A GOOD DAY. 

The next day it was raining torrents, but despite this, and to the utterneglect of his law business, Peter drove up-town immediately afterlunch, to the house in Fifty-seventh Street. He asked for Watts, butwhile he was waiting for the return of the servant, he heard a lightfoot-step, and turning, he found Leonore fussing over some flowers. Atthe same moment she became conscious of his presence. 

"Good-day, " said Peter. 

"It isn't a good day at all, " said Leonore, in a disconsolate voice, holding out her hand nevertheless. 

"Why not?"

"It's a horrid day, and I'm in disgrace. "

"For what?"

"For misbehaving last night. Both mamma and madame say I did very wrong. I never thought I couldn't be real friends with you. " The little lipswere trembling slightly. 

Peter felt a great temptation to say something strong. "Why can't thewomen let such an innocent child alone?" he thought to himself. Aloud hesaid, "If any wrong was done, which I don't think, it was my fault. CanI do anything?"

"I don't believe so, " said Leonore, with a slight unsteadiness in hervoice. "They say that men will always monopolize a girl if she willallow it, and that a really well-mannered one won't permit it for amoment. "

Peter longed to take her in his arms and lay the little downcast headagainst his shoulder, but he had to be content with saying: "I am sosorry they blame you. If I could only save you from it. " He evidentlysaid it in a comforting voice, for the head was raised a trifle. 

"You see, " said Leonore, "I've always been very particular with men, butwith you it seemed different. Yet they both say I stayed too longupstairs, and were dreadfully shocked about the photographs. They said Iought to treat you like other men. Don't you think you are different?"

Yes. Peter thought he was very different. 

"Mr. D'Alloi will see you in the library, " announced the footman at thispoint. 

Peter turned to go, but in leaving he said: "Is there any pleasure orservice I can do, to make up for the trouble I've caused you?"

Leonore put her head on one side, and looked a little lessgrief-stricken. "May I save that up?" she asked. 

"Yes. "

A moment later Peter was shaking hands with Watts. 

"This is nice of you. Quite like old times. Will you smoke?"

"No. But please yourself. I've something to talk about. "

"Fire away. "

"Watts, I want to try and win the love of your little girl. "

"Dear old man, " cried Watts, "there isn't any one in God's earth whom Iwould rather see her choose, or to whom I would sooner trust her. "

"Thank you, Watts, " said Peter, gratefully. "Watts is weak, but he is agood fellow, " was his mental remark. Peter entirely forgot his opinionof two weeks ago. It is marvellous what a change a different point ofview makes in most people. 

"But if I give you my little Dot, you must promise me one thing. "

"What is that?"

"That you will never tell her? Ah! Peter, if you knew how I love thelittle woman, and how she loves me. From no other man can she learn whatwill alter that love. Don't make my consent bring us both suffering?"

"Watts, I give my word she shall never know the truth from me. "

"God bless you, Peter. True as ever. Then that is settled. You shallhave a clear field and every chance. "

"I fear not. There's something more. Mrs. D'Alloi won't pardon thatincident--nor do I blame her. I can't force my presence here if she doesnot give her consent. It would be too cruel, even if I could hope tosucceed in spite of her. I want to see her this morning. You can tellbetter than I whether you had best speak to her first, or whether Ishall tell her. "

"H'm. That is a corker, isn't it? Don't you think you had better letthings drift?"

"No. I'm not going to try and win a girl's love behind the mother'sback. Remember, Watts, the mother is the only one to whom a girl can goat such a time. We mustn't try to take advantage of either. "

"Well, I'll speak to her, and do my best. Then I'll send her to you. Help yourself to the tobacco if you get tired of waiting _tout seul_. "

Watts went upstairs and knocked at a door. "Yes, " said a voice. Wattsput his head in. "Is my Rosebud so busy that she can't spare her lover afew moments?"

"Watts, you know I live for you. "

Watts dropped down on the lounge. "Come here, then, like a loving littlewife, and let me say my little say. "

No woman nearing forty can resist a little tenderness in her husband, and Mrs. D'Alloi snuggled up to Watts in the pleasantest frame of mind. Watts leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then Mrs. D'Alloi snuggled somemore. 

"Now, I want to talk with you seriously, dear, " he said. "Who do youthink is downstairs?"

"Who?"

"Dear old Peter. And what do you think he's come for!"

"What?"

"Dot. "

"For what?"

"He wants our consent, dear, to pay his addresses to Leonore. "

"Oh, Watts!" Mrs. D'Alloi ceased to snuggle, and turned a horrified faceto her husband. 

"I've thought she attracted him, but he's such an impassive, cool oldchap, that I wasn't sure. "

"That's what I've been so afraid of. I've worried so over it. "

"You dear, foolish little woman. What was there to worry over?"

"Watts! You won't give your consent?"

"Of course we will. Why, what more do you want? Money, reputation, brains, health. " (That was the order in which Peter's advantages rangedthemselves in Watts's mind). "I don't see what more you can ask, shortof a title, and titles not only never have all those qualities combined, but they are really getting decidedly _nouveau richey_ and notrespectable enough for a Huguenot family, who've lived two hundred andfifty years in New York. What a greedy mamma she is for her littlegirl. "

"Oh, Watts! But think!"

"It's hard work, dear, with your eyes to look at. But I will, if you'lltell me what to think about. "

"My husband! You cannot have forgotten? Oh, no! It is too horrible foryou to have forgotten that day. "

"You heavenly little Puritan! So you are going to refuse Peter as ason-in-law, because he--ah--he's not a Catholic monk. Why, Rosebud, ifyou are going to apply that rule to all Dot's lovers, you had betterpost a sign: 'Wanted, a husband. P. S. No man need apply. '"

"Watts! Don't talk so. "

"Dear little woman. I'm only trying to show you that we can't do betterthan trust our little girl to Peter. "

"With that stain! Oh, Watts, give him our pure, innocent, spotlesschild!"

"Oh, well. If you want a spotless wedding, let her marry the Church. She'll never find one elsewhere, my darling. "

"Watts! How can you talk so? And with yourself as an example. Oh, husband! I want our child--our only child--to marry a man as noble andtrue as her father. Surely there must be others like you?"

"Yes. I think there are a great many men as good as I, Rosebud! But I'mno better than I should be, and it's nothing but your love that makesyou think I am. "

"I won't hear you say such things of yourself. You know you are the bestand purest man that ever lived. You know you are. "

"If there's any good in me, it's because I married you. "

"Watts, you couldn't be bad if you tried. " And Mrs. D'Alloi put her armsround Watts's neck and kissed him. 

Watts fondled her for a moment in true lover's fashion. Then he said, "Dear little wife, a pure woman can never quite know what this world is. I love Dot next to you, and would not give her to a man whom I believewould not be true to her, or make her happy. I know every circumstanceof Peter's connection with that woman, and he is as blameless as manever was. Such as it was, it was ended years ago, and can never give himmore trouble. He is a strong man, and will be true to Dot. She might geta man who would make her life one long torture. She may be won by a manwho only cares for her money, and will not even give her the husks oflove. But Peter loves her, and has outgrown his mistakes. And don'tforget that but for him we might now have nothing but some horriblymangled remains to remember of our little darling. Dear, I love Dottwenty times more than I love Peter. For her sake, and yours, I amtrying to do my best for her. "

So presently Mrs. D'Alloi came into the library, where Peter sat. Sheheld out her hand to him, but Peter said:

"Let me say something first. Mrs. D'Alloi, I would not have had thatoccurrence happen in your home or presence if I had been able to preventit. It grieves me more than I can tell you. I am not a roué. In spite ofappearances I have lived a clean life. I shall never live any other inthe future. I--I love Leonore. Love her very dearly. And if you willgive her to me, should I win her, I pledge you my word that I will giveher the love, and tenderness, and truth which she deserves. Now, willyou give me your hand?"

"He is speaking the truth, " thought Mrs. D'Alloi, as Peter spoke. Sheheld out her hand. "I will trust her to you if she chooses you. "

Half an hour later, Peter went back to the drawing-room, to find Leonorereposing in an exceedingly undignified position before the fire on a bigtiger-skin, and stroking a Persian cat, who, in delight at this enviabletreatment, purred and dug its claws into the rug. Peter stood for a timewatching the pretty tableau, wishing he was a cat. 

"Yes, Tawney-eye, " said Leonore, in heartrending tones, "it isn't a goodday at all. "

"I'm going to quarrel with you on that, " said Peter. "It's a gloriousday. "

Leonore rose from the skin. "Tawney-eye and I don't think so. "

"But you will. In the first place I've explained about the monopoly andthe photographs to your mamma, and she says she did not understand it, and that no one is to blame. Secondly, she says I'm to stay to dinnerand am to monopolize you till then. Thirdly, she says we may be just asgood friends as we please. Fourthly, she has asked me to come and stayfor a week at Grey-Court this summer. Now, what kind of a day is it?"

"Simply glorious! Isn't it, Tawney-eye?" And the young lady again forgother "papas, proprieties, potatoes, prunes and prisms, " and dropping downon the rug, buried her face in the cat's long silky hair. Then shereappeared long enough to say:

"You are such a comforting person! I'm so glad you were born. "

CHAPTER XLV. 

THE BOSS. 

After this statement, so satisfying to both, Leonore recovered herdignity enough to rise, and say, "Now, I want to pay you for yourniceness. What do you wish to do?"

"Suppose we do what pleases you. "

"No. I want to please you. "

"That _is_ the way to please me, " said Peter emphatically. 

Just then a clock struck four. "I know, " said Leonore. "Come to thetea-table, and we'll have afternoon tea together. It's the day of allothers for afternoon tea. "

"I just said it was a glorious day. "

"Oh? yes. It's a nice day. But it's dark and cold and rainy all thesame. "

"But that makes it all the better. We shan't be interrupted. "

"Do you know, " said Leonore, "that Miss De Voe told me once that youwere a man who found good in everything, and I see what she meant. "

"I can't hold a candle to Dennis. He says its 'a foine day' so that youfeel that it really is. I never saw him in my life, when it wasn't 'afoine day. ' I tell him he carries his sunshine round in his heart. "

"You are so different, " said Leonore, "from what every one said. I neverknew a man pay such nice compliments. That's the seventh I've heard youmake. "

"You know I'm a politician, and want to become popular. "

"Oh, Peter! Will you let me ask you something?"

"Anything, " said Peter, rashly, though speaking the absolute truth. Peter just then was willing to promise anything. Perhaps it was the warmcup of tea; perhaps it was the blazing logs; perhaps it was the shade ofthe lamp, which cast such a pleasant rosy tint over everything; perhapsit was the comfortable chair; perhaps it was that charming face;perhaps it was what Mr. Mantalini called the "demd total. "

"You see, " said Leonore, shaking her head in a puzzled way, "I've begunto read the papers--the political part, I mean--and there are so manythings I don't understand which I want to ask you to explain. "

"That is very nice, " said Peter, "because there are a great many thingsof which I want to tell you. "

"Goody!" said Leonore, forgetting again she was now bound to conductherself as befit a society girl. "And you'll not laugh at me if I askfoolish questions?"

"No. "

"Then what do the papers mean by calling you a boss?"

"That I am supposed to have sufficient political power to dictate to acertain extent. "

"But don't they speak of a boss as something not nice?" asked Leonore, alittle timidly, as if afraid of hurting Peter's feelings. 

"Usually it is used as a stigma, " said Peter, smiling. "At least by thekind of papers you probably read. "

"But you are not a bad boss, are you?" said Leonore, very earnestly. 

"Some of the papers say so. "

"That's what surprised me. Of course I knew they were wrong, but arebosses bad, and are you a boss?"

"You are asking me one of the biggest questions in American politics. Iprobably can't answer it, but I'll try to show you why I can't. Arethere not friends whose advice or wish would influence you?"

"Yes. Like you, " said Leonore, giving Peter a glimpse of her eyes. 

"Really, " thought Peter, "if she does that often, I can't talk abstractpolitics. " Then he rallied and said: "Well, that is the condition of menas well, and it is that condition, which creates the so-called boss. Inevery community there are men who influence more or less the rest. Itmay be that one can only influence half a dozen other intimates. Anothermay exert power over fifty. A third may sway a thousand. One may do itby mere physical superiority. Another by a friendly manner. A third bybeing better informed. A fourth by a deception or bribery. A fifth byhonesty. Each has something that dominates the weaker men about him. Take my ward. Burton is a prize-fighter, and physically a splendid man. So he has his little court. Driscoll is a humorist, and can talk, and hehas his admirers. Sloftky is popular with the Jews, because he is oftheir race. Burrows is a policeman, who is liked by the whole ward, because of his kindness and good-nature. So I could go on telling you ofmen who are a little more marked than the rest, who have power toinfluence the opinions of men about them, and therefore have power toinfluence votes. That is the first step in the ladder. "

"But isn't Mr. Moriarty one?"

"He comes in the next grade. Each of the men I have mentioned canusually affect an average of twenty-five votes. But now we get toanother rung of the ladder. Here we have Dennis, and such men asBlunkers, Denton, Kennedy, Schlurger and others. They not merely havetheir own set of followers, but they have more or less power to dominatethe little bosses of whom I have already spoken. Take Dennis forinstance. He has fifty adherents who stick to him absolutely, twohundred and fifty who listen to him with interest, and a dozen of thesmaller bosses, who pass his opinions to their followers. So he can thushave some effect on about five hundred votes. Of course it takes moreforce and popularity to do this and in this way we have a better gradeof men. "

"Yes. I like Mr. Moriarty, and can understand why others do. He is sougly, and so honest, and so jolly. He's lovely. "

"Then we get another grade. Usually men of a good deal of brain force, though not of necessity well educated. They influence all below them bybeing better informed, and by being more far-seeing. Such men asGallagher and Dummer. They, too, are usually in politics for a living, and so can take the trouble to work for ends for which the men withother work have no time. They don't need the great personal popularityof those I have just mentioned, but they need far more skill and brain. Now you can see, that these last, in order to carry out theirintentions, must meet and try to arrange to pull together, for otherwisethey can do nothing. Naturally, in a dozen or twenty men, there will begrades, and very often a single man will be able to dominate them all, just as the smaller bosses dominate the smaller men. And this man thepapers call a boss of a ward. Then when these various ward bossesendeavor to unite for general purposes, the strongest man will swaythem, and he is boss of the city. "

"And that is what you are?"

"Yes. By that I mean that nothing is attempted in the ward or citywithout consultation with me. But of course I am more dependent on thevoters than they are on me, for if they choose to do differently fromwhat I advise, they have the power, while I am helpless. "

"You mean the smaller bosses?"

"Not so much them as the actual voters. A few times I have shot rightover the heads of the bosses and appealed directly to the voters. "

"Then you can make them do what you want?"

"Within limits, yes. As I told you, I am absolutely dependent on thevoters. If they should defeat what I want three times running, every onewould laugh at me, and my power would be gone. So you see that a boss isonly a boss so long as he can influence votes. "

"But they haven't defeated you?"

"No, not yet. "

"But if the voters took their opinions from the other bosses how did youdo anything?"

"There comes in the problem of practical politics. The question of whocan affect the voters most. Take my own ward. Suppose that I wantsomething done so much that I insist. And suppose that some of the otherleaders are equally determined that it shan't be done. The ward splitson the question and each faction tries to gain control in the primary. When I have had to interfere, I go right down among the voters and tellthem why and what I want to do. Then the men I have had to antagonize dothe same, and the voters decide between us. It then is a question as towhich side can win the majority of the voters. Because I have been verysuccessful in this, I am the so-called boss. That is, I can make thevoters feel that I am right. "

"How?"

"For many reasons. First, I have always tried to tell the voters thetruth, and never have been afraid to acknowledge I was wrong, when Ifound I had made a mistake, so people trust what I say. Then, unlikemost of the leaders in politics, I am not trying to get myself office orprofit, and so the men feel that I am disinterested. Then I try to befriendly with the whole ward, so that if I have to do what they don'tlike, their personal feeling for me will do what my arguments nevercould. With these simple, strong-feeling, and unreasoning folk, one canget ten times the influence by a warm handshake and word that one can bya logical argument. We are so used to believing what we read, if itseems reasonable, that it is hard for us to understand that men whospell out editorials with difficulty, and who have not been trained toreason from facts, are not swayed by what to us seems an obviousargument. But, on the contrary, if a man they trust, puts it in plainlanguage to them, they see it at once. I might write a carefuleditorial, and ask my ward to read it, and unless they knew I wrote it, they probably wouldn't be convinced in the least. But let me go into thesaloons, and tell the men just the same thing, and there isn't a man whowouldn't be influenced by it. "

"You are so popular in the ward?" asked Leonore. 

"I think so, I find kind words and welcome everywhere. But then I havetried very hard to be popular. I have endeavored to make a friend ofevery man in it with whom one could be friendly, because I wished to beas powerful as possible, so that the men would side with me whenever Iput my foot down on something wrong. "

"Do you ever tell the ward how they are to vote?"

"I tell them my views. But never how to vote. Once I came very near it, though. "

"How was that?"

"I was laid up for eight months by my eyes, part of the time in Paris. The primary in the meantime had put up a pretty poor man for an office. A fellow who had been sentenced for murder, but had been pardoned bypolitical influence. When I was able to take a hand, I felt that I coulddo better by interfering, so I came out for the Republican candidate, who was a really fine fellow. I tried to see and talk to every man inthe ward, and on election day I asked a good many men, as a personalfavor, to vote for the Republican, and my friends asked others. EvenDennis Moriarty worked and voted for what he calls a 'dirty Republican, 'though he said 'he never thought he'd soil his hands wid one av theirballots. ' That is the nearest I ever came to telling them how to vote. "

"And did they do as you asked?"

"The only Republican the ward has chosen since 1862 was elected in thatyear. It was a great surprise to every one--even to myself--for the wardis Democratic by about four thousand majority. But I couldn't do thatsort of thing often, for the men wouldn't stand it. In other words, Ican only do what I want myself, by doing enough else that the men wish. That is, the more I can do to please the men, the more they yield theiropinions to mine. "

"Then the bosses really can't do what they want?"

"No. Or at least not for long. That is a newspaper fallacy. A relic ofthe old idea that great things are done by one-man power. If you will goover the men who are said to control--the bosses, as they are called--inthis city, you will find that they all have worked their way intoinfluence slowly, and have been many years kept in power, though theycould be turned out in a single fight. Yet this power is obtained onlyby the wish of a majority, for the day they lose the consent of amajority of the voters that day their power ends. We are really moredependent than the representatives, for they are elected for a certaintime, while our tenure can be ended at any moment. Why am I a power inmy ward? Because I am supposed to represent a given number of votes, which are influenced by my opinions. It would be perfectly immaterial tomy importance how I influenced those votes, so long as I could controlthem. But because I can influence them, the other leaders don't dare toantagonize me, and so I can have my way up to a certain point. Andbecause I can control the ward I have made it a great power in citypolitics. "

"How did you do that?"

"By keeping down the factional feeling. You see there are always moremen struggling for power or office, than can have it, and so therecannot but be bad blood between the contestants. For instance, when Ifirst became interested in politics, Moriarty and Blunkers were quite asanxious to down each other as to down the Republicans. Now they aresworn friends, made so in this case, by mere personal liking for me. Some have been quieted in this way. Others by being held in check. Stillothers by different means. Each man has to be studied and understood, and the particular course taken which seems best in his particular case. But I succeeded even with some who were pretty bitter antagonists atfirst, and from being one of the most uncertain wards in the city, thesixth has been known at headquarters for the last five years as 'oldreliability' from the big majority it always polls. So at headquarters Iam looked up to and consulted. Now do you understand why and what a bossis?"

"Yes, Peter. Except why bosses are bad. "

"Don't you see that it depends on what kind of men they are, and whatkind of voters are back of them. A good man, with honest votes back ofhim, is a good boss, and _vice versa_. "

"Then I know you are a good boss. It's a great pity that all the bossescan't be good?"

"I have not found them so bad. They are quite as honest, unselfish, andreasonable as the average of mankind. Now and then there is a bad man, as there is likely to be anywhere. But in my whole political career, Ihave never known a man who could control a thousand votes for fiveyears, who was not a better man, all in all, than the voters whom heinfluenced. More one cannot expect. The people are not quick, but theyfind out a knave or a demagogue if you give them time. "

"It's the old saying; 'you can fool all of the people, some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool all of thepeople all of the time, '" laughed a voice. 

Peter took his eyes off Leonore's face, where they had been restingrestfully, and glanced up. Watts had entered the room. 

"Go on, " said Watts. "Don't let me interrupt your politicaldisquisitions; I have only come in for a cup of tea. "

"Miss D'Alloi and I were merely discussing bosses, " said Peter. "MissD'Alloi, when women get the ballot, as I hope they will, I trust youwill be a good boss, for I am sure you will influence a great manyvotes. "

"Oh!" said Leonore, laughing, "I shan't be a boss at all. You'll be myboss, I think, and I'll always vote for you. "

Peter thought the day even more glorious than he had before. 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

THE BETTER ELEMENT. 

The evening after this glorious day, Peter came in from his ride, butinstead of going at once to his room, he passed down a little passage, and stood in a doorway. 

"Is everything going right, Jenifer?" he queried. 

"Yissah!"

"The flowers came from Thorley's?"

"Yissah!"

"And the candies and ices from Maillard?"

"Yissah!"

"And you've _frappé_ the champagne?"

"Yissah?"

"Jenifer, don't put quite so much onion juice as usual in the QueenIsabella dressing. Ladies don't like it as much as men. "

"Yissah!"

"And you stood the Burgundy in the sun?"

"Yissah! Wha foh yo' think I doan do as I ginl'y do?"

Jenifer was combining into a stuffing bread crumbs, chopped broiledoysters, onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was becomingirritated at such evident doubt of his abilities. 

Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried. Heglanced round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search ofpossible sources for slips, but did not see them. All he was able to saywas, "That broth smells very nice, Jenifer. "

"Yissah. Dar ain't nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and desqueezin's of a hunerd clams, sah. Dat sup will make de angels sorry deydied. Dey'll just tink you'se dreful unkine not to offer dem a secon'help. Buh doan yo' do it, sah, foh when dey gits to dem prayhens, dey'llbe pow'ful glad yo' didn't. " To himself, Jenifer remarked: "Who he gwinehab dis day? He neber so anxious befoh, not even when de Presidint anGuv'nor Pohter dey dun dine hyah. "

Peter went to his room and, after a due course of clubbing and tubbing, dressed himself with the utmost care. Truth compels the confession thathe looked in his glass for some minutes. Not, however, apparently withmuch pleasure, for an anxious look came into his face, and he remarkedaloud, as he turned away, "I don't look so old, but I once heard Wattssay that I should never take a prize for my looks, and he was right. Iwonder if she cares for handsome men?"

Peter forgot his worry in the opening of a box in the dining-room andthe taking out of the flowers. He placed the bunches at the differentplaces, raising one of the bouquets of violets to his lips, before helaid it down. Then he took the cut flowers, and smilax, and spread themloosely in the centre of the little table, which otherwise had nothingon it, except the furnishings placed at each seat. After that he againkissed a bunch of violets. History doesn't state whether it was the samebunch. Peter must have been very fond of flowers!

"Peter, " called a voice. 

"Is that you, Le Grand? Go right into my room. "

"I've done that already. You see I feel at home. How are you?" hecontinued, as Peter joined him in the study. 

"As always. "

"I thought I would run in early, so as to have a bit of you before therest. Peter, here's a letter from Muller. He's got that 'Descent' in itsfirst state, in the most brilliant condition. You had better get it, andtrash your present impression. It has always looked cheap beside therest. "

"Very well. Will you attend to it?"

Just then came the sound of voices and the rustle of draperies in thelittle hall. 

"Hello! Ladies?" said Le Grand. "This is to be one of what Lispenardcalls your 'often, frequently, only once' affairs, is it?"

"I'm afraid we are early, " said Mrs. D'Alloi. "We did not know how muchtime to allow. "

"No. Such old friends cannot come too soon. "

"And as it is, I'm really starved, " said another personage, shakinghands with Peter as if she had not seen him for a twelve-month insteadof parting with him but two hours before. "What an appetite riding inthe Park does give one! Especially when afterwards you drive, and drive, and drive, over New York stones. "

"Ah, " cried Madame. "_C'est tres bien_!"

"Isn't it jolly?" responded Leonore. 

"But it is not American. It is Parisian. "

"Oh, no, it isn't! It's all American. Isn't it, Peter?"

But Peter was telling Jenifer to hasten the serving of dinner. SoLeonore had to fight her country's battles by herself. 

"What's all this to-day's papers are saying, Peter?" asked Watts, assoon as they were seated. 

"That's rather a large subject even for a slow dinner. "

"I mean about the row in the Democratic organization over the nominationfor governor?"

"The papers seem to know more about it than I do, " said Peter calmly. 

Le Grand laughed. "Miss De Voe, Ogden, Rivington--all of us, have triedto get Peter, first and last, to talk politics, but not a fact do weget. They say it's his ability to hold his tongue which made Costelltrust him and push him, and that that was the reason he was chosen tofill Costells place. "

"_I_ don't fill his place, " said Peter. "No one can do that. I merelysucceeded him. And Miss D'Alloi will tell you that the papers calling me'Taciturnity Junior' is a libel. Am I not a talker, Miss D'Alloi?"

"_I_ really can't find out, " responded Leonore, with a puzzled look. "People say you are not. "

"I didn't think you would fail me after the other night. "

"Ah, " said madame. "The quiet men are the great men. Look at theFrench. "

"Oh, madame!" exclaimed Leonore. 

"You are joking" cried Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"That's delicious, " laughed Watts. 

"Whew, " said Le Grand, under his breath. 

"Ah! Why do you cry out? Mr. Stirling, am I not right?" Madame appealedto the one face on which no amusement or skepticism was shown. 

"I think it is rather dangerous to ascribe any particular trait to anynationality. It is usually misleading. But most men who think much, talklittle, and the French have many thinkers"

"I always liked Von Moltke, just for it being said of him that he couldbe silent in seven languages, " said Le Grand. 

"Yes, " said Leonore. "It's so restful. We crossed on the steamer with aFrench Marquis who can speak six languages, and can't say one thingworth listening to in any. "

Peter thought the soup all Jenifer had cracked it up to be. 

"Peter, " said Leonore, turning to him, "Mr. Le Grand said that you neverwill talk politics with anybody. That doesn't include me, of course?"

"No, " said Peter promptly. 

"I thought it didn't, " said Leonore, her eyes dancing with pleasure, however, at the reply. "We had Mr. Pell to lunch to-day and I spoke tohim as to what you said about the bosses, and he told me that bossescould never be really good, unless the better element were allowed tovote, and not the saloon-keepers and roughs. I could see he was right, at once. "

"From his point of view. Or rather the view of his class. "

"Don't you think so?"

"No. "

"Why not?"

"Broadly speaking, all persons of sound mind are entitled to vote on themen and the laws which are to govern them. Aside from this, every ounceof brain or experience you can add to the ballot, makes it more certain. Suppose you say that half the people are too ignorant to vote sensibly. Don't you see that there is an even chance, at least, that they'll voterightly, and if the wrong half carries the election, it is because moreintelligent people have voted wrongly, have not voted, or have not takenthe trouble to try and show the people the right way, but have left themto the mercies of the demagogue. If we grant that every man who takescare of himself has some brain, and some experience, his vote is of somevalue, even if not a high one. Suppose we have an eagle, and a thousandpennies. Are we any better off by tossing away the coppers, because eachis worth so little. That is why I have always advocated giving thefranchise to women. If we can add ten million voters to an election, wehave added just so much knowledge to it, and made it just so much theharder to mislead or buy enough votes to change results. "

"You evidently believe, " said Watts, "in the saying, 'Everybody knowsmore than anybody?'"

Peter had forgotten all about his company in his interest over--over thefranchise. So he started slightly at this question, and looked upfrom--from his subject. 

"Yes, " said Le Grand. "We've been listening and longing to askquestions. When we see such a fit of loquacity, we want to seize theopportunity. "

"No, " said Leonore, "I haven't finished. Tell me. Can't you make the mendo what you want, so as to have them choose only the best men?"

"If I had the actual power I would not, " said Peter. 

"Why?"

"Because I would not dare to become responsible for so much, and becausea government of the 'best' men is not an American government. "

"Why not?"

"That is the aristocratic idea. That the better element, so called, shall compel the masses to be good, whether they wish it or no. Just asone makes a child behave without regard to its own desires. With grownmen, such a system only results in widening the distance between theclasses and masses, making the latter more dependent and unthinking. Whereas, if we make every man vote he must think a little for himself, because different people advise him contrarily, and thus we bring himnearer to the more educated. He even educates himself by his ownmistakes; for every bad man elected, and every bad law passed, make himsuffer the results, and he can only blame himself. Of course we don'tget as good a government or laws, but then we have other offsettingadvantages. "

"What are those?"

"We get men and laws which are the wish of the majority. Such are almostself-supporting and self-administering. It is not a mere combination ofwords, printing-ink, and white paper which makes a law. It is thepopular sentiment back of it which enforces it, and unless a law is thewish of a majority of the people who are to be governed by it, it iseither a dead letter, or must be enforced by elaborate police systems, supported oftentimes with great armies. Even then it does not succeed, if the people choose to resist. Look at the attempt to govern Ireland byforce, in the face of popular sentiment. Then, too, we get a stabilityalmost unknown in governments which do not conform to the people. Thiscountry has altered its system of government less than any other greatcountry in the last hundred years. And there is less socialisticlegislation and propaganda here than anywhere else. That is, lessdiscontent. "

"But, Peter, if the American people are as sensible as you think, how doyou account for the kind of men who exercise control?" said Le Grand. 

"By better men not trying. "

"But we have reform movements all the time, led by good men. Why aren'tthese men elected?"

"Who are as absolutely inexperienced and blind as to the way toinfluence votes, as well can be. Look at it, as a contest, withoutregard to the merit of the cause. On one side we have bosses, who knowand understand the men in their wards, have usually made themselvespopular, are in politics for a living, have made it a life-study, and bydear experience have learned that they must surrender their own opinionsin order to produce harmony and a solid vote. The reformer, on thecontrary, is usually a man who has other occupations, and, if I may sayso, has usually met with only partial success in them. By that I meanthat the really successful merchant, or banker, or professional mancannot take time to work in politics, and so only the less successfultry. Each reformer, too, is sure that he himself is right, and as hisbread and butter is not in the issue, he quarrels to his heart's contentwith his associates, so that they rarely can unite all their force. Mostof the reform movements in this city have been attempted in a way thatis simply laughable. What should we say if a hundred busy men were toget together to-morrow, and decide that they would open a great bank, tofight the clearing-house banks of New York? Yet this, in effect, is whatthe reformers have done over and over again in politics. They say to themen who have been kept in power for years by the people, 'You arescoundrels. The people who elected you are ignorant We know how to doit better. Now we'll turn you out. ' In short, they tell the majoritythey are fools, but ask their votes. The average reformer endorsesthoroughly the theory 'that every man is as good as another, and alittle better. ' And he himself always is the better man. The peoplewon't stand that. The 'holier than thou' will defeat a man quicker inthis country than will any rascality he may have done. "

"But don't you think the reformer is right in principle?"

"In nine cases out of ten. But politics does not consist in being right. It's in making other people think you are. Men don't like to be toldthat they are ignorant and wrong, and this assumption is the basis ofmost of the so-called educational campaigns. To give impetus to a newmovement takes immense experience, shrewdness, tact, and many otherqualities. The people are obstructive--that is conservative--in mostthings, and need plenty of time. "

"Unless _you_ tell them what they are to do, " laughed Watts. "Then theyknow quick enough. "

"Well, that has taken them fifteen years to learn. Don't you see howabsurd it is to suppose that the people are going to take the opinionsof the better element off-hand? At the end of a three months' campaign?Men have come into my ward and spoken to empty halls; they've flooded itwith campaign literature, which has served to light fires; their papershave argued, and nobody read them. But the ward knows me. There's hardlya voter who doesn't. They've tested me. Most of them like me. I've livedamong them for years. I've gone on their summer excursions. I've talkedwith them all over the district. I have helped them in their troubles. Ihave said a kind word over their dead. I'm godfather to many. Withothers I've stood shoulder to shoulder when the bullets were flying. Why, the voters who were children when I first came here, with whom Iuse to sit in the angle, are almost numerous enough now to carry anelection as I advise. Do you suppose, because speakers, unknown to them, say I'm wrong, and because the three-cent papers, which they never see, abuse me, that they are going to turn from me unless I make them? Thatis the true secret of the failure of reformers. A logical argument isall right in a court of appeals, but when it comes to swaying fivethousand votes, give me five thousand loving hearts rather than fivethousand logical reasons. "

"Yet you have carried reforms. "

"I have tried, but always in a practical way. That is, by notantagonizing the popular men in politics, but by becoming one of themand making them help me. I have gained political power by recognizingthat I could only have my own way by making it suit the voters. You seethere are a great many methods of doing about the same thing. And theboss who does the most things that the people want, can do the mostthings that the people don't want. Every time I have surrendered my ownwishes, and done about what the people desire, I have added to my power, and so have been able to do something that the people or politicians donot care about or did not like. "

"And as a result you are called all sorts of names. "

"Yes. The papers call me a boss. If the voters didn't agree with me, they would call me a reformer. "

"But, Peter, " said Le Grand, "would you not like to see such a type ofman as George William Curtis in office?"

"Mr. Curtis probably stood for the noblest political ideas this countryhas ever produced. But he held a beacon only to a small class. A man whowrites from an easy-chair, will only sway easy-chair people. Andeasy-chair people never carried an election in this country, and neverwill. This country cannot have a government of the best. It will alwaysbe a government of the average. Mr. Curtis was only a leader to his owngrade, just as Tim Sullivan is the leader of his. Mr. Curtis, in hiseditorials, spoke the feelings of one element in America. Sullivan, inGermania Hall, voices another. Each is representative, the one of fiveper cent. Of New York; the other of ninety-five per cent. If theAmerican people have decided one thing, it is that they will not betaken care of, nor coercively ruled, by their better element, orminorities. "

"Yet you will acknowledge that Curtis ought to rule, rather thanSullivan?"

"Not if our government is to be representative. I need not say that Iwish such a type as Mr. Curtis was representative. "

"I suppose if he had tried to be a boss he would have failed?"

"I think so. For it requires as unusual a combination of qualities to bea successful boss, as to be a successful merchant or banker. Yet onecannot tell. I myself have never been able to say what elements make aboss, except that he must be in sympathy with the men whom he tries toguide, and that he must be meeting them. Mr. Curtis had a broad, lovingnature and sympathies, and if the people had discovered them, they wouldhave liked him. But the reserve which comes with culture makes onelargely conceal one's true feelings. Super-refinement puts a man out ofsympathy with much that is basic in humanity, and it needs a great love, or a great sacrifice of feeling, to condone it. It is hard work for whatWatts calls a tough, and such a man, to understand and admire oneanother. "

"But don't you think, " said Mrs. D'Alloi, "that the people of our classare better and finer?"

"The expression 'noblesse oblige' shows that, " said madame. 

"My experience has led me to think otherwise, " said Peter. "Of coursethere is a difference of standards, of ideals, and of education, inpeople, and therefore there are differences in conduct. But for theirknowledge of what is right and wrong, I do not think the so-calledbetter classes, which should, in truth, be called the prosperousclasses, live up to their own standards of right any more than do thepoor. "

"Oh, I say, draw it mild. At least exclude the criminal classes, " criedWatts. "They know better. "

"We all know better. But we don't live up to our knowledge. I crossed onone of the big Atlantic liners lately, with five hundred other saloonpassengers. They were naturally people of intelligence, and presumablyof easy circumstances. Yet at least half of those people were plottingto rob our government of money by contriving plans to avoid payingduties truly owed. To do this all of them had to break our laws, and inmost cases had, in addition, to lie deliberately. Many of them wereplanning to accomplish this theft by the bribery of the custom-houseinspectors, thus not merely making thieves of themselves, but bribingother men to do wrong. In this city I can show you blocks so denselyinhabited that they are election districts in themselves. Blocks inwhich twenty people live and sleep in a single room, year after year;where the birth of a little life into the world means that all must eatless and be less warm; where man and woman, old and young, must shiverin winter, and stifle in summer; where there is not room to bury thepeople who live in the block within the ground on which they dwell. ButI cannot find you, in the poorest and vilest parts of this city, anyblock where the percentage of liars and thieves and bribe-givers is aslarge as was that among the first-class passengers of that floatingpalace. Each condition of society has its own mis-doings, and I believevaries little in the percentage of wrong-doers to the whole. "

"To hear Peter talk you would think the whole of us ought to besentenced to life terms, " laughed Watts. "I believe it's only an attempton his part to increase the practice of lawyers. "

"Do you really think people are so bad, Peter?" asked Leonore, sadly. 

"No. I have not, ten times in my life, met a man whom I should now callbad. I have met men whom I thought so, but when I knew them better Ifound the good in them more than balancing the evil. Our mistake is insupposing that some men are 'good' and others 'bad, ' and that a sharpline can be drawn between them. The truth is, that every man has bothqualities in him and in very few does the evil overbalance the good. Imarvel at the goodness I find in humanity, when I see the temptation andopportunity there is to do wrong. "

"Some men are really depraved, though, " said Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"Yes, " said madame. "Think of those strikers!"

Peter felt a thrill of pleasure pass through him, but he did not showit. "Let me tell you something in connection with that. A high light inplace of a dark shadow. There was an attempt to convict some of thestrikers, but it failed, for want of positive evidence. The moral proof, however, against a fellow named Connelly was so strong that there couldbe no doubt that he was guilty. Two years later that man started out incharge of a long express, up a seven-mile grade, where one of ourrailroads crosses the Alleghanies. By the lay of the land every inch ofthat seven miles of track can be seen throughout its entire length, andwhen he had pulled half way up, he saw a section of a freight traincoming down the grade at a tremendous speed. A coupling had broken, andthis part of the train was without a man to put on the brakes. To go onwas death. To stand still was the same. No speed which he could give histrain by backing would enable it to escape those uncontrolled cars. Hesent his fireman back to the first car, with orders to uncouple theengine. He whistled 'on brakes' to his train, so that it should be heldon the grade safely. And he, and the engine alone, went on up thatgrade, and met that flying mass of freight. He saved two hundredpeople's lives. Yet that man, two years before, had tried to burn aliveforty of his fellow-men. Was that man good or bad?"

"Really, chum, if you ask it as a conundrum, I give it up. But there arethoroughly and wholly good things in this world, and one of them is thisstuffing. Would it be possible for a fellow to have a second help?"

Peter smiled. "Jenifer always makes the portions according to what is tofollow, and I don't believe he'll think you had better. Jenifer, can Mr. D'Alloi have some more stuffing?"

"Yissah, " said Jenifer, grinning the true darkey grin, "if de gentmunwant't sell his ap'tite foh a mess ob potash. "

"Never mind, " said Watts. "I'm not a dyspeptic, and so don't needpotash. But you might wrap the rest up in a piece of newspaper, and I'lltake it home. "

"Peter, you must have met a great many men in politics whom you knew tobe dishonest?" said Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"No. I have known few men whom I could call dishonest. But then I make agreat distinction between the doer of a dishonest act and a dishonestman. "

"That is what the English call 'a fine-spun' distinction, I think, " saidmadame. 

"I hope not. A dishonest man I hold to be one who works steadily andpersistently with bad means and motives. But there are many men whoselives tell far more for good than for evil in the whole, yet who are notabove doing wrong at moments or under certain circumstances. This manwill lie under given conditions of temptations. Another will bribe, ifthe inducement is strong enough. A third will merely trick. Almost everyman has a weak spot somewhere. Yet why let this one weakness--a partialmoral obliquity or imperfection--make us cast him aside as useless andevil. As soon say that man physically is spoiled, because he isnear-sighted, lame or stupid. If we had our choice between a new, bright, keen tool, or a worn, dull one, of poor material, we should nothesitate which to use. But if we only have the latter, how foolish torefuse to employ it as we may, because we know there are in the world afew better ones. "

"Is not condoning a man's sins, by failing to blame him, directencouragement to them?" said Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"One need not condone the sin. My rule has been, in politics, orelsewhere, to fight dishonesty wherever I found it. But I try to fightthe act, not the man. And if I find the evil doer beyond hope ofcorrection, I do not antagonize the doer of it. More can be done byamity and forbearance than by embittering and alienating. Man is notbettered by being told that he is bad. I had an alderman in here threeor four days ago who was up to mischief. I could have called him ascoundrel, without telling him untruth. But I didn't. I told him what Ithought was right, in a friendly way, and succeeded in straightening himout, so that he dropped his intention, yet went away my friend. If I hadquarrelled with him, we should have parted company, he would have donethe wrong, I should have fought him when election time came--anddefeated him. But he, and probably fifty of his adherents in the wardwould have become my bitter enemies, and opposed everything I tried inthe future. If I quarrelled with enough such men, I should in timeentirely lose my influence in the ward, or have it generally lessened. But by dealing as a friend with him, I actually prevented his doing whathe intended, and we shall continue to work together. Of course a man canbe so bad that this course is impossible, but they are as few inpolitics as they are elsewhere. "

"Taciturnity Stirling in his great circus feat of riding a whole ward atonce, " said Watts. 

"I don't claim that I'm right, " said Peter. "I once thought verydifferently. I started out very hotly as a reformer when I began life. But I have learned that humanity is not reformed with a club, and thatif most people gave the energy they spend in reforming the world, ortheir friends, to reforming themselves, there would be no need ofreformers. "

"The old English saying that 'people who can't mind their own businessinvariably mind some one's else, ' seems applicable, " said Watts. 

"But is it not very humiliating to you to have to be friends with suchmen?" said Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"You know Mr. Drewitt?" asked Peter. 

"Yes, " said all but madame. 

"Do you take pleasure in knowing him?"

"Of course, " said Watts. "He's very amusing and a regular parlor pet. "

"That is the reason I took him. For ten years that man was notoriouslyone of the worst influences in New York State politics. At Albany, inthe interest of a great corporation, he was responsible for every joband bit of lobbying done in its behalf. I don't mean to say that hereally bribed men himself, for he had lieutenants for the actual dirtywork, but every dollar spent passed through his hands, and he knew forwhat purpose it was used. At the end of that time, so well had he donehis work, that he was made president of the corporation. Because of thatposition, and because he is clever, New York society swallowed him andhas ever since delighted to fête him. I find it no harder to shake handsand associate with the men he bribed, than you do to shake hands andassociate with the man who gave the bribe. "

"Even supposing the great breweries, and railroads, and other intereststo be chiefly responsible for bribery, that makes it all the morenecessary to elect men above the possibility of being bribed, " said LeGrand. "Why not do as they do in Parliament? Elect only men of such highcharacter and wealth, that money has no temptation for them. "

"The rich man is no better than the poor man, except that in place ofbeing bribed by other men's money, he allows his own money to bribe him. Look at the course of the House of Lords on the corn-laws. Theslave-holders' course on secession. The millionaire silver senators'course on silver. The one was willing to make every poor man in Englandpay a half more for his bread than need be, in order that land mightrent for higher prices. The slave-owner was willing to destroy his owncountry, rather than see justice done. The last are willing to force agreat commercial panic, ruining hundreds and throwing thousands out ofemployment, if they can only get a few cents more per ounce for theirsilver. Were they voting honestly in the interest of their fellow-men?Or were their votes bribed?"

Mrs. D'Alloi rose, saying, "Peter. We came early and we must go early. I'm afraid we've disgraced ourselves both ways. "

Peter went down with them to their carriage. He said to Leonore in thedescent, "I'm afraid the politics were rather dull to you. I lecturedbecause I wanted to make some things clear to you. "

"Why?" questioned Leonore. 

"Because, in the next few months you'll see a great deal about bosses inthe papers, and I don't want you to think so badly of us as many do. "

"I shan't think badly of you, Peter, " said Leonore, in the nicest tone. 

"Thank you, " said Peter. "And if you see things said of me that troubleyou, will you ask me about them?"

"Yes. But I thought you wouldn't talk politics?"

"I will talk with you, because, you know, friends must tell each othereverything. "

When Leonore had settled back in the carriage for the long drive, shecogitated: "Mr. Le Grand said that he and Miss De Voe, and Mr. Ogden hadall tried to get Peter to talk about politics, but that he never would. Yet, he's known them for years, and is great friends with them. It'svery puzzling!"

Probably Leonore was thinking of American politics. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

THE BLUE-PETER. 

Leonore's puzzle went on increasing in complexity, but there is a limitto all intricacy, and after a time Leonore began to get an inkling ofthe secret. She first noticed that Peter seemed to spend an undue amountof time with her. He not merely turned up in the Park daily, but theywere constantly meeting elsewhere. Leonore went to a gallery. There wasPeter! She went to a concert. Ditto, Peter! She visited the flower-show. So did Peter! She came out of church. Behold Peter! In each case withnothing better to do than to see her home. At first Leonore merelythought these meetings were coincidences, but their frequency soon endedthis theory, and then Leonore noticed that Peter had a habit ofquestioning her about her plans beforehand, and of evidently shaping hisaccordingly. 

Nor was this all. Peter seemed to be constantly trying to get her tospend time with him. Though the real summer was fast coming, he hadanother dinner. He had a box at the theatre. He borrowed a drag from Mr. Pell, and took them all up for a lunch at Mrs. Costell's in Westchester. Then nothing would do but to have another drive, ending in a dinner atthe Country Club. 

Flowers, too, seemed as frequent as their meetings. Peter had alwayssmiled inwardly at bribing a girl's love with flowers and bon-bons, buthe had now discovered that flowers are just the thing to send a girl, ifyou love her, and that there is no bribing about it. So none could betoo beautiful and costly for his purse. Then Leonore wanted a dog--amastiff. The legal practice of the great firm and the politics of thecity nearly stopped till the finest of its kind had been obtained forher. 

Another incriminating fact came to her through Dorothy. 

"I had a great surprise to-day, " she told Leonore. "One that fills mewith delight, and that will please you. "

"What is that?"

"Peter asked me at dinner, if we weren't to have Anneke's house atNewport for the summer, and when I said 'yes, ' he told me that if Iwould save a room for him, he would come down Friday nights and stayover Sunday, right through the summer. He has been a simply impossibleman hitherto to entice into a visit. Ray and I felt like giving threecheers. "

"He seemed glad enough to be invited to visit Grey-Court, " thoughtLeonore. 

But even without all this, Peter carried the answer to the puzzle aboutwith him in his own person. Leonore could not but feel the difference inthe way he treated, and talked, and looked at her, as compared to allabout her. It is true he was no more demonstrative, than with others;his face held its quiet, passive look, and he spoke in much the usual, quiet, even tone of voice. Yet Leonore was at first dimly conscious, andlater certain, that there was a shade of eagerness in his manner, atenderness in his voice, and a look in his eye, when he was with her, that was there in the presence of no one else. 

So Leonore ceased to puzzle over the problem at a given point, havingfound the answer. But the solving did not bring her much apparentpleasure. 

"Oh, dear!" she remarked to herself. "I thought we were going to be suchgood friends! That we could tell each other everything. And now he'sgone and spoiled it. Probably, too, he'll be bothering me later, andthen he'll be disappointed, and cross, and we shan't be good friends anymore. Oh, dear! Why do men have to behave so? Why can't they just befriends?"

It is a question which many women have asked. The query indicates adegree of modesty which should make the average masculine blush at hisown self-love. The best answer to the problem we can recommend to theaverage woman is a careful and long study of a mirror. 

As a result of this cogitation Leonore decided that she would nipPeter's troublesomeness in the bud, that she would put up a sign, "Trespassing forbidden;" by which he might take warning. Many women havedone the same thing to would-be lovers, and have saved the lovers muchtrouble and needless expense. But Leonore, after planning out a dialoguein her room, rather messed it when she came to put it into actual publicperformance. Few girls of eighteen are cool over a love-affair. And soit occurred thusly:

Leonore said to Peter one day, when he had dropped in for a cup ofafternoon tea after his ride with her:

"If I ask you a question, I wonder if you will tell me what you think, without misunderstanding why I tell you something?"

"I will try. "

"Well, " said Leonore, "there is a very nice Englishman whom I knew inLondon, who has followed me over here, and is troubling me. He'sdreadfully poor, and papa says he thinks he is after my money. Do youthink that can be so?"

So far the public performance could not have gone better if it had beenrehearsed. But at this point, the whole programme went to pieces. Peter's cup of tea fell to the floor with a crash, and he was leaningback in his chair, with a look of suffering on his face. 

"Peter, " cried Leonore, "what is it?"

"Excuse me, " said Peter, rallying a little. "Ever since an operation onmy eyes they sometimes misbehave themselves. It's neuralgia of the opticnerve. Sometimes it pains me badly. Don't mind me. It will be all rightin a minute if I'm quiet. "

"Can't I do anything?"

"No. I have an eye-wash which I used to carry with me, but it is so longsince I have had a return of my trouble that I have stopped carryingit. "

"What causes it?"

"Usually a shock. It's purely nervous. "

"But there was no shock now, was there?" said Leonore, feeling so guiltythat she felt it necessary to pretend innocence. 

Peter pulled himself together instantly and, leaning over, begandeliberately to gather up the fragments of the cup. Then he laid thepieces on the tea-table and said: "I was dreadfully frightened when Ifelt the cup slipping. It was very stupid in me. Will you try to forgiveme for breaking one of your pretty set?"

"That's nothing, " said Leonore. To herself that young lady remarked, "Oh, dear! It's much worse than I thought. I shan't dare say it to him, after all"

But she did, for Peter helped her, by going back to her originalquestion, saying bravely: "I don't know enough about Mr. Max ---- theEnglishman, to speak of him, but I think I would not suspect men ofthat, even if they are poor. "

"Why not?"

"Because it would be much easier, to most men, to love you than to loveyour money. "

"You think so?"

"Yes. "

"I'm so glad. I felt so worried over it. Not about this case, for Idon't care for him, a bit. But I wondered if I had to suspect every manwho came near me. "

Peter's eyes ceased to burn, and his second cup of tea, which a momentbefore was well-nigh choking him, suddenly became nectar for the gods. 

Then at last Leonore made the remark towards which she had been working. At twenty-five Leonore would have been able to say it without sodangerous a preamble. 

"I don't want to be bothered by men, and wish they would let me alone, "she said. "I haven't the slightest intention of marrying for at leastfive years, and shall say no to whomever asks me before then, "'

Five years! Peter sipped his tea quietly, but with a hopeless feeling. He would like to claim that bit of womanhood as his own that moment, andshe could talk of five years! It was the clearest possible indication toPeter that Leonore was heart-whole. "No one, who is in love, " hethought, "could possibly talk of five years, or five months even. " WhenPeter got back to his chambers that afternoon, he was as near beingdespairing as he had been since--since--a long time ago. Even theobvious fact, that, if Leonore was not in love with him, she was alsonot in love with any one else, did not cheer him. There is a flag in thenavy known as the Blue-Peter. That evening, Peter could have suppliedour whole marine, with considerable bunting to spare. 

But even worse was in store for him on the morrow. When he joinedLeonore in the Park that day, she proved to him that woman has as muchabsolute brutality as the lowest of prize-fighters. Women get thereputation of being less brutal, because of their dread ofblood-letting. Yet when it comes to torturing the opposite sex in itsfeelings, they are brutes compared with their sufferers. 

"Do you know, " said Leonore, "that this is almost our last ridetogether?"

"Don't jerk the reins needlessly, Peter, " said Mutineer, crossly. 

"I hope not, " said Peter. 

"We have changed our plans. Instead of going to Newport next week, Ihave at last persuaded papa to travel a little, so that I can seesomething of my own country, and not be so shamefully ignorant. We aregoing to Washington on Saturday, and from there to California, and thenthrough the Yellowstone, and back by Niagara. We shan't be in Newporttill the middle of August"

Peter did not die at once. He caught at a life-preserver of a mostdelightful description. "That will be a very enjoyable trip, " he said. "I should like to go myself. "

"There is no one I would rather have than you, " said Leonore, laying herlittle hand softly on the wound she had herself just made, in a waywhich women have. Then she stabbed again. "But we think it pleasanter tohave it just a party of four. "

"How long shall you be in Washington?" asked Peter, catching wildly at astraw this time. 

"For a week. Why?"

"The President has been wanting to see me, and I thought I might rundown next week, "

'"Dear me, " thought Leonore. "How very persistent he is!"

"Where will you put up?" said Peter. 

"We haven't decided. Where shall you stay?" she had the brutality toask. 

"The President wants me with him, but I may go to a hotel. It leaves oneso much freer. " Peter was a lawyer, and saw no need of committinghimself. "If I am there when you are, I can perhaps help you enjoyyourself. I think I can get you a lunch at the White House, and, as Iknow most of the officials, I have an open sesame to some other nicethings. " Poor Peter! He was trying to tempt Leonore to tolerate hiscompany by offering attractions in connection therewith. A chromo withthe pound of tea. And this from the man who had thought flowers andbon-bons bribery!

"Why does the President want to see you?"

"To talk politics. "

"About the governorship?"

"Yes. Though we don't say so. "

"Is it true, Peter, that you can decide who it is to be as the paperssay?"

"No, I would give twenty-five thousand dollars to-day if I could namethe Democratic nominee. "

"Why?"

"Would you mind my not telling you?"

"Yes. I want to know. And you are to tell me, " said her majesty, calmly. 

"I will tell you, though it is a secret, if you will tell me a secret ofyours which I want to know. "

"No, " said Leonore. "I don't think that's necessary. You are to tell mewithout making me promise anything. " Leonore might deprecate a man'sfalling in love with her, but she had no objection to the power andperquisites it involved. 

"Then I shan't tell you, " said Peter, making a tremendous rally. 

Leonore looked out from under her lashes to see just how much of Peter'ssudden firmness was real and how much pretence. Then she becameunconscious of his presence. 

Peter said something. 

Silence. 

Peter said something else. 

Silence. 

"Are you really so anxious to know?" he asked, surrendering withoutterms. 

He had a glorious look at those glorious eyes. "Yes, " said the dearestof all mouths. 

"The great panic, " said Peter, "has led to the formation of a so-calledLabor party, and, from present indications, they are going to nominate abad man. Now, there is a great attempt on foot to get the Democraticconvention to endorse whomever the Labor party nominates. "

"Who will that be?'"

"A Stephen Maguire. "

"And you don't want him?"

"No. I have never crossed his path without finding him engaged insomething discreditable. But he's truckled himself into a kind ofpopularity and power, and, having always been 'a Democrat, ' he hopes toget the party to endorse him. "

"Can't you order the convention not to do it?"

Peter smiled down into the eyes. "We don't order men in this countrywith any success. "

"But can't you prevent them?"

"I hope so. But it looks now as if I should have to do it in a way verydisagreeable to myself. "

"How?"

"This is a great secret, you understand?"

"Yes, " said Leonore, all interest and eagerness. "I can keep a secretsplendidly. "

"You are sure?" asked Peter. 

"Sure. "

"So can I, " said Peter. 

Leonore perfectly bristled with indignation. "I won't be treated so, "she said. "Are you going to tell me?" She put on her severest manner. 

"No, " said Peter. 

"He is obstinate, " thought Leonore to herself. Then aloud she said:"Then I shan't be friends any more?"

"That is very nice, " said Peter, soberly. 

"What?" said Leonore, looking at him in surprise. 

"I have come to the conclusion, " said Peter, "that there is no use inour trying to be friends. So we had better give up at once. Don't youthink so?"

"What a pretty horse Miss Winthrop has?" said Leonore. And she neverobtained an answer to her question, nor answered Peter's. 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

A MUTINEER. 

After Peter's return from Washington, there was a settled gloom abouthim positively appalling. He could not be wooed, on any plea, by hisclosest friends, to journey up-town into the social world. He failedentirely to avail himself of the room in the Rivington's Newport villa, though Dorothy wrote appealingly, and cited his own words to him. Evento his partners he became almost silent, except on law matters. Jeniferfound that no delicacy, however rare or however well cooked and served, seemed to be noticed any more than if it was mess-pork. The only momentsthat this atmosphere seemed to yield at all was when Peter took a verymiscellaneous collection of rubbish out of a little sachet, meant forhandkerchiefs, which he now carried in his breast-pocket, and touchedthe various articles to his lips. Then for a time he would look a littleless suicidal. 

But it was astonishing the amount of work he did, the amount of readinghe got through, the amount of politics he bossed, and the cigars hesmoked, between the first of June, and the middle of August Theparty-leaders had come to the conclusion that Peter did not intend totake a hand in this campaign, but, after his return from Washington, they decided otherwise. "The President must have asked him tointerfere, " was their whispered conclusion, "but it's too late now. It'sall cut and dried. "

Peter found, as this remark suggested, that his two months' devotion tothe dearest of eyes and sweetest of lips, had had serious results. Aswith Mutineer once, he had dropped his bridle, but there was no use inuttering, as he had, then, the trisyllable which had reduced the horseto order. He had a very different kind of a creature with which to deal, than a Kentucky gentleman of lengthy lineage, a creature calledsometimes a "tiger. " Yet curiously enough, the same firm voice, and thesame firm manner, and a "mutineer, " though this time a man instead of ahorse, was effective here. All New York knew that something had beendone, and wanted to know what, There was not a newspaper in the citythat would have refused to give five thousand dollars for an authenticstenographic report of what actually was said in a space of time notlonger than three hours in all. Indeed, so intensely were peopleinterested, that several papers felt called upon to fabricate and printmost absurd versions of what did occur, all the accounts reachingconclusions as absolutely different as the press portraits ofcelebrities. From three of them it is a temptation to quote the displayheadlines or "scare-heads, " which ushered these reports to the world. The first read:

 "THE BOSSES AT WAR!"

 * * * * *

 "HOT WORDS AND LOOKS. "

 * * * * *

 "BUT THEY'LL CRAWL LATER. "

 "There's beauty in the bellow of the blast, There's grandeur in the growling of the gale; But there's eloquence-appalling, when Stirling is aroaring, And the Tiger's getting modest with his tail"

That was a Republican account. The second was:

 "MAGUIRE ON TOP!"

 * * * * *

 "The Old Man is Friendly. A Peace-making Dinner at the Manhattan Club. Friends in Council. Labor and Democracy Shoulder to Shoulder. A United Front to the Enemy. "

The third, printed in an insignificant little penny paper, never readand almost unknown by reading people, yet which had more cityadvertising than all the other papers put together, and a circulation tomatch the largest, announced:

 "TACITURNITY JUNIOR'S"

 * * * * *

 "ONCE MORE AT THE BAT!"

 * * * * *

 "NO MORE NONSENSE. "

 * * * * *

 "HE PUTS MAGUIRE OUT ON THIRD BASE. "

 * * * * *

 "NOW PLAY BALL!"

And unintelligible as this latter sounds, it was near enough the truthto suggest inspiration. But there is no need to reprint the article thatfollowed, for now it is possible, for the first time, to tell whatactually occurred; and this contribution should alone permit this workto rank, as no doubt it is otherwise fully qualified to, in the dullestclass of all books, that of the historical novel. 

The facts are, that Peter alighted from a hansom one evening, in themiddle of July, and went into the Manhattan Club. He exchanged greetingswith a number of men in the halls, and with more who came in while hewas reading the evening papers. A man came up to him while he stillread, and said:

"Well, Stirling. Reading about your own iniquity?"

"No, " said Peter, rising and shaking hands. "I gave up reading aboutthat ten years ago. Life is too short. "

"Pelton and Webber were checking their respectability in the coat-room, as I came up. I suppose they are in the café. "

Peter said nothing, but turned, and the two entered that room. Petershook hands with three men who were there, and they all drew up roundone of the little tables. A good many men who saw that group, nudgedeach other, and whispered remarks. 

"A reporter from the _Sun_ is in the strangers' room. Mr. Stirling, andasks to see you, " said a servant. 

"I cannot see him, " said Peter, quietly. "But say to him that I maypossibly have something to tell him about eleven o'clock. "

The four men at the table exchanged glances. 

"I can't imagine a newspaper getting an interview out of you, Stirling, "laughed one of them a little nervously. 

Peter smiled. "Very few of us are absolutely consistent. I can't imagineany of you, for instance, making a political mistake but perhaps you maysome day. "

A pause of a curious kind came after this, which was only interrupted bythe arrival of three more men. They all shook hands, and Peter rang abell. 

"What shall it be?" he asked. 

There was a moment's hesitation, and then one said. "Order for us. You're host. Just what you like. "

Peter smiled. "Thomas, " he said, "bring us eight Apollinaris cocktails. "

The men all laughed, and Thomas said, "Beg pardon, Mr. Stirling?" in abewildered way. Thomas had served the club many years, but he had neverheard of that cocktail. 

"Well, Thomas, " said Peter, "if you don't have that in stock, make itseven Blackthorns. "

Then presently eight men packed themselves into the elevator, and amoment later were sitting in one of the private dining-rooms. For anhour and a half they chatted over the meal, very much as if it werenothing more than a social dinner. But the moment the servant had passedthe cigars and light, and had withdrawn, the chat suddenly ceased, and asilence came for a moment Then a man said:

"It's a pity it can't please all, but the majority's got to rule. "

"Yes, " promptly said another, "this is really a Maguire ratificationmeeting. "

"There's nothing else to do, " affirmed a third. 

But a fourth said: "Then what are we here for?"

No one seemed to find an answer. After a moment's silence, the originalspeaker said:

"It's the only way we can be sure of winning. "

"He gives us every pledge, " echoed the second. 

"And we've agreed, anyways, so we are bound, " continued the firstspeaker. 

Peter took his cigar out of his mouth. "Who are bound?" he asked, quietly. 

"Why, the organization is--the party, " said Number Two, with a"deny-it-if-you-dare" in his voice. 

"I don't see how we can back out now, Stirling, " said Number One. 

"Who wants to?" said another. "The Labor party promises to support us onour local nominations, and Maguire is not merely a Democrat, but hegives us every pledge. "

"There's no good of talking of anything else anyhow, " said Number One, "for there will be a clean majority for Maguire in the convention. "

"And no other candidate can poll fifty votes on the first ballot, " saidNumber Two. 

Then they all looked at Peter, and became silent. Peter puffed his cigarthoughtfully. 

"What do you say?" said Number One. 

Peter merely shook his head. 

"But I tell you it's done, " cried one of the men, a little excitedly. "It's too late to backslide! We want to please you, Stirling, but wecan't this time. We must do what's right for the party. "

"I'm not letting my own feeling decide it, " said Peter. "I'm thinking ofthe party. For every vote the Labor people give Maguire, the support ofthat party will lose us a Democratic vote. "

"But we can't win with a triangular fight. The Republicans will simplywalk over the course. "

If Peter had been a hot-headed reformer, he would have said: "Betterthat than that such a scoundrel shall win. " But Peter was a politician, and so saw no need of saying the unpleasantest thing that occurred tohim, even if he felt it. Instead, he said: "The Labor party will get asmany votes from the Republicans as from us, and, for every vote theLabor party takes from us, we shall get a Republican vote, if we put upthe right kind of a man. "

"Nonsense, " cried Number One. 

"How do you figure that?" asked another. 

"In these panic times, the nomination of such a man as Maguire, with histruckling to the lowest passions and his socialistic speeches, willfrighten conservative men enough to make them break party lines, andunite on the most certain candidate. That will be ours. "

"But why risk it, when, with Maguire, it's certain?"

Peter wanted to say: "Maguire shall not be endorsed, and that ends it. "Instead, he said: "We can win with our own man, and don't need to tradewith or endorse the Labor party. We can elect Maguire by the aid of theworst votes in this city, or we can elect our own man by the aid of thebest. The one weakens our party in the future; the other strengthensit. "

"You think that possible?" asked the man who had sought information asto what they "were here for. "

"Yes. The Labor party makes a stir, but it wouldn't give us the oysterand be content with the shells if it really felt strong. See what itoffers us. All the local and State ticket except six assemblymen, twosenators, and a governor, tied hand and foot to us, whose proudest claimfor years has been that he's a Democrat. "

"But all this leaves out of sight the fact that the thing's done, " saidNumber One. 

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"Yes. It's too late. The polls are closed, " said another. 

Peter stopped puffing. "The convention hasn't met, " he remarked, quietly. 

That remark, however, seemed to have a sting in it, for Number Twocried:

"Come. We've decided. Now, put up or shut up. No more beating about thebush. "

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"Tell us what you intend, Stirling, " said Number One. "We are committedbeyond retreat. Come in with us, or stay outside the breastworks. "

"Perhaps, " said Peter, "since you've taken your own position, withoutconsulting me, you will allow me the same privilege. "

"Go to--where you please, " said Number Six, crossly. 

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"Well, what do you intend to do?" asked Number One. 

Peter knocked the ash off his cigar. "You consider yourselves pledged tosupport Maguire?"

"Yes. We are pledged, " said four voices in unison. 

"So am I, " said Peter. 

"How?"

"To oppose him, " said Peter. 

"But I tell you the majority of the convention is for him, " said NumberOne. "Don't you believe me?"

"Yes. "

"Then what good will your opposition do?"

"It will defeat Maguire. "

"No power on earth can do that. "

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"You can't beat him in the convention, Stirling. The delegates pledgedto him, and those we can give him elect him on the first ballot. "

"How about November fourth?" asked Peter. 

Number One sprang to his feet. "You don't mean?" he cried. 

"Never!" said Number Three. 

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"Come, Stirling, say what you intend!"

"I intend, " said Peter, "if the Democratic convention endorses StephenMaguire, to speak against him in every ward of this city, and ask everyman in it, whom I can influence, to vote for the Republican candidate. "

Dead silence reigned. 

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"You'll go back on the party?" finally said one, in awe-struck tones. 

"You'll be a traitor?" cried another. 

"I'd have believed anything but that you would be a dashed Mugwump!"groaned the third. 

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"Say you are fooling?" begged Number Seven. 

"No, " said Peter, "Nor am I more a traitor to my party than you. Youinsist on supporting the Labor candidate and I shall support theRepublican candidate. We are both breaking our party. "

"We'll win, " said Number One. 

Peter puffed his cigar. 

"I'm not so sure, " said the gentleman of the previous questions. "Howmany votes can you hurt us, Stirling?"

"I don't know, " Peter looked very contented. 

"You can't expect to beat us single?"

Peter smiled quietly. "I haven't had time to see many men. But--I'm notsingle. Bohlmann says the brewers will back me, Hummel says he'll beguided by me, and the President won't interfere. "

"You might as well give up, " continued the previous questioner. "TheSixth is a sure thirty-five hundred to the bad, and between Stirling'sfriends, and the Hummel crowd, and Bohlmann's people, you'll losetwenty-five thousand in the rest of the city, besides the Democratsyou'll frighten off by the Labor party. You can't put it less thanthirty-five thousand, to say nothing of the hole in the campaign fund. "

The beauty about a practical politician is that votes count for morethan his own wishes. Number One said:

"Well, that's ended. You've smashed our slate. What have you got in itsplace?"

"Porter?" suggested Peter. 

"No, " said three voices. 

"We can't stand any more of him, " said Number One. 

"He's an honest, square man, " said Peter. 

"Can't help that. One dose of a man who's got as little gumption as he, is all we can stand. He may have education, but I'll be hanged if he hasintellect. Why don't you ask us to choose a college professor, and havedone with it. "

"Come, Stirling, " said the previous questioner, "the thing's been messedso that we've got to go into convention with just the right man to rallythe delegates. There's only one man we can do it with, and you know it. "

Peter rose, and dropped his cigar-stump into the ash-receiver. "I don'tsee anything else, " he said, gloomily. "Do any of you?"

A moment's silence, and then Number One said: "No. "

"Well, " said Peter, "I'll take the nomination if necessary, but keep itback for a time, till we see if something better can't be hit upon. "

"No danger, " said Number One, holding out his hand, gleefully. 

"There's more ways of killing a pig than choking it with butter, " saidNumber Three, laughing and doing the same. 

"It's a pity Costell isn't here, " added the previous questioner. "Afteryou're not yielding to him, he'd never believe we had forced you to takeit. "

And that was what actually took place at that very-much-talked-aboutdinner. 

Peter went downstairs with a very serious look on his face. At the door, the keeper of it said: "There are six reporters in the strangers' room, Mr. Stirling, who wish to see you. "

A man who had just come in said: "I'm sorry for you, Peter. "

Peter smiled quietly. "Tell them our wishes are not mutual. " Then heturned to the newcomer. "It's all right, " he said, "so far as the partyis concerned, Hummel. But I'm to foot the bill to do it. "

"The devil! You don't mean--?"

Peter nodded his head. 

"I'll give twenty-five thousand to the fund, " said Hummel, gleefully. "See if I don't. "

"Excuse me, Mr. Stirling, " said a man who had just come in. 

"Certainly, " said Peter promptly, "But I must ask the same favor of you, as I am going down town at once. " Peter had the brutality to pass out ofthe front door instantly, leaving the reporter with a disappointed lookon his face. 

"If he only would have said something?" groaned the reporter to himself. "Anything that could be spun into a column. He needn't have told me whathe didn't care to tell, yet he could have helped me to pay my month'srent as easily as could be. "

As for Peter, he fell into a long stride, and his face nearly equalledhis stride in length. After he reached his quarters he sat and smoked, with the same serious look. He did not look cross. He did not have thegloom in his face which had been so fixed an expression for the lastmonth. But he looked as a man might look who knew he had but a few hoursto live, yet to whom death had no terror. 

"I am giving up, " Peter thought, "everything that has been my true lifetill now. My profession, my friends, my chance to help others, my books, and my quiet. I shall be misunderstood, reviled and hated. Everything Ido will be distorted for partisan purposes. Friends will misjudge. Enemies will become the more bitter. I give up fifty thousand dollars ayear in order to become a slave, with toadies, trappers, lobbyists andfavor-seekers as my daily quota of humanity. I even sacrifice the largerpart of my power. "

So ran Peter's thoughts, and they were the thoughts of a man who had notworked seventeen years in politics for nothing. He saw alienation offriends, income, peace, and independence, and the only return a meretitle, which to him meant a loss, rather than a gain of power. Yet thiswas one of the dozen prizes thought the best worth striving for in ourpolitics. Is it a wonder that our government and office-holding is leftto the foreign element? That the native American should prefer any otherwork, rather than run the gauntlet of public opinion and press, withloss of income and peace, that he may hold some difficult office for abrief term?

But finally Peter rose. "Perhaps she'll like it, " he said aloud, andpresumably, since no woman is allowed a voice in American politics, hewas thinking of Miss Columbia. Then he looked at some photographs, ascrap of ribbon, a gold coin (Peter clearly was becoming a moneyworshipper), three letters, a card, a small piece of blotting-paper, ahandkerchief (which Leonore and Peter had spent nearly ten minutes intrying to find one day), a glove, and some dried rose-leaves andviolets. Yet this was the man who had grappled an angry tiger but twohours before and had brought it to lick his hand. 

He went to bed very happy. 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

CLOUDS. 

But a month later he was far happier, for one morning towards the end ofAugust, his mail brought him a letter from Watts, announcing that theyhad been four days installed in their Newport home, and that Peter wouldnow be welcome any time. "I have purposely not filled Grey-Court thissummer, so that you should have every chance. Between you and me and thepost, I think there have been moments when mademoiselle missed 'herfriend' far more than she confessed. "

"Dat's stronory, " thought Jenifer. "He dun eat mo' dis yar hot mo'nin'dan he dun in two mumfs. "

Then Jenifer was sent out with a telegram, which merely said: "May Icome to-day by Shore line limited? P. S. "

"When you get back, Jenifer, " said Peter, "you may pack my trunk andyour own. We may start for Newport at two. " Evidently Peter did notintend to run any risks of missing the train, in case the answer shouldbe favorable. 

Peter passed into his office, and set to work to put the loose ends insuch shape that nothing should go wrong during his absence. He had notworked long, when one of the boys told him that:

"Mr. Cassius Curlew wants to see you, Mr. Stirling. "

Peter stopped his writing, looking up quickly: "Did he say on whatbusiness?"

"No. "

"Ask him, please. " And Peter went on writing till the boy returned. 

"He says it's about the convention. "

"Tell him he must be more specific. "

The boy returned in a moment with a folded scrap of paper. 

"He said that would tell you, Mr. Stirling. "

Peter unfolded the scrap, and read upon it: "A message from Maguire. "

"Show him in. " Peter touched a little knob on his desk on which wasstamped "Chief Clerk. " A moment later a man opened a door. "Samuels, "said Peter, "I wish you would stay here for a moment. I want you tolisten to what's said. "

The next moment a man crossed the threshold of another door. "Good-morning, Mr. Stirling, " he said. 

"Mr. Curlew, " said Peter, without rising and with a cold inclination ofhis head. 

"I have a message for you, Mr. Stirling, " said the man, pulling a chairinto a position that suited him, and sitting, "but it's private. "

Peter said nothing, but began to write. 

"Do you understand? I want a word with you private, " said the man aftera pause. 

"Mr. Samuels is my confidential clerk. You can speak with perfectfreedom before him. " Peter spoke without raising his eyes from hiswriting. 

"But I don't want any one round. It's just between you and me. "

"When I got your message, " said Peter, still writing, "I sent for Mr. Samuels. If you have anything to say, say it now. Otherwise leave itunsaid. "

"Well, then, " said the man, "your party's been tricking us, and we won'tstand it. "

Peter wrote diligently. 

"And we know who's back of it. It was all pie down to that dinner ofyours. "

"Is that Maguire's message?" asked Peter, though with no cessation ofhis labors. 

"Nop, " said the man. "That's the introduction. Now, we know what itmeans. You needn't deny it. You're squinting at the governorshipyourself. And you've made the rest go back on Maguire, and work for youon the quiet. Oh, we know what's going on. "

"Tell me when you begin on the message, " said Peter, still writing. 

"Maguire's sent me to you, to tell you to back water. To stop bucking. "

"Tell Mr. Maguire I have received his message. "

"Oh, that isn't all, and don't you forget it! Maguire's in this for furand feathers, and if you go before the convention as a candidate, we'llfill the air with them. "

"Is that part of the message?" asked Peter. 

"By that we mean that half an hour after you accept the nomination, we'll have a force of detectives at work on your past life, and we'llhunt down and expose every discreditable thing you've ever done. "

Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his handson his hip-pocket. But even before he did it, Peter had begun speaking, in a quiet, self-contained voice: "That sounds so like Mr. Maguire, thatI think we have the message at last. Go to him, and say that I havereceived his message. That I know him, and I know his methods. That Iunderstand his hopes of driving me, as he has some, from his path, bythreats of private scandal. That, judging others by himself, he believesno man's life can bear probing. Tell him that he has misjudged for once. Tell him that he has himself decided me in my determination to acceptthe nomination. That rather than see him the nominee of the Democraticparty, I will take it myself. Tell him to set on his blood-hounds. Theyare welcome to all they can unearth in my life. "

Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he wasnot quite sure that he could sustain this altitude, if he saw more ofthe man. But as his hand was on the knob, Curlew spoke again. 

"One moment, " he called. "We've got something more to say to you. Wehave proof already. "

Peter turned, with an amused look on his face. "I was wondering, " hesaid, "if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague threats. "

"No siree, " said Curlew with a self-assured manner, but at the same timeputting Peter's desk between the clerk and himself, so that his flankcould not be turned. "We've got some evidence that won't be sweetreading for you, and we're going to print it, if you take thenomination. "

"Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once. ThatI shall take the nomination. "

"And disgrace one of your best friends?" asked Curlew. 

Peter started slightly, and looked sharply at the man. 

"Ho, ho, " said Curlew. "That bites, eh? Well, it will bite worse beforeit's through with. "

Peter stood silent for a moment, but his hands trembled slightly, andany one who understood anatomy could have recognized that every musclein his body was at full tension. But all he said was: "Well?"

"It's about that trip of yours on the 'Majestic. '"

Peter looked bewildered. 

"We've got sworn affidavits of two stewards, " Curlew continued, "aboutyours and some one else's goings on. I guess Mr. And Mrs. Rivingtonwon't thank you for having them printed. "

Instantly came a cry of fright, and the crack of a revolver, whichbrought Peter's partners and the clerks crowding into the room. It wasto find Curlew lying back on the desk, held there by Peter with onehand, while his other, clasping the heavy glass inkstand, was swungaloft. There was a look on Peter's face that did not become it. Aninsurance company would not have considered Curlew's life at that momenta fair risk. 

But when Peter's arm descended it did so gently, put the inkstand backon the desk, and taking a pocket-handkerchief wiped a splash of ink fromthe hand that had a moment before been throttling Curlew. That worthystruggled up from his back-breaking attitude and the few parts of hisface not drenched with ink, were very white, while his hands trembledmore than had Peter's a moment before. 

"Peter!" cried Ogden. "What is it?"

"I lost my temper for a moment, " said Peter. 

"But who fired that shot?"

Peter turned to the clerks. "Leave the room, " he said, "all of you. Andkeep this to yourselves. I don't think the other floors could have heardanything through the fire-proof brick, but if any one comes, refer themto me. " As the office cleared, Peter turned to his partners and said:"Mr. Curlew came here with a message which he thought needed theprotection of a revolver. He judged rightly, it seems. "

"Are you hit?"

"I felt something strike. " Peter put his hand to his side. He unbuttonedhis coat and felt again. Then he pulled out a little sachet from hisbreast-pocket, and as e did so, a flattened bullet dropped to the floor. Peter looked into the sachet anxiously. The bullet had only gone throughthe lower corner of the four photographs and the glove! Peter laughedhappily. "I had a gold coin in my pocket, and the bullet struck that. Who says that a luck-piece is nothing but a superstition?"

"But, Peter, shan't we call the police?" demanded Ogden, still lookingstunned. 

Curlew moved towards the door. 

"One moment, " said Peter, and Curlew stopped. 

"Ray, " Peter continued, "I am faced with a terrible question. I wantyour advice?"

"What, Peter?"

"A man is trying to force me to stand aside and permit a politicalwrong. To do this, he threatens to publish lying affidavits of worthlessscoundrels, to prove a shameful intimacy between a married woman andme. "

"Bosh, " laughed Ray. "He can publish a thousand and no one would believethem of you. "

"He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it wouldconnect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that everlived. He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloatover it. That the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. Thatin the heat of a political contest, the partisans will be only too gladto believe it and repeat it. That no criminal prosecution, no courtvindication, will ever quite kill the story as regards her. And so hehopes that, rather than entail this on a woman whom I love, and on herhusband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I know of such a case inMassachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such a danger, theman withdrew. What should I do?"

"Do? Fight him. Tell him to do his worst. "

Peter put his hand on Ray's shoulder. 

"Even if--if--it is one dear to us both?"

"Peter!"

"Yes. Do you remember your being called home in our Spanish trip, unexpectedly? You left me to bring Miss De Voe, and--Well. They'vebribed, or forged affidavits of two of the stewards of the 'Majestic. '"

Ray tried to spring forward towards Curlew. But Peter's hand stillrested on his shoulder, and held him back, "I started to kill him, "Peter said quietly, "but I remembered he was nothing but the miserablego-between. "

"My God, Peter! What can I say?"

"Ray! The stepping aside is nothing to me. It was an office which I wasready to take, but only as a sacrifice and a duty. It is to preventwrong that I interfered. So do not think it means a loss to me toretire. "

"Peter, do what you intended to do. We must not compromise with wrongeven for her sake. "

The two shook hands, "I do not think they will ever use it, Ray, " saidPeter. "But I may be mistaken, and cannot involve you in thepossibility, without your consent. "

"Of course they'll use it, " cried Ogden. "Scoundrels who could think ofsuch a thing, will use it without hesitation. "

"No, " said Peter. "A man who uses a coward's weapons, is a coward atheart. We can prevent it, I think. " Then he turned to Curlew. "Tell Mr. Maguire about this interview. Tell him that I spared you, because youare not the principal. But tell him from me, that if a word is breathedagainst Mrs. Rivington, I swear that I'll search for him till I findhim, and when I find him I'll kill him with as little compunction as Iwould a rattlesnake. " Peter turned and going to his dressing-room, washed away the ink from his hands. 

Curlew shuffled out of the room, and, black as he was, went straight tothe Labor headquarters and told his story. 

"And he'll do it too, Mr. Maguire, " he said. "You should have seen hislook as he said it, and as he stood over me. I feel it yet. "

"Do you think he means it?" said Ray to Ogden, when they were back inRay's room. 

"I wouldn't think so if I hadn't seen his face as he stood over thatskunk. But if ever a man looked murder he did at that moment. And quietold Peter of all men!"

"We must talk to him. Do tell him that--"

"Do you dare do it?"

"But you--?"

"I don't. Unless he speaks I shall--"

"Ray and Ogden, " said a quiet voice, "I wish you would write out whatyou have just seen and heard. It may be needed in the future. "

"Peter, let me speak, " cried Ray. "You mustn't do what you said. Thinkof such an end to your life. No matter what that scoundrel does, don'tend your life on a gallows. It--"

Peter held up his hand. "You don't know the American people, Ray. IfMaguire uses that lying story, I can kill him, and there isn't a jury inthe country which, when the truth was told, wouldn't acquit me. Maguireknows it, too. We have heard the last of that threat, I'm sure. "

Peter went back to his office. "I don't wonder, " he thought, as he stoodlooking at the ink-stains on his desk and floor, "that people thinkpolitics nothing but trickery and scoundrelism. Yet such vile weaponsand slanders would not be used if there were not people vile and meanenough at heart to let such things influence them. The fault is not inpolitics. It is in humanity. "

CHAPTER L. 

SUNSHINE. 

But just as Peter was about to continue this rather unsatisfactory trainof thought, his eye caught sight of a flattened bullet lying on thefloor. He picked it up, with a smile. "I knew she was my good luck, " hesaid. Then he took out the sachet again, and kissed the dented and bentcoin. Then he examined the photographs. "Not even the dress is cutthrough, " he said gleefully, looking at the full length. "It couldn'thave hit in a better place. " When he came to the glove, however, hegrieved a little over it. Even this ceased to trouble him the nextmoment, for a telegram was laid on his desk. It merely said, "Come byall means. W. C. D'A. " Yet that was enough to make Peter drop thoughts, work, and everything for a time. He sat at his desk, gazing at a blankwall, and thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. But his expressionbore no resemblance to the one formerly assumed when that particularpractice had been habitual. 

Nor was this expression the only difference in this day, to mark thechange from Peter past to Peter present. For instead of manoeuvring tomake Watts sit on the back seat, when he was met by the trap late thatafternoon, at Newport, he took possession of that seat in the coolestpossible manner, leaving the one by the driver to Watts. Nor did Peterlook away from the girl on that back seat. Quite the contrary. It didnot seem to him that a thousand eyes would have been any too much. Peter's three months of gloom vanished, and became merely a contrast toheighten his present joy. A sort of "shadow-box. "

He had had the nicest kind of welcome from his "friend. " If the mannerhad not been quite so absolutely frank as of yore, yet there was nodoubt as to her pleasure in seeing Peter. "It's very nice to see youagain, " she had said while shaking hands. "I hoped you would comequickly. " Peter was too happy to say anything in reply. He merely tookpossession of that vacant seat, and rested his eyes in silence tillWatts, after climbing into place, asked him how the journey to Newporthad been. 

"Lovelier than ever, " said Peter, abstractedly. "I didn't think it waspossible. "

"Eh?" said Watts, turning with surprise on his face. 

But Leonore did not look surprised. She only looked the other way, andthe corners of her mouth were curving upwards. 

"The journey?" queried Watts. 

"You mean Newport, don't you?" said Leonore helpfully, when Peter saidnothing. Leonore was looking out from under her lashes--at things ingeneral, of course. 

Peter said nothing. Peter was not going to lie about what he had meant, and Leonore liked him all the better for not using the deceivingloophole she had opened. 

Watts said, "Oh, of course. It improves every year. But wasn't thejourney hot, old man?"

"I didn't notice, " said Peter. 

"Didn't notice! And this one of the hottest days of the year. "

"I had something else to think about, " explained Peter. 

"Politics?" asked Watts. 

"Oh, Peter, " said Leonore, "we've been so interested in all the talk. Itwas just as maddening as could be, how hard it was to get New Yorkpapers way out west. I'm awfully in the dark about some things. I'veasked a lot of people here about it, but nobody seems to know anything. Or if they do, they laugh at me. I met Congressman Pell yesterday at theTennis Tournament, and thought he would tell me all about it. But he washorrid! His whole manner said: 'I can't waste real talk on a girl. ' Itold him I was a great friend of yours, and that you would tell me whenyou came, but he only laughed and said, he had no doubt you would, foryou were famous for your indiscretion. I hate men who laugh at women themoment they try to talk as men do. "

"I think, " said Peter, "we'll have to turn Pell down. A Congressman wholaughs at one of my friends won't do. "

"I really wish you would. That would teach him, " said Leonore, vindictively. "A man who laughs at women can't be a good Congressman. "

"I tell you what we'll do, " said Peter. "I don't want to retire him, because--because I like his mother. But I will tell you something foryou to tell him, that will astonish him very much, and make him want toknow who told you, and so you can tease him endlessly. "

"Oh, Peter!" said Leonore. "You are the nicest man. "

"What's that?" asked Watts. 

"It's a great secret, " said Peter. "I shall only tell it to MissD'Alloi, so that if it leaks beyond Pell, I shall know whom to blame forit. "

"Goody!" cried Leonore, giving a little bounce for joy. 

"Is it about that famous dinner?" inquired Watts. 

"No. "

"Peter, I'm so curious about that. Will you tell me what you did?"

"I ate a dinner, " said Peter smiling. 

"Now don't be like Mr. Pell, " said Leonore, reprovingly, "or I'll takeback what I just said. "

"Did you roar, and did the tiger put its tail between its legs?" askedWatts. 

"That is the last thing our friends, the enemies, have found, " saidPeter. 

"You will tell me about it, won't you, Peter?" said Leonore, ingratiatingly. 

"Have you a mount for me, Watts, for to-morrow? Mutineer comes by boatto-night, but won't be here till noon. "

"Yes. I've one chap up to your weight, I think. "

"I don't like dodgers, " said Leonore, the corners of her mouth drawndown. 

"I was not dodging, " said Peter. "I only was asking a preliminaryquestion. If you will get up, before breakfast, and ride with me, I willtell you everything that actually occurred at that dinner. You will bethe only person, I think, who wasn't there, who knows. " It was shamefuland open bribery, but bosses are shameful and open in their doings, soPeter was only living up to his rôle. 

The temptation was too strong to be resisted, Leonore said, "Of coarse Iwill, " and the corners of her mouth reversed their position. But shesaid to herself: "I shall have to snub you in something else to make upfor it. " Peter was in for a bad quarter of an hour somewhere. 

Leonore had decided just how she was going to treat Peter. To beginwith, she intended to accentuate that "five years" in various ways. Thenshe would be very frank and friendly, just as long as he, too, wouldkeep within those limits, but if Peter even verged on anything more, sheintended to leave him to himself, just long enough to show him that suchremarks as his "not caring to be friends, " brought instant and direpunishment. "And I shan't let him speak, " Leonore decided, "no matter ifhe wants to. For if he does, I'll have to say 'no, ' and then he'll goback to New York and sulk, and perhaps never come near me again, sincehe's so obstinate, while I want to stay friends. " Many such campaignshave been planned by the party of the first part. But the trouble isthat, usually, the party of the second part also has a plan, whichentirely disconcerts the first. As the darkey remarked: "Yissah. My doghe wud a beat, if it hadn't bin foh de udder dog. "

Peter found as much contrast in his evening, as compared with hismorning, as there was in his own years. After dinner. Leonore said:

"I always play billiards with papa. Will you play too?"

"I don't know how, " said Peter. 

"Then it's time you learned. I'll take you on my side, because papaalways beats me. I'll teach you. "

So there was the jolliest of hours spent in this way, all of themlaughing at Peter's shots, and at Leonore's attempts to show him how. "Every woman ought to play billiards, " Peter thought, when it was ended. "It's the most graceful sight I've seen in years. "

Leonore said, "You get the ideas very nicely, but you hit much too hard. You can't hit a ball too softly. You pound it as if you were trying tosmash it. "

"It's something I really must learn, " said Peter, who had refused overand over again in the past. 

"I'll teach you, while you are here, " said Leonore. 

Peter did not refuse this time. 

Nor did he refuse another lesson. When they had drifted into thedrawing-room, Leonore asked: "Have you been learning how to valse?"

Peter smiled at so good an American using so European a word, but saidseriously, "No. I've been too busy. "

"That's a shame, " said Leonore, "because there are to be two dances thisweek, and mamma has written to get you cards. "

"Is it very hard?" asked Peter. 

"No, " said Leonore. "It's as easy as breathing, and much nicer. "

"Couldn't you teach me that, also?"

"Easily. Mamma, will you play a valse? Now see. " Leonore drew her skirtsback with one hand, so as to show the little feet, and said: "one, two, three, so. One, two, three, so. Now do that. "

Peter had hoped that the way to learn dancing was to take the girl inone's arms. But he recognized that this would follow. So he set to workmanfully to imitate that dainty little glide. It seemed easy as she didit. But it was not so easy when he tried it. 

"Oh, you clumsy, " said Leonore laughing. "See. One, two, three, so. One, two, three, so. "

Peter forgot to notice the step, in his admiration of the little feetand the pretty figure. 

"Well, " said Leonore after a pause, "are you going to do that?"

So Peter tried again, and again, and again. Peter would have done it allnight, with absolute contentment, so long as Leonore, after everyfailure, would show him the right way in her own person. 

Finally she said, "Now take my hands. No. Way apart, so that I can seeyour feet. Now. We'll try it together. One, two, change. One, two, change. "

Peter thought this much better, and was ready to go on till strengthfailed. But after a time, Leonore said, "Now. We'll try it the true way. Take my hand so and put your arm so. That's the way. Only never hold agirl too close. We hate it. Yes. That's it. Now, mamma. Again. One, two, three. One, two, three. "

This was heavenly, Peter thought, and could have wept over theshortness, as it seemed to him, of this part of the lesson. 

But it ended, and Leonore said: "If you'll practice that in your room, with a bolster, you'll get on very fast. "

"I always make haste slowly, " said Peter, not taking to the bolster ideaat all kindly. "Probably you can find time to-morrow for another lesson, and I'll learn much quicker with you. "

"I'll see. "

"And will you give me some waltzes at the dances?"

"I'll tell you what I'll do, " said Leonore. "You shall have the dancesthe other men don't ask of me. But you don't dance well enough, in caseI can get a better partner. I love valsing too much to waste one with apoor dancer. "

A moment before Peter thought waltzing the most exquisite pleasure theworld contained. But he suddenly changed his mind, and concluded it wasodious. 

"Nevertheless, " he decided, "I will learn how. "

CHAPTER LI. 

THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 

Peter had his ride the next morning, and had a very interested listenerto his account of that dinner. The listener, speaking from vastpolitical knowledge, told him at the end. "You did just right. Ithoroughly approve of you. "

"That takes a great worry off my mind, " said Peter soberly. "I wasafraid, since we were to be such friends, and you wanted my help in thewhirligig this winter, that you might not like my possibly having tolive in Albany. "

"Can't you live in New York?" said Leonore, looking horrified. 

"No. "

"Then I don't like it at all, " said Leonore. "It's no good havingfriends if they don't live near one. "

"That's what I think, " said Peter. "I suppose I couldn't tempt you tocome and keep house for me?"

"Now I must snub him, " thought Leonore. "No, " she said, "It will be badenough to do that five years from now, for the man I love. " She lookedout from under her eyelashes to see if her blow had been fatal, andconcluded from the glumness in Peter's face, that she really had beentoo cruel. So she added: "But you may give me a ball, and we'll all comeup and stay a week with you. "

Peter relaxed a little, but he said dolefully, "I don't know what Ishall do. I shall be in such need of your advice in politics andhousekeeping. "

"Well, " said Leonore, "if you really find that you can't get on withouthelp, we'll make it two weeks. But you must get up toboggan parties, andother nice things. "

"I wonder what the papers will say, " thought Peter, "if a governor givestoboggan parties?"

After the late breakfast, Peter was taken down to see the tournament. Hethought he would not mind it, since he was allowed to sit next Leonore. But he did. First he wished that she wouldn't pay so much attention tothe score. Then that the men who fluttered round her would have had thegood taste to keep away. It enraged Peter to see how perfectly willingshe was to talk and chat about things of which he knew nothing, and howmore than willing the men were. And then she laughed at what they said!

"That's fifteen-love, isn't it?" Leonore asked him presently. 

"He doesn't look over fifteen, " actually growled Peter. "I don't knowwhether he's in love or not. I suppose he thinks he is. Boys fifteenyears old always do. "

Leonore forgot the score, even, in her surprise. "Why, " she said, "yougrowl just like Bêtise (the mastiff). Now I know what the papers meanwhen they say you roar. "

"Well, " said Peter, "it makes me cross to see a lot of boys doingnothing but hit a small ball, and a lot more looking at them andthinking that it's worth doing. " Which was a misstatement. It was notthat which made Peter mad. 

"Haven't you ever played tennis?"

"Never. I don't even know how to score. "

"Dear me, " said Leonore, "You're dreadfully illiterate. "

"I know it, " growled Peter, "I don't belong here, and have no businessto come. I'm a ward boss, and my place is in saloons. Don't hesitate tosay it. "

All this was very foolish, but it was real to Peter for the moment, andhe looked straight ahead with lines on his face which Leonore had neverseen before. He ought to have been ordered to go off by himself till heshould be in better mood. 

Instead Leonore turned from the tennis, and said: "Please don't talkthat way, Peter. You know I don't think that. " Leonore had understoodthe misery which lay back of the growl. "Poor fellow, " she thought, "Imust cheer him up. " So she stopped looking at the tennis. "See, " shesaid, "there are Miss Winthrop and Mr. Pell. Do take me over to them andlet me spring my surprise. You talk to Miss Winthrop. "

"Why, Peter!" said Pell. "When did you come?"

"Last night. How do you do, Miss Winthrop?" Then for two minutes Petertalked, or rather listened, to that young lady, though sighinginternally. Then, _Laus Deo!_ up came the poor little chap, whom Peterhad libelled in age and affections, only ten minutes before, and setPeter free. He turned to see how Leonore's petard was progressing, tofind her and Pell deep in tennis. But just as he was going to expose hisignorance on that game, Leonore said:

"Mr. Pell, what do you think of the political outlook?"

Pell sighed internally, "You can read it in the papers, " he said. 

"No. I want your opinion. Especially about the great departure theDemocratic Convention is going to make. "

"You mean in endorsing Maguire?"

Leonore began to visibly swell in importance. "Of course not, " she said, contemptuously. "Every one knows that that was decided against at theManhattan dinner. I mean the unusual resolution about the next senator. "

Pell ceased to sigh. "I don't know what you mean?" he said. 

"Not really?" said Leonore incredulously, her nose cocking a little moreairily. "I thought of course you would know about it. I'm so surprised!"

Pell looked at her half quizzingly, and half questioningly. "What is theresolution?"

"Naming a candidate for the vacancy for the Senate. "

"Nonsense, " said Pell, laughing. "The convention has nothing to do withthe senators. The Legislature elects them. " He thought, "Why can'twomen, if they will talk politics, at least learn the ABC. "

"Yes, " said Leonore, "but this is a new idea. The Senate has behaved sobadly, that the party leaders think it will be better to make it a morepopular body by having the New York convention nominate a man, and thenthey intend to make the legislature elect him. If the other states willonly follow New York's lead, it may make the Senate respectable and opento public opinion. "

Pell sniffed obviously. "In what fool paper did you read that?"

"I didn't read it, " said Leonore, her eyes dancing with delight. "Thepapers are always behind the times. But I didn't think that you wouldbe, since you are to be named in the resolution. "

Pell looked at her blankly. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you know that the Convention will pass a resolution, naming youfor next senator?" said Leonore, with both wonder and pity in her faceand voice. 

"Who told you that?" said Pell, with an amount of interest blended withdoubt that was a decided contrast to a moment ago. 

"That's telling, " said Leonore. "You know, Mr. Pell, that one mustn'ttell people who are outside the party councils everything. "

"I believe you are trying to stuff me, " said Pell, "If it is so, oranything like it, you wouldn't know. "

"Oh, " said Leonore, tantalizingly, "I could tell you a great deal morethan that. But of course you don't care to talk politics with a girl. "

Pell weakened. "Tell me who told you about it?"

"I think we must go home to lunch, " said Leonore, turning to Peter, whohad enjoyed Leonore's triumph almost as much as she had. 

"Peter, " said Pell, "have you heard what Miss D'Alloi has been saying?"

"Part of it. "

"Where can she have picked it up?

"I met Miss D'Alloi at a lunch at the White House, last June, " saidPeter seriously, "and she, and the President, and I, talked politics. Politically, Miss D'Alloi is rather a knowing person. I hope you haven'tbeen saying anything indiscreet, Miss D'Alloi?"

"I'm afraid I have, " laughed Leonore, triumphantly, adding, "but I won'ttell anything more. "

Pell looked after them as they went towards the carriage. "Howextraordinary!" he said. "She couldn't have it from Peter. He tellsnothing. Where the deuce did she get it, and is it so?" Then he said:"Senator Van Brunt Pell, " with a roll on all the r's. "That sounds well. I wonder if there's anything in it?"

"I think, " said Leonore to Peter, triumphantly "that he would like tohave talked politics. But he'll get nothing but torture from me if hetries. "

It began to dawn on Peter that Leonore did not, despite her frankmanner, mean all she said. He turned to her, and asked:

"Are you really in earnest in saying that you'll refuse every man whoasks you to marry him within five years?"

Leonore's triumph scattered to the four winds. "What an awfully impudentquestion, " she thought, "after my saying it so often. What shall Ianswer?" She looked Peter in the eye with severity. "I shan't refuse, "she said, "because I shan't even let him speak. If any man dares toattempt it, I'll tell him frankly I don't care to listen. "

"She really means it, " sighed Peter internally. "Why is it, that thebest girls don't care to marry?" Peter became very cross, and, what isworse, looked it. 

Nor was Leonore much better, "There, " she said, "I knew just how itwould be. He's getting sulky already. He isn't nice any more. The bestthing will be to let him speak, for then he'll go back to New York, andwon't bother me. " The corners of her mouth drew away down, and lifebecame very gray. 

So "the best of friends" rode home from the Casino, without so much aslooking at each other, much less speaking. Clearly Peter was right. There was no good in trying to be friends any longer. 

Precedent or habit, however, was too strong to sustain this conditionlong. First Leonore had to be helped out of the carriage. This wasrather pleasant, for she had to give Peter her hand, and so life becameless unworth living to Peter. Then the footman at the door gave Petertwo telegraphic envelopes of the bulkiest kind, and Leonore too began totake an interest in life again. 

"What are they about?" she asked. 

"The Convention. I came off so suddenly that some details were leftunarranged. "

"Read them out loud, " she said calmly, as Peter broke the first open. 

Peter smiled at her, and said: "If I do, will you give me anotherwaltzing lesson after lunch?"

"Don't bargain, " said Leonore, disapprovingly. 

"Very well, " said Peter, putting the telegrams in his pocket, andturning towards the stairs. 

Leonore let him go up to the first landing. But as soon as she becameconvinced that he was really going to his room, she said, "Peter. "

Peter turned and looked down at the pretty figure at the foot of thestairs. He came down again. When he had reached the bottom he said, "Well?"

Leonore was half angry, and half laughing. "You ought to want to readthem to me, " she said, "since we are such friends. "

"I do, " said Peter, "And you ought to want to teach me to waltz, sincewe are such friends. "

"But I don't like the spirit, " said Leonore. 

Peter laughed. "Nor I, " he said. "Still, I'll prove I'm the better, byreading them to you. "

"Now I will teach him, " said Leonore to herself. 

Peter unfolded the many sheets. "This is very secret, of course, " hesaid. 

"Yes. " Leonore looked round the hall as if she was a conspirator. "Cometo the window-seat upstairs, " she whispered, and led the way. When theyhad ensconced themselves there, and drawn the curtains, she said, "Now. "

"You had better sit nearer me, " said Peter, "so that I can whisper it. "

"No, " said Leonore. "No one can hear us. " She thought, "I'd snub you forthat, if I wasn't afraid you wouldn't read it. "

"You understand that you are not to repeat this to anyone. " Peter wassmiling over something. 

Leonore said, "Yes, " half crossly and half eagerly. 

So Peter read:

"Use Hudson knowledge counties past not belief local twenty imbecilitycertified of yet till yesterday noon whose Malta could accurately it atseventeen. Potomac give throw Haymarket estimated Moselle thirty-threeto into fortify through jurist arrived down right--"

"I won't be treated so!" interrupted Leonore, indignantly. 

"What do you mean, " said Peter, still smiling. "I'm reading it to you, as you asked. "

"No you are not. You are just making up. "

"No, " said Peter. "It's all here. "

"Let me see it. " Leonore shifted her seat so as to overlook Peter. 

"That's only two pages, " said Peter, holding them so that Leonore had tosit very close to him to see. "There are eighteen more. "

Leonore looked at them. "Was it written by a lunatic?" she asked. 

"No. " Peter looked at the end. "It's from Green. Remember. You are notto repeat it to any one. "

"Luncheon is served, Miss D'Alloi, " said a footman. 

"Bother luncheon, " thought Peter. 

"Please tell me what it means?" said Leonore, rising. 

"I can't do that, till I get the key and decipher it. "

"Oh!" cried Leonore, clapping her hands in delight. "It's a cipher. Howtremendously interesting! We'll go at it right after lunch and decipherit together, won't we?"

"After the dancing lesson, you mean, don't you?" suggested Peter. 

"How did you know I was going to do it?" asked Leonore. 

"You told me. "

"Never! I didn't say a word. "

"You looked several, " said Peter. 

Leonore regarded him very seriously. "You are not 'Peter Simple' a bit, "she said. "I don't like deep men. " She turned and went to her room. "Ireally must be careful, " she told the enviable sponge as it passed overher face, "he's a man who needs very special treatment. I ought to sendhim right back to New York. But I do so want to know about the politics. No. I'll keep friends till the campaign's finished. Then he'll have tolive in Albany, and that will make it all right. Let me see. He said thegovernor served three years. That isn't five, but perhaps he'll havebecome sensible before then. "

As for Peter, he actually whistled during his ablutions, which wassomething he had not done for many years. He could not quite say why, but it represented his mood better than did his earlier growl. 

CHAPTER LII. 

A GUARDIAN ANGEL. 

Peter had as glorious an afternoon as he had had a bad morning. First hedanced a little. Then the two sat at the big desk in the desertedlibrary and worked together over those very complex dispatches till theyhad them translated. Then they had to discuss their import. Finally theyhad to draft answers and translate them into cipher. All this with theirheads very close together, and an utter forgetfulness on the part of acertain personage that snubbing rather than politics was her "plan ofcampaign. " But Leonore began to feel that she was a political powerherself, and so forgot her other schemes. When they had the answeringdispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter and said:

"I think we've done that very well, " in the most approving voice. "Doyou think they'll do as we tell them?"

Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so franklyand with such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed wasnoble or great enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times thatafternoon, it had seemed to him that he could not keep himself fromleaning over and taking one. He even went so far now as to speculate onexactly what Leonore would do if he did. Fortunately his face was notgiven to expressing his thoughts. Leonore never dreamed how narrow anescape she had. "If only she wouldn't be so friendly and confiding, "groaned Peter, even while absolutely happy in her mood. "I can't do it, when she trusts me so. "

"Well, " said Leonore, "perhaps when you've done staring at me, you'llanswer my question. "

"I think they'll do as we tell them, " smiled Peter. "But we'll get wordto-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we shall know better how theland lies, and can talk plainer. "

"Will there be more ciphers, to-morrow?"

"Yes. " To himself Peter said, "I must write Green and the rest totelegraph me every day. "

"Now we'll have a cup of tea, " said Leonore. "I like politics. "

"Then you would like Albany, " said Peter, putting a chair for her by thelittle tea-table. 

"I wouldn't live in Albany for the whole world, " said Leonore, resumingher old self with horrible rapidity. But just then she burnt her fingerwith the match with which she was lighting the lamp, and her crueltyvanished in a wail. "Oh!" she cried. "How it hurts. "

"Let me see, " said Peter sympathetically. 

The little hand was held up. "It does hurt, " said Leonore, who saw thatthere was a painful absence of all signs of injury, and feared Peterwould laugh at such a burn after those he had suffered. 

But Peter treated it very seriously. "I'm sure it does, " he said, takingpossession of the hand. "And I know how it hurts. " He leaned over andkissed the little thumb. Then he didn't care a scrap whether Leonoreliked Albany or not. 

"I won't snub you this time, " said Leonore to herself, "because youdidn't laugh at me for it. "

Peter's evening was not so happy. Leonore told him as they rose fromdinner that she was going to a dance. "We have permission to take you. Do you care to go?"

"Yes. If you'll give me some dances. "

"I've told you once that I'll only give you the ones not taken by betterdancers. If you choose to stay round I'll take you for those. "

"Do you ever have a dance over?" asked Peter, marvelling at such apossibility. 

"I've only been to one dance. I didn't have at that. "

"Well, " said Peter, growling a little, "I'll go. "

"Oh, " said Leonore, calmly, "don't put yourself out on my account. "

"I'm not, " growled Peter. "I'm doing it to please myself. " Then helaughed, so Leonore laughed too. 

After a game of billiards they all went to the dance. As they enteredthe hall, Peter heard his name called in a peculiar voice behind. Heturned and saw Dorothy. 

Dorothy merely said, "Peter!" again. But Peter understood thatexplanations were in order. He made no attempt to dodge. 

"Dorothy, " he said softly, giving a glance at Leonore, to see that shewas out of hearing, "when you spent that summer with Miss De Voe, didRay come down every week?"

"Yes. "

"Would he have come if you had been travelling out west?"

"Oh, Peter, " cried Dorothy, below her breath, "I'm so glad it's come atlast!"

We hope our readers can grasp the continuity of Dorothy's mentalprocesses, for her verbal ones were rather inconsequent. 

"She's lovely, " continued the verbal process. "And I'm sure I can helpyou. "

"I need it, " groaned Peter. "She doesn't care in the least for me, and Ican't get her to. And she says she isn't going to marry for--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Dorothy, contemptuously, and sailed into theladies' dressing-room. 

Peter gazed after her. "I wonder what's nonsense?" he thought. 

Dorothy set about her self-imposed task with all the ardor formatchmaking, possessed by a perfectly happy married woman. But Dorothyevidently intended that Leonore should not marry Peter, if one can judgefrom the tenor of her remarks to Leonore in the dressing-room. Peterliked Dorothy, and would probably not have believed her capable oftreachery, but it is left to masculine mind to draw any other inferencefrom the dialogue which took place between the two, as they prinkedbefore a cheval glass. 

"I'm so glad to have Peter here for this particular evening, " saidDorothy. 

"Why?" asked Leonore, calmly, in the most uninterested of tones. 

"Because Miss Biddle is to be here. For two years I've been trying tobring those two together, so that they might make a match of it. Theyare made for each other. "

Leonore tucked a rebellious curl in behind the drawn-back lock. Then shesaid, "What a pretty pin you have. "

"Isn't it? Ray gave it to me, " said Dorothy, giving Leonore all the lineshe wanted. 

"I've never met Miss Biddle, " said Leonore. 

"She's a great beauty, and rich. And then she has that nice Philadelphiamanner. Peter can't abide the young-girl manner. He hates giggling andtalking girls. It's funny too, because, though he doesn't dance or talk, they like him. But Miss Biddle is an older girl, and can talk onsubjects which please him. She is very much interested in politics andphilanthropy. "

"I thought, " said Leonore, fluffing the lace on her gown, "that Peternever talked politics. "

"He doesn't, " said Dorothy. "But she has studied political economy. He'swilling to talk abstract subjects. She's just the girl for a statesman'swife. Beauty, tact, very clever, and yet very discreet. I'm doubly gladthey'll meet here, for she has given up dancing, so she can entertainPeter, who would otherwise have a dull time of it. "

"If she wants to, " said Leonore. 

"Oh, " said Dorothy, "I'm not a bit afraid about that. Peter's the kindof man with whom every woman's ready to fall in love. Why, my dear, he'shad chance after chance, if he had only cared to try. But, of course, hedoesn't care for such women as you and me, who can't enter into histhoughts or sympathize with his ambitions. To him we are nothing butdancing, dressing, prattling flutter-birds. " Then Dorothy put her headon one side, and seemed far more interested in the effect of her ownfrock than in Peter's fate. 

"He talks politics to me, " Leonore could not help saying. Leonore didnot like Dorothy's last speech. 

"Oh, Peter's such a gentleman that he always talks seriously even to us;but it's only his politeness. I've seen him talk to girls like you, andhe is delightfully courteous, and one would think he liked it. But, fromlittle things Ray has told me, I know he looks down on society girls. "

"Are you ready, Leonore?" inquired Mrs. D'Alloi. 

Leonore was very ready. Watts and Peter were ready also; had been readyduring the whole of this dialogue. Watts was cross; Peter wasn't. Peterwould willingly have waited an hour longer, impatient only for themoment of meeting, not to get downstairs. That is the difference betweena husband and a lover. 

"Peter, " said Leonore, the moment they were on the stairs, "do you evertell other girls political secrets?"

Dorothy was coming just behind, and she poked Peter in the back with herfan. Then, when Peter turned, she said with her lips as plainly as onecan without speaking: "Say yes. "

Peter looked surprised. Then he turned to Leonore and said, "No. You arethe only person, man or woman, with whom I like to talk politics. "

"Oh!" shrieked Dorothy to herself. "You great, big, foolish old stupid!Just as I had fixed it so nicely!" What Dorothy meant is quiteinscrutable. Peter had told the truth. 

But, after the greetings were over, Dorothy helped Peter greatly. Shesaid to him, "Give me your arm, Peter. There is a girl here whom I wantyou to meet. "

"Peter's going to dance this valse with me, " said Leonore. And Peter hadtwo minutes of bliss, amateur though he was. Then Leonore said cruelly, "That's enough; you do it very badly!"

When Peter had seated her by her mother, he said: "Excuse me for amoment. I want to speak to Dorothy. "

"I knew you would be philandering after the young married women. Men ofyour age always do, " said Leonore, with an absolutely incomprehensiblecruelty. 

So Peter did not speak to Dorothy. He sat down by Leonore and talked, till a scoundrelly, wretched, villainous, dastardly, low-born, but verygood-looking fellow carried off his treasure. Then he wended his way toDorothy. 

"Why did you tell me to say 'yes'?" he asked. 

Dorothy sighed. "I thought you couldn't have understood me, " she said;"but you are even worse than I supposed. Never mind, it's done now. Peter, will you do me a great favor?"

"I should like to, " said Peter. 

"Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia, is here. She doesn't know many of themen, and she doesn't dance. Now, if I introduce you, won't you try tomake her have a good time?"

"Certainly, " said Peter, gloomily. 

"And don't go and desert her, just because another man comes up. Itmakes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle isvery sensitive. I know you don't want to hurt her feelings. " All thishad been said as they crossed the room. Then: "Miss Biddle, let meintroduce Mr. Stirling. "

Peter sat down to his duty. "I mustn't look at Leonore, " he thought, "orI shan't be attentive. " So he turned his face away from the roomheroically. As for Dorothy, she walked away with a smile of contentment. "There, miss, " she remarked, "we'll see if you can trample on dear oldPeter!"

"Who's that girl to whom Mr. Stirling is talking?" asked Leonore of herpartner. 

"Ah, that's the rich Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia, " replied thescoundrel, in very gentleman-like accents for one of his class. "Theysay she's never been able to find a man good enough for her, and soshe's keeping herself on ice till she dies, in hopes that she'll findone in heaven. She's a great catch. "

"She's decidedly good-looking, " said Leonore. 

"Think so? Some people do. I don't. I don't like blondes. "

When Leonore had progressed as far as her fourth partner, she asked:"What sort of a girl is that Miss Biddle?"

"She's really stunning, " she was told. "Fellows are all wild about her. But she has an awfully snubbing way. "

"Is she clever?"

"Is she? That's the trouble. She won't have anything to do with a manunless he's clever. Look at her to-night! She got her big fish rightoff, and she's driven away every man who's come near her ever since. She's the kind of a girl that, if she decides on anything, she does it. "

"Who's her big fish?" said Leonore, as if she had not noticed. 

"That big fellow, who is so awfully exclusive--Stirling. He doesn'tthink any people good enough for him but the Pells, and Miss De Voe, andthe Ogdens. What they can see in him I can't imagine. I sat opposite himonce at dinner, this spring, at the William Pells, and he only saidthree things in the whole meal. And he was sitting next that clever MissWinthrop. "

After the fifth dance, Dorothy came up to Leonore. "It's goingbeautifully, " she said; "do you see how Peter has turned his back to theroom? And I heard a man say that Miss Biddle was freezing to every manwho tried to interrupt them. I must arrange some affairs this week sothat they shall have chances to see each other. You will help me?"

"I'm very much engaged for this week, " said Leonore. 

"What a pity! Never mind; I'll get Peter. Let me see. She ridesbeautifully. Did Peter bring his horses?"

"One, " said Leonore, with a suggestion of reluctance in stating thefact. 

"I'll go and arrange it at once, " said Dorothy, thinking that Petermight be getting desperate. 

"Mamma, " said Leonore, "how old Mrs. Rivington has grown!"

"I haven't noticed it, dear, " said her mother. 

Dorothy went up to the pair and said: "Peter, won't you show Miss Biddlethe conservatories! You know, " she explained, "they are very beautiful. "

Peter rose dutifully, but with a very passive look on his face. 

"And, Peter, " said Dorothy, dolefully, "will you take me in to supper? Ihaven't found a man who's had the grace to ask me. "

"Yes. "

"We'll sit at the same table, " said Dorothy to Miss Biddle. 

When Peter got into the carriage that evening he was very blue. "I hadonly one waltz, " he told himself, "and did not really see anything elseof her the whole evening. "

"Is that Miss Biddle as clever as people say she is?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"She is a very unusual woman, " said Peter, "I rarely have known a betterinformed one. " Peter's tone of voice carried the inference that he hatedunusual and informed women, and as this is the case with most men, hisvoice presumably reflected his true thoughts. 

"I should say so, " said Watts. "At our little table she said thebrightest things, and told the best stories. That's a girl as is a girl. I tried to see her afterwards, but found that Peter was taking anItalian lesson of her. "

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"I have a chap who breakfasts with me three times a week, to talkItalian, which I am trying to learn, " said Peter, "and Dorothy told Mrs. Biddle, so she offered to talk in it. She has a beautiful accent and itwas very good of her to offer, for I knew very little as yet, and don'tthink she could have enjoyed it. "

"What do you want with Italian?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"To catch the Italian vote, " said Peter. 

"Oh, you sly-boots, " said Watts. Then he turned. "What makes my Dot sosilent?" he asked. 

"Oh, " said Leonore in weary tones, "I've danced too much and I'm very, very tired. "

"Well, " said Watts, "see that you sleep late. "

"I shall be all right to-morrow, " said Leonore, "and I'm going to havean early horseback ride. "

"Peter and I will go too, " said Watts. 

"I'm sorry, " said Peter. "I'm to ride with Dorothy and Miss Biddle. "

"Ha, ha, " said Watts. "More Italian lessons, eh?"

Two people looked very cross that evening when they got to their rooms. 

Leonore sighed to her maid: "Oh, Marie, I am so tired! Don't let me bedisturbed till it's nearly lunch. "

And Peter groaned to nobody in particular, "An evening and a ride gone!I tried to make Dorothy understand. It's too bad of her to be so dense. "

So clearly Dorothy was to blame. Yet the cause of all this trouble fellasleep peacefully, remarking to herself, just before she drifted intodreamland, "Every man in love ought to have a guardian, and I'll bePeter's. "

CHAPTER LIII. 

INTERFERENCE. 

When Peter returned from his ride the next day, he found Leonore readingthe papers in the big hall. She gave him a very frigid "good-morning, "yet instantly relaxed a little in telling him there was another longtelegram for him on the mantel. She said nothing of his reading thedespatch to her, but opened a new sheet of paper, and began to read itscolumns with much apparent interest. That particular page was devoted tothe current prices of "Cotton;" "Coffee;" "Flour;" "Molasses;" "Beans;""Butter;" "Hogs;" "Naval Stores;" "Ocean Freights, " and a large numberof equally kindred and interesting subjects. 

Peter took the telegram, but did not read it. Instead he looked down atall of his pretty "friend" not sedulously hidden by the paper; Herecognized that his friend had a distinctly "not-at-home" look, butafter a moment's hesitation he remarked, "You don't expect me to readthis alone?"

Silence. 

"Because, " continued Peter, "it's an answer to those we wrote and sentyesterday, and I shan't dare reply it without your advice. "

Silence. 

Peter coolly put his hand on the paper and pushed it down till he couldsee Leonore's face. When he had done that he found her fairly beaming. She tried to put on a serious look quickly, and looked up at him with iton. 

But Peter said, "I caught you, " and laughed. Then Leonore laughed. Thenthey filled in the space before lunch by translating and answering thetelegram. 

As soon as that meal was over, Peter said, "Now will you teach mewaltzing again?"

"No. "

"Why not?"

"I'm not going to spend time teaching a man to dance, who doesn'tdance. "

"I was nearly wild to dance last night, " said Peter. 

"Then why didn't you?"

"Dorothy asked me to do something. "

"I don't think much of men who let women control them. "

"I wanted to please Dorothy" said Peter, "I was as well off talking toone girl as to another. Since you don't like my dancing, I supposed youwould hardly choose to dance again with me, or ropes wouldn't have heldme. "

"I can talk Italian too, " said Leonore, with no apparent connection. 

"Will you talk it with me?" said Peter eagerly. "You see, there are agood many Italians in the district, now, who by their ignorance andtheir not speaking English, are getting into trouble all the time. Iwant to learn, so as to help them, without calling in an interpreter. "Peter was learning to put his requests on grounds other than his ownwishes. 

"Yes, " said Leonore very sweetly, "and I'll give you another lesson indancing. How did you enjoy your ride?"

"I like Dorothy, " said Peter, "and I like Miss Biddle. But I didn't getthe ride I wanted. "

He got a very nice look from those slate-colored eyes. 

They set a music-box going, and Peter's instruction began. When it wasover, Leonore said:

"You've improved wonderfully. "

"Well enough to dance with you?"

"Yes, " said Leonore. "I'll take pity on you unless you'd rather talk tosome other girl. "

Peter only smiled quietly. 

"Peter, " said Leonore, later, as he was sipping his tea, "do you thinkI'm nothing but a foolish society flutterbird?"

"Do you want to know what I think of you?" asked Peter, eagerly. 

"No, " said Leonore hastily. "But do you think of me as nothing but asociety girl?"

"Yes, " said Peter, truth speaking in voice and face. 

The corners of Leonore's mouth descended to a woeful degree. 

"I think you are a society girl, " continued Peter, "because you are thenicest kind of society. "

Leonore fairly filled the room with her smile. Then she said, "Peter, will you do me a favor?"

"Yes. "

"Will you tell Dorothy that I have helped you translate cipher telegramsand write the replies?"

Peter was rather astonished, but said, "Yes. "

But he did it very badly, Leonore thought, for meeting Dorothy the nextday at a lawn party, after the mere greetings, he said:

"Dorothy, Miss D'Alloi has been helping me translate and write ciphertelegrams. "

Dorothy looked startled at the announcement for a moment. Then she gavea glance at Leonore, who was standing by Peter, visibly holding herselfin a very triumphant attitude. Then she burst out into the merriest oflaughs, and kept laughing. 

"What is it?" asked Peter. 

"Such a joke, " gasped Dorothy, "but I can't tell you. "

As for Leonore, her triumphant manner had fled, and her cheeks were veryred. And when some one spoke to Dorothy, and took her attention, Leonoresaid to Peter very crossly:

"You are so clumsy! Of course I didn't mean that way. "

Peter sighed internally. "I am stupid, I suppose, " he said to himself. "I tried to do just what she asked, but she's displeased, and I supposeshe won't be nice for the rest of the day. If it was only law orpolitics! But women!"

But Leonore didn't abuse him. She was very kind to him, despite herdispleasure. "If Dorothy would only let me alone, " thought Peter, "Ishould have a glorious time. Why can't she let me stay with her whenshe's in such a nice mood. And why does she insist on my being attentiveto her. I don't care for her. It seems as if she was determined to breakup my enjoyment, just as I get her to myself. " Peter mixed his "hers"and "shes" too thoroughly in this sentence to make its import clear. Histhoughts are merely reported verbatim, as the easiest way. It certainlyindicates that, as with most troubles, there was a woman in it. 

Peter said much this same thing to himself quite often during thefollowing week, and always with a groan. Dorothy was continually puttingher finger in. Yet it was in the main a happy time to Peter. His friendtreated him very nicely for the most part, if very variably. Peter neverknew in what mood he should find her. Sometimes he felt that Leonoreconsidered him as the dirt under her little feet. Then again, she couldnot be too sweet to him. There was an evening--a dinner--at which he satbetween Miss Biddle and Leonore when, it seemed to Peter, Leonore saidand looked such nice things, that the millennium had come. Yet the nextmorning, she told him that: "It was a very dull dinner. I talked tonobody but you. "

Fortunately for Peter, the D'Allois were almost as new an advent inNewport, so Leonore was not yet in the running. But by the time Peter'sfirst week had sped, he found that men were putting their fingers in, aswell as Dorothy. Morning, noon, and night they gathered. Then lunches, teas, drives, yachts and innumerable other affairs also plunged theirfingers in. Peter did not yield to the superior numbers, he wentwherever Leonore went. But the other men went also, and understood theropes far better. He fought on, but a sickening feeling began to creepover him of impending failure. It was soon not merely how Leonoretreated him; it was the impossibility of getting her to treat him atall. Even though he was in the same house, it seemed as if there wasalways some one else calling or mealing, or taking tea, or playingtennis or playing billiards, or merely dropping in. And then Leonoretook fewer and fewer meals at home, and spent fewer and fewer hoursthere. One day Peter had to translate those despatches all by himself!When he had a cup of tea now, even with three or four men about, heconsidered himself lucky. He understood at last what Miss De Voe hadmeant when she had spoken of the difficulty of seeing enough of apopular girl either to love her or to tell her of it. They prayed forrain in church on Sunday, on account of the drought, and Peter said"Amen" with fervor. Anything to end such fluttering. 

At the end of two weeks, Peter said sadly that he must be going. 

"Rubbish, " said Watts. "You are to stay for a month. "

"I hope you'll stay, " said Mrs. D'Alloi. 

Peter waited a moment for some one else to speak. Some one else didn't. 

"I think I must, " he said. "It isn't a matter of my own wishes, but I'mneeded in Syracuse. " Peter spoke as if Syracuse was the ultimate ofhuman misery. 

"Is it necessary for you to be there?" asked Leonore. 

"Not absolutely, but I had better go. "

Later in the day Leonore said, "I've decided you are not to go toSyracuse. I shall want you here to explain what they do to me. "

And that cool, insulting speech filled Peter with happiness. 

"I've decided to stay another week, " he told Mrs. D'Alloi. 

Nor could all the appeals over the telegraph move him, though that dayand the next the wires to Newport from New York and Syracuse were kepthot, the despatches came so continuously. 

Two days after this decision, Peter and Leonore went to a cotillion. Leonore informed him that: "Mamma makes me leave after supper, becauseshe doesn't like me to stay late, so I miss the nice part. "

"How many waltzes are you going to give me?" asked Peter, with an eye tohis one ball-room accomplishment. 

"I'll give you the first, " said Leonore, "and then if you'll sit nearme, I'll give you a look every time I see a man coming whom I don'tlike, and if you are quick and ask me first, I'll give it to you. "

Peter became absolutely happy. "How glad I am, " he thought, "that Ididn't go to Syracuse! What a shame it is there are other dances thanwaltzes. "

But after Peter had had two waltzes, he overheard his aged friend offifteen years say something to a girl that raised him many degrees inhis mind. "That's a very brainy fellow, " said Peter admiringly. "Thatnever occurred to me!"

So he waited till he saw Leonore seated, and then joined her. "Won'tyou sit out this dance with me?" he asked. 

Leonore looked surprised. "He's getting very clever, " she thought, neverdreaming that Peter's cleverness, like so many other people's nowadays, consisted in a pertinent use of quotations. Parrot cleverness, we mightterm it. Leonore listened to the air which the musicians were beginning, and finding it the Lancers, or dreariest of dances, she made Peter happyby assenting. 

"Suppose we go out on the veranda, " said Peter, still quoting. 

"Now of what are you going to talk?" said Leonore, when they wereensconced on a big wicker divan, in the soft half light of the Chineselanterns. 

"I want to tell you of something that seems to me about a hundred yearsago, " said Peter. "But it concerns myself, and I don't want to boreyou. "

"Try, and if I don't like it I'll stop you, " said Leonore, opening up aline of retreat worthy of a German army. 

"I don't know what you'll think about it, " said Peter, faltering alittle. "I suppose I can hardly make you understand it, as it is to me. But I want you to know, because--well--it's only fair. "

Leonore looked at Peter with a very tender look in her eyes. He couldnot see it, because Leonore sat so that her face was in shadow. But shecould see his expression, and when he hesitated, with that drawn look onhis face, Leonore said softly:

"You mean--about--mamma?"

Peter started. "Yes! You know?"

"Yes, " said Leonore gently. "And that was why I trusted you, withoutever having met you, and why I wanted to be friends. "

Peter sighed a sigh of relief. "I've been so afraid of it, " he said. "She told you?"

"Yes. That is, Miss De Voe told me first of your having beendisappointed, so I asked mamma if she knew the girl, and then mamma toldme. I'm glad you spoke of it, for I've wanted to ask you something. "

"What?"

"If that was why you wouldn't call at first on us?"

"No. "

"Then why did mamma say you wouldn't call?" When Peter made no reply, Leonore continued, "I knew--that is I felt, there was something wrong. What was it?"

"I can't tell you. "

"Yes, " said Leonore, very positively. 

Peter hesitated. "She thought badly of me about something, till Iapologized to her. "

"And now?"

"Now she invites me to Grey-Court. "

"Then it wasn't anything?"

"She had misjudged me. "

"Now, tell me what it was. "

"Miss D'Alloi, I know you do not mean it, " said Peter, "but you arepaining me greatly. There is nothing in my whole life so bitter to me aswhat you ask me to tell. "

"Oh, Peter, " said Leonore, "I beg your pardon. I was very thoughtless!"

"And you don't think the worse of me, because I loved your mother, andbecause I can't tell you?" said Peter, in a dangerous tone. 

"No, " said Leonore, but she rose. "Now we'll go back to the dancing. "

"One moment, " begged Peter. 

But Leonore was already in the full light blazing from the room. "Areyou coming?" she said. 

"May I have this waltz?" said Peter, trying to get half a loaf. 

"No, " said Leonore, "it's promised to Mr. Rutgers. "

Just then mine host came up and said. "I congratulate you, Mr. Stirling. "

Peter wanted to kick him, but he didn't. 

"I congratulate you, " said another man. 

"On what?" Peter saw no cause for congratulation, only for sorrow. 

"Oh, Peter, " said Dorothy, sailing up at this junction, "how nice! Andsuch a surprise!"

"Why, haven't you heard?" said mine host. 

"Oh, " cried Leonore, "is it about the Convention?"

"Yes, " said a man. "Manners is in from the club and tells us that adespatch says your name was sprung on the Convention at nine, and thatyou were chosen by acclamation without a single ballot being taken. Every one's thunderstruck. "

"Oh, no, " said a small voice, fairly bristling with importance, "I knewall about it. "

Every one laughed at this, except Dorothy. Dorothy had a suspicion thatit was true. But she didn't say so. She sniffed visibly, and said, "Nonsense. As if Peter would tell you secrets. Come, Peter, I want totake you over and let Miss Biddle congratulate you. "

"Peter has just asked me for this waltz, " said Leonore. "Oh, Mr. Rutgers, I'm so sorry, I'm going to dance this with Mr. Stirling. "

And then Peter felt he was to be congratulated. 

"I shan't marry him myself, " thought Leonore, "but I won't have myfriends married off right under my nose, and you can try all you want, Mrs. Rivington. "

So Peter's guardianship was apparently bearing fruit. Yet man to thisday holds woman to be the weaker vessel!

CHAPTER LIV. 

OBSTINACY. 

The next morning Peter found that his prayer for a rainy day had beenanswered, and came down to breakfast in the pleasantest of humors. 

"See how joyful his future Excellency looks already, " said Watts, promptly recalling Peter to the serious part of life. And fortunatelytoo, for from that moment, the time which he had hoped to have alone (if_two_ ever can be alone), began to be pilfered from him. Hardly werethey seated at breakfast when Pell dropped in to congratulate him, andfrom that moment, despite the rain, every friend in Newport seemed tofeel it a bounden duty to do the same, and to stay the longer because ofthe rain. Peter wished he had set the time for the Convention two daysearlier or two days later. 

"I hope you won't ask any of these people to luncheon, " Peter said in anaside to Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"Why?" he was asked. 

Peter looked puzzled, and finally said weakly, "I--I have a good deal todo. "

And then as proper punishment for his misdemeanor, the footmanannounced Dorothy and Miss Biddle, Ray and Ogden. Dorothy sailed intothe room with the announcement:

"We've all come to luncheon if we are asked. "

"Oh, Peter, " said Ray, when they were seated at the table. "Have youseen this morning's 'Voice of Labor?' No? Good gracious, they've rakedup that old verse in Watts's class-song and print it as proof that youwere a drunkard in your college days. Here it is. Set to music andheaded 'Saloon Pete. '"

"Look here, Ray, we must write to the 'Voice' and tell them the truth, "said Watts. 

"Never write to the paper that tells the lie, " said Peter, laughing. "Always write to the one that doesn't. Then it will go for the otherpaper. But I wouldn't take the trouble in this case. The oppositionwould merely say that: 'Of course Mr. Stirling's intimate friends arebound to give such a construction to the song, and the attempt does themcredit. '"

"But why don't you deny it, Peter?" asked Leonore anxiously. "It's awfulto think of people saying you are a drunkard!"

"If I denied the untruths told of me I should have my hands full. Nobodybelieves such things, except the people who are ready to believe them. They wouldn't believe otherwise, no matter what I said. If you think aman is a scoundrel, you are not going to believe his word. "

"But, Peter, " said Mrs. D'Alloi, "you ought to deny them for the future. After you and your friends are dead, people will go back to thenewspapers, and see what they said about you, and then will misjudgeyou. "

"I am not afraid of that. I shall hardly be of enough account to figurein history, or if I become so, such attacks will not hurt me. Why, Washington was charged by the papers of his day, with being a murderer, a traitor, and a tyrant. And Lincoln was vilified to an extent whichseems impossible now. The greater the man, the greater the abuse. "

"Why do the papers call you 'Pete'?" asked Leonore, anxiously. "I ratherlike Peter, but Pete is dreadful!"

"To prove that I am unfit to be governor. "

"Are you serious?" asked Miss Biddle. 

"Yes. From their point of view, the dropping of the 'r' ought toconvince voters that I am nothing but a tough and heeler. "

"But it won't!" declared Leonore, speaking from vast experience. 

"I don't think it will. Though if they keep at it, and really convincethe voters who can be convinced by such arguments, that I am what theycall me, they'll elect me. "

"How?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi. 

"Because intelligent people are not led astray but outraged by sucharguments, and ignorant people, who can be made to believe all that issaid of me, by such means, will think I am just the man for whom theywant to vote. "

"How is it possible that the papers can treat you so?" said Watts. "Theeditors know you?"

"Oh, yes. I have met nearly every man connected with the New Yorkpress. "

"They must know better?"

"Yes. But for partisan purposes they must say what they do. "

"Then they are deliberately lying to deceive the people?" asked MissBiddle. 

"It's rather a puzzling matter in ethics, " said Peter. "I don't thinkthat the newspaper fraternity have any lower standard of morals, thanmen in other professions. In the main they stand for everything that isadmirable, so long as it's non-partisan, and some of the men who to-dayare now writing me down, have aided me in the past more than I can say, and are at this moment my personal friends. "

"How dishonest!"

"I cannot quite call it that. When the greatest and most honorablestatesmen of Europe and America will lie and cheat each other to theirutmost extent, under cover of the term 'diplomacy, ' and get rewarded andpraised by their respective countries for their knavery, provided it issuccessful, I think 'dishonest' is a strong word for a merely partisanpress. Certain it is, that the partisan press would end to-morrow, butfor the narrowness and meanness of readers. "

"Which they cause, " said Ogden. 

"Just as much, " said Peter, "as the saloon makes a drunkard, food causeshunger, and books make readers. "

"But, at least, you must acknowledge they've got you, when they say youare the saloon-keepers' friend, " laughed Watts. 

"Yes. I am that--but only for votes, you understand. "

"Mr. Stirling, why do you like saloons?" asked Miss Biddle. 

"I don't like saloons. My wish is to see the day come, when such a grossform of physical enjoyment as tippling shall cease entirely. But tillthat day comes, till humanity has taught itself and raised itself, Iwant to see fair play. "

"What do you mean?"

"The rich man can lay in a stock of wine, or go to a hotel or club, andget what he wants at any time and all times. It is not fair, because aman's pockets are filled with nickels instead of eagles, that he shallnot have the same right. For that reason, I have always spoken for thesaloon, and even for Sunday openings. You know what I think myself ofthat day. You know what I think of wine. But if I claim the right tospend Sunday in my way and not to drink, I must concede an equal rightto others to do as they please. If a man wants to drink at any time, what right have I to say he shall not?"

"But the poor man goes and makes a beast of himself, " said Watts. 

"There is as much champagne drunkenness as whisky drunkenness, inproportion to the number of drinkers of each. But a man who drinkschampagne, is sent home in a cab, and is put to bed, while the man whocan't afford that kind of drink, and is made mad by poisoned anddoctored whisky, doctored and poisoned because of our heavy tax on it, must take his chance of arrest. That is the shameful thing about all ourso-called temperance legislation. It's based on an unfair interferencewith personal liberty, and always discriminates in favor of the man withmoney. If the rich man has his club, let the poor man have his saloon. "

"How much better, though, " said Mrs. D'Alloi, "to stop the sale of wineeverywhere. "

"That is neither possible nor right. You can't strengthen humanity bytying its hands. It must be left free to become strong. I have thoughtmuch about the problem, and I see only one fair and practical means ofbettering our present condition. But boss as the papers say I am, I amnot strong enough to force it. "

"What is that, Peter?" asked Dorothy. 

"So long as a man drinks in such a way as not to interfere with anotherperson's liberty we have no right to check him. But the moment he does, the public has a right to protect itself and his family, by restraininghim, as it does thieves, or murderers, or wife-beaters. My idea is, thata license, something perhaps like our dog-license, shall be given toevery one who applies for it. That before a man can have a drink, thislicense must be shown. Then if a man is before the police court a secondtime, for drunkenness, or if his family petition for it, his licenseshall be cancelled, and a heavy fine incurred by any one who gives orsells that man a drink thereafter. "

"Oh, " laughed Watts, "you are heavenly! Just imagine a host saying tohis dinner-party, 'Friends, before this wine is passed, will you pleaseshow me your drink licenses. '"

"You may laugh, Watts, " said Peter, "but such a request would have savedmany a young fellow from ruin, and society from an occasional terribleoccurrence which even my little social experience has shown me. And itwould soon be so much a matter of course, that it would be no more thanshowing your ticket, to prove yourself entitled to a ride. It solves theproblem of drunkenness. And that is all we can hope to do, till humanityis--" Then Peter, who had been looking at Leonore, smiled. 

"Is what?" asked Leonore. 

"The rest is in cipher, " said Peter, but if he had finished hissentence, it would have been, "half as perfect as you are. "

After this last relay of callers had departed, it began to pour so noblythat Peter became hopeful once more. He wandered about, making aroom-to-room canvass, in search of happiness, and to his surprise sawhappiness descending the broad stair incased in an English shooting-cap, and a mackintosh. 

"You are not going out in such weather?" demanded Peter. 

"Yes. I've had no exercise to-day, and I'm going for a walk. "

"It's pouring torrents, " expostulated Peter. 

"I know it. "

"But you'll get wet through. "

"I hope so. I like to walk in the rain. "

Peter put his hand on the front door-handle, to which this conversationhad carried them, "You mustn't go out, " he said. 

"I'm going, " said Leonore, made all the more eager now that it wasforbidden. 

"Please don't, " said Peter weakening. 

"Let me pass, " said Leonore decisively. 

"Does your father know?"

"Of course not. "

"Then you should ask him. It's no weather for you to walk in. "

"I shan't ask him. "

"Then I shall, " and Peter went hurriedly to the library. 

"Watts, " he said, "it's raining torrents and Leonore insists on going towalk. Please say she is not to go. "

"All right, " said Watts, not looking up from his book. 

That was enough. Peter sped back to the hall. It was empty. He put hishead into the two rooms. Empty. He looked out of the front door. Therein the distance, was that prettiest of figures, distinguishable evenwhen buried in a mackintosh. Peter caught up a cap from the hall rack, and set out in pursuit. Leonore was walking rapidly, but it did not takePeter many seconds to come up with her. 

"Your father says you are not to go out. "

"I can't help it, since I am out, " said Leonore, sensibly. 

"But you should come back at once. "

"I don't care to, " said Leonore. 

"Aren't you going to obey him?"

"He never would have cared if you hadn't interfered. It's your orders, not his. So I intend to have my walk. "

"You are to come back, " said Peter. 

Leonore stopped and faced him. "This is getting interesting, " shethought. "We'll see who can be the most obstinate. " Aloud she said, "Whosays so?"

"I do. "

"And I say I shan't. "

Peter felt his helplessness. "Please come back. "

Leonore laughed internally. "I don't choose to. "

"Then I shall have to make you. "

"How?" asked Leonore. 

That was a conundrum, indeed. If it had been a knotty law point, Peterwould have been less nonplussed by it. 

Leonore felt her advantage, and used it shamefully. She knew that Peterwas helpless, and she said, "How?" again, laughing at him. 

Peter groped blindly. "I shall make you, " he said again, for lack ofanything better. 

"Perhaps, " said Leonore, helping him out, though with a most insultinglaugh in her voice and face, "you will get a string and lead me?"

Peter looked the picture of helplessness. 

"Or you might run over to the Goelets', and borrow their baby'sperambulator, " continued that segment of the Spanish Inquisition. Ifever an irritating, aggravating, crazing, exasperating, provokingfretting enraging, "I dare you, " was uttered, it was in Leonore's manneras she said this. 

Peter looked about hopelessly. 

"Please hurry up and say how, " Leonore continued, "for I want to getdown to the cliff walk. It's very wet here on the grass. Perhaps youwill carry me back? You evidently think me a baby in arms. " "He's suchfun to tease, " was her thought, "and you can say just what you pleasewithout being afraid of his doing anything ungentlemanly. " Many a womandares to torture a man for just the same reason. 

She was quite right as to Peter. He had recognized that he waspowerless; that he could not use force. He looked the picture of utterindecision. But as Leonore spoke, a sudden change came over his face andfigure. "Leonore had said it was wet on the grass! Leonore would wet herfeet! Leonore would take cold! Leonore would have pneumonia! Leonorewould die!" It was a shameful chain of argument for a light of the bar, logic unworthy of a school-boy. But it was fearfully real to Peter forthe moment, and he said to himself: "I must do it, even if she neverforgives me. " Then the indecision left his face, and he took a stepforward. 

Leonore caught her breath with a gasp. The "dare-you" look, suddenlychanged to a very frightened one, and turning, she sped across the lawn, at her utmost speed. She had read something in Peter's face, and feltthat she must fly, however ignominious such retreat might be. 

Peter followed, but though he could have caught her in ten seconds, hedid not. As on a former occasion, he thought: "I'll let her get out ofbreath. Then she will not be so angry. At least she won't be able totalk. How gracefully she runs!"

Presently, as soon as Leonore became convinced that Peter did not intendto catch her, she slowed down to a walk. Peter at once joined her. 

"Now, " he said, "will you come back?"

Leonore was trying to conceal her panting. She was not going toacknowledge that she was out of breath since Peter wasn't. So she madeno reply. 

"You are walking in the wrong direction, " said Peter, laying his hand onher arm. Then, since she made no reply, his hand encircled the arm, andhe stopped. Leonore took two more steps. Then she too, curiously enough, halted. 

"Stop holding me, " she said, not entirely without betraying herbreathlessness. 

"You are to come back, " said Peter. 

He got an awful look from those eyes. They were perfectly blazing withindignation. 

"Stop holding me, " she repeated. 

It was a fearful moment to Peter. But he said, with an appeal in hisvoice, "You know I suffer in offending you. I did not believe that Icould touch you without your consent. But your health is dearer to methan your anger is terrible. You must come home. "

So Leonore, realizing that helplessness in a man exists only by his ownvolition, turned, and began walking towards the now distant house. Peterat once released her arm, and walked beside her. Not a glimpse did heget of those dear eyes. Leonore was looking directly before her, and agrenadier could not have held himself straighter. If insulted dignitywas to be acted in pantomime, the actor could have obtained somevaluable points from that walk. 

Peter walked along, feeling semi-criminal, yet semi-happy. He had savedLeonore from an early grave, and that was worth while doing. Then, too, he could look at her, and that was worth while doing. The run had madeLeonore's cheeks blaze, as Peter's touch had made her eyes. The rain hadcondensed in little diamonds on her stray curls, and on those longlashes. It seemed to Peter that he had never seen her lovelier. Thelonging to take her in his arms was so strong, that he almost wished shehad refused to return. But then Peter knew that she was deeply offended, and that unless he could make his peace, he was out of favor for a dayat least. That meant a very terrible thing to him. A whole day ofneglect; a whole day with no glimpse of these eyes; a whole day withouta smile from those lips!

Peter had too much sense to say anything at once. He did not speak tillthey were back in the hall. Leonore had planned to go straight to herroom, but Peter was rather clever, since she preceded him, in getting tothe foot of the staircase so rapidly that he was there first. 

This secured him his moment for speech. He said simply: "Miss D'Alloi, Iask your forgiveness for offending you. "

Leonore had her choice of standing silent, of pushing passed Peter, orof speaking. If she had done the first, or the second, her position wasabsolutely impregnable. But a woman's instinct is to seek defence orattack in words rather than actions. So she said: "You had no right, andyou were very rude. " She did not look at Peter. 

"It pained me far more than it could pain you. "

Leonore liked Peter's tone of voice, but she saw that her position wasweakening. She said, "Let me by, please. "

Peter with reluctance gave her just room to pass. He felt that he hadnot said half of what he wished, but he did not dare to offend again. 

As it turned out, it was the best thing he could do, for the momentLeonore had passed him, she exclaimed, "Why! Your coat's wringing wet. "

"That's nothing, " said Peter, turning to the voice. 

He found those big dark eyes at last looking at him, and looking at himwithout anger. Leonore had stopped on the step above him. 

"That shows how foolish you were to go out in the rain, " said Leonore. 

"Yes, " said Peter, venturing on the smallest smiles. 

Leonore promptly explained the charge in Peter's "yes. " "It's verydifferent, " he was told. "I put on tips and a mackintosh. You didn't puton anything. And it was pouring torrents. "

"But I'm tough, " said Peter, "A wetting won't hurt me. "

"So am I, " said Leonore. "I've tramped for hours in the Orkneys, andSweden and Norway, when it was raining. But then I was dressed for it. Go and put on dry clothes at once. "

That was what Peter had intended to do, but he saw his advantage. "Itisn't worth while, " he said. 

"I never heard of such obstinacy, " said Leonore. "I pity your wife, ifyou ever get one. She'll have an awful time of it. "

Peter did not like that view at all. But he did not forego at once hishope of getting some compensation out of Leonore's wish. So he said:"It's too much trouble to change my clothes, but a cup of your tea maykeep me from taking cold. " It was nearly five, o'clock, and Peter waslonging for that customary half-hour at the tea-table. 

Leonore said in the kindness of her heart, "When you've changed yourclothes, I'll make you a cup. " Then she went upstairs. When she hadreached the second floor, she turned, and leaning over the balustrade ofthe gallery, said, "Peter. "

"Yes, " said Peter, surveying her from below, and thinking how lovely shewas. 

Leonore was smiling saucily. She said in triumph: "I had my way. I didget my walk. " Then she went to her room, her head having a veryvictorious carriage. 

Peter went to his room, smiling. "It's a good lawyer, " he told hismirror, "who compromises just enough to make both sides think they'vewon. " Peter changed his clothes with the utmost despatch, and hurrieddownstairs to the tea-table. She was not there! Peter waited nearly fiveminutes quietly, with a patience almost colossal. Then he began to getrestless. He wandered about the room for another two minutes. Then hebecame woe-begone. "I thought she had forgiven me, " he remarked. 

"What?" said the loveliest of visions from the doorway. Most women wouldhave told one that the beauty lay in the Parisian tea-gown. Peter knewbetter. Still, he was almost willing to forgive Leonore the delay causedby the donning of it, the result was so eminently satisfactory. "And itwill take her as long to make tea as usual, anyway, " he thought. 

"Hadn't I better put some rum into it to-day?" he was asked, presently. 

"You may put anything in it, except the sugar tongs, " said Peter, takingpossession of that article. 

"But then I can't put any sugar in. "

"Fingers were made before forks, " suggested Peter. "You don't want togive me anything bitter, do you?"

"You deserve it, " said Leonore, but she took the lumps in her fingers, and dropped them in the cup. 

"I can't wait five years!" thought Peter, "I can't wait fivemonths--weeks--days--hours--minutes--sec----"

Watts saved Peter from himself by coming in here. "Hello! Here you are. How cosy you look. I tried to find you both a few minutes ago, butthought you must have gone to walk after all. Here, Peter. Here's aspecial delivery letter, for which I receipted a while ago. Give me acup, Dot. "

Peter said, "Excuse me, " and, after a glance at the envelope, opened theletter with a sinking sensation. He read it quickly, and then reachedover and rang the bell. When the footman came, Peter rose and saidsomething in a low voice to him. Then he came back to his tea. 

"Nothing wrong, I hope, " asked Watts. 

"Yes. At least I am called back to New York, " said Peter gloomily. 

"Bother, " said Watts. "When?"

"I shall leave by the night express. "

"Nonsense. If it was so important as that, they'd have wired you. "

"It isn't a matter which could be telegraphed. "

"What is it, Peter?" said Leonore, putting her finger in. 

"It's confidential. "

So Leonore did not ask again. But when the tea was finished, and all hadstarted upstairs, Leonore said, "Peter, " on the landing. When Peterstopped, she whispered, "Why are you going to New York?"

"I can't tell you, " said Peter. 

"Yes, you can, now that papa isn't here. "

"No. "

"Yes. I know it's politics, and you are to tell me. "

"It isn't politics. "

"Then what is it?"

"You really want to know?"

"Of course. "

"It's something really confidential. "

Leonore gave Peter one look of insulted dignity, and went upstairs toher room. "He's different, " she said. "He isn't a bit afraid ofdispleasing me any more. I don't know what to do with him. "

Peter found Jenifer waiting. "Only pack the grip, " he said. "I hope tocome back in a few days. " But he looked very glum, and the glumnessstuck to him even after he had dressed and had descended to dinner. 

"I am leaving my traps, " he told Mrs. D'Alloi. "For I hope to be backnext week. "

"Next week!" cried Watts. "What has been sprung on you that will takeyou that long?"

"It doesn't depend on me, unfortunately, " said Peter, "or I wouldn'tgo. "

When the carriage was announced later, Peter shook hands with Watts andMrs. D'Alloi, and then held out his hand to Leonore. "Good-bye, " hesaid. 

"Are you going to tell me why you are going?" said that young lady, withher hands behind her, in the prettiest of poses. 

"No. "

"Then I shan't say good-bye. "

"I cannot tell you, " said Peter, quietly; "please say good-bye. "

"No. "

That refusal caused Peter gloom all the way to the station. But ifLeonore could have looked into the future she would have seen in herrefusal the bitterest sorrow she had ever known. 

CHAPTER LV. 

OATHS. 

As soon as Peter was on the express he went into the smoking cabin ofthe sleeping-car, and lighting a cigar, took out a letter and read itover again. While he was still reading it, a voice exclaimed:

"Good! Here's Peter. So you are in it too?" Ogden continued, as Ray andhe took seats by Peter. 

"I always did despise Anarchists and Nihilists, " sighed Ray, "since Iwas trapped into reading some of those maudlin Russian novels, withtheir eighth-century ideas grafted on nineteenth-century conditions. Baby brains stimulated with whisky. "

Ogden turned to Peter. "How serious is it likely to be, Colonel?"

"I haven't any idea, " replied Peter, "The staff is of the opposite partynow, and I only have a formal notification to hold my regiment inreadiness. If it's nothing but this Socialist and Anarchist talk, thereis no real danger in it. "

"Why not?"

"This country can never be in danger from discontent with ourgovernment, for it's what the majority want it to be, or if not, it ismade so at the next election. That is the beauty of a Democracy. Themajority always supports the government. We fight our revolutions withballots, not with bullets. "

"Yet Most says that blood must be shed. "

"I suppose, " said Peter, "that he has just reached the stage ofintelligence which doctors had attained when they bled people to makethem strong. "

"What can you do with such a fellow's talk? You can't argue with him, "said Ogden. 

"Talk!" muttered Ray, "Don't dignify it with that word. Gibberish!"

"No?" said Peter, "It's too earnest to deserve that name. The man can'texpress himself, but way down underneath all the absurd talk of'natural monopolies, ' and of 'the oppression of the money-power, ' therelies a germ of truth, without which none of their theories would have acorporal's guard of honest believers. We have been working towards thattruth in an unsystematic way for centuries, but we are a long way fromit, and till we solve how to realize it, we shall have ineffectualdiscontent. "

"But that makes the whole thing only the more arrant nonsense, " grumbledRay. "It's foolish enough in all conscience sake, if they had a chanceof success, but when they haven't any, why the deuce do they want todrag us poor beggars back from Newport?"

"Why did Rome insist on burning while Nero fiddled?" queried Petersmiling. "We should hear nothing of socialism and anarchy if Newport andthe like had no existence. "

"I believe at heart you're a Socialist yourself, " cried Ray. 

"No danger, " laughed Ogden; "his bank account is too large. No man withPeter's money is ever a Socialist"

"You forget, " said Ray, "that Peter is always an exception to the rule. "

"No, " said Peter. "I disagree with Socialists entirely both in aims andmethods, but I sympathize with them, for I see the fearful problemswhich they think their theories will solve, and though I know howmistaken they are, I cannot blame them, when I see how seriously andhonestly they believe in, and how unselfishly they work for, theirideas. Don't blame the Socialists, for they are quite as conscientiousas were the Abolitionists. Blame it to the lack of scientific education, which leaves these people to believe that theories containing a halftruth are so wholly true that they mean the regeneration and salvationof society. "

"I suppose you are right, " sighed Ray, "for you've thought of it, and Ihaven't. I don't want to, either. I thank the Lord I'm not as serious asyou, Graveyard. But if you want to air your theory, I'll lend you myears, for friendship's sake. I don't promise to remember. "

Peter puffed his cigar for a moment "I sometimes conclude, " he said, "that the people who are most in need of education, are the college-bredmen. They seem to think they've done all the work and study of theirlife in their four years, and so can dissipate mentally ever after. " ButPeter smiled as he said this and continued, more seriously: "Society andpersonal freedom are only possible in conjunction, when law or publicopinion interferes to the degree of repressing all individual acts thatinterfere with the freedom of others; thus securing the greatestindividual freedom to all. So far as physical force is concerned, wehave pretty well realized this condition. Because a man is strong he canno longer take advantage of the weak. But strength is not limited tomuscle. To protect the weak mind from the strong mind is an equal duty, and a far more difficult task. So far we have only partially succeeded. In this difficulty lies the whole problem. Socialism, so far as itattempts to repress individualism, and reduce mankind to an evennessopposed to all natural laws, is suicidal of the best in favor ofmediocrity. But so far as it attempts to protect that mediocrity andweakness from the superior minds of the best, it is only in line withthe laws which protect us from murder and robbery. You can't expect menof the Most variety, however, to draw such distinctions. "

"I do wish they would settle it, without troubling me, " groaned Ray. "Lispenard's right. A man's a fool who votes, or serves on a jury, orjoins a regiment. What's the good of being a good citizen, when theother fellow won't be? I'm sick of being good for nothing. "

"Have you just discovered that?" laughed Ogden. "You're progressing. "

"No, " said Ray, "I am good for one thing. Like a good many other men Ifurnish the raw material on which the dearest of women may lavish heraffection. Heigh-ho! I wish I was before the fire with her now. It'srather rough to have visits to one's wife cut short in this way. "

Peter rose. "I am going to get some sleep, for we don't know what'sbefore us, and may not have much after to-night. But, Ray, there's aharder thing than leaving one's wife at such a time. "

"What's that, Peter?" asked Ray, looking at Peter with surprise. 

"To know that there is no one to whom your going or return reallymatters. " Peter passed out of the cabin. 

"By George!" said Ray, "if it wasn't Peter, I'd have sworn there wassalt water in his eyes. "

"Anneke has always insisted that he was lonely. I wonder if she'sright?" Ogden queried. 

"If he is, why the deuce does he get off in those solitary quarters ofhis?"

"Ray, " said Ogden, "I have a sovereign contempt for a man who answersone question with another. "

Peter reached the city at six the next morning, and, despite the hour, began his work at once. He made a number of calls in the district, holding whispered dialogues with men; who, as soon as Peter was gone, hurried about and held similar conversations with other men; whopromptly went and did the same to still others. While they were doingthis, Peter drove uptown, and went into Dickel's riding academy. As hepassed through the office, a man came out. 

"Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning. "

"Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes, " said Peter. "How serious is it likely tobe?"

"We can't say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle theAnarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall needyou. "

Peter passed into another room where were eight men. 

"Good-morning, Colonel, " said one. "You are prompt. "

"What is the trouble?"

"The Central has decided to make a general reduction. They put it inforce at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, thatthey've six hundred new hands ready somewhere to put right in. "

"Byrnes tells me he has all he can do. "

"Yes. We've obtained the governor's consent to embody eight regiments. It isn't only the strike that's serious, but this parade of theunemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have calledin the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying ofarms. "

"It's rather rough on you, Stirling, " spoke up a man, "to have it comewhile you are a nominee. "

Peter smiled, and passed into the room beyond. "Good-morning, GeneralCanfield, " he said. "I have taken the necessary steps to embody myregiment. Are there any further orders?"

"If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station, " the officerreplied; "so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had betterfamiliarize yourself at once. "

"General Canfield, " said Peter, "my regiment has probably moresympathizers with the strikers than has any other in the city. It couldnot be put in a worse place. "

"Are you objecting to orders?" said the man, in a sharp decisive voice. 

"No, " replied Peter. "I am stating a fact, in hopes that it may preventtrouble. "

The man and Peter looked each other in the eye. 

"You have your orders, " said the man, but he didn't look pleased orproud. 

Peter turned and left the room, looking very grave. He look his cab andwent to his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went downinto the streets. They seemed peaceably active as he walked throughthem. A small boy was calling an extra, but it was in reference to thearrival of a much-expected racing-yacht. There was nothing to show thata great business depression rested with crushing weight on the city, andespecially on the poor; that anarchy was lifting its head, and fromhungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood and blaze; thatcapital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle whichperhaps meant death and destruction. 

The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeezethrough, and was guarded by a keeper. Peter passed in, however, withoutquestion, and heard a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy wasgathering, so too was order. Peter called his officers together, andgave a few orders. Then he turned and whispered for a moment withDennis. 

"They don't put us there, sir!" exclaimed Dennis. 

"Yes. "

"Are they mad?"

"They've given us the worst job, not merely as a job, but especially forthe regiment. Perhaps they won't mind if things do go wrong. "

"Yez mean?"

"What will people say of me on November fourth, if my regiment flunks onSeptember thirtieth?"

"Arrah musha dillah!" cried Dennis. "An' is that it?"

"I'm afraid so. Will the men stand by me?"

"Oi'll make them. Yez see, " shouted Dennis, "Oi'll tell the b'ys theyare tryin' to put yez in a hole, an' they'll stan' by yez, no matterwhat yez are told to do. "

As quickly as possible Peter put on his fatigue uniform. When he cameout, it was to find that the rank and file had done the same, and werenow standing in groups about the floor. A moment later they were linedup. 

Peter stepped forward and said in a clear, ringing voice: "Before theroll is called I wish to say a word. We may receive orders any moment totake possession of the buildings and switches at the Central Station, toprotect the property and operators of that road. This will be hard tosome of you, who believe the strikers are right. But we have nothing todo with that. We have taken our oath to preserve order and law, and weare interested in having it done, far more than is the capitalist, forhe can buy protection, whether laws are enforced or not, while thelaboring man cannot. But if any man here is not prepared to support theState in its duty to protect the life and property of all, by anenforcement of the laws, I wish to know it now. "

Peter stood a moment waiting, and then said, "Thank you, men. "

The roll-call was made, and Peter sent off a line to headquarters, stating that his regiment, with only eighteen reported "missing" wasmustered and ready for further orders. Then the regiment broke ranks, and waited. 

Just as two o'clock struck a despatch was handed Peter. A moment latercame the rap of the drum, and the men rose from the floor and fell in. Afew sharp, quick words were passed from mouth to mouth. Guns rose to theshoulders with a click and a movement almost mechanical. The regimentswung from a long straight line into companies, the door rolled open, and without a sound, except the monotonous pound of the regular tread, the regiment passed into the street. At the corner they turned sharply, and marched up a side street, so narrow that the ranks had to breaktheir lines to get within the curbs. So without sound of drum or musicthey passed through street after street. A regiment is thrilling when itparades to music: it is more so when it marches in silence. 

Presently it passed into a long tunnel, where the footfall echoed in astartling way. But as it neared the other end, a more startling soundcould be heard. It was a low murmur, as of many voices, and of voicesthat were not pleasant. Peter's wisdom in availing himself of theprotection and secrecy of the tunnel as an approach became obvious. 

A moment later, as the regiment debouched from the tunnel's mouth, thescene broke upon them. A vast crowd filled Fourth Avenue andForty-second Street. Filled even the cut of the entrance to the tunnel. An angry crowd, judging from the sounds. 

A sharp order passed down the ranks, and the many broad lines meltedinto a long-thin one again, even as the regiment went forward. It wasgreeted with yells, and bottles and bricks were hurled from above it, but the appearance of the regiment had taken the men too much bysurprise for them to do more. The head entered the mob, and seemed todisappear. More and more of the regiment was swallowed up. Finally, except to those who could trace the bright glint of the rifle-barrels, it seemed to have been submerged. Then even the rifles disappeared. Theregiment had passed through the crowd, and was within the station. Peterbreathed a sigh of relief. To march up Fifth Avenue, with empty guns, ina parade, between ten thousand admiring spectators is one thing. Tomarch between ten thousand angry strikers and their sympathizers, withball cartridges in the rifles, is quite another. It is all thedifference between smoking a cigar after dinner, and smoking one in apowder magazine. 

The regiment's task had only just begun, however. Peter had orders toclear the streets about the station. After a consultation with thepolice captain, the companies were told off, and filing out of thevarious doors, they began work. Peter had planned his debouchments so asto split the mob into sections, knowing that each fragment pushed backrendered the remainder less formidable. First a sally was made from theterminal station, and after two lines of troops had been thrown acrossForty-second Street, the second was ordered to advance. Thus a greattongue of the mob, which stretched towards Third Avenue, was pressedback, almost to that street, and held there, without a quarter of themob knowing that anything was being done. Then a similar operation wasrepeated on Forty-third Street and Forty-fourth Street, and possessionwas taken of Madison Avenue. Another wedge was driven into the mob and asection pushed along Forty-second, nearly to Fifth Avenue. Then what wasleft of the mob was pushed back from the front of the building down ParkAvenue. Again Peter breathed more freely. 

"I think the worst is done, " he told his officers. "Fortunately thecrowd did not expect us, and was not prepared to resist. If you can oncesplit a mob, so that it has no centre, and can't get together again, except by going round the block, you've taken the heart out of it"

As he said this a soldier came up, and saluting, said: "Captain Moriartyorders me to inform you that a committee of the strikers ask to see you, Colonel. "

Peter followed the messenger. He found a couple of sentries marking aline. On one side of this line sat or reclined Company D. And eightpolicemen. On the other stood a group of a dozen men, and back of them, the crowd. 

Peter passed the sentry line, and went up to the group. Three were thecommittee. The rest were the ubiquitous reporters. From the newspaperreport of one of the latter We quote the rest:

 "You wish to see me?" asked Colonel Stirling. 

 "Yes, Colonel, " said Chief Potter. "We are here to remonstrate with you. "

 "We've done nothing yet, " said Doggett, "and till we had, the troops oughtn't to have been called in. "

 "And now people say that the scabs are to be given a regimental escort to the depot, and will go to work at eight. "

 "We've been quiet till now, " growled a man in the crowd surlily, "but we won't stand the militia protecting the scabs and rats. "

 "Are you going to fight for the capitalist?" ask Kurfeldt, when Colonel Stirling stood silent. 

 "I am fighting no man's battle, Kurfeldt, " replied Colonel Stirling. "I am obeying orders. "

 The committee began to look anxious. 

 "You're no friend of the poor man, and you needn't pose any more, " shouted one of the crowd. 

 "Shut your mouth, " said Kurfeldt to the crowd. "Colonel Stirling, " he continued, "we know you're our friend. But you can't stay so if you fight labor. Take your choice. Be the rich man's servant, or our friend. "

 "I know neither rich man nor poor man in this, " Colonel Stirling said. "I know only the law. "

 "You'll let the scabs go on?"

 "I know no such class. If I find any man doing what the law allows him to do, I shall not interfere. But I shall preserve order. "

 "Will you order your men to fire on us?"

 "If you break the laws. "

 "Do it at your peril, " cried Potter angrily. "For every shot your regiment fires, you'll lose a thousand votes on election day. "

 Colonel Stirling turned on him, his face blazing with scorn. "Votes, " he cried. "Do you think I would weigh votes at such a time? There is no sacrifice I would not make, rather than give the order that ends a human life; and you think that paper ballots can influence my action? Votes compared to men's lives!"

 "Oh, " cried Doggett, "don't come the heavy nobility racket on us. We are here for business. Votes is votes, and you needn't pretend you don't think so. "

 Colonel Stirling was silent for a moment. Then he said calmly: "I am here to do my duty, not to win votes. There are not votes enough in this country to make me do more or less. "

 "Hear him talk, " jeered one of the crowd, "and he touting round the saloons to get votes. "

 The crowd jeered and hissed unpleasantly. 

 "Come, Colonel, " said Kurfeldt, "we know you're after votes this year, and know too much to drive them away. You ain't goin' to lose fifty thousand votes, helpin' scabs to take the bread away from us, only to see you and your party licked. "

 "No, " shouted a man in the crowd. "You don't dare monkey with votes!"

 Colonel Stirling turned and faced the crowd. "Do you want to know how much I care for votes, " he called, his head reared in the air. 

 "Speak up loud, sonny, " shouted a man far back in the mass, "we all want to hear. "

 Colonel Stirling's voice rang quite clear enough, "Votes be damned!" he said, and turning on his heel, strode back past the sentries. And the strikers knew the fate of their attempt to keep out the scabs. Colonel Stirling's "damn" had damned the strike as well as the votes. 

Dead silence fell on the committee and crowd. Even Company D. Lookedastounded. Finally, however, one of the committee said, "There's no goodwasting time here. " Then a reporter said to a confrère, "What a stunningheadline that will make?" Then the Captain of Company D. Got his mouthclosed enough to exclaim, "Oi always thought he could swear if he triedhard. Begobs, b'ys, it's proud av him we should be this day. Didn't heswear strong an' fine like? Howly hivens! it's a delight to hear damnsaid like that. "

For some reason that "swear-word" pleased New York and the countrygenerally, showing that even an oath has its purpose in this world, solong as it is properly used. Dean Swift said a lie "was too good to belavished about. " So it is of profanity. The crowd understood Peter'sremark as they would have understood nothing else. They understood thatbesides those rifles and bayonets there was something else not to betrifled with. So in this case, it was not wasted. 

And Mr. Bohlmann, Christian though he was, as he read his paper thatevening cried, "Och! Dod Beder Stirling he always does say chust derrighd ding!"

CHAPTER LVI. 

CUI BONO?

Of the further doings of that day it seems hardly necessary to write, for the papers recorded it with a fulness impossible here. The gatheringcrowds. The reinforcement of the militia. The clearing and holding ofForty-second Street to the river. The arrival of the three barge-loadsof "scabs. " Their march through that street to the station safely, though at every cross street greeted with a storm of stones and othermissiles. The struggle of the mob at the station to force back thetroops so as to get at the "rats. " The impact of the "thin line" andthat dense seething mass of enraged, crazed men. The yielding of thetroops from mere pressure. The order to the second rank to fix bayonets. The pushing back of the crowd once more. The crack of a revolver. Thenthe dozen shots fired almost simultaneously. The great surge of the mobforward. The quick order, and the rattle of guns, as they rose to theshoulder. Another order, and the sheet of flame. The great surge of themob backwards. Then silence. Silence in the ranks. Silence in the mob. Silence in those who lay on the ground between the two. 

Capital and Labor were disagreed as to a ten per cent reduction ofwages, and were trying to settle it. At first blush capital had the bestof it. "Only a few strikers and militia-men killed, " was the apparentresult of that struggle. The scabs were in safety inside the station, and trains were already making up, preparatory to a resumption oftraffic. But capital did not go scot-free. "Firing in the streets of NewYork, " was the word sent out all over the world, and on every exchangein the country, stocks fell. Capital paid twenty-five million dollarsthat day, for those few ounces of lead. Such a method of settlementseems rather crude and costly, for the last decade of the nineteenthcentury. 

Boys all over the city were quickly crying extras of the "Labor-party"organ, the first column of which was headed:

 BUTCHER STIRLING

 THE NOMINEE OF THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY

 SHOOTS DOWN UNARMED MEN

 IN

 COLD BLOOD. 

This was supplemented by inflammatory broadsides. Men stood up onfences, lamp-posts, or barrels, wherever they could get an audience, andshrieked out invectives against police, troops, government, andproperty; and waved red flags. Orders went out to embody more regiments. Timid people retired indoors, and bolted their shutters. The streetsbecame deserted, except where they were filled by groups of angry menlistening to angrier speakers. It was not a calm night in New York. 

Yet in reality, the condition was less serious, for representatives ofCapital, Labor, and Government were in consultation. Inside thestation, in the Directors' room of the railroad, its officials, acommittee of the strikers, and an officer in fatigue uniform, with aface to match, were seated in great leather-covered chairs, around alarge table. When they had first gathered, there had been dark brows, and every sentence had been like the blow of flint on steel. At onemoment all but the officer had risen from their seats, and the meetinghad seemed ended. But the officer had said something quietly, and oncemore they had seated themselves. Far into the night they sat, while mobsyelled, and sentries marched their beats. When the gathering ended, thescowls were gone. Civil partings were exchanged, and the committee andthe officer passed out together. 

"That Stirling is a gritty bull-dog for holding on, isn't he?" said oneof the railroad officials. "It's a regular surrender for us. "

"Yes, but we couldn't afford to be too obstinate with him, for he may bethe next governor. "

One of the committee said to the officer as they passed into the street, "Well, we've given up everything to the road, to please you. I hopeyou'll remember it when you're governor and we want things done. "

"Gentlemen, " said Peter, "for every surrender of opinion you and therailroad officials have made to-night, I thank you. But you should havecompromised twelve hours sooner. "

"So as you should not have had to make yourself unpopular?" askedKurfeldt. "You needn't be afraid. You've done your best for us. Nowwe'll do our best for you. "

"I was not thinking of myself. I was thinking of the dead, " said Peter. 

Peter sent a despatch to headquarters and went the rounds to see if allwas as it should be. Then spreading his blanket in the passengerwaiting-room, he fell asleep, not with a very happy look on the graveface. 

But the morning-papers announced that the strike was ended by acompromise, and New York and the country breathed easier. 

Peter did not get much sleep, for he was barely dreaming of--of astriker, who had destroyed his peace, by striking him in the heart witha pair of slate-colored eyes--when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He was on his feet before the disturber of his dreams could speak. 

"A despatch from headquarters, " said the man. 

Peter broke it open. It said:

"Take possession of Printing-house Square, and await further orders. " Inten minutes the regiment was tramping through the dark, silent streets, on its way to the new position. 

"I think we deserve a rest, " growled the Lieutenant-Colonel to Peter. 

"We shan't get it, " said Peter, "If there's anything hard to be done, weshall have it. " Then he smiled. "You'll have to have an understandinghereafter, before you make a man colonel, that he shan't run foroffice. "

"What are we in for now?"

"I can't say. To-day's the time of the parade and meeting in City HallPark. "

It was sunrise when the regiment drew up in the square facing the Park. It was a lovely morning, with no sign of trouble in sight, unless thebulletin boards of the newspapers, which were chiefly devoted to thedoings about the Central Station, could be taken as such. Except forthis, the regiment was the only indication that the universal peace hadnot come, and even this looked peaceful, as soon as it had settled downto hot coffee, bread and raw ham. 

In the park, however, was a suggestive sight. For not merely were allthe benches filled with sleeping men, but the steps of the City Hall, the grass, and even the hard asphalt pavement were besprinkled with adirty, ragged, hungry-looking lot of men, unlike those usually seen inthe streets of New York. When the regiment marched into the square, afew of the stragglers rose from their recumbent attitudes, and looked atit, without much love in their faces. As the regiment breakfasted, moreand more rose from their hard beds to their harder lives. They movedabout restlessly, as if waiting for something. Some gathered in littlegroups and listened to men who talked and shrieked far louder than wasnecessary in order that their listeners should hear. Some came to theedge of the street and cursed and vituperated the breakfasting regiment. Some sat on the ground and ate food which they produced from theirpockets or from paper bundles. It was not very tempting-looking food. Yet there were men in the crowd who looked longingly at it, and a fewscuffles occurred in attempts to get some. That crowd represented theslag and scum of the boiling pot of nineteenth-century conditions. Andas the flotsam on a river always centres at its eddies, so these haddrifted, from the country, and from the slums, to the centre of thewhirlpool of American life. Here they were waiting. Waiting for what?The future only would show. But each moment is a future, till it becomesthe present. 

While the regiment still breakfasted it became conscious of a monotonoussound, growing steadily in volume. Then came the tap of the drum, andthe regiment rose from a half-eaten meal, and lined up as if on parade. Several of the members remarked crossly: "Why couldn't they wait tenminutes?"

The next moment the head of another regiment swung from Chambers Streetinto the square. It was greeted by hisses and groans from the denizensof the park, but this lack of politeness was more than atoned for, bythe order: "Present arms, " passed down the immovable line awaiting it. After a return salute the commanding officers advanced and once moresaluted. 

"In obedience to orders from headquarters, I have the honor to report myregiment to you, Colonel Stirling, and await your orders, " said theofficer of the "visiting" regiment, evidently trying not to laugh. 

"Let your men break ranks, and breakfast, Major Rivington, " said Peter. In two minutes dandy and mick were mingled, exchanging experiences, asthey sliced meat off the same ham-bones and emptied the same crackerboxes. What was more, each was respecting and liking the other. Onetouch of danger is almost as efficacious as one touch of nature. It isnot the differences in men which make ill-feeling or want of sympathy, it is differences in conditions. 

In the mean time, Peter, Ray and Ogden had come together over theirgrub, much as if it was a legal rather than an illegal trouble to bedealt with. 

"Where were you?" asked Peter. 

"At the Sixty-third Street terminals, " said Ray. "We didn't have any funat all. As quiet as a cow. You always were lucky! Excuse me, Peter, Ioughtn't to have said it, " Ray continued, seeing Peter's face. "It'sthis wretched American trick of joking at everything. "

Ogden, to change the subject, asked: "Did you really say 'damn'?"

"Yes. "

"But I thought you disapproved of cuss words. "

"I do. But the crowd wouldn't believe that I was honest in my intentionto protect the substitutes. They thought I was too much of a politicianto dare to do it. So I swore, thinking they would understand that asthey would not anything else. I hoped it might save actual firing. Butthey became so enraged that they didn't care if we did shoot. "

Just then one of the crowd shrieked, "Down with the blood-suckers. On tofreedom. Freedom of life, of property, of food, of water, of air, ofland. Destroy the money power!"

"If we ever get to the freedom he wants, " said Ray, "we'll utilize thatchap for supplying free gas. "

"Splendid raw material for free soap, " said Ogden. 

"He's not the only one, " said Ray. "I haven't had a wash in nine hours, and salt meats are beginning to pall. "

"There are plenty of fellows out there will eat it for you, Ray, " saidPeter, "and plenty more who have not washed in weeks. "

"It's their own fault. "

"Yes. But if you burn or cut yourself, through ignorance, that doesn'tmake the pain any the less. "

"They don't look like a crowd which could give us trouble. "

"They are just the kind who can. They are men lifted off their commonsense, and therefore capable of thinking they can do anything, just asJohn Brown expected to conquer Virginia with forty men. "

"But there's no danger of their getting the upper hand. "

"No. Yet I wish we had orders to clear the Park now, while there arecomparatively few here, or else to go back to our armories, and let themhave their meeting in peace. Our being here will only excite them. "

"Hear that, " said Ray, as the crowd gave a great roar as anotherregiment came up Park Place, across the Park and spread out so as tocover Broadway. 

As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business. But manyseemed to have none, and drifted into the Park. Some idlers came fromcuriosity, but most seemed to have some purpose other than the merespectacle. From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twentystreets. As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking uppositions, lay at ease. There was something terrible about the quiet wayin which both crowd and troops increased. The mercury was not high, butit promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the car lines took offtheir cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The exchanges and thebanks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their example. New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced eachother. 

While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had beenyelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extractedhimself, and limped towards Peter. 

"Mr. Stirling, " he shouted, "come out from those murderers. I want totell you something. "

Peter went forward. "What is it, Podds?" he asked. 

Podds dropped his voice. "We're out for blood to-day. But I don't wantyours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here, quick. Hideyourself before the people rise in their might. "

Peter smiled sadly. "How are Mrs. Podds and the children?" he askedkindly. 

"What is a family at such a moment?" shrieked Podds. 

"The world is my family. I love the whole world, and I'm going torevolutionize it. I'm going to give every man his rights. The guttersshall reek with blood, and every plutocrat's castle shall be levelled tothe soil. But I'll spare you, for though you are one of the classes, it's your ignorance, not your disposition, that makes you one. Get awayfrom here. Get away before it's too late. "

Just then the sound of a horse's feet was heard, and a staff officercame cantering from a side street into the square. He saluted Peter andsaid, "Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamationforbidding the meeting and parade. General Canfield orders you to clearthe Park, by pushing the mob towards Broadway. The regiments have beendrawn in so as to leave a free passage down the side streets. "

"Don't try to move us a foot, " screamed Podds, "or there'll be blood. Weclaim the right of free meeting and free speech. "

Even as he spoke, the two regiments formed, stiffened, fixed bayonets, and moved forward, as if they were machines rather than two thousandmen. 

"Brethren, " yelled Podds, "the foot of the tyrant is on us. Rise. Risein your might. " Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of bayonetsclose upon him. He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing hisarms about Peter's neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his freearm. 

"Don't push me off, " shrieked Podds in his ear, "it's coming, " and heclung with desperate energy to Peter. 

Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and thewhole figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to sendPodds flying across the street. 

But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then theearth shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers, rose in the air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street. Into thatchasm a moment later, stones, rails, anarchists, and soldiers fell, leaving nothing but a thick cloud of overhanging dust. Underneath thatgreat dun pall lay soldier and anarchist, side by side, at last atpeace. The one died for his duty, the other died for his idea. The worldwas none the better, but went on unchanged. 

CHAPTER LVII

HAPPINESS

The evening on which Peter had left Grey-Court, Leonore had been moved"for sundry reasons" to go to her piano and sing an English balladentitled "Happiness. " She had sung it several times, and with gusto. 

The next morning she read the political part of the papers. "I don't seeanything to have taken him back, " she said "but I am really glad, for hewas getting hard to manage. I couldn't send him away, but now I hopehe'll stay there. " Then Leonore fluttered all day, in the true Newportstyle, with no apparent thought of her "friend. "

But something at a dinner that evening interested her. 

"I'm ashamed, " said the hostess, "of my shortage of men. Marlow wassummoned back to New York last night, by business, quite unexpectedly, and Mr. Dupont telegraphed me this afternoon that he was detainedthere. "

"It's curious, " said Dorothy. "Mr. Rivington and my brother came onTuesday expecting to stay for a week, but they had special deliveryletters yesterday, and both started for New York. They would not tell mewhat it was. "

"Mr. Stirling received a special delivery, too, " said Leonore, "andstarted at once. And he wouldn't tell. "

"How extraordinary!" said the hostess. "There must be something verygood at the roof-gardens. "

"It has something to do with headwears, " said Leonore, not hiding herlight under a bushel. 

"Headwear?" said a man. 

"Yes, " said Leonore. "I only had a glimpse of the heading, but I saw'Headwears N. G. S. N. Y. '"

A sudden silence fell, no one laughing at the mistake. 

"What's the matter?" asked Leonore. 

"We are wondering what will happen, " said the host, "if men go in forheadwear too. "

"They do that already, " said a man, "but unlike women, they do it on theinside, not the outside of the head. "

But nobody laughed, and the dinner seemed to drag from that moment. 

Leonore and Dorothy had come together, and as soon as they were in theircarriage, Leonore said, "What a dull dinner it was?"

"Oh, Leonore, " cried Dorothy, "don't talk about dinners. I've kept uptill now, bu--" and Dorothy's sentence melted into a sob. 

"Is it home, Mrs. Rivington?" asked the tiger, sublimely unconscious, asa good servant should be, of this dialogue, and of his mistress's tears. 

"No, Portman, the Club, " sobbed Dorothy. 

"Dorothy, " begged Leonore, "what is it?"

"Don't you understand?" sobbed Dorothy. "All this fearful anarchisttalk and discontent? And my poor, poor darling! Oh, don't talk to me. "Dorothy became inarticulate once more. 

"How foolish married women are!" thought Leonore, even while putting herarm around Dorothy, and trying blindly to comfort her. 

"Is it a message, Mrs. Rivington?" asked the man, opening thecarriage-door. 

"Ask for Mr. Melton, or Mr. Duer, and say Mrs. Rivington wishes to seeone of them. " Dorothy dried her eyes, and braced up. Before Leonore hadtime to demand an explanation, Peter's gentlemanly scoundrel was at thedoor. 

"What is it, Mrs. Rivington?" he asked. 

"Mr. Duer, is there any bad news from New York?"

"Yes. A great strike on the Central is on, and the troops have beencalled in to keep order. "

"Is that all the news?" asked Dorothy. 

"Yes. "

"Thank you, " said Dorothy. "Home, Portman. "

The two women were absolutely silent during the drive. But they kissedeach other in parting, not with the peck which women so often give eachother, but with a true kiss. And when Leonore, in crossing the porch, encountered the mastiff which Peter had given her, she stopped andkissed him too, very tenderly. What is more, she brought him inside, which was against the rules, and put him down before the fire. Then shetold the footman to bring her the evening-papers, and sitting down onthe rug by Bêtise, proceeded to search them, not now for the politicaloutlook, but for the labor troubles. Leonore suddenly awoke to the factthat there were such things as commercial depressions and unemployed. She read it all with the utmost care. She read the outpourings of theAnarchists, in a combination of indignation, amazement and fear, "Inever dreamed there could be such fearful wretches!" she said. There wasone man--a fellow named Podds--whom the paper reported as shrieking inUnion Square to a select audience:

 "Rise! Wipe from the face of the earth the money power! Kill! Kill! Only by blood atonement can we lead the way to better things. To a universal brotherhood of love. Down with rich men! Down with their paid hirelings, the troops! Blow them in pieces!"

"Oh!" cried Leonore shuddering. "It's fearful. I wish some one wouldblow you in pieces!" Thereby was she proving herself not unlike Podds. All humanity have something of the Anarchist in them. Then Leonoreturned to the mastiff and told him some things. Of how bad the strikerswere, and how terrible were the Anarchists. "Yes, dear, " she said, "Iwish we had them here, and then you could treat them as they deserve, wouldn't you, Bêtise? I'm so glad he has my luck-piece!"

A moment later her father and another man came into the hall from thestreet, compelling Leonore to assume a more proper attitude. 

"Hello, Dot!" said Watts. "Still up? Vaughan and I are going to have agame of billiards. Won't you score for us?"

"Yes, " said Leonore. 

"Bad news from New York, isn't it?" said Vaughan, nonchalantly, as hestood back after his first play. 

Leonore saw her father make a grimace at Vaughan, which Vaughan did notsee. She said, "What?"

"I missed, " said Watts. "Your turn, Will. "

"Tell me the news before you shoot?" said Leonore. 

"The collision of the strikers and the troops. "

"Was any one hurt?" asked Leonore, calmly scoring two to her father'scredit. 

"Yes. Eleven soldiers and twenty-two strikers. "

"What regiment was it?" asked Leonore. 

"Colonel Stirling's, " said Vaughan, making a brilliant _massé_. "Fortunately it's a Mick regiment, so we needn't worry over who waskilled. "

Leonore thought to herself: "You are as bad every bit as Podds!" Aloudshe said, "Did it say who were killed?"

"No. The dispatch only said fourteen dead. "

"That was a beautiful shot, " said Leonore. "You ought to run the gameout with that position. I think, papa, that I'll go to bed. I find I'm alittle tired. Good-night, Mr. Vaughan. " Leonore went upstairs, slowly, deep in thought. She did not ring for her maid. On the contrary she laydown on her bed in her dinner-gown, to its everlasting detriment. "Iknow he isn't hurt, " she said, "because I should feel it. But I wish thetelegram had said. " She hardly believed herself, apparently, for sheburied her head in the pillow, and began to sob quietly. "If I only hadsaid good-bye, " she moaned. 

Early the next morning Watts found Leonore in the hall. 

"How pale my Dot is!" he exclaimed. 

"I didn't sleep well, " said Leonore. 

"Aren't you going to ride with me?"

"No. I don't feel like it this morning, " said Leonore. 

As Watts left the hall, a servant entered it. 

"I had to wait, Miss D'Alloi, " he said. "No papers are for sale tilleight o'clock. "

Leonore took the newspaper silently and went to the library. Then sheopened it and looked at the first column. She read it hurriedly. 

"I knew he wasn't hurt, " she said, "because I would have felt it, andbecause he had my luck piece. " Then she stepped out of one of thewindows, called Bêtise to her, and putting her arms about his neck, kissed him. 

When the New York papers came things were even better, for they recordedthe end of the strike. Leonore even laughed over that big, big D. "Ican't imagine him getting so angry, " she said "He must have a temper, after all. " She sang a little, as she fixed the flowers in the vases, and one of the songs was "Happiness. " Nor did she snub a man who hintedat afternoon tea, as she had a poor unfortunate who suggested tennisearlier in the day. 

While they were sipping their tea, however, Watts came in from the club. 

"Helen, " he said, going to the bay window farthest from the tea-table, "come here I want to say something. "

They whispered for a moment, and then Mrs. D'Alloi came back to her tea. 

"Won't you have a cup, papa?" asked Leonore. 

"'Not to-day, dear, " said Watts, with an unusual tenderness in hisvoice. 

Leonore was raising a spoon to her mouth, but suddenly her hand trembleda little. After a glance at her father and mother, she pushed hertea-cup into the centre of the table as if she had finished it, thoughit had just been poured. Then she turned and began to talk and laughwith the caller. 

But the moment the visitor was out of the room, Leonore said:

"What is it, papa?"

Watts was standing by the fire. He hesitated. Then he groaned. Then hewent to the door. "Ask your mother, " he said, and went out of the room. 

"Mamma?" said Leonore. 

"Don't excite yourself, dear, " said her mother. "I'll tell youto-morrow. "

Leonore was on her feet. "No, " she said huskily, "tell me now. "

"Wait till we've had dinner. "

"Mamma, " cried Leonore, appealingly, "don't you see that--that--that Isuffer more by not knowing it? Tell me. "

"Oh, Leonore, " cried her mother, "don't look that way. I'll tell you;but don't look that way!"

"What?"

Mrs. D'Alloi put her arms about Leonore. "The Anarchists have exploded abomb. "

"Yes?" said Leonore. 

"And it killed a great many of the soldiers. "

"Not--?"

"Yes. "

"Thank you, mamma, " said Leonore. She unclasped her mother's arms, andwent towards the door. 

"Leonore, " cried her mother, "stay here with me, dear. "

"I'd rather be alone, " said Leonore, quietly. She went upstairs to herroom and sank down by an ottoman which stood in the middle of the floor. She sat silent and motionless, for over an hour, looking straight beforeher at nothing, as Peter had so often done. Is it harder to lose out oflife the man or woman whom one loves, or to see him or her happy in thelove of another. Is the hopelessness of the impossible less or greaterthan the hopelessness of the unattainable?

Finally Leonore rose, and touched her bell. When her maid came she said, "Get me my travelling dress. " Ten minutes later she came into thelibrary, saying to Watts. 

"Papa, I want you to take me to New York, by the first train. "

"Are you crazy, my darling?" cried Watts. "With riots and Anarchists allover the city. "

"I must go to New York, " said Leonore. "If you won't take me, I'll gowith madame. "

"Not for a moment--" began Watts. 

"Papa, " cried Leonore, "don't you see it's killing me? I can't bearit--" and Leonore stopped. 

"Yes, Watts, we must, " said Mrs. D'Alloi. 

Two hours later they were all three rolling towards New York. It was afive hours' ride, but Leonore sat the whole distance without speaking, or showing any consciousness of her surroundings. For every turn ofthose wheels seemed to fall into a rhythmic repetition of: "If I hadonly said 'good-bye. '"

The train was late in arriving, and Watts tried to induce Leonore to goto a hotel for the night. She only said "No. Take me to him, " but it wasin a voice which Watts could not disregard. So after a few questions atthe terminal, which produced no satisfactory information, Watts told thecabman to drive to the City Hall Park. 

They did not reach it, however, for at the corner of Centre Street andChambers, there came a cry of "halt, " and the cab had to stop. 

"You can't pass this line, " said the sentry. "You must go round byBroadway. "

"Why?" asked Watts. 

"The street is impassable. "

Watts got out, and held a whispered dialogue with the sentry. Thisresulted in the summoning of the officer of the watch. In the mean timeLeonore descended and joined them. Watts turned and said to her: "Thesentry says he's here. "

Presently an officer came up. 

"An' what do the likes av yez want at this time av night?" he inquiredcrossly. "Go away wid yez. "

"Oh, Captain Moriarty, " said Leonore, "won't you let me see him? I'mMiss D'Alloi. "

"Shure, " said Dennis, "yez oughtn't to be afther disturbin' him. It'stwo nights he's had no sleep. "

Leonore suddenly put her hand on Dennis's arm. "He's not killed?" shewhispered, as if she could not breathe, and the figure swayed a little. 

"Divil a bit! They got it wrong entirely. It was that dirty spalpeen ava Podds. "

"Are you sure?" said Leonore, pleadingly. "You are not deceiving me?"

"Begobs, " said Dennis, "do yez think Oi could stand here wid a dry eyeif he was dead?"

Leonore put her head on Dennis's shoulder, and began to sob softly. Fora moment Dennis looked aghast at the results of his speech, but suddenlyhis face changed. "Shure, " he whispered, "we all love him just likethat, an that's why the Blessed Virgin saved him for us. "

Then Leonore, with tears in her eyes, said, "I felt it, " in the mostjoyful of voices. A voice that had a whole _Te Deum_ in it. 

"Won't you let me see him?" she begged. "I won't wake him, I promiseyou. "

"That yez shall, " said Dennis. "Will yez take my arm?" The four passedwithin the lines. "Step careful, " he continued. "There's pavin' stones, and rails, and plate-glass everywheres. It looks like there'd been aprimary itself. "

All thought that was the best of jokes and laughed. They passed round agreat chasm in the street and sidewalk. Then they came to long rows ofbodies stretched on the grass, or rather what was left of the grass, inthe Park. Leonore shuddered. "Are they all dead?" she whispered. "Dead!Shurely not. It's the regiment sleepin', " she was told. They passedbetween these rows for a little distance. "This is him, " said Dennis, "sleepin' like a babby. " Dennis turned his back and began to describethe explosion to Mrs. D'Alloi and Watts. 

There, half covered with a blanket, wrapped in a regulation great coat, his head pillowed on a roll of newspapers, lay Peter. Leonore knelt downon the ground beside him, regardless of the proprieties or the damp. Shelistened to hear if he was breathing, and when she found that heactually was, her face had on it a little thanksgiving proclamation ofits own. Then with the prettiest of motherly manners, she softly pulledthe blanket up and tucked it in about his arms. Then she looked to seeif there was not something else to do. But there was nothing. So shemade more. "The poor dear oughtn't to sleep without something on hishead. He'll take cold. " She took her handkerchief and tried to fix it sothat it should protect Peter's head. She tried four different ways, anyone of which would have served; but each time she thought of a betterway, and had to try once more. She probably would have thought of afifth, if Peter had not suddenly opened his eyes. 

"Oh!" said Leonore, "what a shame? I've waked you up. And just as I hadfixed it right. "

Peter studied the situation calmly, without moving a muscle. He lookedat the kneeling figure for some time. Then he looked up at the arc lighta little distance away. Then he looked at the City Hall clock. Then hiseyes came back to Leonore. "Peter, " he said finally, "this is getting tobe a monomania. You must stop it. "

"What?" said Leonore, laughing at his manner as if it was intended as ajoke. 

Peter put out his hand and touched Leonore's dress. Then he rose quicklyto his feet. "What is the matter?" he asked. 

"Hello, " cried Watts. "Have you come to? Well. Here we are, you see. Allthe way from Newport to see you in fragments, only to be disappointed. Shake!"

Peter said nothing for a moment. But after he had shaken hands, he said, "It's very good of you to have thought of me. "

"Oh, " explained Leonore promptly, "I'm always anxious about my friends. Mamma will tell you I am. "

Peter turned to Leonore, who had retired behind her mother. "Suchfriends are worth having, " he said, with a strong emphasis on "friends. "

Then Leonore came out from behind her mother. "'How nice he's stupid, "she thought. "He is Peter Simple, after all. "

"Well, " said Watts, "'your friends are nearly dying with hunger and wantof sleep, so the best thing we can do, since we needn't hunt for you inscraps, is to go to the nearest hotel. Where is that?"

"You'll have to go uptown, " said Peter. "Nothing down here is open atthis time. "

"I'm not sleepy, " said Leonore, "but I am so hungry!"

"Serves you right for eating no din--" Watts started to say, but Leonoreinterjected, in an unusually loud voice. "Can't you get us something?"

"Nothing; that will do for you, I'm afraid, " said Peter. "I had Dennettsend up one of his coffee-boilers so that the men should have hot coffeethrough the night, and there's a sausage-roll man close to him who'sdoing a big business. But they'll hardly serve your purpose. "

"The very thing, " cried Watts. "What a lark!"

"I can eat anything, " said Leonore. 

So they went over to the stands. Peter's blanket was spread on thesidewalk, and three Newport swells, and the Democratic nominee forgovernor sat upon it, with their feet in the gutter, and drank half-beancoffee and ate hot sausage rolls, made all the hotter by the undueamount of mustard which the cook would put in. What is worse, theyenjoyed it as much as if it was the finest of dinners. Would not societyhave been scandalized had it known of their doings?

How true it is that happiness is in a mood rather than in a moment. Howeagerly we prepare for and pursue the fickle sprite, only to find ourpreparations and chase giving nothing but dullness, fatigue, and ennui. But then how often without exertion or warning, the sprite is upon us, and tinges the whole atmosphere. So it was at this moment, with two ofthe four. The coffee might have been all beans, and yet it would havebeen better than the best served in Viennese cafés. The rolls might havehad even a more weepy amount of mustard, and yet the burning and thetears would only have been the more of a joke. The sun came up, as theyate, talked and laughed, touching everything about them with gold, butit might have poured torrents, and the two would have been as happy. 

For Leonore was singing to herself: "He isn't dead. He isn't dead. "

And Peter was thinking: "She loves me. She must love me. "

CHAPTER LVIII. 

GIFTS. 

After the rolls and coffee had been finished, Peter walked with hisfriends to their cab. It had all been arranged that they were to go toPeter's quarters, and get some sleep. These were less than eight blocksaway, but the parting was very terrific! However, it had to be done, andso it was gone through with. Hard as it was, Peter had presence of mindenough to say, through the carriage window. 

"You had better take my room, Miss D'Alloi, for the spare room is thelargest. I give you the absolute freedom of it, minus the gold-box. Useanything you find. "

Then Peter went back to the chaotic street and the now breakfastingregiment, feeling that strikes, anarchists, and dynamite were only minorcircumstances in life. 

About noon Leonore came back to life, and succeeded in making a verybewitching toilet despite the absence of her maid. Whether she peepedinto any drawers or other places, is left to feminine readers to decide. If she did, she certainly had ample authority from Peter. 

This done she went into the study, and, after sticking her nose intosome of the window flowers, she started to go to the bookshelves. As shewalked her foot struck something which rang with a metallic sound, as itmoved on the wood floor. The next moment, a man started out of a deepchair. 

"Oh!" was all Leonore said. 

"I hope I didn't startle you. You must have kicked my sword. "

"I--I didn't know you were here!" Leonore eyed the door leading to thehall, as if she were planning for a sudden flight. 

"The regiment was relieved by another from Albany this morning. So Icame up here for a little sleep. "

"What a shame that I should have kept you out of your room, " saidLeonore, still eyeing the door. From Leonore's appearance, one wouldhave supposed that she had purloined something of value from hisquarters, and was meditating a sudden dash of escape with it. 

"I don't look at it in that light, " said Peter. "But since you'vefinished with the room for the moment, I'll borrow the use temporarily. Strikers and anarchists care so little for soap and water themselves, that they show no consideration to other people for those articles. "Peter passed through the doorway towards which Leonore had glanced. ThenLeonore's anxious look left her, and she no longer looked at the door. One would almost have inferred that Leonore was afraid of Peter, butthat is absurd, since they were such good friends, since Leonore hadcome all the way from Newport to see him, and since Leonore had decidedthat Peter must do as she pleased. 

Yet, curiously enough, when Peter returned in about twenty minutes, thesame look came into Leonore's face. 

"We shall have something to eat in ten minutes, " Peter said, "for I hearyour father and mother moving. "

Leonore looked towards the door. She did not intend that Peter shouldsee her do it, but he did. 

"Now what shall we do or talk about?" he said. "You know I am host andmustn't do anything my guests don't wish. "

Peter said this in the most matter-of-fact way, but Leonore, after alook from under her eyelashes at him, stopped thinking about the door. She went over to one of the window-seats. 

"Come and sit here by me, " she said, "and tell me everything about it. "

So Peter described "the war, and what they fought each other for, " aswell as he was able, for, despite his intentions, his mind would wanderas those eyes looked into his. 

"I am glad that Podds was blown to pieces!" said Leonore. 

"Don't say that. "

"Why?"

"Because it's one of those cases of a man of really good intentions, merely gone wrong. He was a horse-car driver, who got inflammatoryrheumatism by the exposure, and was discharged. He suffered fearfulpain, and saw his family suffer for bread. He grew bitter, and took upwith these wild theories, not having enough original brain force, oreducation, to see their folly. He believed firmly in them. So firmly, that when I tried to reason him out of them many years ago he came todespise me and ordered me out of his rooms. I had once done him aservice, and felt angered at what I thought ungrateful conduct, so Imade no attempt to keep up the friendliness. He knew yesterday thatdynamite was in the hands of some of those men, and tried to warn meaway. When I refused to go, he threw himself upon me, to protect me fromthe explosion. Nothing else saved my life. "

"Peter, will your regiment have to do anything more?"

"I don't think so. The dynamite has caused a reaction, and has drivenoff the soberer part of the mob. The pendulum, when it swings too far, always swings correspondingly far the other way. I must stay here for acouple of days, but then if I'm asked, I'll go back to Newport. "

"Papa and mamma want you, I'm sure, " said Leonore, glancing at the dooragain, after an entire forgetfulness. 

"Then I shall go, " said Peter, though longing to say something else. 

Leonore looked at him and said in the frankest way; "And I want youtoo. " That was the way she paid Peter for his forbearance. 

Then they all went up on the roof, where in one corner there were potsof flowers about a little table, over which was spread an awning. Overthat table, too, Jenifer had spread himself. How good that breakfastwas! What a glorious September day it was! How beautiful the view of thecity and the bay was! It was all so thoroughly satisfactory, that thethree nearly missed the "limited. " Of course Peter went to the stationwith them, and, short as was the time, he succeeded in obtaining for oneof the party, "all the comic papers, " "the latest novel, " a small basketof fruit, and a bunch of flowers, not one of which, with the exceptionof the latter, the real object of these attentions wanted in the least. 

Just here it is of value to record an interesting scientific discoveryof Leonore's, because women so rarely have made them. It was, that thedistance from New York to Newport is very much less than the distancefrom Newport to New York. 

Curiously enough, two days later, his journey seemed to Peter thelongest railroad ride he had ever taken. "His friend" did not meet himthis time. His friend felt that her trip to New York must be offsetbefore she could resume her proper self-respect. "He was very nice, " shehad said, in monologue, "about putting the trip down to friendship. Andhe was very nice that morning in his study. But I think his veryniceness is suspicious, and so I must be hard on him!" A woman'sreasoning is apt to seem defective, yet sometimes it solves problems nototherwise answerable. 

Leonore found her "hard" policy harder than she thought for. She toldPeter the first evening that she was going to a card-party. "I can'ttake you, " she said. 

"I shall be all the better for a long night's sleep, " said Peter, calmly. 

This was bad enough, but the next morning, as she was arranging theflowers, she remarked to some one who stood and watched her, "MissWinthrop is engaged. How foolish of a girl in her first season! Beforeshe's had any fun, to settle down to dull married life. "

She had a rose in her hand, prepared to revive Peter with it, in caseher speech was too much for one dose, but when she glanced at him, hewas smiling happily. 

"What is it?" asked Leonore, disapprovingly. 

"I beg your pardon, " said Peter. "I wasn't listening. Did you say MissWinthrop was married?"

"What were you smiling over?" said Leonore, in the same voice. 

"I was thinking of--of--. " Then Peter hesitated and laughed. 

"Of what?" asked Leonore. 

"You really mustn't ask me, " laughed Peter. 

"Of what were you thinking?"

"Of eyelashes, " confessed Peter. 

"It's terrible!" cogitated Leonore, "I can't snub him any more, try as Imay. "

In truth, Peter was not worrying any longer over what Leonore said ordid to him. He was merely enjoying her companionship. He was at onceabsolutely happy, and absolutely miserable. Happy in his hope. Miserablein its non-certainty. To make a paradox, he was confident that sheloved him, yet he was not sure. A man will be absolutely confident thata certain horse will win a race, or he will be certain that a profitwill accrue from a given business transaction. Yet, until the horse haswon, or the profit is actually made, he is not assured. So it was withPeter. He thought that he had but to speak, yet dared not do it. Thepresent was so certain, and the future might have such agonies. So fortwo days he merely followed Leonore about, enjoying her pretty ways andhardly heeding her snubs and petulance. He was very silent, and oftenabstracted, but his silence and abstraction brought no relief toLeonore, and only frightened her the more, for he hardly let her out ofhis sight, and the silent devotion and tenderness were so obvious thatLeonore felt how absolutely absurd was her pretence of unconsciousness. In his very "Miss D'Alloi" now, there was a tone in his voice and a lookin his face which really said the words: "My darling. " Leonore thoughtthis was a mean trick, of apparently sustaining the conventions ofsociety, while in reality outraging them horribly, but she was helplessto better his conduct. Twice unwittingly he even called her "Leonore"(as he had to himself for two months), thereby terribly disconcertingthe owner of that name. She wanted to catch him up and snub him eachtime, but she was losing her courage. She knew that she was walking on amine, and could not tell what chance word or deed of hers would bring anexplosion. "And then what can I say to him?" she asked. 

What she said was this:

Peter came downstairs the third evening of his stay "armed and equippedas the law directs" for a cotillion. In the large hallway, he foundLeonore, likewise in gala dress, resting her hand on the tall mantel ofthe hall, and looking down at the fire. Peter stopped on the landing toenjoy that pose. He went over every detail with deliberation. But girl, gown, and things in general, were much too tempting to make this distantglimpse over lengthy. So he descended to get a closer view. The posesaid nothing, and Peter strolled to the fire, and did likewise. But ifhe did not speak he more than made up for his silence with his eyes. 

Finally the pose said, "I suppose it's time we started?"

"Some one's got to speak, " the pose had decided. Evidently the pose feltuneasy under that silent gaze. 

"It's only a little past ten, " said Peter, who was quite satisfied withthe _status quo_. 

Then silence came again. After this had held for a few moments, the posesaid: "Do say something!"

"Something, " said Peter. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Unless you can be more entertaining, we might as well be sitting in thePurdies' dressing-rooms, as standing here. Suppose we go to the libraryand sit with mamma and papa?" Clearly the pose felt nervous. 

Peter did not like this idea. So he said: "I'll try to amuse you. Let metell you something very interesting to me. It's my birthday to-morrow. "

"Oh!" said Leonore. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Then I would havehad a gift for you. "

"That's what I was afraid of. "

"Don't you want me to give you something?"

"Yes. " Then Peter's hands trembled, and he seemed to have hard work inadding, "I want you to give me--a kiss. "

"Peter!" said Leonore, drawing back grieved and indignant. "I didn'tthink you would speak to me so. Of all men!"

"You mustn't think, " said Peter, "that I meant to pain you. "

"You have, " said Leonore, almost ready to cry. 

"Because, " said Peter, "that isn't what I meant. " Peter obviouslystruggled to find words to say what he did mean as he had neverstruggled over the knottiest of legal points, or the hardest ofwrestling matches. "If I thought you were a girl who would kiss a manfor the asking, I should not care for a kiss from you. " Peter strayedaway from the fire uneasily. "But I know you are not. " Peter gazedwildly round, as if the furnishings, of the hall might suggest the wordsfor which he was blindly groping. But they didn't, and after one or twohalf-begun sentences, he continued: "I haven't watched you, and dreamedabout you, and loved you, for all this time, without learning what youare. " Peter roamed about the great hall restlessly. "I know that yourlips will never give what your heart doesn't. " Then his face took adespairing look, and he continued quite rapidly: "I ask without muchhope. You are so lovely, while I--well I'm not a man women care for. I've tried to please you. Tried to please you so hard, that I may havedeceived you. I probably am what women say of me. But if I've beenotherwise with you it is because you are different from any other womanin the world. " Here the sudden flow of words ended, and Peter paced upand down, trying to find what to say. If any one had seen Peter as hepaced, without his present environment, he would have thought him a manmeditating suicide. Suddenly his voice and face became less wild, and hesaid tenderly: "There is no use in my telling you how I love you. Youknow it now, or will never learn it from anything I can say. " Peterstrode back to the fire. "It is my love which asks for a kiss. And Iwant it for the love you will give with it, if you can give it. "

Leonore had apparently kept her eyes on the blazing logs during thewhole of this monologue. But she must have seen something of Peter'suneasy wanderings about the room, for she had said to herself: "Poordear! He must be fearfully in earnest, I never knew him so restless. Heprowls just like a wild animal. "

A moment's silence came after Peter's return to the fire. Then he said:"Will you give it to me, Miss D'Alloi?" But his voice in truth, made thewords, "Give me what I ask, my darling. "

"Yes, " said Leonore softly. "On your birthday. " Then Leonore shrank backa little, as if afraid that her gift would be sought sooner. No younggirl, however much she loves a man, is quite ready for that first kiss. A man's lips upon her own are too contrary to her instinct and previoustraining to make them an unalloyed pleasure. The girl who is over-readyfor her lover's first kiss, has tasted the forbidden fruit already, orhas waited over-long for it. 

Peter saw the little shrinking and understood it. What was more, heheeded it as many men would not have done. Perhaps there was somethingselfish in his self-denial, for the purity and girlishness which itindicated were very dear to him, and he hated to lessen them by anythinghe did. He stood quietly by her, and merely said, "I needn't tell youhow happy I am!"

Leonore looked up into Peter's face. If Leonore had seen there any lackof desire to take her in his arms and kiss her, she would never haveforgiven him. But since his face showed beyond doubt that he was longingto do it, Leonore loved him all the better for his repression of self, out of regard for her. She slipped her little hand into Peter'sconfidingly, and said, "So am I. " It means a good deal when a girl doesnot wish to run away from her lover the moment after she has confessedher love. 

So they stood for some time, Leonore looking down into the fire, andPeter looking down at Leonore. 

Finally Peter said, "Will you do me a great favor?"

"No, " said Leonore, "I've done enough for one night. But you can tell mewhat it is. "

"Will you look up at me?"

"What for?" said Leonore, promptly looking up. 

"I want to see your eyes, " said Peter. 

"Why?" asked Leonore, promptly looking down again. 

"Well, " said Peter, "I've been dreaming all my life about some eyes, andI want to see what my dream is like in reality. "

"That's a very funny request, " said Leonore perversely. "You ought tohave found out about them long ago. The idea of any one falling in love, without knowing about the eyes!"

"But you show your eyes so little, " said Peter. "I've never had athoroughly satisfying look at them. "

"You look at them every time I look at you, " said Leonore. "Sometimes itwas very embarrassing. Just supposing that I showed them to you now, andthat you find they aren't what you like?"

"I never waste time discussing impossibilities, " said Peter. "Are yougoing to let me see them?"

"How long will it take?"

"I can tell better after I've seen them, " said Peter, astutely. 

"I don't think I have time this evening, " said Leonore, stillperversely, though smiling a look of contentment down into the fire. 

Peter said nothing for a moment, wishing to give Leonore's conscience achance to begin to prick. Then be ended the silence by saying: "If I hadanything that would give you pleasure, I wouldn't make you ask for ittwice. "

"That's--different, " said Leonore. "Still, I'll--well, look at them, "and Leonore lifted her eyes to Peter's half laughingly and half timidly. 

Peter studied those eyes in silence--studied them till Leonore, who didnot find that steady look altogether easy to bear, and yet was notwilling to confess herself stared out of countenance, asked: "Do youlike them?"

"Yes, " said Peter. 

"Is that all you can say? Other people have said very complimentarythings!" said Leonore, pretending to be grieved over the monosyllable, yet in reality delighting in its expressiveness as Peter said it. 

"I think, " said Peter, "that before I can tell you what I think of youreyes, we shall have to invent some new words. "

Leonore looked down again into the fire, smiling a satisfied smile. Peter looked down at that down-turned head, also with a satisfied smile. Then there was another long silence. Incidentally it is to be noted thatPeter still held the hand given him some time before. To use a pokerterm, Peter was standing "pat, " and wished no change. Once or twice thelittle hand had hinted that it had been held long enough, but Peter didnot think so, and the hand had concluded that it was safest to let wellalone. If it was too cruel It might rouse the sleeping lion which theowner of that hand knew to exist behind that firm, quiet face. 

Presently Peter put his unoccupied hand in his breast-pocket, andproduced a small sachet. "I did something twice, " he said, "that I havefelt very meanly about at times. Perhaps you'll forgive me now?" He tookfrom the sachet, a glove, and a small pocket-handkerchief, and without aword showed them to Leonore. 

Leonore looked at them. "That's the glove I lost at Mrs. Costell's, isn't it?" she asked gravely. 

Peter nodded his head. 

"And is that the handkerchief which disappeared in your rooms, at yoursecond dinner?"

Peter nodded his head. 

"And both times you helped me hunt for them?"

Peter nodded his head. He at last knew how prisoners felt when he wascross-examining them. 

"I knew you had them all the time, " said Leonore laughing. "It wasdreadfully funny to see you pretend to hunt, when the guilty look onyour own face was enough to show you had them. That's why I was sodetermined to find them. "

Peter knew how prisoners felt when the jury says, "Not guilty. "

"But how did the holes come in them?" said Leonore. "Do you have mice inyour room?" Leonore suddenly looked as worried as had Peter the momentbefore. 

Peter put his hand in the sachet, and produced a bent coin. "Look atthat, " he said. 

"Why, it's my luck-piece!" exclaimed Leonore. "And you've spoiled thattoo. What a careless boy!"

"No, " said Peter. "They are not spoiled to me. Do you know what cutthese holes and bent this coin?"

"What?"

"A bullet. "

"Peter!"

"Yes. Your luck-piece stopped it, or I shouldn't be here. "

"There, " said Leonore triumphantly, "I said you weren't hurt, when thenews of the shooting came, because I knew you had it. I was so glad youhad taken it!"

"I am going to give it back to you by and by, " said Peter. 

"I had rather that you should have it, " said Leonore. "I want you tohave my luck. "

"I shall have it just the same even after I've given it to you, " saidPeter. 

"How?"

"I'm going to have it made into a plain gold ring, " replied Peter, "andwhen I give it to you, I shall have all your luck. "

Then came a silence. 

Finally Peter said, "Will you please tell me what you meant by talkingabout five years!"

"Oh! Really, Peter, " Leonore hastened to explain, in an anxious way, asif Peter had charged her with murder or some other heinous crime. "I didthink so. I didn't find it out till--till that night. Really! Won't youbelieve me?"

Peter smiled. He could have believed anything. 

"Now, " he said, "I know at last what Anarchists are for. "

His ready acceptance of her statement made Leonore feel a slight prickof conscience. She said: "Well--Peter--I mean--that is--at least, I didsometimes think before then--that when I married, I'd marry you--but Ididn't think it would come so soon. Did you? I thought we'd wait. Itwould have been so much more sensible!"

"I've waited a long time, " said Peter. 

"Poor dear!" said Leonore, putting her other hand over Peter's, whichheld hers. 

Peter enjoyed this exquisite pleasure in silence for a time, but theenjoyment was too great not to be expressed So he said;

"I like your hands almost as much as your eyes. "

"That's very nice, " said Leonore. 

"And I like the way you say 'dear, '" said Peter. "Don't you want to sayit again?"

"No, I hate people who say the same thing twice. "

Then there was a long pause. 

"What poor things words are?" said Peter, at the end of it. 

"I know just what you mean, " said Leonore. 

Clearly they both meant what they said, for there came another absenceof words. How long the absence would have continued is a debatablepoint. Much too soon a door opened. 

"Hello!" said a voice. "Back already? What kind of an evening had you?"

"A very pleasant one, " said Peter, calmly, yet expressively. 

"Let go my hand, Peter, please, " a voice whispered imploringly. "Oh, please! I can't to-night. Oh, please!"

"Say 'dear, '" whispered Peter, meanly. 

"Please, dear, " said Leonore. Then Leonore went towards the stairshurriedly. 

"Not off already, Dot, surely?"

"Yes. I'm going to bed. "

"Come and have a cigar, Peter, " said Watts, walking towards the library. 

"In a moment, " said Peter. He went to the foot of the stairs and said, "Please, dear, " to the figure going up. 

"Well?" said the figure. 

Peter went up five steps. "Please, " he begged. 

"No, " said the figure, "but there is my hand. "

So Peter turned the little soft palm uppermost and kissed it Then heforgot the cigar and Watts. He went to his room, and thought of--of hisbirthday gift. 

CHAPTER LIX. 

"GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY. "

If Peter had roamed about the hall that evening, he was still morerestless the next morning. He was down early, though for no apparentreason, and did nothing but pass from hall to room, and room to hall, spending most of his time in the latter, however. 

How Leonore could have got from her room into the garden without Peter'sseeing her was a question which puzzled him not a little, when, by achance glance out of a window, he saw that personage clipping roses offthe bushes. He did not have time to spare, however, to reason out anexplanation. He merely stopped roaming, and went out to--to the roses. 

"Good-morning, " said Leonore pleasantly, though not looking at Peter, asshe continued her clipping. 

Peter did not say anything for a moment. Then he asked, "Is that all?"

"I don't know what you mean, " said Leonore, innocently. "Besides, someone might be looking out of a window. "

Peter calmly took hold of the basket to help Leonore sustain itsenormous weight. "Let me help you carry it, " he said. 

"Very well, " said Leonore. "But there's no occasion to carry my handtoo. I'm not decrepit. "

"I hoped I was helping you, " said Peter. 

"You are not. But you may carry the basket, since you want to holdsomething. "

"Very well, " said Peter meekly. 

"Do you know, " said Leonore, as she snipped, and dropped roses into thebasket, "you are not as obstinate as people say you are. "

"Don't deceive yourself on that score, " said Peter. 

"Well! I mean you are not absolutely determined to have your own way. "

"I never give up my own views, " said Peter, "unless I can see more to begained by so doing. To that extent I am not at all obstinate. "

"Suppose, " said Leonore, "that you go and cut the roses on thosefurthest bushes while I go in and arrange these?"

"Suppose, " said Peter calmly, and with an evident lack of enthusiasm. 

"Well. Will you?"

"No. "

"Why not?"

"The motion to adjourn, " said Peter, "is never debatable. "

"Do you know, " said Leonore, "that you are beginning very badly?"

"That is what I have thought ever since I joined you. "

"Then why don't you go away?"

"Why make bad, worse?"

"There, " said Leonore, "Your talking has made me cut my finger, almost. "

"Let me see, " said Peter, reaching out for her hand. 

"I'm too busy, " said Leonore. 

"Do you know, " said Peter, "that if you cut many more buds, you won'thave any more roses for a week. You've cut twice as many roses as youusually do. "

"Then I'll go in and arrange them. I wish you would give Bêtise a runacross the lawn. "

"I never run before breakfast, " said Peter. "Doctors say it's very bad. "

So he followed her in. Leonore became tremendously occupied in arrangingthe flowers, Peter became tremendously occupied in watching her. 

"You want to save one of those for me, " he said, presently. 

"Take one, " said Leonore. 

"My legal rule has been that I never take what I can get given me. Youcan't do less than pin it in my button-hole, considering that it is mybirthday. "

"If I have a duty to do, I always get through with it at once, " saidLeonore. She picked out a rose, arranged the leaves as only womankindcan, and, turning to Peter, pinned it in his button-hole. But when shewent to take her hands away, she found them held against the spot sofirmly that she could feel the heart-beats underneath. 

"Oh, please, " was all she said, appealingly, while Peter's rose seemedto reflect some of its color on her cheeks. 

"I don't want you to give it to me if you don't wish, " said Peter, simply. "But last night I sat up late thinking about it. All night Idreamed about it. When I waked up this morning, I was thinking about it. And I've thought about it ever since. I can wait, but I've waited solong!"

Then Leonore, with very red cheeks, and a very timid manner, held herlips up to Peter. 

"Still, " Leonore said presently, when again arranging of the roses, "since you've waited so long, you needn't have been so slow about itwhen you did get it. "

"I'm sorry I did it so badly, " said Peter, contritely. "I always wasslow! Let me try again?"

"No. "

"Then show me how?"

"No. "

"Now who's obstinate?" inquired Peter. 

"You, " said Leonore, promptly. "And I don't like it. "

"Oh, Leonore, " said Peter. "If you only knew how happy I am!"

Leonore forgot all about her charge of obstinacy. "So am I, " she said. "And I won't be obstinate any more. "

"Was that better?" Peter asked, presently. 

"No, " said Leonore. "That wouldn't have been possible. But you do takeso long! I shan't be able to give you more than one a day. It takes somuch time. "

"But then I shall have to be much slower about it. "

"Then I'll only give you one every other day. "

"Then I shall be so much the longer. "

"Yes, " sighed Leonore. "You are obstinate, after all!"

So they went on till breakfast was announced. Perhaps it was foolish. But they were happy in their foolishness, if such it was. It is notprofitable to write what they said. It is idle to write of the weekthat followed. To all others what they said and did could only be thesayings and doings of two very intolerable people. But to them it waswhat can never be told in words--and to them we will leave it. 

It was Leonore who put an end to this week. Each day that Peter lingeredbrought letter and telegraphic appeals to him from the party-leaders, over which Peter only laughed, and which he not infrequently failed evento answer. But Mr. Pell told Leonore something one day which made hersay to Peter later:

"Is it true that you promised to speak in New York on the fifteenth?"

"Yes. But I wrote Green last night saying I shan't. "

"And were you to have made a week of speeches through the State?"

"Yes. But I can't spare the time. "

"Yes, you can. You must leave to-morrow and make them. "

"I can't, " groaned Peter. 

"You must. "

"Who says so?"

"I do. Please, Peter? I so want to see you win. I shall never forgivemyself if I defeat you. "

"But a whole week, " groaned Peter. 

"We shall break up here on the eighteenth, and of course you would haveto leave a day sooner. So you'll not be any better off. "

"Well, " sighed Peter, "If I do as you want, will you give me the seven Ishall lose before I go. "

"Dear me, Peter, " sighed Leonore, "you oughtn't to ask them, since it'sfor your own sake. I can't keep you contented. You do nothing butencroach. "

"I should get them if I was here, " said Peter, "And one a day is littleenough! I think, if I oblige you by going away, I shouldn't be made tosuffer more than is necessary. "

"I'm going to call you Growley, " said Leonore, patting him on the cheek. Then she put her own against it. "Thank you, dear, " she said. "It's justas hard for me. "

So Peter buckled on his armor and descended into the arena. Whether hespoke well or ill, we leave it to those to say who care to turn back tothe files of the papers of that campaign. Perhaps, however, it may bewell to add that an entirely unbiassed person, after reading his openingspeeches, delivered in the Cooper Union and the Metropolitan OperaHouse, in New York City, wrote him: "It is libel to call youTaciturnity. They are splendid! How I wish I could hear you--and seeyou, dear. I'm very lonely, and so are Bêtise and Tawney-eye. We donothing but wander round the house all day, waiting for your letter, andthe papers. " Three thousand people in the Brooklyn Rink were keptwaiting for nearly ten minutes by Peter's perusal of that letter. Butwhen he had finished it, and had reached the Rink, he out-StirlingedStirling. A speaker nowadays speaks far more to the people absent thanto the people present. Peter did this that evening. He spoke, it istrue, to only one person that night, but it was the best speech of thecampaign. 

A week later, Peter rang the bell of the Fifty-seventh Street house. Hewas in riding costume, although he had not been riding. 

"Mr. And Mrs. D'Alloi are at breakfast, " he was informed. 

Peter rather hurriedly laid his hat and crop on the hall-table, and wentthrough the hall, but his hurry suddenly came to an end, when a younglady, carrying her napkin, added herself to the vista. "I knew it mustbe you, " she said, offering her hand very properly--(on what groundsLeonore surmised that a ring at the door-bell at nine o'clock meantPeter, history does not state)--"I wondered if you knew enough to cometo breakfast. Mamma sent me out to say that you are to come right in. "

Peter was rather longer over the handshake than convention demands, buthe asked very politely, "How are your father and--?" But just then thefootman closed a door behind him, and Peter's interest in parentssuddenly ceased. 

"How could you be so late?" said some one presently. "I watched out ofthe window for nearly an hour. "

"My train was late. The time-table on that road is simply a satire!"said Peter. Yet it is the best managed road in the country, and thisparticular train was only seven minutes overdue. 

"You have been to ride, though, " said Leonore. 

"No. I have an engagement to ride with a disagreeable girl afterbreakfast, so I dressed for it. "

"Suppose the disagreeable girl should break her engagement--or declarethere never was one?"

"She won't, " said Peter. "It may not have been put in the contract, butthe common law settles it beyond question. "

Leonore laughed a happy laugh. Then she asked: "For whom are thoseviolets?"

"I had to go to four places before I could get any at this season, " saidPeter. "Ugly girls are just troublesome enough to have preferences. Whatwill you give me for them?"

"Some of them, " said Leonore, and obtained the bunch. Who dares to sayafter that that women have no business ability nor shrewdness? It istrue that she kissed the fraction returned before putting it in Peter'sbutton-hole, which raises the question which had the best of thebargain. 

"I'm behind the curtain, so I can't see anything, " said a voice from adoorway, "and therefore you needn't jump; but I wish to inquire if youtwo want any breakfast?"

A few days later Peter again went up the steps of the Fifty-seventhStreet house. This practice was becoming habitual with Peter; in fact, so habitual that his cabby had said to him this very day, "The oldplace, sir?" Where Peter got the time it is difficult to understand, considering that his law practice was said to be large, and hispolitical occupations just at present not small. But that is immaterial. The simple fact that Peter went up the steps is the essential truth. 

From the steps, he passed into a door; from the door he passed into ahall; from a hall he passed into a room; from a room he passed into apair of arms. 

"Thank the Lord, you've come, " Watts remarked. "Leonore has up and downrefused to make the tea till you arrived. "

"I was at headquarters, and they would talk, talk, talk, " said Peter. "Iget out of patience with them. One would think the destinies of thehuman race depended on this campaign!"

"So the Growley should have his tea, " said a vision, now seated on thelounge at the tea-table. "Then Growley will feel better. "

"I'm doing that already, " said Growley, sitting down on the delightfullyshort lounge--now such a fashionable and deservedly popular drawing-roomarticle. "May I tell you how you can make me absolutely contented?"

"I suppose that will mean some favor from me, " said Leonore. "I don'tlike children who want to be bribed out of their bad temper. Nice littleboys are never bad-tempered. "

"I was only bad-tempered, " whispered Peter, "because I was kept frombeing with you. That's cause enough to make the best-tempered man in theuniverse murderous. "

"Well?" said Leonore, mollifying, "what is it this time?"

"I want you all to come down to my quarters this evening after dinner. I've received warning that I'm to be serenaded about nine o'clock, and Ithought you would like to hear it. "

"What fun, " cried Leonore. "Of course we'll go. Shall you speak?"

"No. We'll sit in my window-seats merely, and listen. "

"How many will there be?"

"It depends on the paper you read. The 'World' will probably say tenthousand, the 'Tribune' three thousand, and the 'Voice of Labor' 'ahandful. ' Oh! by the way, I brought you a 'Voice'. " He handed Leonore apaper, which he took from his pocket. 

Now this was simply shameful of him! Peter had found, whenever thepapers really abused him, that Leonore was doubly tender to him, themore, if he pretended that the attacks and abuse pained him. So hebrought her regularly now that organ of the Labor party which was mostvituperative of him, and looked sad over it just as long as waspossible, considering that Leonore was trying to comfort him. 

"Oh, dear!" said Leonore. "That dreadful paper. I can't bear to read it. Is it very bad to-day?"

"I haven't read it, " said Peter, smiling. "I never read--" then Petercoughed, suddenly looked sad, and continued--"the parts that do notspeak of me. " "That isn't a lie, " he told himself, "I don't read them. "But he felt guilty. Clearly Peter was losing his old-timestraightforwardness. 

"After its saying that you had deceived your clients into settling thosesuits against Mr. Bohlmann, upon his promise to help you in politics, Idon't believe they can say anything worse, " said Leonore, putting twolumps of sugar (with her fingers) into a cup of tea. Then she stirredthe tea, and tasted it. Then she touched the edge of the cup with herlips. "Is that right?" she asked, as she passed it to Peter. 

"Absolutely, " said Peter, looking the picture of bliss. But then heremembered that this wasn't his rôle, so he looked sad and said: "Thathurt me, I confess. It is so unkind. "

"Poor dear, " whispered a voice. "You shall have an extra one to-day, andyou shall take just as long as you want!"

Now, how could mortal man look grieved, even over an American newspaper, with that prospect in view? It is true that "one" is a very indefinitething. Perhaps Leonore merely meant another cup of tea. Whatever shemeant, Peter never learned, for, barely had he tasted his tea when thegirl on the lounge beside him gave a cry. She rose, and as she did so, some of the tea-things fell to the floor with a crash. 

"Leonore!" cried Peter. "What--"

"Peter!" cried Leonore. "Say it isn't so?" It was terrible to see thesuffering in her face and to hear the appeal in her voice. 

"My darling, " cried the mother, "what is the matter?"

"It can't be, " cried Leonore. "Mamma! Papa! Say it isn't so?"

"What, my darling?" said Peter, supporting the swaying figure. 

"This, " said Leonore, huskily, holding out the newspaper. 

Mrs. D'Alloi snatched it. One glance she gave it. "Oh, my poor darling!"she cried. "I ought not to have allowed it. Peter! Peter! Was not thestain great enough, but you must make my poor child suffer for it?" Sheshoved Peter away, and clasped Leonore wildly in her arms. 

"Mamma!" cried Leonore. "Don't talk so! Don't! I know he didn't! Hecouldn't!"

Peter caught up the paper. There in big head-lines was:

 SPEAK UP, STIRLING!

 * * * * *

 WHO IS THIS BOY?

 DETECTIVE PELTER FINDS A WARD UNKNOWN TO THE COURTS, AND EXPLANATIONS ARE IN ORDER FROM

 PURITY STIRLING. 

The rest of the article it is needless to quote. What it said was soworded as to convey everything vile by innuendo and inference, yet intruth saying nothing. 

"Oh, my darling!" continued Mrs. D'Alloi. "You have a right to kill mefor letting him come here after he had confessed it to me. But I--Oh, don't tremble so. Oh, Watts! We have killed her. "

Peter held the paper for a moment. Then he handed it to Watts. He onlysaid "Watts?" but it was a cry for help and mercy as terrible asLeonore's had been the moment before. 

"Of course, chum, " cried Watts. "Leonore, dear, it's all right. Youmustn't mind. Peter's a good man. Better than most of us. You mustn'tmind. "

"Don't, " cried Leonore. "Let me speak. Mamma, did Peter tell you it wasso?"

All were silent. 

"Mamma! Say something? Papa! Peter! Will nobody speak?"

"Leonore, " said Peter, "do not doubt me. Trust me and I will--"

"Tell me, " cried Leonore interrupting, "was this why you didn't come tosee us? Oh! I see it all! This is what mamma knew. This is what painedyou. And I thought it was your love for--!" Leonore screamed. 

"My darling, " cried Peter wildly, "don't look so. Don't speak--"

"Don't touch me, " cried Leonore. "Don't. Only go away. " Leonore threwherself upon the rug weeping. It was fearful the way those sobs shookher. 

"It can't be, " said Peter. "Watts! She is killing herself. "

But Watts had disappeared from the room. 

"Only go away, " cried Leonore. "That's all you can do now. There'snothing to be done. "

Peter leaned over and picked up the prostrate figure, and laid ittenderly on the sofa. Then he kissed the edge of her skirt. "Yes. That'sall I can do, " he said quietly. "Good-bye, sweetheart. I'll go away. " Helooked about as if bewildered, then passed from the room to the hall, from the hall to the door, from the door to the steps. He went downthem, staggering a little as if dizzy, and tried to walk towards theAvenue. Presently he ran into something. "Clumsy, " said a lady's voice. "I beg your pardon, " said Peter mechanically. A moment later he ran intosomething again. "I beg your pardon, " said Peter, and two well-dressedgirls laughed to see a bareheaded man apologize to a lamp-post. Hewalked on once more, but had not gone ten paces when a hand was restedon his shoulder. 

"Now then, my beauty, " said a voice. "You want to get a cab, or I shallhave to run you in. Where do you want to go?"

"I beg your pardon, " said Peter. 

"Come, " said the policeman shaking him, "where do you belong? My God!It's Mr. Stirling. Why, sir. What's the matter?"

"I think I've killed her, " said Peter. 

"He's awfully screwed, " ejaculated the policeman. "And him of all men!Nobody shall know. " He hailed a passing cab, and put Peter into it. Thenhe gave Peter's office address, and also got in. He was fined the nextday for being off his beat "without adequate reasons, " but he never toldwhere he had been. When they reached the building, he helped Peter intothe elevator. From there he helped him to his door. He rang the bell, but no answer came. It was past office-hours, and Jenifer having beentold that Peter would dine up-town, had departed on his own leave ofabsence. The policeman had already gone through Peter's pockets to getmoney for cabby, and now he repeated the operation, taking possessionof Peter's keys. He opened the door and, putting him into a deep chairin the study, laid the purse and keys on Peter's desk, writing on ascrap of paper with much difficulty: "mr. Stirling $2. 50 I took to paythe carriage. John Motty policeman 22 precinct, " he laid it beside thekeys and purse. Then he went back to his beat. 

And what was Peter doing all this time? Just what he now did. He triedto think, though each eye felt as if a red hot needle was burning in it. Presently he rose, and began to pace the floor, but he kept stumblingover the desk and chairs. As he stumbled he thought, sometimes tohimself, sometimes aloud: "If I could only think! I can't see. What wasit Dr. Pilcere said about her eyes? Or was it my eyes? Did he give mesome medicine? I can't remember. And it wouldn't help her. Why can't Ithink? What is this pain in her head and eyes? Why does everything lookso dark, except when those pains go through her head? They feel likeflashes of lightning, and then I can see. Why can't I think? Her eyesget in the way. He gave me something to put on them. But I can't give itto her. She told me to go away. To stop this agony! How she suffers. It's getting worse every moment. I can't remember about the medicine. There it comes again. Now I know. It's not lightning. It's thepetroleum! Be quick, boys. Can't you hear my darling scream? It'sterrible. If I could only think. What was it the French doctor said todo, if it came back? No. We want to get some rails. " Peter dashedhimself against a window. "Once more, men, together. Can't you hear herscream? Break down the door!" Peter caught up and hurled a pot offlowers at the window, and the glass shattered and fell to the floor andstreet "If I could see. But it's all dark. Are those lights? No. It'stoo late. I can't save her from it. "

So he wandered physically and mentally. Wandered till sounds of martialmusic came up through the broken window. "Fall in, " cried Peter. "TheAnarchists are after her. It's dynamite, not lightning. Podds, Don't letthem hurt her. Save her. Oh! save her I Why can't I get to her? Don'ttry to hold me, " he cried, as he came in contact with a chair. He caughtit up and hurled it across the room, so that it crashed into thepicture-frames, smashing chair and frames into fragments. "I can't bethe one to throw it, " he cried, in an agonized voice. "She's all I have. For years I've been so lonely. Don't I can't throw it. It kills me tosee her suffer. It wouldn't be so horrible if I hadn't done it myself. If I didn't love her so. But to blow her up myself. I can't. Men, willyou stand by me, and help me to save her?"

The band of music stopped. A moment's silence fell and then up from thestreet, came the air of: "Marching through Georgia, " five thousandvoices singing:

 "Rally round our party, boys; Rally to the blue, And battle for our candidate, So sterling and so true, Fight for honest government, boys, And down the vicious crew; Voting for freedom and Stirling. 

 "Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, brave and strong. Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, never wrong. And roll the voters up in line, Two hundred thousand strong; Voting for freedom and Stirling. "

"I can't fight so many. Two hundred thousand! I have no sword. I didn'tshoot them. No! I only gave the order. It hurt me, but I didn't mean tohurt her. She's all I have. Do you think I intended to kill her? No! Nosacrifice would be too great. And you can talk to me of votes! Twohundred thousand votes! I did my best for her. I didn't mean to hurther. And I went to see the families. I went to see them all. If I onlycould think. But she is suffering too much. I can't think as long as shelies on the rug, and trembles so. See the flashes of lightning passthrough her head. Don't bury your face in the rug. No wonder it's alldark. Try to think, and then it will be all right. "

Up from the street came the air of: "There were three crows, " and thewords:

 "Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth, Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth. Steven Maguire has schemed and schemed, But all his schemes will end in froth! And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah. And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah. 

 "For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth, For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth, For Peter Stirling elected will be And Steven Maguire will be in broth, And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah, And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah. "

"It's Steven Maguire. He never could be honest. If I had him here!"Peter came in contact with a chair. "Who's that? Ah! It's you. You'vekilled her. Now!" And another chair went flying across the room withsuch force, that the door to the hall flew off its hinges, and fell witha crash. "I've killed him" screamed Peter. "I've--No, I've killed mydarling. All I have in the world!"

And so he raved, and roamed, and stumbled, and fell; and rose, androamed, and raved, and stumbled, and fell, while the great torchlightprocession sang and cheered him from below. 

He was wildly fighting his pain still when two persons, who, afterringing and ringing, had finally been let in by Jenifer's key, stoodwhere the door had been. 

"My God, " cried one, in terror. "He's crazy! Come away!"

But the other, without a word or sign of fear, went up to thatwild-looking figure, and put her hand in his. 

Peter stopped his crazed stride. 

"I can't think, I tell you. I can't think as long as you lie there onthe rug. And your eyes blaze so. They feel just like balls of fire. "

"Please sit down, Peter. Please? For my sake. Here. Here is the chair. Please sit down. "

Peter sank back in the chair. "I tell you I can't think. They do nothingbut burn. It's the petroleum!" He started forward, but a slender armarrested his attempt to rise, and he sank back again as if it had somepower over him. 

"Hyah, miss. Foh de lub ub heaben, put some ub dis yar on he eyes, " saidJenifer, who had appeared with a bottle, and was blubbering enough tosupply a whole whaling fleet. "De doctor he done give dis yar foh deAspic nerve. " Which is a dish that Jenifer must have invented himself, for it is not discoverable even on the fullest of menus. 

Leonore knelt in front of Peter, and, drenching her fingers with thewash, began rubbing it softly over his eyes. It has always been aproblem whether it was the remedy or the ends of those fingers whichtook those lines of suffering out of Peter's face and made him sitquietly in that chain Those having little faith in medicines, and muchfaith in a woman's hands, will opine the latter. Doctors will not. 

Sufficeth it to say, after ten minutes of this treatment, during whichPeter's face had slowly changed, first to a look of rest, and then toone which denoted eagerness, doubt and anxiety, but not pain, that hefinally put out his hands and took Leonore's. 

"You have come to me, " he said, "Has he told you?"

"Who? What?" asked Leonore. 

"You still think I could?" cried Peter. "Then why are you here?" Heopened his eyes wildly and would have risen, only Leonore was kneelingin front of the chair still. 

"Don't excite yourself, Peter, " begged Leonore. "We'll not talk of thatnow. Not till you are better. "

"What are you here for?" cried Peter. "Why did you come--?"

"Oh, please, Peter, be quiet. "

"Tell me, I will have it. " Peter was exciting himself, more fromLeonore's look than by what she said. 

"Oh, Peter. I made papa bring me--because--Oh! I wanted to ask you to dosomething. For my sake!"

"What is it?"

"I wanted to ask you, " sobbed Leonore, "to marry her. Then I shallalways think you were what I--I--have been loving, and not--" Leonorelaid her head down on his knee, and sobbed bitterly. 

Peter raised Leonore in his arms, and laid the little head on hisshoulder. 

"Dear one, " he said, "do you love me?"

"Yes, " sobbed Leonore. 

"And do you think I love you?"

"Yes. "

"Now look into your heart. Could you tell me a lie?"

"No. "

"Nor can I you. I am not the father of that boy, and I never wronged hismother. "

"But you told--" sobbed Leonore. 

"I lied to your mother, dear. "

"For what?" Leonore had lifted her head, and there was a look of hope inher eyes, as well as of doubt. 

"Because it was better at that time than the truth. But Watts will tellyou that I lied. "

"Papa?"

"Yes, Dot. Dear old Peter speaks the truth. "

"But if you lied to her, why not to me?"

"I can't lie to you, Leonore. I am telling you the truth. Won't youbelieve me?"

"I do, " cried Leonore. "I know you speak the truth. It's in your faceand voice. " And the next moment her arms were about Peter's neck, andher lips were on his. 

Just then some one in the "torchlight" shouted:

"What's the matter wid Stirling?"

And a thousand voices joyfully yelled;

"He's all right. "

And so was the crowd. 

CHAPTER LX. 

A CONUNDRUM. 

Mr. Pierce was preparing to talk. Usually Mr. Pierce was talking. Mr. Pierce had been talking already, but it had been to single listenersonly, and for quite a time in the last three hours Mr. Pierce had beencompelled to be silent. But at last Mr. Pierce believed his moment hadcome. Mr. Pierce thought he had an audience, and a plastic audience atthat. And these three circumstances in combination made Mr. Piercefairly bubbling with words. No longer would he have to waste hisprecious wit and wisdom, _tête-à-tête, _ or on himself. 

At first blush Mr. Pierce seemed right in his conjecture. Seated--intruth, collapsed, on chairs and lounges, in a disarranged anduntidy-looking drawing-room, were nearly twenty very tired-lookingpeople. The room looked as if there had just been a free fight there, and the people looked as if they had been the participants. But themultitude of flowers and the gay dresses proved beyond question thatsomething else had made the disorder of the room and had put thatexhausted look upon the faces. 

Experienced observers would have understood it at a glimpse. From thework and fatigues of this world, people had gathered for a littleenjoyment of what we call society. It is true that both the room and itsoccupants did not indicate that there had been much recreation. But, then, one can lay it down as an axiom that the people who work forpleasure are the hardest-working people in the world; and, as it is thatfor which society labors, this scene is but another proof that they getvery much fatigued over their pursuit of happiness and enjoyment, considering that they hunt for it in packs, and entirely exclude themost delicious intoxicant known--usually called oxygen--from their listof supplies from the caterer. Certainly this particular group did lookexhausted far beyond the speech-making point. But this, too, was adeception. These limp-looking individuals had only remained in thisdrawing-room for the sole purpose of "talking it over, " and Mr. Piercehad no walk-over before him. 

Mr. Pierce cleared his throat and remarked: "The development of marriagecustoms and ceremonies from primeval days is one of the most curiousand--"

"What a lovely wedding it has been!" said Dorothy, heaving a sigh offatigue and pleasure combined. 

"Wasn't it!" went up a chorus from the whole party, except Mr. Pierce, who looked eminently disgusted. 

"As I was remarking--" began Mr. Pierce again. 

"But the best part, " said Watts, who was lolling on one of the lounges, "was those 'sixt' ward presents. As Mr. Moriarty said; 'Begobs, it'shard it would be to find the equal av that tureen!' He was right! Itsequal for ugliness is inconceivable. "

"Yet the poor beggars spent eight hundred dollars on it" sighedLispenard, wearily. 

"Relative to the subject--" said Mr. Pierce. 

"And Leonore told me, " said a charmingly-dressed girl, "that she likedit better than any other present she had received. "

"Oh, she was more enthusiastic, " laughed Watts, "over all the 'sixt'ward and political presents than she was over what we gave her. Weweren't in it at all with the Micks. She has come out as much aworshipper of hoi-polloi as Peter. "

"I don't believe she cares a particle for them, " said our old friend, the gentlemanly scoundrel; "but she worships them because they worshiphim. "

"Well, " sighed Lispenard, "that's the way things go in life. There'sthat fellow gets worshipped by every one, from the Irish saloon-keeperup to Leonore. While look at me! I'm a clever, sweet-tempered, friendlysort of a chap, but nobody worships me. There isn't any one who gives asecond thought for yours truly. I seem good for nothing, except beingbest man to much luckier chaps. While look at Peter! He's won the loveof a lovely girl, who worships him to a degree simply inconceivable. Inever saw such idealization. "

"Then you haven't been watching Peter, " said Mrs. D'Alloi, who, as amother, had no intention of having it supposed that Leonore was not moreloved than loving. 

"Taking modern marriage as a basis--" said Mr. Pierce. 

"Oh, " laughed Dorothy, "there's no doubt they are a pair, and I'm veryproud of it, because I did it. "

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed Ray. 

"I did, " said Dorothy, "and my own husband is not the one to castreflection on my statement. "

"He's the only one who dares, " said Ogden. 

"Well, I did. Leonore would never have cared for such a silent, seriousman if I hadn't shown her that other women did, and--"

"Nonsense, " laughed Ogden. "It was Podds did it. Dynamite is famous forthe uncertainty of the direction in which it will expend its force, andin this case it blew in a circle, and carried Leonore's heart clear fromNewport to Peter. "

"Or, to put it scientifically, " said Lispenard, "along the line of leastresistance. "

"It seems to me that Peter was the one who did it, " said Le Grand. "Butof course, as a bachelor, I can't expect my opinion to be accepted. "

"No, " said Dorothy. "He nearly spoiled it by cheapening himself. No girlwill think a man is worth much who lets her tramp on him. "

"Still, " said Lispenard, "few girls can resist the flattery of beingtreated by a man as if she is the only woman worth considering in theworld, and Peter did that to an extent which was simply disgraceful. Itwas laughable to see the old hermit become social the moment sheappeared, and to see how his eyes and attention followed her. And hislearning to dance! That showed how things were. "

"He began long before any of you dreamed, " said Mrs. D'Alloi. "Didn'the, Watts?"

"Undoubtedly, " laughed Watts. "And so did she. I really think Leonoredid quite as much in her way, as Peter did. I never saw her treat anyone quite as she behaved to Peter from the very first. I remember hercoming in after her runaway, wild with enthusiasm over him, and sayingto me 'Oh, I'm so happy. I've got a new friend, and we are going to besuch friends always!'"

"That raises the same question, " laughed Ogden, "that the Irishman didabout the street-fight, when he asked 'Who throwed that last brickfirst?'"

"Really, if it didn't seem too absurd, " said Watts, "I should say theybegan it the moment they met. "

"I don't think that at all absurd, " said a gray-haired, refined lookingwoman who was the least collapsed of the group, or was perhaps so wellbred as to conceal her feelings. "I myself think it began before theyeven met. Leonore was half in love with Peter when she was in Europe, and Peter, though he knew nothing of her, was the kind of a man whoimagines an ideal and loves that. She happened to be his ideal. "

"Really, Miss De Voe, " said Mr. Pierce, "you must have misjudged him. Though Peter is now my grandson, I am still able to know what he is. Heis not at all the kind of man who allows himself to be controlled by anideal. "

"I do not feel that I have ever known Peter. He does not let peopleperceive what is underneath, " said Miss De Voe. "But of one thing I amsure. Nearly everything he does is done from sentiment. At heart he isan idealist. "

"Oh!" cried several. 

"That is a most singular statement, " said Mr. Pierce. "There is not aman I know who has less of the sentimental and ideal in him. An idealistis a man of dreams and romance. Peter is far too sensible a fellow tobe that. There is nothing heroic or romantic in him. "

"Nonsense, _Paternus_, " said Watts. "You don't know anything about theold chap. You've only seen him as a cool clever lawyer. If your olddefinition of romance is right: that it is 'Love, and the battle betweengood and evil, ' Peter has had more true romance than all the rest of usput together. "

"No, " said Mr. Pierce. "You have merely seen Peter in love, and so youall think he is romantic. He isn't. He is a cool man, who never actswithout weighing his actions, and therein has lain the secret of hissuccess. He calmly marks out his line of life, and, regardless ofeverything else, pursues it. He disregards everything not to hispurpose, and utilizes everything that serves. I predicted great successfor him many years ago when he was fresh from college, simply from astudy of his mental characteristics and I have proved myself a prophet. He has never made a slip, legally, politically, or socially. To use ayachting expression, he has 'made everything draw. ' An idealist, or aman of romance and fire and impulse could never succeed as he has done. It is his entire lack of feeling which has led to his success. Indeed--"

"I can't agree with you, " interrupted Dorothy, sitting up from hercollapse as if galvanized into life and speech by Mr. Pierce'smonologue. "You don't understand Peter. He is a man of great feeling. Think of that speech of his about those children! Think of his conductto his mother as long as she lived! Think of the goodness and kindnesshe showed to the poor! Why, Ray says he has refused case after case forwant of time in recent years, while doing work for people in his wardwhich was worth nothing. If--"

"They were worth votes, " interjected Mr. Pierce. 

"Look at his buying the Costell place in Westchester when Mr. Costelldied so poor, and giving it to Mrs. Costell, " continued Dorothy, warmingwith her subject. "Look at his going to those strikers' families, andarranging to help them. Were those things done for votes? If I couldonly tell you of something he once did for me, you would not say that hewas a man without feeling. "

"I have no doubt, " said Mr. Pierce blandly, "that he did many thingswhich, on their face, seemed admirable and to indicate feeling. But ifcarefully examined, they would be found to have been advantageous tohim. Any service he could have done to Mrs. Rivington surely did notharm him. His purchase of Costell's place pleased the political friendsof the dead leader. His aiding the strikers' families placated the men, and gained him praise from the press. I dislike greatly to oppose thisrose-colored view of Peter, but, from my own knowledge of the man, Imust. He is without feeling, and necessarily makes no mistakes, nor ishe led off from his own ambitions by sentiment of any kind. When we hadthat meeting with the strikers, he sat there, while all New York wasseething, with mobs and dead just outside the walls, as cool andimpassive as a machine. He was simply determined that we shouldcompromise, because his own interests demanded it, and he carried hispoint merely because he was the one cool man at that meeting. If he hadhad feeling he could not have been cool. That one incident shows thekey-note of his success. "

"And I say his strong sympathies and feeling were the key-note, "reiterated Dorothy. 

"I think, " said Pell, "that Peter's great success lay in his ability tomake friends. It was simply marvellous. I've seen it, over and overagain, both in politics and society. He never seemed to excite envy orbitterness. He had a way of doing things which made people like him. Every one he meets trusts him. Yet nobody understands him. So heinterests people, without exciting hostility. I've heard person afterperson say that he was an uninteresting, ordinary man, and yet nobodyever seemed to forget him. Every one of us feels, I am sure, that, asMiss De Voe says, he had within something he never showed people. I havenever been able to see why he did or did not do hundreds of things. Yetit always turned out that what he did was right. He makes me think ofthe Frenchwoman who said to her sister, 'I don't know why it is, sister, but I never meet any one who's always right but myself. '"

"You have hit it, " said Ogden Ogden, "and I can prove that you have byPeter's own explanation of his success. I spoke to him once of a rathercurious line of argument, as it seemed to me, which he was taking in acase, and he said: 'Ogden, I take that course because it is the wayJudge Potter's mind acts. If you want to convince yourself, take thearguments which do that best, but when you have to deal with judges orjuries, take the lines which fit their capacities. People talk about myunusual success in winning cases. It's simply because I am not certainthat my way and my argument are the only way and the only argument. I'vestudied the judges closely, so that I know what lines to take, and Ialways notice what seems to interest the jury most, in each case. But, more important than this study, is the fact that I can comprehend abouthow the average man will look at a certain thing. You see I am the sonof plain people. Then I am meeting all grades of mankind, and hearingwhat they say, and getting their points of view. I have never sat in acloset out of touch with the world and decided what is right for others, and then spent time trying to prove it to them. In other words, I havesucceeded, because I am merely the normal or average man, and therefoream understood by normal or average people, or by majorities, to put itin another way. '"

"But Mr. Stirling isn't a commonplace man, " said another of thecharmingly dressed girls. "He is very silent, and what he says isn't atall clever, but he's very unusual and interesting. "

"Nevertheless, " said Ogden, "I believe he was right. He has a way ofknowing what the majority of people think or feel about things. And thatis the secret of his success, and not his possession or lack offeeling. "

"You none of you have got at the true secret of Peter's success, " saidRay. "It was his wonderful capacity for work. To a lazy beggar likemyself it is marvellous. I've known that man to work from nine in themorning till one at night, merely stopping for meals. "

"Yet he did not seem an ambitious man, " said Le Grand. "He cared nothingfor social success, he never has accepted office till now, and he hasrefused over and over again law work which meant big money. "

"No, " said Ray. "Peter worked hard in law and politics. Yet he didn'twant office or money. He could more than once have been a judge, andCostell wanted him governor six years ago. He took the nomination thisyear against his own wishes. He cared as little for money or reputationin law, as he cared for society, and would compromise cases which wouldhave added greatly to his reputation if he had let them go to trial. Hemight have been worth double what he is to-day, if he had merelyinvested his money, instead of letting it lie in savings banks or trustcompanies. I've spoken about it repeatedly to him, but he only said thathe wasn't going to spend time taking care of money, for money ceased tobe valuable when it had to be taken care of; its sole use to him beingto have it take care of him. I think he worked for the sake of working. "

"That explains Peter, certainly. His one wish was to help others, " saidMiss De Voe. "He had no desire for reputation or money, and so did notcare to increase either. "

"And mark my words, " said Lispenard. "From this day, he'll set no limitto his endeavors to obtain both. "

"He can't work harder than he has to get political power, " said anusher. "Think of how anxious he must have been to get it, when he wouldspend so much time in the slums and saloons! He couldn't have liked themen he met there. "

"I've taken him to task about that, and told him he had no business towaste his time so, " said Ogden; "but he said that he was not taking careof other people's money or trying to build up a great business, and thatif he chose to curtail his practice, so as to have some time to work inpolitics, it was a matter of personal judgment. "

"I once asked Peter, " said Miss De Voe, "how he could bear, with histastes and feelings, to go into saloons, and spend so much time withpoliticians, and with the low, uneducated people of his district. Hesaid, 'That is my way of trying to do good, and it is made enjoyable tome by helping men over rough spots, or by preventing political wrong. Ihave taken the world and humanity as it is, and have done what I could, without stopping to criticise or weep over shortcomings and sins. Iadmire men who stand for noble impossibilities. But I have given my ownlife to the doing of small possibilities. I don't say the way is thebest. But it is my way, for I am a worker, not a preacher. And justbecause I have been willing to do things as the world is willing to havethem done, power and success have come to me to do more. ' I believe itwas because Peter had no wish for worldly success, that it came to him. "

"You are all wrong, " groaned Lispenard. "I love Peter as much as I lovemy own kin, with due apology to those of it who are present, but I mustsay that his whole career has been the worst case of sheer, downrightluck of which I ever saw or heard. "

"Luck!" exclaimed Dorothy. 

"Yes, luck!" said Lispenard. "Look at it. He starts in like all the restof us. And Miss Luck calls him in to look at a sick kitten die. Veryordinary occurrence that! Health-board report several hundred everyweek. But Miss Luck knew what she was about and called him in to justthe right kind of a kitten to make a big speech about. Thereupon hemakes it, blackguarding and wiping the floor up with a millionairebrewer. Does the brewer wait for his turn to get even with him? Not abit. Miss Luck takes a hand in and the brewer falls on Peter'sbreast-bone, and loves him ever afterwards. My cousin writes him, and hesnubs her. Does she annihilate him as she would have other men? No. MissLuck has arranged all that, and they become the best of friends. "

"Lispenard--" Miss De Voe started to interrupt indignantly, butLispenard continued, "Hold on till I finish. One at a time. Well. MissLuck gets him chosen to a convention by a fluke and Peter votes againstCostell's wishes. What happens? Costell promptly takes him up and pusheshim for all he's worth. He snubs society, and society concludes that aman who is more snubby and exclusive than itself must be a man tocultivate. He refuses to talk, and every one promptly says: 'Howinteresting he is!' He gets in the way of a dynamite bomb. Does it killhim? Certainly not. Miss Luck has put an old fool there, to protect him. He swears a bad word. Does it shock respectable people? No! Every onebreathes easier, and likes him the better. He enrages and shoots thestrikers. Does he lose votes? Not one. Miss Luck arranges that thedirectors shall yield things which they had sworn not to yield; and thestrikers are reconciled and print a card in praise of him. He runs foroffice. Do the other parties make a good fight of it? No. They promptlynominate a scoundrelly demagogue and a nonentity who thinks votes arewon by going about in shirtsleeves. So he is elected by the biggestplurality the State has ever given. Has Miss Luck done enough? No. Sheat once sets every one predicting that he'll get the presidentialnomination two years from now, if he cares for it. Be it friend orenemy, intentional or unintentional, every one with whom he comes incontact gives him a boost. While look at me! There isn't a soul who evergave me help. It's been pure, fire-with-your-eyes-shut luck. 

"Was this morning luck too?" asked a bridesmaid. 

"Absolutely, " sighed Lispenard. "And what luck! I always said that Peterwould never marry, because he would insist on taking women seriously, and because at heart he was afraid of them to a woeful degree, andshowed it in such a way, as simply to make women think he didn't likethem individually. But Miss Luck wouldn't allow that. Oh, no! Miss Luckisn't content even that Peter shall take his chance of getting a wife, with the rest of us. She's not going to have any accidents for him. Soshe takes the loveliest of girls and trots her all over Europe, so thatshe shan't have friends, or even know men well. She arranges too, thatthe young girl shall have her head filled with Peter by a lot ofadmiring women, who are determined to make him into a sad, unfortunatehero, instead of the successful man he is. A regular conspiracy todelude a young girl. Then before the girl has seen anything of theworld, she trots her over here. Does she introduce them at a dance, sothat Peter shall be awkward and silent? Not she! She puts him where helooks his best--on a horse. She starts the thing off romantically, sothat he begins on the most intimate footing, before another man has lefthis pasteboard. So he's way ahead of the pack when they open cry. Isthat enough? No! At the critical moment he is called to the aid of hiscountry. Gets lauded for his pluck. Gets blown up. Gets everything tomake a young girl worship him. Pure luck! It doesn't matter what Petersays or does. Miss Luck always arranges that it turn up the winningcard. "

"There is no luck in it, " cried Mr. Pierce. "It was all due to hisforesight and shrewdness. He plans things beforehand, and merely pressesthe button. Why, look at his marriage alone? Does he fall in love earlyin life, and hamper himself with a Miss Nobody? Not he! He waits tillhe has achieved a position where he can pick from the best, and then hedoes exactly that, if you'll pardon a doating grandfather's saying it. "

"Well, " said Watts, "we have all known Peter long enough to have foundout what he is, yet there seems to be a slight divergence of opinion. Are we fools, or is Peter a gay deceiver?"

"He is the most outspoken man I ever knew, " said Miss De Voe. 

"But he tells nothing, " said an usher. 

"Yes. He is absolutely silent, " said a bridesmaid. 

"Except when he's speechifying, " said Ray. 

"And Leonore says he talks and jokes a great deal, " said Watts. 

"I never knew any one who is deceiving herself so about a man, " saidDorothy. "It's terrible. What do you think she had the face to say to meto-day?"

"What?"

"She was speaking of their plans after returning from the weddingjourney, and she said: 'I am going to have Peter keep up his bachelorquarters. ' 'Does he say he'll do it?' I asked. 'I haven't spoken tohim, ' she replied, 'but of course he will. ' I said: 'Leonore, all womenthink they rule their husbands, but they don't in reality, and Peterwill be less ruled than any man I know. ' Then what do you think shesaid?"

"Don't keep us in suspense. "

"She said: 'None of you ever understood Peter. But I do. ' Think of it!From that little chit, who's known Peter half the number of months thatI've known him years!"

"I don't know, " sighed Lispenard. "I'm not prepared to say it isn't so. Indeed, after seeing Peter, who never seemed able to understand womentill this one appeared on the scene, develop into a regulation lover, Iam quite prepared to believe that every one knows more than I do. At thesame time, I can't afford to risk my reputation for discrimination andinsight over such a simple thing as Peter's character. You've all triedto say what Peter is. Now I'll tell you in two words and you'll all findyou are right, and you'll all find you are wrong. "

"You are as bad as Leonore, " cried Dorothy. 

"Well, " said Watts, "we are all listening. What is Peter?"

"He is an extreme type of a man far from uncommon in this country, yetwho has never been understood by foreigners, and by few Americans. "

"Well?"

"Peter is a practical idealist"

CHAPTER LXI. 

LEONORE'S THEORY. 

And how well had that "talk-it-over" group at the end of Peterswedding-day grasped his character? How clearly do we ever gain aninsight into the feelings and motives which induce conduct even in thosewhom we best know and love? Each had found something in Peter that noother had discovered. We speak of rose-colored glasses, and Shakespearewrote, "All things are yellow to a jaundiced eye. " When we take a bit ofblue glass, and place it with yellow, it becomes green. When we put itwith red, it becomes purple. Yet blue it is all the time. Is not eachperson responsible for the tint he seems to produce in others? Can weever learn that the thing is blue, and that the green or purple aspectis only the tinge which we ourselves help to give? Can we ever learnthat we love and are loved entirely as we give ourselves colors whichmay harmonize with those about us? That love, wins love; kindness, kindness; hate, hate. That just such elements as we give to theindividual, the individual gives back to us? That the sides we show arethe sides seen by the world. There were people who could truly believethat Peter was a ward boss; a frequenter of saloons; a drunkard; a liar;a swearer; a murderer, in intention, if not in act; a profligate; and acompromiser of many of his own strongest principles. Yet there werepeople who could, say other things of him. 

But more important than the opinion of Peter's friends, and of theworld, was the opinion of Peter's wife. Was she right in her theory thatshe was the only one who understood him? Or had she, as he had oncedone, reared an ideal, and given that ideal the love which she supposedshe was giving Peter? It is always a problem in love to say whether welove people most for the qualities they actually possess, or for thosewith which our own love endows them. Here was a young girl, inexperienced in world and men, joyfully sinking her own life in that ofa man whom, but a few months before, had been only a matter of hearsayto her. Yet she had apparently taken him, as women will, for better, forworse, till death, as trustfully as if he and men generally were asknowable as A B C, instead of as unknown as the algebraic X. Only oncehad she faltered in her trust of him, and then but for a moment. How farhad her love, and the sight of Peter's misery, led her blindly to renewthat trust? And would it hold? She had seen how little people thought ofthat scurrilous article, and how the decent papers had passed it overwithout a word. But she had also seen, the scandal harped upon bypartisans and noted that Peter failed to vindicate himself publicly, orvouchsafe an explanation to her. Had she taken Peter with trust ordoubt, knowledge or blindness?

Perhaps a conversation between the two, a week later, will answer thesequestions. It occurred on the deck of a vessel. Yet this parting glimpseof Peter is very different from that which introduced him. The vessel isnot drifting helplessly, but its great screw is whirling it towards theisland of Martinique, as if itself anxious to reach that fairy land offairy lands. Though the middle of November, the soft warmth of thetropics is in the air. Nor are the sea and sky now leaden. The first isturned into liquid gold by the phosphorescence, and the full moonsilvers everything else. Neither is Peter pacing the deck with lines ofpain and endurance on his face. He is up in the bow, where the vessel'sforefoot throws up the white foam in silver drops in the moonlight. Andhe does not look miserable. Anything but that. He is sitting on ananchor stock, with his back comfortably braced against the rail. Anotherperson is not far distant. What that person sits upon and leans againstis immaterial to the narrative. 

"Why don't you smoke?" asked that person. 

"I'm too happy, " said Peter, in a voice evidencing the truth of hiswords. 

"Will you if I bite off the end?" asked Eve, Jr. , placing temptationmost temptingly. 

"I like the idea exceedingly, " said Peter. "But my right arm is so verypleasantly placed that it objects to moving. "

"Don't move it. I know where they are. I even know about the matches. "And Peter sat calmly while his pockets were picked. He even seemed toenjoy the sensation of that small hand rummaging in his waistcoatpockets. "You see, dear, that I am learning your ways, " Leonorecontinued, in a tone of voice which suggested that that was the chiefend of woman. Perhaps it is. The Westminster catechism only tells us thechief end of man. 

"There. Now are you really happy?"

"I don't know anybody more so. "

"Then, dear, I want to talk with you. "

"The wish is reciprocal. But what have we been doing for six days?"

"We've been telling each other everything, just as we ought. But now Iwant to ask two favors, dear. "

"I don't think that's necessary. Just tell me what they are. "

"Yes. These favors are. Though I know you'll say 'yes. '"

"Well?"

"First. I want you always to keep your rooms just as they are?"

"Dear-heart, after our six weeks' trip, we must be in Albany for threeyears, and when we come back to New York, we'll have a house of course. "

"Yes. But I want you to keep the rooms just as they are, because I lovethem. I don't think I shall ever feel the same for any other place. Itwill be very convenient to have them whenever, we want to run down fromAlbany. And of course you must keep up with the ward. "

"But you don't suppose, after we are back in New-York, that I'll staydown there, with you uptown?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. Peter! How absurd you are! But I shall go downvery often. Sometimes we'll give little dinners to real friends. Andsometimes, when we want to get away from people, we'll dine by ourselvesand spend the night there. Then whenever you want to be at the saloonsor primaries we'll dine together there and I'll wait for you. And then Ithink I'll go down sometimes, when I'm shopping, and lunch with you. I'll promise not to bother you. You shall go back to your work, and I'llamuse myself with your flowers, and books, till you are ready to gouptown. Then we'll ride together. "

"Lispenard frightened me the other day, but you frighten me worse. "

"How?"

"He said you would be a much lovelier woman at thirty than you are now. "

"And that frightened you?" laughed Leonore. 

"Terribly. If you are that I shall have to give up law and politicsentirely, so as to see enough of you. "

"But what has that to do with my lunching with you?"

"Do you think I could work at law with you in the next room?"

"Don't you want me? I thought it was such a nice plan. "

"It is. If your other favor is like that I shan't know what to say. Ishall merely long for you to ask favors. "

"This is very different. Will you try to understand me?"

"I shan't misunderstand you, at all events. " Which was a crazy speechfor any man to make any woman. 

"Then, dear, I want to speak of that terrible time--only for a moment, dear. You mustn't think I don't believe what you said. I do! I do! Everyword of it, and to prove it to you I shall never speak of it again. Butwhen I've shown you that I trust you entirely, some stormy evening, whenwe've had the nicest little dinner together at your rooms, and I'vegiven you some coffee, and bitten your cigar for you, I shall put youdown before the fire, and sit down in your lap, as I am doing now, andput my arms about your neck so, and put my cheek so. And then I wantyou, without my asking to tell me why you told mamma that lie, and allabout it. "

"Dear-heart, " said Peter, "I cannot tell. I promised. "

"Oh, but that didn't include your wife, dear, of course. Besides, Peter, friends should tell each other everything. And we are the best offriends, aren't we?"

"And if I don't tell my dearest friend?"

"I shall never speak of it, Peter, but I know sometimes when I am bymyself I shall cry over it. Not because I doubt you, dear, but becauseyou won't give me your confidence. "

"Do you know, Dear-heart, that I can't bear the thought of your doingthat!"

"Of course not, dear. That's the reason I tell you. I knew you couldn'tbear it. "

"How did you know?"

"Because I understand you, dear. I know just what you are. I'm the onlyperson who does. "

"Tell me what I am. "

"I think, dear, that something once came into your life that made youvery miserable, and took away all your hope and ambition. So, instead oftrying to make a great position or fortune, you tried to do good toothers. You found that you could do the most good among the poor people, so you worked among them. Then you found that you needed money, so youworked hard to get that. Then you found that you could help most byworking in politics, so you did that. And you have tried to gain powerso as to increase your power for good. I know you haven't liked a greatdeal you have had to do. I know that you much prefer to sit before yourstudy fire and read than sit in saloons. I know that you would ratherkeep away from tricky people than to ask or take their help. But youhave sacrificed your own feelings and principles because you felt thatthey were not to be considered if you could help others. And, becausepeople have laughed at you or misunderstood, you have become silent andunsocial, except as you have believed your mixing with the world to benecessary to accomplish good. "

"What a little idealist we are!"

"Well, dear, that isn't all the little idealist has found out. She knowssomething else. She knows that all his life her ideal has been waitingand longing for some one who did understand him, so that he can tell herall his hopes and feelings, and that at last he has found her, and shewill try to make up for all the misery and sacrifice he has endured Sheknows, too, that he wants to tell her everything. You mustn't think, dear, that it was only prying which made me ask you so many questions. I--I really wasn't curious except to see if you would answer, for I feltthat you didn't tell other people your real thoughts and feelings, andso, whenever you told me, it was really getting you to say that youloved me. You wanted me to know what you really are. And that was why Iknew that you told me the truth that night. And that is the reason why Iknow that some day you will tell me about that lie. "

Peter, whatever he might think, did not deny the correctness ofLeonore's theories concerning his motives in the past or his conduct inthe future. He kissed the soft cheek so near him, tenderly, and said:

"I like your thoughts about me, dear one. "

"Of course you do, " said Leonore. "You said once that when you had afine subject it was always easy to make a fine speech. It's true, too, of thoughts, dear. "