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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Honorable Peter Stirling, by Paul Leicester Ford
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: The Honorable Peter Stirling
+       and What People Thought of Him
+
+Author: Paul Leicester Ford
+
+Release Date: December 30, 2004 [eBook #14532]
+[Most recently updated: January 28, 2022]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING ***
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING
+
+_and
+WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM_
+
+by
+PAUL LEICESTER FORD
+
+Stitt Publishing Company New York
+Henry Holt & Co.
+1894
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER I.
+CHAPTER II.
+CHAPTER III.
+CHAPTER IV.
+CHAPTER V.
+CHAPTER VI.
+CHAPTER VII.
+CHAPTER VIII.
+CHAPTER IX.
+CHAPTER X
+CHAPTER XI.
+CHAPTER XII.
+CHAPTER XIII.
+CHAPTER XIV.
+CHAPTER XV.
+CHAPTER XVI.
+CHAPTER XVII.
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+CHAPTER XIX.
+CHAPTER XX.
+CHAPTER XXI.
+CHAPTER XXII.
+CHAPTER XXIII
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+CHAPTER XXV.
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+CHAPTER XXX.
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+CHAPTER XL.
+CHAPTER XLI.
+CHAPTER XLII.
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+CHAPTER XLV.
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+CHAPTER L.
+CHAPTER LI.
+CHAPTER LII.
+CHAPTER LIII.
+CHAPTER LIV.
+CHAPTER LV.
+CHAPTER LVI.
+CHAPTER LVII
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+CHAPTER LIX.
+CHAPTER LX.
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+
+
+
+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 day
+that his proud mamma had given him a sweetmeat for a very inarticulate
+“goo” which she translated into “papa,” Mr. Pierce had found speech
+profitable. He had been able to talk his nurse into granting him every
+indulgence. He had talked his way through school and college. He had
+talked his wife into marrying him. He had talked himself to the head of
+a large financial institution. He had talked his admission into
+society. Conversationally, Mr. Pierce was a success. He could discuss
+Schopenhauer or cotillion favors; St. Paul, the apostle, or St. Paul,
+the railroad. He had cultivated the art as painstakingly as a
+professional musician. He had countless anecdotes, which he introduced
+to his auditors by a “that reminds me of.” He had endless quotations,
+with the quotation marks omitted. Finally he had an idea on every
+subject, 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. Conversation
+must take his course, or he would none of it. Generally he controlled.
+If an upstart endeavored to turn the subject, Mr. Pierce waited till
+the intruder had done speaking, and then quietly, but firmly would
+remark: “Relative to the subject we were discussing a moment ago—” If
+any one ventured to speak, even _sotto voce_, before Mr. Pierce had
+finished all he had to say, he would at once cease his monologue, wait
+till the interloper had finished, and then resume his lecture just
+where he had been interrupted. Only once had Mr. Pierce found this
+method to fail in quelling even the sturdiest of rivals. The
+recollection of that day is still a mortification to him. It had
+happened on the deck of an ocean steamer. For thirty minutes he had
+fought his antagonist bravely. Then, humbled and vanquished, he had
+sought the smoking-room, to moisten his parched throat, and solace his
+wounded spirit, with a star cocktail. He had 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 own
+way. Seated in the standing-room of a small yacht, were some eight
+people. With a leaden sky overhead, and a leaden sea about it, the boat
+gently rose and fell with the ground swell. Three miles away could be
+seen the flash-light marking the entrance to the harbor. But though
+slowly gathering clouds told that wind was coming, the yacht now lay
+becalmed, drifting with the ebb tide. The pleasure-seekers had been
+together all day, and were decidedly talked out. For the last hour they
+had been singing songs—always omitting Mr. Pierce, who never so trifled
+with his vocal organs. During this time he had been restless. At one
+point he had attempted to deliver his opinion on the relation of verse
+to music, but an unfeeling member of the party had struck up “John
+Brown’s Body,” and his lecture had ended, in the usual serial style, at
+the most interesting point, without even the promise of a “continuation
+in our next.” Finally, however, the singers had sung themselves hoarse
+in the damp night air, the last “Spanish Cavalier” had been safely
+restored to his inevitable true-love, and the sound of voices and banjo
+floated 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 and
+unromantic. Clearing his throat, quite as much to pre-empt the pause as
+to articulate the better, Mr. Pierce spoke:
+
+“That modern times are less romantic and interesting than bygone
+centuries is a fallacy. From time immemorial, love and the battle
+between evil and good are the two things which have given the world
+romance and interest. Every story, whether we find it in the myths of
+the East, the folklore of Europe, the poems of the Troubadours, or in
+our newspaper of this morning, is based on one or the other of these
+factors, or on both combined. Now it is a truism that love never played
+so 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 partial
+divorce from worldly and parental influences. Moreover the great battle
+of society, to crush wrong and elevate right, was never before so
+bravely fought, on so many fields, by so many people as to-day. But
+because our lovers and heroes no longer brag to the world of their
+doings; no longer stand in the moonlight, and sing of their ‘dering
+does,’ the world assumes that the days of tourneys and guitars were the
+only days of true love and noble deeds. Even our professed writers of
+romance join in the cry. ‘Draw life as it is,’ they say. ‘We find
+nothing in it but mediocrity, selfishness, and money-loving.’ By all
+means 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 a
+dinner of corned-beef and cabbage. But perhaps one of them at the same
+moment was fighting his way through smoke and flame, to save life at
+the risk of his own. Boiled dinner and burned firemen are equally true.
+Are they equally worthy of description? What would the age of chivalry
+be, if the chronicles had recorded only the brutality, filthiness and
+coarseness of their contemporaries? The wearing of underclothing
+unwashed till it fell to pieces; the utter lack of soap; the eating
+with fingers; the drunkenness and foul-mouthedness that drove women
+from the table at a certain point, and so inaugurated the custom, now
+continued merely as an excuse for a cigar? Some one said once that a
+man finds in a great city just the qualities he takes to it. That’s
+true of romance as well. Modern novelists don’t find beauty and
+nobility in life, because they don’t look for them. They predicate from
+their inner souls that 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 in a baron’s tower—braver battles, truer love,
+nobler sacrifices. Romance is 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 go through life look for the fine things—not for
+the despicable. It won’t make you any richer. It won’t make you famous.
+It won’t better you in a worldly way. But it will make your lives
+happier, for by the time you are my age, you’ll love humanity, and look
+upon the world and call it good. And you will have found romance enough
+to satisfy all longings for mediæval times.”
+
+“But, dear, one cannot imagine some people ever finding anything
+romantic in life,” said a voice, which, had it been translated into
+words would have said, “I know you are right, of course, and you will
+convince me at once, but in my present state of unenlightenment it
+seems to me that—” the voice, already low, became lower. “Now”—a
+moment’s hesitation—“there is—Peter Stirling.”
+
+“Exactly,” said Mr. Pierce. “That is a very case in point, and proves
+just what I’ve been saying. Peter is like the novelists of whom I’ve
+been talking. I don’t suppose we ought to blame him for it. What can
+you expect of a son of a mill-foreman, who lives the first sixteen
+years of his life in a mill-village? If his hereditary tendencies gave
+him a chance, 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 is developed and stimulated by art, music, literature, and
+contact with clever people. But a mill-village is one vast expanse of
+mediocrity and prosaicness, and it would take a bigger nature than
+Peter’s to recognize the beautiful in such a life. In truth, he is as
+limited, as exact, and as unimaginative as the machines of his own
+village. Peter has no romance in him; hence he will never find it, nor
+increase it in this world. This very case only proves my point; that to
+meet romance one must 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 dozen and never dream it. They would not interest him
+even if he did notice them. And I’ll prove it to you.” Mr. Pierce
+raised his voice. “We are discussing romance, Peter. Won’t you stop
+that unsocial tramp of yours long enough to give us your opinion on the
+subject?”
+
+A moment’s silence followed, and then a singularly clear voice, coming
+from the forward part of the yacht, replied: “I never read them, Mr.
+Pierce.”
+
+Mr. Pierce laughed quietly. “See,” he said, “that fellow never dreams
+of there being romance outside of novels. He is so prosaic that he is
+unconscious of anything bigger than his own little sphere of life.
+Peter may obtain what he wants in this world, for his desires will be
+of the kind to be won by work and money. But he will never be
+controlled by a great idea, nor be the hero of a true romance.”
+
+Steele once wrote that the only difference between the Catholic Church
+and the Church of England was, that the former was infallible and the
+latter never wrong. Mr. Pierce would hardly have claimed for himself
+either of these qualities. He was too accustomed in his business to
+writing, “E. and O.E.” above his initials, to put much faith in human
+dicta. But in the present instance he felt sure of what he said, and
+the little group clearly agreed. If they were right, this story is like
+that recounted in Mother Goose, which was ended before it was begun.
+But Mr. Pierce had said that romance is everywhere to those who have
+the spirit of it in them. Perhaps in this case the spirit was lacking
+in his judges—not in Peter Stirling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+APPEARANCES.
+
+
+The unconscious illustration of Mr. Pierce’s theory was pacing
+backwards and forwards on the narrow space between the cuddy-roof and
+the gunwale, which custom dignifies with the name of deck. Six strides
+forward and turn. Six strides aft and turn. That was the extent of the
+beat. Yet had Peter been on sentry duty, he could not have continued it
+more regularly or persistently. If he were walking off his supper, as
+most of those seated aft would have suggested, the performance was not
+particularly interesting. The limit and rapidity of the walk resembled
+the tramp of a confined animal, exercising its last meal. But when one
+stands in front of the lion’s cage, and sees that restless and tireless
+stride, one cannot but wonder how much of it is due to the last
+shin-bone, and how much to the wild and powerful nature under the tawny
+skin. The question occurs because the nature and antecedents of the
+lion are known. For this same reason the yachters were a unit in
+agreeing that Stirling’s unceasing walk was merely a digestive
+promenade. The problem was whether they were right? Or whether, to
+apply Mr. Pierce’s formula, they merely imposed their own frame of mind
+in place of Stirling’s, and decided, since their sole reason for
+walking at the moment would be entirely hygienic, that he too must be
+striding from the same cause?
+
+Dr. Holmes tells us that when James and Thomas converse there are
+really six talkers. First, James as James thinks he is, and Thomas as
+Thomas thinks he is. Second James as Thomas thinks him, and Thomas as
+James thinks him. Finally, there are James and Thomas as they really
+are. Since this is neither an autobiography nor an inspired story, the
+world’s view of Peter Stirling must be adopted without regard to its
+accuracy. And because this view was the sum of his past and personal,
+these elements must be computed before we can know on what the world
+based its conclusions concerning him.
+
+His story was as ordinary and prosaic as Mr. and Mrs. Pierce seemed to
+think his character. Neither riches nor poverty had put a shaping hand
+to it. The only child of his widowed mother, he had lived in one of the
+smaller manufacturing cities of New England a life such as falls to
+most lads. Unquestionably he had been rather more shielded from several
+forms of temptation than had most of his playmates, for his mother’s
+isolation had made him not merely her son, but very largely her
+companion. In certain ways this had tended to make him more manly than
+the average fellow of his age, but in others it had retarded his
+development; and this backwardness had been further accentuated by a
+deliberate mind, which hardly kept pace with his physical growth. His
+school record was fair: “Painstaking, but slow,” was the report in
+studies. “Exemplary,” in conduct. He was not a leader among the boys,
+but he was very generally liked. A characteristic fact, for good or
+bad, was that he had no enemies. From the clergyman to the “hired
+help,” everybody had a kind 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 girls
+of the High School never liked him. If they had been called upon for
+reasons, few could have given a tangible one. At their age, everything
+this world contains, be it the Falls of Niagara, or a stick of chewing
+gum, is positively or negatively “nice.” For some crime of commission
+or omission, Peter had been weighed and found wanting. “He isn’t nice,”
+was the universal verdict of the scholars who daily filed through the
+door, which the town selectmen, with the fine contempt of the narrow
+man for his unpaid “help,” had labelled, “For Females.” If they had
+said that he was “perfectly horrid,” there might have been a chance for
+him. But the subject was begun and ended with these three words. Such
+terseness in the sex was remarkable and would have deserved a
+psychological investigation had it been based on any apparent data. But
+women’s opinions are so largely a matter of instinct and feeling, and
+so little of judgment and induction, that an analysis of the mental
+processes of the hundred girls who had reached this one conclusion,
+would probably have revealed in each a different method of obtaining
+this product. The important point is to recognize this consensus of
+opinion, and to note its bearing on the development of the lad.
+
+That Peter could remain ignorant of this feeling was not conceivable.
+It puzzled 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 worst way. Had he avoided the girls persistently and obviously, he
+might have interested them intensely, for nothing is more difficult for
+a woman to understand than a woman-hater; and from the days of mother
+Eve the unknown is rumored to have had for her sex a powerful
+fascination. But he tried to win their friendship by humbleness and
+kindness, and so only made himself the more cheap in their eyes. “Fatty
+Peter,” as they jokingly called him, epitomized in two words their
+contempt of him.
+
+Nor did things mend when he went to Harvard. Neither his mother’s
+abilities nor his choice were able to secure for him an _entrée_ to the
+society which Cambridge and Boston dole out stintedly to certain
+privileged collegians. Every Friday afternoon he went home, to return
+by an early train Monday morning. In his first year it is to be
+questioned if he exchanged ten words with women whose names were known
+to him, except during these home-visits. That this could long continue,
+was impossible. In his second year he was several times taken by his
+chum, Watts D’Alloi, to call. But always with one result. Invariably
+Peter would be found talking to Mamma, or, better still, from his point
+of view, with Pater-familias, while Watts chatted with the presumptive
+attractions. Watts laughed at him always. Laughed still more when one
+of these calls resulted in a note, “requesting the pleasure” of Mr.
+Peter Stirling’s company to dinner. It was Watts who dictated the
+acceptance, helped Peter put the finishing touches to his toilet, and
+eventually landed him safely in Mrs. Purdie’s parlor. His description
+to the boys that night of what followed is worthy of quotation:
+
+“The old fellow shook hands with Mrs. P., O.K. Something was said about
+the weather, and then Mrs. P. said, ‘I’ll introduce you to the lady you
+are to take down, Mr. Stirling, but I shan’t let you talk to her before
+dinner. Look about you and take your choice of whom you would like to
+meet?’ Chum gave one agonized look round the room. There wasn’t a woman
+over 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 have
+done 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 as
+pleased as could be. Well, I don’t know how on earth he ever got
+through his introduction or how he ever reached the dining-room, for my
+inamorata 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 at
+chum, who was directly opposite, to see how he was getting on. Oh, you
+fellows would have died to see it! There he sat, looking straight out
+into vacancy, so plainly laboring for something to say that I nearly
+exploded. Twice he opened his lips to speak, and each time closed them
+again. The girl of course looked surprised, but she caught my eye, and
+entered into the joke, and we both waited for developments. Then she
+suddenly said to him, ‘Now let’s talk about something else.’ It was too
+much for me. I nearly choked. I don’t know what followed. Miss Jevons
+turned and asked me something. But when I looked again, I could see the
+perspiration standing on Peter’s forehead, while the conversation went
+by jerks and starts as if it was riding over a ploughed field. Miss
+Callender, whom he took in, told me afterwards that she had never had a
+harder evening’s work in her life. Nothing but ‘yeses’ and ‘noes’ to be
+got from him. She wouldn’t believe what I said of the old fellow.”
+
+Three or four such experiences ended Peter’s dining out. He was
+recognized as unavailable material. He received an occasional card to a
+reception or a dance, for anything in trousers passes muster for such
+functions. He always went when invited, and was most dutiful in the
+counter-calls. In fact, society was to him a duty which he discharged
+with the same plodding determination with which he did his day’s
+studies. He never dreamed of taking his social moments frivolously. He
+did not recognize that society is very much like a bee colony—stinging
+those who approached it shyly and quietly, but to be mastered by a bold
+beating of tin pans. He neither danced nor talked, and so he was
+shunted by the really pleasant girls and clever women, and passed his
+time with wall-flowers and unbearables, who, in their normal sourness,
+regarded and, perhaps, unconsciously made him feel, hardly to his
+encouragement, that his companionship was a sort of penance. If he had
+been asked, at the end of his senior year, what he thought of young
+women and society, he would probably have stigmatized them, as he
+himself had been formerly: “not nice.” All of which, again to apply Mr.
+Pierce’s theory, merely meant that the phases which his own
+characteristics had shown him, had re-acted on his own mind, and had
+led him to conclude that girls and society were equally unendurable.
+
+The condition was a dangerous one, and if psychology had its doctors
+they would have predicted a serious heart illness in store for him. How
+serious, would depend largely on whether the fever ran its natural
+course, or whether it was driven inwards by disappointment. If these
+doctors had ceased studying his mental condition and glanced at his
+physical appearance, they would have had double cause to shake their
+heads doubtingly.
+
+Peter was not good-looking. He was not even, in a sense, attractive. In
+spite of his taking work so hardly and life so seriously, he was
+entirely too stout. This gave a heaviness to his face that neutralized
+his really pleasant brown eyes and thick brown hair, which were his
+best features. Manly the face was, but, except when speaking in
+unconscious moments, dull and unstriking. A fellow three inches
+shorter, and two-thirds his weight would have been called tall. “Big”
+was the favorite adjective used in describing Peter, and big he was.
+Had he gone through college ten years later, he might have won
+unstinted fame and admiration as the full-back on the team, or stroke
+on the crew. In his time, athletics were but just obtaining, and were
+not yet approved of either by faculties or families. Shakespeare speaks
+of a tide in the affairs of men. Had Peter been born ten years later
+the probabilities are that his name would have been in all the papers,
+that he would have weighed fifty pounds less, have been cheered by
+thousands, have been the idol of his class, have been a hero, have
+married the first girl he loved (for heroes, curiously, either marry or
+die, but never remain bachelors) and would have—but as this is a tale
+of fact, we must not give rein to imagination. To come back to realism,
+Peter was a hero to nobody but his mother.
+
+Such was the man, who, two weeks after graduation from Harvard, was
+pacing up and down the deck of Mr. Pierce’s yacht, the “Sunrise,” as
+she drifted with the tide in Long Island Sound. Yet if his expression,
+as he walked, could for a moment have been revealed to those seated
+aft, the face that all thought dull and uninteresting would have
+riveted their attention, and set each one questioning whether there
+might not be something both heroic and romantic underneath. The set
+determination of his look can best be explained by telling what had
+given his face such rigid lines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+A CRAB CHAPTER.
+
+
+Mr. Pierce and those about him had clearly indicated by the
+conversation, or rather monologue, already recorded, that Peter was in
+a sense an odd number in the “Sunrise’s” complement of
+pleasure-seekers. Whether or no Mr. Pierce’s monologue also indicated
+that he was not a map who dealt in odd numbers, or showered hospitality
+on sons of mill-overseers, the fact was nevertheless true. “For value
+received,” or “I hereby promise to pay,” were favorite formulas of Mr.
+Pierce, and if not actually written in such invitations as he permitted
+his wife to write at his dictation to people whom he decided should be
+bidden to the Shrubberies, a longer or shorter time would develop the
+words, as if written in sympathetic ink. Yet Peter had had as pressing
+an invitation and as warm a welcome at Mr. Pierce’s country place as
+had any of the house-party ingathered during the first week of July.
+Clearly something made him of value to the owner of the Shrubberies.
+That something was his chum, Watts D’Alloi.
+
+Peter and Watts were such absolute contrasts that it seemed impossible
+that they could have an interest or sympathy, in common. Therefore they
+had become chums. A chance in their freshman year had brought them
+together. Watts, with the refined and delicate sense of humor abounding
+in collegians, had been concerned with sundry freshmen in an attempt to
+steal (or, in collegiate terms, “rag”) the chapel Bible, with a view to
+presenting it to some equally subtle humorists at Yale, expecting a
+similar courtesy in return from that college. Unfortunately for the
+joke, the college authorities had had the bad taste to guard against
+the annually attempted substitution. Two of the marauders were caught,
+while Watts 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
+his flight, and borrowed the latter’s coat, in which he reached his
+room without detection. Peter was caught by the pursuers, and summoned
+before the 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 it
+certain that he could not have been an offender. There was some talk of
+expelling him for aiding and abetting in the true culprit’s escape, and
+for refusing to tell who it was. Respect for his motives, however, and
+his unimpeachable record saved him from everything but an admonition
+from the president, which changed into a discussion of cotton printing
+before that august official had delivered half of his intended rebuke.
+People might not enthuse over Peter, but no one ever quarrelled with
+him. So the interview, after travelling from cotton prints to spring
+radishes, ended with a warm handshake, and a courteous suggestion that
+he come again when there should be no charges nor admonitions to go
+through with. Watts told him that he was a “devilish lucky” fellow to
+have 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’d never have known me.” Truly on such small chances do the greatest
+events of our life turn. Perhaps, could Peter have looked into the
+future, he would have avoided that corner. Perhaps, could he have
+looked even further, he would have found that in that chance lay the
+greatest happiness of his life. Who can tell, when the bitter comes,
+and we later see how we could have avoided it, what we should have
+encountered in its place? Who can tell, when sweet comes, how far it is
+sweetened by the bitterness that went before? Dodging the future in
+this world is a success equal to that of the old woman who triumphantly
+announced that she had borrowed money enough to pay all her debts.
+
+As a matter of course Watts was grateful for the timely assistance, and
+was not slow either to say or show it. He told his own set of fellows
+that he was “going to take that Stirling up and make him one of us,”
+and Watts had a remarkable way of doing what he chose. At first Peter
+did not respond to the overtures and insistance of the handsome,
+well-dressed, free-spending, New York swell. He was too conscious of
+the difference between himself and Watts’s set, to wish or seek
+identification with them. But no one who ever came under Watts’s
+influence could long stand out against his sunny face and frank manner,
+and so Peter eventually allowed himself to be “taken up.” Perhaps the
+resistance encountered only whetted Watts’s intention. He was certainly
+aided by Peter’s isolation. Whether the cause was single or multiple,
+Peter was soon in a set from which many a seemingly far more eligible
+fellow was debarred.
+
+Strangely enough, it did not change him perceptibly. He still plodded
+on conscientiously at his studies, despite laughter and attempts to
+drag him away from them. He still lived absolutely within the
+comfortable allowance that his mother gave him. He still remained the
+quiet, serious looking fellow of yore. The “gang,” as they styled
+themselves, called him “kill-joy,” “graveyard,” or “death’s head,” in
+their evening festivities, but Peter only puffed at his pipe
+good-naturedly, making no retort, and if the truth had really been
+spoken, not a man would have changed him a particle. His silence and
+seriousness added the dash of contrast needed to make the evening
+perfect. All joked him. The most popular verse in a class-song Watts
+wrote, was devoted to burlesquing his 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 never
+passed unnoticed.
+
+In Sophomore year, Watts, without quite knowing why, proposed that they
+should share rooms. Nor would he take Peter’s refusal, and eventually
+succeeded in reversing it.
+
+“I can’t afford your style of living,” Peter had said quietly, as his
+principal objection.
+
+“Oh, I’ll foot the bills for the fixings, so it shan’t cost you a cent
+more,” said Watts, and when Peter had finally been won over to give his
+assent, 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 of
+the gang, who promptly christened them “the hermitage,” and Peter had
+paid his half of the expense. And though he rarely had visitors of his
+own asking at the chambers, all cost of wine and tobacco was equally
+borne by him.
+
+The three succeeding years welded very strong bands round these two. It
+was natural that they should modify each other strongly, but in truth,
+as in most cases, when markedly different characteristics are brought
+in contact, the only effect was to accentuate each in his
+peculiarities. Peter dug at his books all the harder, by reason of
+Watts’s neglect of them. Watts became the more free-handed with his
+money because of Peter’s prudence. Watts talked more because of Peter’s
+silence, and Peter listened more because of Watts’s talk. Watts, it is
+true, tried to drag Peter into society, yet in truth, Peter was really
+left more alone than if he had been rooming with a less social fellow.
+Each had in truth become the complement of the other, and seemed as
+mutually necessary as the positive and negative wires in electricity.
+Peter, who had been taking the law lectures in addition to the regular
+academic course, and had spent his last two summers reading law in an
+attorney’s office, in his native town, taking the New York examination
+in the previous January, had striven to get Watts to do the same, with
+the ultimate intention 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
+the speeches and do the social end,” said Peter, making a rather long
+speech in the ardor of his wishes.
+
+Watts laughed. “I don’t know, old man. I rather fancy I shan’t do
+anything. To do something requires that one shall make up one’s mind
+what to do, and that’s such devilish hard work. I’ll wait till I’ve
+graduated, and had a chin with my governor about it Perhaps he’ll make
+up my mind for me, and so save my brain tissue. But anyway, you’ll come
+to 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, who
+had always prepared his lessons in a tenth part of the time it had
+taken Peter, buckled down in the last few weeks, and easily won an
+honorable mention. Peter had tried hard to win honors, but failed.
+
+“You did too much outside work, old man,” said Watts, who would
+cheerfully have given his own triumph to his friend. “If you want
+success in anything, you’ve got to sacrifice other things and
+concentrate on the object. The Mention’s really not worth the ink it’s
+written with, in my case, but I knew it would please mammy and pappy,
+so I put on steam, and got it. If I’d hitched on a lot of freight cars
+loaded with stuff that wouldn’t have told in Exams, I never could have
+been in on time.”
+
+Peter shook his head rather sadly. “You outclass me in brains, Watts,
+as much as you do in other things”
+
+“Nonsense,” said Watts. “I haven’t one quarter of your head. But my
+ancestors—here’s to the old coves—have been brain-culturing for three
+hundred years, while yours have been land-culturing; and of course my
+brain moves quicker and easier than yours. I take to a book, by
+hereditary 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, divided
+in mind by his wish to quote accurately, and his dislike of anything
+disrespectful, and then finished “to one’s mother.”
+
+“That’s the last person it’s needed for, chum,” replied Watts. “If
+there’s one person that doesn’t need the world’s or faculty’s opinion
+to prove one’s merit, it’s one’s dear, darling, doating, self-deluded
+and undisillusioned 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’s
+separation. I don’t see why you insist on starting in at once in New
+York? No one does any law business in the summertime. Why, I even think
+the 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 in
+great style.”
+
+“We’ve settled that once,” said Peter, who was evidently speaking
+journalistically, for he had done the settling.
+
+Watts said something in a half-articulate way, which certainly would
+have fired the blood of every dime museum-keeper in the country, had
+they been there to hear the conversation, for, as well as could be
+gathered from the mumbling, it related to a “pig-headed donkey” known
+of to the speaker. “I suppose you’ll be backing out of the Pierce
+affair yet,” he added, discontentedly.
+
+“No,” said Peter.
+
+“An invitation to Grey-Court is worth two of the Shrubberies. My mother
+knows only the right kind of people, while Mr. Pierce—”
+
+“Is to be our host,” interrupted Peter, but with no shade of correction
+in his voice.
+
+“Yes,” laughed Watts, “and he is a host. He’ll not let any one else get
+a word in edgewise. You are just the kind of talker he’ll like. Mark my
+word, he’ll be telling every one, before you’ve been two hours in the
+house, that you are a remarkably brilliant conversationalist.”
+
+“What will he say of you?” said Peter, in a sentence which he broke up
+into reasonable lengths by a couple of pulls at his pipe in the middle
+of it.
+
+“Mr. Pierce, chum,” replied Watts, with a look in his eyes which Peter
+had learned to associate with mischief on Watts’s part, “has too great
+an 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
+should have dared to ask an invitation for”—then Watts hesitated for a
+moment, seeing a half-surprised, half-anxious look come into Peter’s
+face, “for myself?” he continued.
+
+“Tell truth and shame the devil,” said Peter.
+
+Watts laughed. “Confound you! That’s what comes of letting even such a
+stupid old beggar as you learn to read one’s thoughts. It’s mighty
+ungrateful of you to use them against me. Yes. I did ask to have you
+included 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. I
+couldn’t do it in my name, and so Mr. Pierce told her to do it. They’re
+very land of me, old man, because my governor is the largest
+stockholder, and a director in Mr. P.’s bank, and I was told I could
+bring down some fellows next week for a few days’ jollity. I didn’t
+care to do that, but of course I wouldn’t have omitted you for any
+amount of ducats.”
+
+Which explanation solves the mystery of Peter’s presence at the
+Shrubberies. To understand his face we must trace the period between
+his arrival and the moment this story begins.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+BEGINNINGS.
+
+
+How far Watts was confining himself to facts in the foregoing dialogue
+is of no concern, for the only point of value was that Peter was
+invited, without regard to whether Watts first asked Mr. Pierce, or Mr.
+Pierce first asked Watts. A letter which the latter wrote to Miss
+Pierce, as soon as it was settled that Peter should go, is of more
+importance, 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 the
+train on June 29th, the effect of this letter was manifest. Watts was
+promptly bestowed on the front seat of the trap with Mr. Pierce, while
+Peter was quickly sitting beside a girl on the back seat. Of course an
+introduction had been made, but Peter had acquired a habit of not
+looking at girls, and as a consequence had yet to discover how far Miss
+Pierce came up to the pleasant word-sketch Watts had drawn of her.
+Indeed, Peter had looked longingly at the seat beside Mr. Pierce, and
+had attempted, in a very obvious manner, though one which seemed to him
+the essence of tact and most un-apparent, to have it assigned to him.
+But two people, far his superior in natural finesse and experience, had
+decided beforehand that he was to sit with Helen, and he could not
+resist their skilful manoeuvres. So he climbed into place, hoping that
+she wouldn’t talk, or if that was too much to expect, that at least
+Watts would half turn and help him through.
+
+Neither of these fitted, however, with Miss Pierce’s plans. She gave
+Peter a moment to fit comfortably into his seat, knowing that if she
+forced the running before he had done that, he would probably sit awry
+for the whole drive. Then: “I can’t tell you how pleased we all are
+over Watts’s success. We knew, of course, he could do it if he cared
+to, but he seemed to think the attempt hardly worth the making, and so
+we did not know if he would try.”
+
+Peter breathed more easily. She had not asked a question, and the
+intonation of the last sentence was such as left him to infer that it
+was not his turn to say something; which, Peter had noticed, was the
+way in which girls generally ended their remarks.
+
+“Oh, look at that absurd looking cow,” was her next remark, made before
+Peter had begun to worry over the pause.
+
+Peter looked at the cow and laughed. He would like to have laughed
+longer, for that would have used up time, but the moment he thought the
+laugh could be employed in place of conversation, the laugh failed.
+However, to be told to look at a cow required no rejoinder, so there
+was as yet no cause for anxiety.
+
+“We are very proud of our roads about here,” said Miss Pierce. “When we
+first bought they were very bad, but papa took the matter in hand and
+got them to build with a rock foundation, as they do in Europe.”
+
+Three subjects had been touched upon, and no answer or remark yet
+forced upon him. Peter thought of _rouge et noir_, and wondered what
+the odds were that he would be forced to say something by Miss Pierce’s
+next speech.
+
+“I like the New England roadside,” continued Miss Pierce, with an
+apparent relativeness to the last subject that delighted Peter, who was
+used by this time to much disconnection of conversation, and found not
+a little difficulty in shifting quickly from one topic to another.
+“There is a tangled finish about it that is very pleasant. And in
+August, when the golden-rod comes, I think it is glorious. It seems to
+me as if all the hot sunbeams of the summer had been gathered up
+in—excuse the expression—it’s a word of Watts’s—into ‘gobs’ of
+sunshine, and scattered along the roads and fields.”
+
+Peter wondered if the request to be excused called for a response, but
+concluded that it didn’t.
+
+“Papa told me the other day,” continued Miss Pierce, “that there were
+nineteen distinct varieties of golden-rod. I had never noticed that
+there were any differences.”
+
+Peter began to feel easy and comfortable. He made a mental note that
+Miss Pierce had a very sweet voice. It had never occurred to Peter
+before to notice if a girl had a pleasant voice. Now he distinctly
+remembered that several to whom he had talked—or rather who had talked
+to him—had not possessed that attraction.
+
+“Last year,” said Miss Pierce, “when Watts was here, we had a
+golden-rod party. We had the whole house decked with it, and yellow
+lamps on the lawn.”
+
+“He told me about it,” said Peter.
+
+“He really was the soul of it,” said Miss Pierce, “He wove himself a
+belt and chaplet of it and wore it all through the evening. He was so
+good-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 a
+question had been asked, or that he had answered it. He began to think
+that 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, after
+this self-approval. “And that reminds me that I must tell you about
+whom you meet to-day.” Then the next ten minutes were consumed in
+naming and describing the two fashionable New York girls and their
+brother, who made the party then assembled.
+
+During this time Peter’s eyes strayed from Watts’s shapely back, and
+took a furtive glance at Miss Pierce. He found that she was looking at
+him as she talked, but for some reason it did not alarm him, as such
+observation usually did. Before the guests were properly catalogued,
+Peter was looking into her eyes as she rambled on, and forgot that he
+was 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 or
+thought. It responded quickly too, to outside influence. Many a girl of
+more real beauty was less popular. People liked to talk to Miss Pierce,
+and many could not escape from saying more than they wished, impelled
+thereto by her ready sympathy. Then her eyes were really beautiful, and
+she 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 she
+talked to them, and for some reason people felt very well satisfied
+when she did.
+
+It had this effect upon Peter. As he looked down into the large gray
+eyes, really slate-color in their natural darkness, made the darker by
+the shadows of the long lashes, he entirely forgot place and
+circumstances; ceased to think whose turn it was to speak; even forgot
+to think whether he was enjoying the moment. In short he forgot himself
+and, 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 to
+himself 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 eight
+times, and laughed twice, in the half hour that was passed between the
+station and the Shrubberies’ gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+MINES AND COUNTER-MINES.
+
+
+The sight of the party on the veranda of the Shrubberies brought a
+return of self-consciousness to Peter, and he braced himself, as the
+trap slowed up, for the agony of formal greetings. If Miss Pierce had
+been a less sweet, sympathetic girl, she could hardly have kept from
+smiling at the way Peter’s face and figure stiffened, as the group came
+in sight. But Miss Pierce had decided, before she met Peter, that she
+should like him, and, moreover, that he was a man who needed help. Let
+any woman reach these conclusions about a man, and for some reason
+quite beyond logic or philosophy, he ceases to be ridiculous. So
+instead of smiling, she bridged over the awful greetings with feminine
+engineering skill quite equal to some great strategic movement in war.
+Peter was made to shake hands with Mrs. Pierce, but was called off to
+help Miss Pierce out of the carriage, before speech was necessary. Then
+a bundle was missing in the bottom of the carriage, and Mr. Pawling,
+the New York swell, was summoned to help Peter find it, the incident
+being seized upon to name the two to each other. Finally, he was
+introduced to the two girls, but, almost instantly, Watts and Peter
+were sent to their rooms; and Miss Pierce, nodding her head in a way
+which denoted satisfaction, remarked as she went to her own room,
+“Really, Helen, I don’t think it will be so very hard, after all. He’s
+very tractable.”
+
+As Peter came downstairs, before dinner, he speculated on whether he
+should be able to talk to Miss Pierce. He rather doubted from past
+experience, if such a result was attainable, seeing that there were two
+other men, who would of course endeavor to do the same. But strangely
+enough the two men were already seated by the New York girls, and a
+vacant chair was next that holding Miss Pierce. What was more, he was
+at once summoned to fill it, and in five minutes was again entirely
+unconscious of everything but the slate-colored eyes, looking so
+pleasantly into his. Then he took Miss Pierce in to dinner, and sat
+between her and her mother again becoming absorbed in the slate-colored
+eyes, which seemed quite willing to be absorbed. After dinner, too,
+when the women had succeeded the weed, Peter in someway found it very
+easy to settle 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, and thinking how well he had gone through the day. He had not
+made a single slip. 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 few hours, had been made easy for him by a
+woman’s tact.
+
+The following week was practically a continuation of this first day. In
+truth Peter was out of his element with the fashionables; Mr. Pierce
+did not choose to waste his power on him; and Mrs. Pierce, like the
+yielding, devoted wife she was, took her coloring from her husband.
+Watts had intended to look after him, but Watts played well on the
+piano, 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 aloud
+capitally, and, what was more, was ready at any or all times for any or
+all things. No man who can do half these had better intend seriously to
+do 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 July temperature makes Long Island Sound. Instinctively, Peter
+turned to Miss Pierce at every opportunity. He should have asked
+himself if the girl was really enjoying his company more than she did
+that of the other young people. Had he been to the manner born he would
+have known better than to force himself on a hostess, or to make his
+monopoly of a young girl so marked. But he was entirely oblivious of
+whether he was doing as he ought, conscious only that, for causes which
+he made no attempt to analyze, he was very happy when with her. For
+reasons best known to Miss Pierce, she allowed herself to be
+monopolized. She was even almost as devoted 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 not talkative, 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 on about 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 he seemed to need, and he
+needed a good deal. Watts jokingly said that “the moment 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 dual devotion.
+
+It was an experience full of danger to Peter. For the first time in his
+life he was seeing the really charming phases which a girl has at
+command. Attractive as these are to all men, they were trebly so to
+Peter, who had nothing to compare with them but the indifferent
+attitudes hitherto shown him by the maidens of his native town, and by
+the few Boston women who had been compelled to “endure” his society. If
+he had had more experience he would have merely thought Miss Pierce a
+girl with nice eyes, figure and manner. But as a single glass of wine
+is dangerous to the teetotaller, so this episode had an over-balancing
+influence on Peter, entirely out of proportion to its true value.
+Before the week was over he was seriously in love, and though his
+natural impassiveness and his entire lack of knowledge how to convey
+his feelings to Miss Pierce, prevented her from a suspicion of the
+fact, the more 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
+to her views that amazed and rather frightened Mrs. Pierce, till he
+continued: “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.
+“Peter is certainly neuter. I think one might say negative, without
+gross exaggeration. Still, I should hardly stop him. He finds enough
+difficulty in getting out an occasional remark without putting a
+stopper in him. Perhaps, though, I mistake your meaning, and you want
+Peter merely to stop here a little longer.”
+
+“I mean, dear,” replied Mrs. Pierce, with something like a tear in her
+voice, for she was sadly wanting in a sense of humor, and her husband’s
+jokes always half frightened her, and invariably made her feel inferior
+to him, “I mean his spending so much time with Helen. I’m afraid he’ll
+fall in love with her.”
+
+“My dear,” said Mr. Pierce, “you really should be a professional
+mind-reader. Your suggestion comes as an awful revelation to me. Just
+supposing he should—aye—just supposing he has, fallen in love with
+Helen!”
+
+“I really think he has,” said Mrs. Pierce, “though he is so different
+from most men, that I am not sure.”
+
+“Then by all means we must stop him. By the way, how does one stop a
+man’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 humidity just then. He therefore concluded that since his
+wit was taken seriously, he would try a bit of seriousness, as an
+antidote.
+
+“I don’t think there is any occasion to interfere. Whatever Peter does
+can make no difference, for it is perfectly evident that Helen is nice
+to him as a sort of duty, and, I rather suspect, to please Watts. So
+anything she may do will be a favor to him, while the fact that she is
+attractive 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
+think things can’t be going better. I was a little afraid of Mr.
+Pawling, and should have preferred to have him and his sisters later,
+but since it is policy to invite them and they could not come at any
+other time, it was a godsend to have sensible, dull old Peter to keep
+her busy. If he had been in the least dangerous, I should not have
+interfered, but I should have made him very ridiculous. That’s the way
+for parents to treat an ineligible man. Next week, when all are gone
+but Watts, he will have his time, 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
+delightful possibility supported by her husband’s.
+
+“I think,” said Mr. Pierce, “that the less we parents concern ourselves
+with love the better. If I have made opportunities for Helen and Watts
+to see something of each other, I have only done what was to their
+mutual interests. Any courtesy I have shown him is well enough
+accounted for on the ground of his father’s interest in my institution,
+without the assumption of any matrimonial intentions. However, I am not
+opposed to a marriage. Watts is the son of a very rich man of the best
+social position in New York, besides being a nice fellow in himself.
+Helen will make 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 it
+was best for their child to marry, and see that the young people saw
+just enough of each other, before they saw too much of the world, they
+could accomplish their purpose, provided they otherwise kept their
+finger out of the pot of love. There is a certain period in a man’s
+life when he must love something feminine, even if she’s as old as his
+grandmother. There is a certain period in a girl’s life when it is
+well-nigh impossible for her to say ‘no’ to a lover. He really only
+loves the sex, and she really loves the love and not the lover; but it
+is just as well, for the delusion lasts quite as long as the more
+personal love that comes later. And, being young, they need less
+breaking for double harness.”
+
+Mrs. Pierce winced. Most women do wince when a man really verges on his
+true conclusions concerning love in the abstract, however satisfactory
+his love in the concrete may be to them. “I am sure they love each
+other,” she affirmed.
+
+“Yes, I think they do,” replied Mr. Pierce. “But five years in the
+world before meeting would have possibly brought quite a different
+conclusion. And now, my dear, if we are not going to have the young
+people eloping in the yacht by themselves, we had better leave both the
+subject and the room, 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 for
+his native town, and the thought of this, in connection with other
+thoughts, drew stern lines on his face. His conclusions were something
+to 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 so
+little of each other. How could he know her and not love her? But it’s
+very fortunate for me, for I should stand no chance against him, even
+supposing 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 again
+till 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 three
+words 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 have
+your own way to make. You have no right to ask mother for more than the
+fifteen hundred she says you are to have as an allowance, for you know
+that if she gave you more, it would be only by scrimping herself. What
+is fifteen hundred a year to such a girl? Why, her father would think I
+was joking!”
+
+Then Peter looked out on the leaden waters and wished it was not
+cowardly to end the conflict by letting them close over him. The dark
+color made him think, however, of a pair of slate-colored eyes, so
+instead of jumping in, he repeated “I can’t wait” a few times, and
+walked with redoubled energy. Having stimulated himself thereby, he
+went on thinking.
+
+“She has been so kind to me that—no—she can’t care for me. But if
+she—if by chance—if—supposing she does! Why, the money is nothing. We
+can wait.”
+
+Peter repeated this last remark several times, clearly showing that he
+made a great distinction between “I can wait” and “We can wait.”
+Probably the same nice distinction has been made before, and lovers
+have good authority for the distinction, for many an editor’s public
+“We think” is the exact opposite of his private “I think.” Then Peter
+continued:
+
+“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 enjoy
+the prospect it conjured up. He saw Peter Stirling taking a fond
+farewell of a certain lady. He saw him entering the arena and
+struggling with the wild beasts, and of course conquering them. He saw
+the day when his successes would enable him to set up his own fireside.
+He saw that fireside made perfect by a pair of slate-colored eyes,
+which breakfast opposite him, follow him as he starts for his work, and
+greet him on his return. 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 such materials!
+
+From all this the fact can be gathered that Peter was really, despite
+his calm, sober nature, no more sensible in love matters than are other
+boys verging on twenty-one. He could not see that success in this love
+would be his greatest misfortune. That he could not but be distracted
+from his work. That he would almost certainly marry before he could
+well afford it, and thus overweight himself in his battle for success.
+He forgot prudence and common-sense, and that being what a lover
+usually does, he can hardly be blamed for it.
+
+Bump!
+
+Down came the air-castle. Home, fireside, and the slate-colored eyes
+dissolved into a wooden wharf. The dream was over.
+
+“Bear a hand here with these lunch-baskets, chum,” called Watts. “Make
+yourself useful as well as ornamental.”
+
+And so Peter’s solitary tramp ceased, and he was helping lunch-baskets
+and ladies to the wharf.
+
+But the tramp had brought results which were quickly to manifest
+themselves. 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’s liking.
+
+“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 more
+surprised 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 and
+given his reason for wishing it, in Miss Pierce’s hearing, Watts would
+have formed an instant conclusion as to what it meant, not far from the
+truth. But that a man should deliberately order another away, in the
+girl’s hearing, so that he might propose to her, was too great an
+absurdity for Watts to entertain for more than a second. He laughed,
+and said, “Go on yourself, if you don’t like the company.”
+
+“No,” said Peter. “I want you to go on.” Peter spoke quietly, but there
+was an inflexion in his singularly clear voice, which had more command
+in it than a much louder tone in others. Watts had learned to recognize
+it, and from past experience knew that Peter was not to be moved when
+he used it. But here the case was different. Hitherto he had been
+trying to make Peter do something. Now the boot was on the other leg,
+and Watts saw therein a chance for some fun. He therefore continued to
+stand still, 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
+the incident.
+
+“I think,” remarked Miss Pierce, “that I will leave you two to settle
+it, 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?” he
+thought to himself. Miss Pierce hesitated. She wanted to go, but
+something in Peter’s voice made it very difficult. “I had no idea he
+could speak so decidedly. He’s not so tractable as I thought. I think
+Watts ought to do what he asks. Though I don’t see why Mr. Stirling
+wants to send him away,” she said to herself.
+
+“Watts,” said Peter, “this is the last chance I shall really have to
+thank Miss Pierce, for I leave before breakfast to-morrow.”
+
+There was nothing appealing in the way it was said. It seemed a mere
+statement of a fact. Yet something in the voice gave it the character
+of a command.
+
+“’Nough said, chum,” said Watts, feeling a little cheap at his
+smallness in having tried to rob Peter of his farewell. The next moment
+he was rapidly overtaking the advance-party.
+
+By all conventions there should have been an embarrassing pause after
+this extraordinary colloquy, but there was not. When Peter decided to
+do a thing, he never faltered in the doing. If making love or declaring
+it had been a matter of directness and plain-speaking, Peter would have
+been a successful lover. But few girls are won by lovers who carry
+business methods and habits of speech into their courtship.
+
+“Miss Pierce,” said Peter, “I could not go without thanking you for
+your kindness to me. I shall never forget this week.”
+
+“I am so glad you have enjoyed it,” almost sang Miss Pierce, in her
+pleasure 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 a
+halt, in her surprise.
+
+“Yes,” replied Peter simply, but the monosyllable meant more than the
+strongest 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 telling
+it. Why shouldn’t one tell one’s love as soon as one feels it? It’s the
+finest thing a man can tell a woman.”
+
+“Oh, please don’t,” begged Miss Pierce, her eyes full of tears in
+sympathy for him. “You make it so hard for me to say that—that you
+mustn’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 last
+speech. “Girls have never liked me.”
+
+Miss Pierce began to sob. “It’s all a mistake. A dreadful mistake,” she
+cried, “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 to
+the 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 shall
+not——”
+
+“There is,” interrupted Miss Pierce, the determination in Peter’s voice
+frightening her info disclosing her secret.
+
+Peter said to himself, “It is Watts after all.” He was tempted to say
+it aloud, and most men in the sting of the moment would have done so.
+But he 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
+my love 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 the
+hallway together, and leaving the rest of the party, who were already
+raiding the larder for an impromptu supper, to their own devices, they
+passed upstairs, Miss Pierce to bathe her eyes and Peter to pack his
+belongings.
+
+“Where are Helen and Stirling?” inquired Mr. Pierce when the time came
+to serve out the Welsh rarebit he was tending.
+
+“They’ll be along presently,” said Watts. “Helen forgot something, and
+they went back after it.”
+
+“They will be properly punished by the leathery condition of the
+rarebit, if they don’t hurry. And as we are all agreed that Stirling is
+somewhat lacking in romance, he will not get a corresponding pleasure
+from the longer stroll to reward him for that. There, ladies and
+gentlemen, that is a rarebit that will melt in your mouth, and make the
+absent 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
+or not. Another so nerveless, that it fights on, unconscious that it
+has been hit. A third, who, feeling the wound, goes on fighting,
+sustained by its nerve. It is over the latter sort that the surgeons
+shake their heads and look anxious.
+
+Peter did his packing quietly and quickly, not pausing for a moment in
+the task. Then he went downstairs, and joined the party, just finishing
+the supper. He refused, it is true, to eat anything, and was quiet, but
+this phase was so normal in him, that it occasioned no remark. Asked
+where Miss Pierce was, he explained briefly that he had left her in the
+hall, 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 better
+things than he had said in his whole visit, and quite surprising them
+all 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 New
+York,” said Mr. Pierce, not quite knowing why, having previously
+decided that they had had enough of Peter. “We shall be in the city
+early in September, and ready to see our friends.”
+
+“Thank you,” replied Peter. He turned and went upstairs to his room. He
+ought to have spent the night pacing his floor, but he did not. He went
+to bed instead Whether Peter slept, we cannot say. He certainly lay
+very still, till the first ray of daylight brightened the sky. Then he
+rose and dressed. He went to the stables and explained to the groom
+that he would walk to the station, and merely asked that his trunk
+should be there in time to be checked. Then he returned to the house
+and told the cook that he would breakfast on the way. Finally he
+started for the station, diverging on the way, so as to take a
+roundabout road, that gave him a twelve-mile tramp in the time he had
+before the train left.
+
+Perhaps the hardest thing Peter encountered was answering his mother’s
+questions about the visit. Yet he never flinched nor dodged from a true
+reply, 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.
+Stirling careful, and whatever she surmised she kept to herself, merely
+kissing him good-night with a tenderness that was unusual not merely in
+a New-Englander, but even in her. During the rest of his stay, the
+Pierces were 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 who rank as such, would have been as considerate or tender of
+Peter’s trouble, if the power had been given them to lay it bare. Love,
+sympathy, unselfishness and forbearance are not bad equivalents for
+breeding and etiquette, and have the additional advantage of meeting
+new and unusual conditions which sometimes occur to even the most
+conventional.
+
+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
+so set on going to New York.” In this, however, she was disappointed.
+On the second day of his stay, Peter spoke of his intention to start
+for New 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,” said
+Peter. “I’ll try it there first, and if I don’t make my way, I’ll come
+back here”
+
+Few mothers hope for a son’s failure, yet Mrs. Stirling allowed herself
+a moment’s happiness over this possibility. Then remembering that her
+Peter could not possibly fail, she became despondent. “They say New
+York’s full of temptations,” she said.
+
+“I suppose it is, mother,” replied Peter, “to those who want to be
+tempted.”
+
+“I know I can trust you, Peter,” said his mother, proudly, “but I want
+you to promise me one thing.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“That if you do yield, if you do what you oughtn’t to, you’ll write and
+tell me about it?” Mrs. Stirling put her arms about Peter’s neck, and
+looked wistfully into his face.
+
+Peter was not blind to what this world is. Perhaps, had his mother
+known it as he did, she might have seen how unfair her petition was. He
+did not like to say yes, and could not say no.
+
+“I’ll try to go straight, mother,” he replied, “but that’s a good deal
+to 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’t tell 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 have
+something definite to do. He tried to obtain this distraction of
+occupation, at present, in a characteristic way, by taking excessively
+long 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
+working him free from the crushing lack of purpose that had settled
+upon him. He imagined it would be even easier when he reached New York.
+“There’ll be plenty to keep me busy there,” was his mental hope.
+
+All his ambitions and plans seemed in a sense to have become
+meaningless, made so by the something which but ten days before had
+been unknown to him. Like Moses he had seen the promised land. But
+Moses died. He had seen it, and must live on without it. He saw nothing
+in the future worth striving for, except a struggle to forget, if
+possible, the sweetest and dearest memory he had ever known. He thought
+of the epigram: “Most men can die well, but few can live well.” Three
+weeks before he had smiled over it and set it down as a bit of French
+cynicism. Now—on the verge of giving his mental assent to the theory, a
+pair of slate-colored eyes in some way came into his mind, and even
+French wit was discarded therefrom.
+
+Peter was taking his disappointment very seriously, if quietly. Had he
+only known other girls, he might have made a safe recovery, for love’s
+remedy is truly the homeopathic “similia similibus curantur,” woman
+plural 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 is
+no other woman.” In Peter’s case there was no other woman. What was
+worse, 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 grapple
+with the future. How many such stormers have dashed themselves against
+its high ramparts, from which float the flags of “worldly success;” how
+many have fallen at the first attack; how many have been borne away,
+stricken in the assault; how many have fought on bravely, till driven
+back by pressure, sickness or hunger; how few have reached the top, and
+won their colors!
+
+As already hinted, Peter had chosen the law as his ladder to climb
+these ramparts. Like many another fellow he had but a dim comprehension
+of the struggle before him. His college mates had talked over
+professions, and agreed that law was a good one in New York. The
+attorney in his native town, “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 Lawrence or Lowell. If New York is bigger, then
+there is more to be done.” So Peter, whose New York acquaintances were
+limited to Watts and four other collegians, the Pierces and their
+fashionables, and a civil engineer originally from his native town, had
+decided that the way to go about it was 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 and pricing a few rooms near the “Avenue,” about Thirtieth
+Street, Peter saw that Watts had been thinking of his own purse, rather
+than of his friend’s.
+
+“Can you tell me where the cheaper boarding-houses are?” he asked the
+woman who had done the honors of the last house.
+
+“If it’s cheapness you want, you’d better go to Bleecker Street,” said
+the 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, not
+comprehending that he had gone to the opposite extreme. It was a dull
+season, and he had no difficulty in getting such a room as suited both
+his expectations and purse. By dinner-time he had settled his simple
+household goods to his satisfaction, and slightly moderated the
+dreariness of the third floor front, so far as the few pictures and
+other furnishings from his college rooms could modify the effect of
+well-worn carpet, cheap, painted furniture, and ugly wall-paper.
+
+Descending to his dinner, in answer to a bell more suitable for a
+fire-alarm than for announcing such an ordinary occurrence as meals, he
+was introduced to the four young men who were all the boarders the
+summer season had left in the house. Two were retail dry-goods clerks,
+another filled some function in a butter and cheese store, and the
+fourth was the ticket-seller at one of the middle-grade theatres. They
+all looked at Peter’s clothes before looking at his face, and though
+the greetings were civil enough, Peter’s ready-made travelling suit,
+bought in his native town, and his quiet cravat, as well as his lack of
+jewelry, were proof positive to them that he did not merit any great
+consideration. It was very evident that the ticket-seller, not merely
+from his natural self-assertion but even more because of his enviable
+acquaintance with certain actresses and his occasional privileges in
+the way of free passes, was the acknowledged autocrat of the table.
+Under his guidance the conversation quickly turned to theatrical and
+“show” talk. Much of it was vulgar, and all of it was dull. It was made
+the worse by the fact that they all tried to show, off a little before
+the newcomer, to prove their superiority and extreme knowingness to
+him. To make 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 little
+place.”
+
+They would like to have asked him questions about himself, but feared
+to seem to lower themselves from their fancied superiority, by showing
+interest 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 not
+conceive of any one entitled to practise law not airing his advantage.
+So they went on patronizing Peter, and glorifying themselves. When time
+had developed the facts that he was a lawyer, a college graduate, and a
+man who seemed to have plenty of money (from the standpoint of
+dry-goods clerks) their respect for him considerably increased. He
+could not, however, overcome his instinctive dislike to them. After the
+manly high-minded, cultivated Harvard classmates, every moment of their
+society was only endurable, and he neither went to their rooms nor
+asked them to his. Peter had nothing of the snob in him, but he found
+reading or writing, or a tramp about the city, much the pleasanter way
+of passing his evenings.
+
+The morning after this first day in New York, Peter called on his
+friend, the civil engineer, to consult him about an office; for Watts
+had 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
+give you 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
+you think of starting by yourself. You’ll otherwise never get a
+client.”
+
+Peter shook his head. “I’ve thought it out,” he added, as if that
+settled it.
+
+Mr. Converse looked at him, and, really liking the fellow, was about to
+explain 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 the
+Battery and Canal Street.” Later in the day, when he had time, he shook
+his head, and said, “Poor devil! Like all the rest.”
+
+Anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street represented a fairly
+large range of territory, but Peter went at the matter directly, and
+for the next three days passed his time climbing stairs, and inspecting
+rooms and 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 with a desk, two chairs (for Peter as yet dreamed only of single
+clients) and a shelf containing the few law books that were the
+monuments of his Harvard law course, and his summer reading. On the
+following Monday, when Peter faced his office door he felt a glow of
+satisfaction at seeing in very black letters on the very newly scrubbed
+glass the sign of:
+
+
+PETER STIRLING
+
+ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW.
+
+
+He had come to his office early, not merely because at his boarding
+place they breakfasted betimes, but because he believed that early
+hours were one way of winning success. He was a little puzzled what to
+do with himself. He sat down at his desk and thrummed it for a minute.
+Then he rose, and spread his books more along the shelf, so as to leave
+little spaces between them, thinking that he could make them look more
+imposing thereby. After that he took down a book—somebody “On
+Torts,”—and dug into it. In the Harvard course, he had had two hours a
+week of this book, but Peter worked over it for nearly three hours.
+Then he took paper, and in a very clear, beautifully neat hand, made an
+abstract of what he had read. Then he compared his abstract with the
+book. Returning the book to the shelf, very much pleased with the
+accuracy of his memory, he looked at his watch. It was but half-past
+eleven. Peter sat down 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 and furnishing. But now? He could not read law for more
+than four hours a day, and get anything from it. What was to be done
+with the rest of the time? 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 and the drearier light shafts spoken of
+flatteringly as yards. He compressed his lips, and resorted once more
+to his book. But he found his mind wandering, and realized that he had
+done all he was equal to on a hot July morning. Again he looked out
+over the roofs. Then he rose and stood in the middle at his room,
+thinking. He looked at his watch again, to make sure that he was right.
+Then he opened his door and glanced about the hall. It was one blank,
+except for the doors. He went down the two flights of stairs to the
+street. Even that had the deserted look of summer. He turned and went
+back to his room. Sitting down once more at his desk, and opening
+somebody “On Torts” again, he took up his pen and began to copy the
+pages literally. He wrote steadily for a time, then with pauses.
+Finally, the hand ceased to follow the lines, and became straggly. Then
+he ceased to write. The words blurred, the paper faded from view, and
+all Peter saw was a pair of slate-colored eyes. He laid his head down
+on the blotter, and the erect, firm figure relaxed.
+
+There is no more terrible ordeal of courage than passive waiting. Most
+of us can be brave with something to do, but to be brave for months,
+for years, with nothing to be done and without hope of the future! So
+it was in Peter’s case. It was waiting—waiting—for what? If clients
+came, if fame 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 and
+health, were a million people. Yet not a soul of that million knew that
+Peter sat at his desk, with his head on his blotter, immovable, from
+noon 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
+sun shining dazzlingly in his eyes forced him back to a consciousness
+of things mundane. He rose, and went downstairs, to find the night
+watch-man just opening the building. Fortunately he had already met the
+man, so that he was not suspected as an intruder; and giving him a
+pleasant “good-morning,” Peter passed into the street. It was a good
+morning indeed, with all that freshness and coolness which even a great
+city cannot take from a summer dawn. For some reason Peter felt more
+encouraged. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having beaten his
+loneliness and misery by mere physical endurance. Perhaps it was only
+the natural spring of twenty years. At all events, he felt dimly, that
+miserable 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 cart
+for a pint of what the poorer people of the city buy as milk, he turned
+north, and quickening his pace, walked till he had left the city proper
+and had reached the new avenue or “drive,” which, by the liberality of
+Mr. Tweed with other people’s money, was then just approaching
+completion. After walking the length of it, he turned back to his
+boarding-place, and after a plunge, felt as if he could face and fight
+the future to any extent.
+
+As a result of this he was for the first time late at breakfast The
+presider over the box-office had ascertained that Peter had spent the
+night out, and had concluded he would have a gird or two at him. He
+failed, however, to carry out his intention. It was not the first time
+that both he and his companions had decided to “roast” Peter, absent,
+but had done other wise with Peter, present. He had also decided to say
+to Peter, “Who’s your dandy letter-writer?” But he also failed to do
+that. 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 an air about it. It was written on linen paper of a grade which, if
+now common enough, was not so common at that time. Then it was
+postmarked from one of the most, fashionable summer resorts of the
+country. Finally, it was sealed with wax, then very unusual, and the
+wax bore the impression of a crest. They were all rather disappointed
+when Peter put that 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 for
+a couple of hours, looking at the opposite wall, and seeing something
+quite 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 a
+time. Studied it till long after the hour when he should have lunched.
+The wall had three cracks in it which approximated to an outline of
+Italy, but though Peter gazed at this particular wall a good many hours
+in the next few weeks, he did not discover this interesting fact till
+long after this time of wall-gazing.
+
+In the early morning and after dinner, in spite of the summer heat, he
+took long walks. During the day he sat in his office doing nothing,
+with the exception of an occasional letter to his mother, and one or
+two to Watts in respect to the coming wedding. Two visits to the
+tailor’s, and another to Tiffany’s, which resulted in a pearl pin
+rather out of proportion to his purse, were almost the sole variations
+of this routine. It was really a relief to this terrible inactivity,
+when he found himself actually at the Shrubberies, the afternoon before
+the wedding.
+
+Peter was rather surprised at the ease with which he went through the
+next twenty-four hours. It is true that the house was too full, and
+each person too busy, to trouble the silent groomsman with attention,
+so he might have done pretty much what he wished, without being
+noticed. He arrived late, thus having no chance for greetings till
+after a hurried dressing for dinner, when they were made in the
+presence of the whole party, who had waited his coming to go to the
+meal. He went through the ordeal well, even that with Miss Pierce,
+actually showing less embarrassment than she did. What was more
+astonishing, he calmly offered his arm to the bridesmaid who fell to
+his lot, and, after seating her, chatted without thinking that he was
+talking. Indeed, he hardly heeded what he did say, but spoke
+mechanically, as a kind of refuge from thought and feeling.
+
+“I didn’t find him a bit so,” the girl said to Miss Pierce, later in
+the evening, with an indefiniteness which, if not merely feminine, must
+presuppose a previous conversation. “He isn’t exactly talkative, but he
+is perfectly easy to get on with. I tried him on New York, and found he
+had gone into a good many odd places and can tell about them. He
+describes things very well, so that one sees them.”
+
+“It must be your tact, then, Miss Leroy,” said Mrs. Pierce, “for we
+could get nothing out of him before.”
+
+“No? I had nothing to do with it, and, between ourselves, I think he
+disapproved of me. If Helen hadn’t told me about him, I should have
+been very cool to him, his manner was so objectionable. He clearly
+talked to me because he felt it a duty, and not a pleasure.”
+
+“That’s only that unfortunate manner of his,” said Helen. “I really
+think at heart he’s dreadfully afraid of us. At least that’s what Watts
+says. 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 remark doesn’t seem enough to say. You try to talk up to him,
+and yet feel small all the time.”
+
+“Not at all,” said Helen. “You talk down to him, as if he
+were—were—your old grandfather, or some one else you admired, but
+thought very dull and old-fashioned.”
+
+“But the worst is the way he looks at you. So gravely, even when you
+try to joke. Now I really think I’m passably pretty, but Mr. Stirling
+said as plainly as could be: ‘I look at you occasionally because that’s
+the proper thing to do, when one talks, but I much prefer looking at
+that picture over your head.’ I don’t believe he noticed how my hair
+was dressed, 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 not
+notice girls any more. After worrying in his school and college days,
+over what women thought of him and how they treated him, he had
+suddenly ceased to trouble himself about them. It was as if a man,
+after long striving for something, had suddenly discovered that he did
+not wish it—that to him women’s opinions had become worthless. Perhaps
+in this case it was only the Fox and the Grapes over again. At all
+events, from this time on Peter cared little what women did. Courteous
+he tried to be, for he understood this to be a duty. But that was all.
+They might laugh at him, snub him, avoid him. He cared not. He had
+struck women out of his plan of life. And this disregard, as we have
+already suggested, was sure to produce a strange change, not merely in
+Peter, but in women’s view and treatment of him. Peter trying to please
+them, by dull, ordinary platitudes, was one thing. Peter avoiding them
+and talking to them 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
+all men are at weddings, finally stood up with his friend. He had not
+been asked to stay on for another night, as had most of the bridal
+party, so he slipped away as soon as his duty was done, and took a
+train that put him into New York that evening. A week later he said
+good-bye to the young couple, on the deck of a steamship.
+
+“Don’t forget us, Peter,” shouted Watts, after the fasts were cast off
+and 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,
+who with all the fire and impatience of his years wished to conquer the
+world quickly, “youth has many things to learn, but one of the most
+important is never to let another man beat you at waiting.”
+
+Peter went back to his desk, and waited. He gave up looking at the wall
+of his office, and took to somebody “On Torts” again. When that was
+finished he went through the other law books of his collection. Those
+done, he began to buy others, and studied them with great thoroughness
+and persistence. In one of his many walks, he stumbled upon the
+Apprentices’ Library. Going in, he inquired about its privileges, and
+became a regular borrower of books. Peter had always been a reader, but
+now he gave from three or four hours a day to books, aside from his law
+study. Although he was slow, the number of volumes, he not merely read,
+but really mastered was marvellous. Books which he liked, without much
+regard to their popular reputation, he at once bought; for his simple
+life left him the ability to indulge himself in most respects within
+moderation. He was particularly careful to read a classic occasionally
+to keep up his Greek and Latin, and for the same reason he read French
+and German books aloud to himself. Before the year was out, he was a
+recognized quantity in certain book-stores, and was privileged to
+browse at will both among old and new books without interference or
+suggestion from the “stock” clerks. “There isn’t any good trying to
+sell him anything,” remarked one. “He makes up his mind for himself.”
+
+His reading was broadened out from the classic and belles-lettres
+grooves that were still almost a cult with the college graduate, by
+another recreation now become habitual with him. In his long tramps
+about the city, to vary the monotony, he would sometimes stop and chat
+with people—with a policeman, a fruit-vender, a longshoreman or a
+truckster. It mattered little who it was. Then he often entered
+manufactories and “yards” and asked if he could go through them,
+studying the methods, and talking to the overseer or workers about the
+trade. When he occasionally encountered some one who told him “your
+kind ain’t got no business here” he usually found the statement “my
+father was a mill-overseer” a way to break down the barrier. He had to
+use it seldom, for he dressed plainly and met the men in a way which
+seldom failed to make them feel that he was one of them. After such
+inspection and chat, he would get books from the library, and read up
+about the business or trade, finding that in this way he could enjoy
+works otherwise too technical, and really obtain a very good knowledge
+of many subjects. Just how interesting he found such books as “Our
+Fire-Laddies,” which he read from cover to cover, after an inspection
+of, and chat with, the men of the nearest fire-engine station; or
+Latham’s “The Sewage Difficulty,” which the piping of uptown New York
+induced him to read; and others of diverse types is questionable.
+Probably it was really due to his isolation, but it was much healthier
+than gazing at blank walls.
+
+When the courts opened, Peter kept track of the calendars, and whenever
+a case or argument promised to be interesting, or to call out the great
+lights of the profession, he attended and listened to them. He tried to
+write out the arguments used, from notes, and finally this practice
+induced him to give two evenings a week during the winter mastering
+shorthand. It was really only a mental discipline, for any case of
+importance was obtainable in print almost as soon as argued, but Peter
+was trying to put a pair of slate-colored eyes out of his thoughts, and
+employed this as one of the means.
+
+When winter came, and his long walks became less possible, he turned to
+other things. More from necessity than choice, he visited the art and
+other exhibitions as they occurred, he went to concerts, and to plays,
+all with due regard to his means, and for this reason the latter were
+the most seldom indulged in. Art and music did not come easy to him,
+but he read up on both, not merely in standard books, but in the
+reviews of the daily press, and just because there was so much in both
+that he failed to grasp, he studied the more carefully and patiently.
+
+One trait of his New England training remained to him. He had brought a
+letter from his own Congregational church in his native town, to one of
+the large churches of the same sect in New York, and when admitted,
+hired a sitting and became a regular attendant at both morning and
+evening service. In time this produced a call from his new pastor. It
+was 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 a
+point of seeing something of him.” But he was pastor of a very large
+and rich congregation, and was a hard-worked and hard-entertained man,
+so his intention was not realized.
+
+Peter spent Christmastide with his mother, who worried not a little
+over his 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, knowing
+perfectly well that it was nothing of the sort. She had hoped that
+Peter would be satisfied with his six months’ trial, but did not
+mention her wish. She marvelled to herself that New York had not yet
+discovered his greatness.
+
+When Peter returned to the city, he made a change in his living
+arrangements. His boarding-place had filled up with the approach of
+winter, but with the class of men he already knew too well. Even though
+he met them only at meals, their atmosphere was intolerable to him.
+When a room next his office fell vacant, and went begging at a very
+cheap price, he decided to use it as a bedroom. So he moved his few
+belongings on 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
+speak of his leaving. Two or three affected to be pleased, but
+“Butter-and-cheese” said he “was a first-rate chap,” and this seemed to
+gain the assent of the table generally.
+
+“I’m dreadfully sorry to lose him,” his landlady informed her other
+boarders, availing herself, perhaps, of the chance to deliver a side
+hit at some of them. “He never has complained once, since he came here,
+and he 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 bit
+stiff; and a fellow who’s best man to a big New York swell, and gets
+his name 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 so
+called) being a bath, which is not a usual fitting of a New York
+business office, consciences not yet being tubbable. He had made his
+mother show him how to make coffee, and he adopted the Continental
+system of meals, having rolls and butter sent in, and making a French
+breakfast in his own rooms. Then he lunched regularly not far from his
+office, and dined wherever his afternoon walk, or evening plans carried
+him. He found that he saved no money by the change, but he saved his
+feelings, and was far freer to come and go as he chose.
+
+He did not hear from the honeymoon party. Watts had promised to write
+to him and send his address “as soon as we decide whether we pass the
+winter in Italy or on the Nile.” But no letter came. Peter called on
+the Pierces, only to find them out, and as no notice was taken of his
+pasteboard, 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
+seemed no nearer one than the day he had first seen his own name on his
+office door. “How much longer will I have to wait? How long will my
+patience hold out?” These were the questions he asked himself, when for
+a moment he allowed himself to lose courage. Then he would take to a
+bit of wall-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
+on was to make friends. But in this first year Peter did not made a
+single one that could be really called such. His second summer
+broadened his acquaintance materially, though in a direction which
+promised him little law practice.
+
+When the warm weather again closed the courts and galleries, and
+brought an end to the concerts and theatres, Peter found time harder to
+kill, the more, because he had pretty well explored the city. Still he
+walked much to help pass the time, and to get outside of his rooms into
+the air. For the same reason he often carried his book, after the heat
+of the day was over, to one of the parks, and did his reading there.
+Not far from his office, eastwardly, where two streets met at an angle,
+was a small open space too limited to be called a square, even if its
+shape had not been a triangle. Here, under the shade of two very sickly
+trees, surrounded by tall warehouses, were a couple of benches. Peter
+sat here many evenings smoking his pipe. Though these few square feet
+made perhaps the largest “open” within half a mile of his office, the
+angle was confined and dreary. Hence it is obvious there must have been
+some attraction to Peter, since he was such a walker, to make him
+prefer spending his time there rather than in the parks not far distant
+The attraction was the children.
+
+Only a few hundred feet away was one of the most densely crowded
+tenement districts of New York. It had no right to be there, for the
+land was wanted for business purposes, but the hollow on which it was
+built had been a swamp in the old days, and the soft land, and perhaps
+the unhealthiness, had prevented the erection of great warehouses and
+stores, which almost surrounded it. So it had been left to the storage
+of human souls instead of merchandise, for valuable goods need careful
+housing, while any place serves to pack humanity. It was not a nice
+district to go through, for there was a sense of heat and dirt, and
+smell, and crowd, and toil and sorrow throughout. It was probably no
+nicer to live in, and nothing proved it better than the overflow of the
+children therefrom into the little, hot, paved, airless angle. Here
+they could be found from five in the morning till twelve at night.
+Here, with guards set, to give notice of the approach of the children’s
+joy-destroying Siva—otherwise the policeman—they played ball. Here
+“cat” and “one old cat” render bearable many a wilting hour for the
+little urchins. Here “Sally in our Alley” and “Skip-rope” made the
+little girls forget that the temperature was far above blood-heat. Here
+of an evening, Peter smoked and watched them.
+
+At first he was an object of suspicion, and the sport visibly ceased
+when he put in an appearance. But he simply sat on one of the benches
+and 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 up between them. One evening Peter appeared with a stick of
+wood, and as he smoked, he whittled at it with a _real_ jack-knife! He
+was scrutinized by the keen-eyed youngsters with interest at once, and
+before he had whittled long, he had fifty children sitting in the shape
+of a semicircle on the stone pavement, watching his doings with almost
+breathless Interest. When the result of his work actually developed
+into a “cat” of marvellous form and finish, a sigh of intense joy
+passed through the boy part of his audience. When the “cat” was passed
+over to their mercies, words could not be found to express their
+emotions. Another evening, the old clothes-line that served for a
+jump-rope, after having bravely rubbed against the pavement many
+thousand times in its endeavor to lighten the joyless life of the
+little pack, finally succumbed, worn through the centre and quite
+beyond hope of further knotting. Then Peter rose, and going to one of
+the little shops that supplied 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 only enjoyed in dreams, or at most through home-made
+attempts, found their way into the angle, and were distributed among
+the little imps. They could not resist such subtle bribery, and soon
+Peter was on as familiar and 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 all their troubles. They were a dirty,
+noisy, lawless, and godless little community, but they were interesting
+to watch, and the lonely fellow grew to like them much, for with all
+their premature sharpness, they were really natural, and responded
+warmly to his friendly overtures.
+
+After a time, Peter tried to help them a little more than by mere small
+gifts. A cheap box of carpenter’s tools was bought, and under his
+superintendence, evenings were spent in the angle, in making various
+articles. A small wheel barrow, a knife-and-fork basket, a
+clock-bracket and other easy things were made, one at a time. All boys,
+and indeed some 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 to that line; the next would bore the holes in it; the next
+would screw it into 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 and watched. When the article was completed, lots were drawn
+for it, and happy was the fortunate one who drew the magnificent prize
+in life’s lottery!
+
+Occasionally too, Peter brought a book with him, and read it aloud to
+them. He was rather surprised to find that they did not take to
+Sunday-school stories or fairy tales. Wild adventures in foreign lands
+were the most effective; and together they explored the heart of
+Africa, climbed the Swiss mountains, fought the Western Indians, and
+attempted to 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’s
+criticism at a certain point of the narrative of a well-known African
+explorer, rather famous for his success in advertising himself. Again,
+“that’s bully,” was the comment uttered by another, when Peter, rather
+than refuse their request to read aloud, had been compelled to choose
+something in Macaulay’s Essays, and had read the description of the
+Black Hole of Calcutta, “Say, mister,” said another, “I don’t believe
+that fellow wasn’t there, for he never could a told it like that, if he
+wasn’t.”
+
+As soon as his influence was secure, Peter began to affect them in
+other ways. Every fight, every squabble, was investigated, and the
+blame put where it belonged. Then a mandate went forth that profanity
+was to cease: and, though contrary to every instinct and habit, cease
+it did after a time, except for an occasional unconscious slip.
+“Sporadic swearing,” Peter called it, and explained what it meant to
+the children, and why he forgave that, while punishing the intentional
+swearer with exclusion 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 that which is wrong, and not the mere words or faces.” He ran
+the risk of being laughed at, but they didn’t laugh, for something in
+his way of talking 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 from
+his office without being greeted with yells of recognition. The elders,
+too, gave him “good-evening” pleasantly and smiled genially. The
+children had naturally told their parents about him of his wonderful
+presents, 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 their
+elders.
+
+“Oh,” cried one little four-year-old girl, voicing the unanimous
+feeling of the children, “Mister Peter is just shplendid.”
+
+So the elders nodded and smiled when they met him, and he was pretty
+well 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 a
+visit to her, which had left him rather discouraged, because, for the
+first time, she had pleaded with him to abandon his attempt and return
+to his native town. He had only replied that he was not yet prepared to
+acknowledge himself beaten; but the request and his mother’s
+disappointment had worried him. While he wrote came a knock at the
+door, and, in response to his “come in,” a plain-looking laborer
+entered and stood awkwardly before him.
+
+“What can I do for you?” asked Peter, seeing that he must assist the
+man to state his business.
+
+“If you please, sir,” said the man, humbly, “it’s Missy. And I hope
+you’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 a
+slight 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 and
+ask you. I hope it’s no offence?”
+
+“No.” Peter rose, and, passing to the next room, took his hat, and the
+two 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 dead
+already.” 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 Matilda
+Blackett.—That was probably “Missy.”
+
+A walk of six blocks transferred them to the centre of the tenement
+district. Two flights of stairs brought them to the Blackett’s rooms.
+On the table of the first, which was evidently used both as a kitchen
+and sitting-room, already lay a coffin containing a seven-year-old
+girl. Candles burned at the four corners, adding to the bad air and
+heat. In the room beyond, in bed, with a tired-looking woman tending
+her, lay a child of five. Wan and pale as well could be, with
+perspiration standing in great drops on the poor little hot forehead,
+the hand of death, as it so often does, had put something into the face
+never there before.
+
+“Oh, Mister Peter,” the child said, on catching sight of him, “I said
+you’d come.”
+
+Peter took his handkerchief and wiped the little head. Then he took a
+newspaper, lying on a chair, twisted it into a rude fan, and began
+fanning 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 the
+little girl who went to the country, and was given a live dove and real
+flowers.”
+
+Peter began telling the story as well as he could remember it, but it
+was never finished. For while he talked another little girl went to the
+country, a far country, from which there is no return—and a very
+ordinary little story ended abruptly.
+
+The father and mother took the death very calmly. Peter asked them a
+few questions, and found that there were three other children, the
+eldest of whom was an errand boy, and therefore away. The others, twin
+babies, had been cared for by a woman on the next floor. He asked about
+money, and found that they had not enough to pay the whole expenses of
+the double funeral.
+
+“But the undertaker says he’ll do it handsome, and will let the part I
+haven’t money for, run, me paying it off in weekly payments,” the man
+explained, when Peter expressed some surprise at the evident needless
+expense 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 you
+remember 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 to
+him, “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 something
+wrong with it, the moment I smelt it, but I took some home to make
+sure.” 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, not
+understanding a word of it. Peter looked too, when they had satisfied
+their 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 rather
+a strengthening and deepening of his ordinary look.
+
+“That was in the milk drunk by the children?” he asked, placing his
+finger on a particular line.
+
+“Yes,” replied the doctor. “The milk was bad to start with, and was
+drugged to conceal the fact. These carbonates sometimes work very
+unevenly, and I presume this particular can of milk got more than its
+share of the doctoring.
+
+“There are almost no glycerides,” remarked Peter, wishing to hold the
+doctor 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.
+But the law requires it”
+
+“Won’t they investigate?”
+
+“They’ll investigate too much. The trouble with them is, they
+investigate, but don’t prosecute.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Peter. He shook hands with the parents, and went
+upstairs to the fourth floor. The crape on a door guided him to where
+Bridget Milligan lay. Here preparations had gone farther. Not merely
+were 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.
+Peter asked a few questions. There was only an elder brother and
+sister. Patrick worked as a porter. Ellen rolled cigars. They had a
+little money laid up. Enough to pay for the funeral. “Mr. Moriarty gave
+us the whisky and beer at half price,” the girl explained incidentally.
+“Thank you, sir. We don’t need anything.” Peter rose to go. “Bridget
+was often speaking 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 this
+morning. Then I suspected the milk at once, and treated them
+accordingly. I’ve been forty years doing this sort of thing, and it’s
+generally the milk. Dr. Sawyer, next door, is a new man, and doesn’t
+get hold quite as quick. But he knows more of the science of the thing,
+and can 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 country
+to-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
+shall all go up for a couple of weeks to my mother’s in Massachusetts.
+They’ll have plenty of good food there,” he explained to the doctor,
+“grass and flowers 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?” Peter
+asked.
+
+“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 hard
+to 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 his
+wall. But he was not thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. He was
+thinking 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 we
+are indiscreet enough to wake, prefer to use as the preface to a
+further two to four hours’ nap. He had spent his evening in a
+freshening of his knowledge in certain municipal laws, and other
+details which he thought he might need, and as early as five o clock he
+was at work in the tenement district, asking questions and taking
+notes. The inquiry took little skill The milk had come from the cart of
+a certain company, which passed daily through the locality, not to
+supply orders, but to peddle milk to whoever cared to buy. Peter had
+the cart pointed out that morning, but, beyond making a note of the
+exact name of the company, he paid no attention to it. He was aiming at
+bigger game than a milk cart or its driver.
+
+His work was interrupted only by his taking Mrs. Dooley and the two
+children to the train. That done, Peter walked northwardly and
+westwardly, till he had nearly reached the river front. It took some
+little inquiry, but after a while he stumbled on a small shanty which
+had a sign:
+
+NATIONAL MILK COMPANY.
+
+OFFICE.
+
+The place, however, was closed and no one around seemed connected with
+it, though a number of milk carts were standing about. Close to these
+was a long line of sheds, which in turn backed up against a great
+brewery. A couple of men lounged at the door of the sheds. Peter walked
+up to them, and asked if they could tell him where he could find any
+one connected with the milk company.
+
+“The boss is off for lunch,” said one. “I can take an order, if that’s
+what you want.”
+
+Peter said it was not an order, and began chatting with the men. Before
+he 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 Milk
+Company?” he asked.
+
+“Yes,” said the man, “and we have orders—”
+
+Peter usually let a little pause occur after a remark to him, but in
+this 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 what
+I’m about.” Then he walked after the other two men as rapidly as the
+dimness permitted. The employee scratched his head, and then followed.
+
+Dim as the light was, Peter could discern that he was passing between
+two rows of cows, with not more than space enough for men to pass each
+other between the rows. It was filthy, and very warm, and there was a
+peculiar smell in the air which Peter did not associate with a cow
+stable. It was a kind of vapor which brought some suggestion to his
+mind, 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 the
+ground. That it was dead was plain. But what most interested Peter,
+although he felt a shudder of horror at the sight, were the rotted tail
+and 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 their
+havin’ 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, and
+speaking in a voice that made the man step back. A terrible feeling was
+welling up in Peter’s heart. He thought of the poor little
+fever-stricken children. He saw the poor fever-stricken cow. He would
+like 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 ringing
+very clear.
+
+The lantern was passed to him, and taking it, he walked along the line
+of cows. He saw several with sores more or less developed. One or two
+he saw in the advanced stages of the disease, where the tail had begun
+to rot away. The other men followed him on his tour of inspection, and
+whispered together nervously. It did not take Peter long to examine all
+he wanted to see. Handing back the lantern at the door, he said: “Give
+me your names.”
+
+The men looked nonplussed, and shifted their weights uneasily from leg
+to 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. He
+then went to the “office” of the company, which was now opened.
+
+“Is this an incorporated company?” he asked of the man tilted back in a
+chair.
+
+“No,” said the man, adding two chair legs to terra firma, and looking
+at Peter 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 criminal
+prosecution.”
+
+“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 or
+your 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 run
+down, and as I’m not after the rest of you, you will only get him a few
+days 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, it
+shan’t cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well, you’ll
+probably 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 “coort
+case” promised to give them prestige far beyond what even these
+distinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter,
+and warrants were sworn to and issued against the “boss” as principal,
+and the driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on
+the following morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night,
+nothing else was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in
+the neighborhood. 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” as
+could crush their way in, were in court by nine o’clock. The plaintiffs
+and their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of the
+proceedings. The examinations were purely formal except in one
+instance, when Peter asked for the “name or names of the owner or
+owners” of the National Milk Company. Here the defendant’s attorney, a
+shrewd criminal lawyer, interfered, and there was a sharp passage at
+arms, in which an attempt was made to anger Peter. But he kept his
+head, and in the end carried his point. The owner turned out to be the
+proprietor of the brewery, as Peter had surmised, who thus utilized the
+mash from his vats in feeding cattle. But on Peter’s asking for an
+additional warrant against him, the defendant’s lawyer succeeded in
+proving, if the statement of the overseer proved it, that the brewer
+was quite ignorant that the milk sold in the “district” was what had
+been unsalable the day before to better customers, and that the
+skimming and doctoring of it was unknown to him. So an attempt to
+punish the rich man as a criminal was futile. He could afford to pay
+for straw men.
+
+“Arrah!” said Dooley to Peter as they passed out of the court, “Oi
+think ye moight have given them a bit av yer moind.”
+
+“Wait till the trial,” said Peter. “We mustn’t use up our powder on the
+skirmish line.”
+
+So the word was passed through the district that “theer’d be fun at the
+rale trial,” and it was awaited with intense interest by five thousand
+people.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+NEW YORK JUSTICE.
+
+
+Peter saw the District Attorney the next morning for a few moments, and
+handed over to him certain memoranda of details that had not appeared
+in the committing court’s record.
+
+“It shall go before the grand jury day after to-morrow,” that official
+told 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 witnesses
+are away, and I want to have them back in time.”
+
+“Probably a couple of weeks,” yawned the man, and Peter, taking the
+hint, departed.
+
+The rest of the morning was spent in drawing up the papers in three
+civil suits against the rich brewer. Peter filed them as soon as
+completed, and took the necessary steps for their prompt service.
+
+These produced an almost immediate result, in the shape of a call the
+next morning from the same lawyer who had defended the milkmen in the
+preliminary examination. Peter, as he returned from his midday meal,
+met the 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 of
+satisfaction 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 to
+trial.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“And we take it for granted that your clients will be quite willing to
+settle 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 thus
+be 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 ever
+tried, which it won’t be.”
+
+Peter eyed Dummer without changing a muscle. “The District Attorney
+told me that it ought to be in the courts in a couple of weeks.”
+
+Dummer smiled blandly, and slowly closed one eye. “The District
+Attorney tries to tell the truth,” he said, “and I have no doubt he
+thought that was what he was telling you. Now, name your figure?”
+
+“The civil suits will not be compromised till the criminal one is
+finished.”
+
+“But I tell you the criminal one is dead. Squashed. Bohlmann and I have
+seen the right people, and they’ve seen the District Attorney. That
+case won’t even go to the grand jury. So now, drop it, and say what
+you’ll settle the civil suits for?”
+
+“James Coldman shall go to prison for killing those children,” said
+Peter, “and till he does, it is waste time to talk of dropping or
+settling anything.”
+
+“Humph,” half laughed the lawyer, though with obvious disgust at the
+mulishness in Peter’s face and voice. “You think you know it all. But
+you don’t. You can work for ten years, and that case will be no nearer
+trial than it is to-day. I tell you, young man, you don’t know New
+York.”
+
+“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, and
+inquired 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 brought
+face to face with the acting official.
+
+“Mr. Nelson told me he should present the Coldman case to the grand
+jury to-day, and finding he has left the city, I wish to know who has
+it in charge?” asked Peter.
+
+“He left all the presentments with me,” the deputy replied, “but there
+was 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 certain
+sections. 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 the
+eyes were sad, the heavy jaw had a rigidness and setness which gave no
+indication 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.
+Peter came 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 see man after man ushered into the private office, and
+finally to be told that the District Attorney had gone to lunch, and
+would not return that day. The man who told him this grinned, and
+evidently considered it a good joke, nor had Peter been unconscious
+that all the morning the clerks 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, and
+went to see him that evening. He was wise enough not to send in his
+name, 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 never
+talk business except in business hours.”
+
+“I have tried to see you—” began Peter.
+
+“Try some more,” interrupted the man, smiling, and going toward the
+parlor.
+
+Peter followed him, calmly. “Mr. Nelson,” he said, “do you intend to
+push that case?”
+
+“Of course,” smiled Nelson. “After I’ve finished four hundred
+indictments 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 you
+there are indictments which have been in my office for five years and
+are 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
+was about 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 in
+politics, and so does Mr. Bohlmann. If you’ll tell me what you are
+after, 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 it
+alone, 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 formal
+letter to the District Attorney, calling his attention to the case, and
+asking information as to when it would be brought to trial. Then he
+copied this, and mailed the original. Then he read the Code again.
+After that he went over the New York reports, making notes. For a
+second time the morning sun found Peter still at his desk. But this
+time his head was not bowed upon his blotter, as if he were beaten or
+dead. His whole figure 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 the
+District-Attorney, was a mere formal reiteration of that officer’s
+verbal statement, that the case would be taken up in its due order,
+after those which preceded it had been dealt with. Peter knew enough of
+the numberless cases which never reach trial to understand that this
+meant in truth, the laying aside of the case, till it was killed by the
+statute of limitations.
+
+On receiving this reply, Peter made another move, by going to three
+newspapers, and trying to see their managing editors. One declined to
+see him. A second merely told Peter, after his statement, which the
+editor only allowed him partly to explain, that he was very busy and
+could not take time to look into it, but that Peter might come again in
+about a month. The third let Peter tell his story, and then shook his
+head:
+
+“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
+we begin an attack now, it will simply fall flat. If you can get us a
+written statement from the District Attorney that he doesn’t intend to
+push the case, we can do something, but I suppose he’s far too shrewd
+to commit himself.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then there’s no use in beginning an attack, for you really have no
+powder. Come in again a year from now, and then we may be able to say
+something, if he hasn’t acted in the meantime.”
+
+Peter left the office, knowing that that chance of pressure was gone.
+If the papers of the Republican party would not use it, it was idle
+spending time in seeing or trying to see the editors of the Democratic
+papers. 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 train
+for Albany. He was going to play his last card, with the odds of a
+thousand to one against his winning. But that very fact only nerved him
+the more.
+
+Promptly at ten o’clock, the morning after his arrival at the state
+capital, he sent in his card to the Governor. Fortunately for him, the
+middle of August is not a busy time with that official, and after a
+slight delay, he was ushered into the executive chamber.
+
+Peter had been planning this interview for hours, and without
+explanation or preamble, he commenced his statement. He knew that he
+must interest the Governor promptly, or there would be a good chance of
+his 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 both
+rapidly, not taking three minutes to do it, but had he been pleading
+for his 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
+his back to Peter. And after Peter had ended his account, he remained
+so for a moment. That back was very expressive to Peter. For the first
+time he felt vanquished.
+
+But suddenly the Governor turned, and Peter saw tears on his cheek. And
+he said, after a big swallow, “What do you want of me?” in a voice that
+meant 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 his
+interviews with the District Attorney and with Dummer, in the clearest
+and 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 District
+Attorney, but it must be for cause, and I do not see that you can
+absolutely prove his non intention to prosecute those scoundrels.”
+
+“That is true. After study, I did not see that you could remove him.
+But there’s another remedy.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“Through the State Attorney you can appoint a special counsel for this
+case.”
+
+“Are you sure?”
+
+Peter laid one of the papers in his hands before the Governor. After
+reading it, the Governor rang a bell.
+
+“Send for Mr. Miller,” he said to the boy. Then he turned, and with
+Peter went over the court papers, till Mr. Miller put in an appearance.
+
+“State the matter to Mr. Miller,” said the Governor, and Peter read his
+paper again and told what he wished.
+
+“The power unquestionably exists,” said the Attorney-General. “But it
+has not been used in many years. Perhaps I had better look into it a
+bit.”
+
+“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
+far more, as he shook hands. He went out with the first look of hope
+his face had worn for two years.
+
+The ground which the Attorney-General and his subordinates had to
+traverse was that over which Peter had so well travelled already, that
+he felt very much at home, while his notes indeed aided the study, and
+were doubly welcomed, because the summer season had drained the office
+of its underlings. Half as assistant, and half as principal, he worked
+till three o’clock, with pleasure that grew, as he saw that the opinion
+of the Attorney-General seemed to agree more and more with his own.
+Then they returned to the Governor, to whom the Attorney-General gave
+his opinion that his present conclusion was that the Governor could
+empower him, or some appointee, to prosecute the case.
+
+“Well,” said the Governor, “I’m glad you think so. But if we find that
+it isn’t possible, Mr. Stirling, I’ll have a letter written to the
+District 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
+Governor asked, “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
+my mouth as no one has done in years. Now, I must get word to some of
+the people in New York to find out who he is, and if this case has any
+concealed boomerang in it.”
+
+The dinner was a very quiet one with only the Governor and his wife.
+The former must have told his better-half something about Peter, for
+she studied him with a very kind look in her face, and prosaic and
+silent as Peter was, she did not seem bored. After the dinner was
+eaten, and some one called to talk politics with the Governor, she took
+Peter off to another room, and made him tell her about the whole case,
+and how he came to take it up, and why he had come to the Governor for
+help. She cried over it, and after Peter had gone, she went upstairs
+and looked at her own two sleeping boys, quite large enough to fight
+the world on their own account, but still little children to the
+mother’s heart, and had another cry over them. She went downstairs
+later to the Governor’s study, 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 scoundrels punished, and let him do it.”
+
+The Governor only laughed; but he pushed back his work, and his wife
+sat down, and told of her admiration and sympathy for Peter’s fight.
+There was a bad time ahead for the criminal and his backers. They might
+have political 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 the under-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 on
+the part of the State, and dreaming of nothing better. But better came,
+for only five days after his return his mail brought him a large
+envelope, and inside that envelope was a special commission, which made
+Peter a deputy of the Attorney-General, to prosecute in the Court of
+Sessions, 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 the
+purely formal instrument, he would not have called it dull or heavy.
+For Peter knew that he had won; that in place of justice blocking and
+hindering him, every barrier was crushed down; that this prosecution
+rested with no officials, but was for him to push; that that little
+piece of parchment bound every court to support him; that if necessary
+fifty thousand troops would enforce the power which granted it. Within
+three hours, the first formal steps to place the case in the courts had
+been taken, and Peter was working at the evidence and law in the
+matter.
+
+These steps produced a prompt call from Dummer, who showed considerably
+less assurance than hitherto, even though he tried to take Peter’s
+success jauntily. He wanted Peter to drop the whole thing, and hinted
+at large sums of money, but Peter at first did not notice his hints,
+and finally told him that the case should be tried. Then Dummer pleaded
+for delay. Peter was equally obdurate. Later they had a contest in the
+court over this. But Peter argued in a quiet way, which nevertheless
+caught the attention of the judge, who ended the dispute by refusing to
+postpone. The judge hadn’t intended to act in this way, and was rather
+surprised 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
+the Governor himself—pressure which required backbone to resist. But he
+stood by his act: perhaps because he belonged to a different party than
+that in control of the city government; perhaps because of Peter’s
+account, and the truthfulness in his face as he told it; perhaps
+because the Attorney-General had found it legal; perhaps because of his
+wife; perhaps it was a blending of all these. Certain it is, that all
+attempts to block failed, and in the last week in August it came before
+the court.
+
+Peter had kept his clients informed as to his struggles, and they were
+tremendously proud of the big battle and ultimate success, as indeed
+were the residents of the whole district, who felt that it was really
+their own case. Then the politicians were furious and excited over it,
+while the almost unexampled act of the Governor had created a good deal
+of public interest in the case. So the court was packed and the press
+had reporters in attendance. Since the trial was fully reported, it is
+needless to go over the testimony here. What Peter could bring out, is
+already known. The defence, by “experts,” endeavored to prove that the
+cowsheds were not in a really unhygienic condition; that feeding cows
+on “mash” did not affect their milk, nor did mere “skin sores;” that
+the milk had been sold by mistake, in ignorance that it was thirty-six
+hours old, and skimmed; and that the proof of this particular milk
+being the cause of the deaths was extremely inadequate and doubtful.
+The only dramatic incident in the testimony was the putting the two
+little Dooleys (who had returned in fat and rosy condition, the day
+before) on the stand.
+
+“Did you find country milk different from what you have here?” Peter
+asked the youngest.
+
+“Oh, yes,” she said. “Here it comes from a cart, but in the country it
+squirts 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 cow
+milk 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 spoke
+quietly, in the simplest language, using few adjectives and no
+invective. But as the girl at the Pierces’ dinner had said, “he
+describes things so that one sees them.” He told of the fever-stricken
+cows, and he told of the little fever-stricken children in such a way
+that the audience sobbed; his clients almost had to be ordered out of
+court; the man next Dummer mopped his eyes with his handkerchief; the
+judge and jury thoughtfully covered their eyes (so as to think the
+better); the reporters found difficulty (owing to the glary light), in
+writing the words despite their determination not to miss one; and even
+the prisoner wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Peter was unconscious that
+he was making a great speech; great in its simplicity, and great in its
+pathos. He afterwards said he had not given it a moment’s thought and
+had merely said what he felt. Perhaps his conclusion indicated why he
+was able to speak with the feeling he did. For he said:
+
+“This is not merely the case of the State _versus_ James Goldman. It is
+the case of the tenement-house children, against the inhumanity of
+man’s greed.”
+
+Dummer whispered to the man next him, “There’s no good. He’s done for
+us.” Then he rose, and made a clever defence. He knew it was wasting
+his time. The judge charged against him, and the jury gave the full
+verdict: “Man-slaughter in the first degree.” Except for the desire for
+it, the sentence created little stir. Every one was still feeling and
+thinking of 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 the
+residents of it made their feelings most manifest, for they organized a
+torchlight procession that night, and went round and made Peter an
+address of thanks. Mr. Dennis Moriarty being the spokesman. The judge
+shook hands with him after the trial, and said that he had handled his
+case well. The defendant’s lawyer told him he “knew his business.” A
+number of the reporters sought a few words with him, and blended praise
+with questions.
+
+The reporters did far more than this, however. It was the dull
+newspaper season, and the case had turned out to be a thoroughly
+“journalistic” one. So they questioned and interviewed every one
+concerned, and after cleverly winnowing the chaff, which in this case
+meant the dull, from the gleanings, most of them gave several columns
+the next morning to the story. Peter’s speech was printed in full, and
+proved to read almost as well as it had sounded. The reporters were
+told, and repeated the tales without much attempt at verification, that
+Peter had taken the matter up without hope of profit; had paid the
+costs out of his own pocket; had refused to settle “though offered nine
+thousand dollars:” had “saved the Dooley children’s lives by sending
+them into the country;” and “had paid for the burials of the little
+victims.” So all gave him a puff, and two of the better sort wrote
+really fine editorials about him. At election time, or any other than a
+dull season, the case would have had small attention, but August is the
+month, to reverse an old adage, when “any news is good news.”
+
+The press began, too, a crusade against the swill-milk dealers, and the
+men who had allowed all this to be possible. “What is the Health Board
+about, that poison for children can be sold in the public streets?”
+“Where is the District Attorney, that prosecutions for the public good
+have to be brought by public-spirited citizens?” they demanded.
+Lynx-eyed reporters tracked the milk-supplies of the city, and though
+the alarm had been given, and many cows had been hastily sent to the
+country, they were able to show up certain companies, and print details
+which were quite lurid enough, when sufficiently “colored” by their
+skilful pens. Most residents of New York can remember the “swill-milk”
+or “stump-tail milk” exposures and prosecutions of that summer, and of
+the reformation brought about thereby in the Board of Health. As the
+details are not pleasant reading, any one who does not remember is
+referred to the daily press, and, if they want horrible pictures, to
+Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Weekly. Except for the papers, it is to be
+questioned if Peter’s case would have resulted in much more than the
+punishment of the man actually convicted; but by the press taking the
+matter up, the moment’s indignation was deepened and intensified to a
+degree which well-nigh swept every cow-stable off the island, and drove
+the proper officials into an activity leading to great reforms.
+
+No one was more surprised than Peter, at the sudden notoriety, or at
+the far-reaching results. He collected the articles, and sent them to
+his mother. 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
+every line of the case, and of the subsequent crusade. She read Peter’s
+speech again and again, stopping to sob at intervals, and hugging the
+clipping to her bosom from time to time, as the best equivalent for
+Peter, while sobbing: “My boy, my darling boy.” Every one in the
+mill-town knew of it, and the clippings were passed round among Peter’s
+friends, beginning with the clergyman and ending with his school-boy
+companions. They all wondered 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 of hours.” Mrs. Stirling herself wished it had been
+longer. Four columns of evidence, and only a little over a half column
+of speech! It couldn’t have taken him twenty minutes at the most. “Even
+the other lawyer, who had nothing to say but lies, took over a column
+to his speech. And his was 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, on the part of the Metropolitan press.
+She had promptly subscribed for a year to the New York paper which
+glorified Peter the most, supposing that from this time on his name
+would appear on the front page. When she found it did not and that it
+was not mentioned in the press and Health Board crusade against the
+other “swill-milk” dealers, she became convinced that there was some
+definite attempt to rob Peter of his due fame. “Why, Peter began it
+all,” she explained, “and now the papers and Health Board pretend it’s
+all their doings.” She wrote a letter to the editor of the paper—a
+letter which was passed round the office, and laughed 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 right
+evidence out of your witnesses, and not a bit of superfluous rubbish.
+That’s the mistake most young men make. They bury their testimony in
+unessential details, I tell you, those two children were worth all the
+rest put together. Did you send them to the country on purpose to get
+that kind of evidence?”
+
+“No,” said Peter.
+
+“Well, every man in that jury was probably a father, and that child’s
+talk took right hold of them. Not but that your speech would have done
+the business. You were mighty clever in just telling what you saw, and
+not going into the testimony. You could safely trust the judge to do
+that. It was a great speech.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Peter.
+
+“He’s not to be taffied,” thought the lawyer. “Plain talking’s the way
+to 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
+any further. Mr. Bohlmann’s a man of respectability, with a nice wife
+and some daughters. The newspapers are giving him quite enough music
+without your 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, and
+if you ask your clergyman—for I believe you go to Dr. Purple’s
+church?—you’ll find he’s very charitable and generous with his money.”
+
+Peter smiled curiously. “Distributing money made that way is not much
+of a charity.”
+
+“He didn’t know,” said the lawyer. Then catching a look which came into
+Peter’s face, he instantly added, “at least, he had no idea it was that
+bad. He tells me that he hadn’t been inside those cow-sheds for four
+years.”
+
+“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 how
+this whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling. It must be
+terrible 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 notice
+young girls—that for some reason they had not interested him
+since—since—
+
+“Where does he live?” inquired Peter.
+
+“Not ten blocks from here,” replied Dr. Purple, and named the street
+and number.
+
+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 and
+carried 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 one
+of the “nice” daughters. His arrival checked the flow of conversation
+somewhat, but they went on comparing their summer experiences. When the
+butler came back and said aloud, “Mr. Bohlmann will see you in the
+library, Mr. Stirling,” Peter noticed that both girls turned
+impulsively to look at him, and that the daughter flushed red.
+
+He found Mr. Bohlmann standing uneasily on the rug by the fireplace,
+and a 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 sitting
+himself.
+
+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 were
+tears 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 into
+tears. “I give you my word, Mr. Stirling,” he said, “that I didn’t know
+it was so. I haven’t had a happy moment since you spoke that day in
+court.” 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 face in his arms. His wife, who was also weeping, crossed to him,
+and tried to 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 a
+check-book, and filling up a check, handed it to Peter. It was dated
+and signed, but the amount was left blank. “There,” he said, “I leave
+it to you what is right.”
+
+“I think Mr. Dummer will feel we have not treated him fairly,” said
+Peter, “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 my
+daughters—” 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 five
+thousand 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 you
+to fill in the check for eight thousand dollars. That will be two each
+for three, and one each for two.”
+
+Mr. Bohlmann disengaged himself from his wife, and took his pen. “You
+do not add your fee,” he said.
+
+“I forgot it,” laughed Peter, and the couple laughed with him in their
+happiness. “Make it for eight thousand, two hundred and fifty.”
+
+“Och,” said the brewer once more resuming his English. “Dat is too
+leedle for vive cases.”
+
+“No,” said Peter. “It was what I had decided to charge in case I got
+any damages.”
+
+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 a
+note by his morning’s mail. Except for his mother’s weekly letter, it
+was 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 came
+into 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 he
+tore the envelope with little interest in his face. Indeed after he had
+opened it, he looked at his wall for a moment before he fixed his mind
+on 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
+hundred dollars. He laid it on his desk, and read the note over again.
+It was beyond question written by a lady. Every earmark showed that,
+from the delicate scent of the paper, to the fine, even handwriting.
+Peter wanted to know who she was. He looked at the check to see by whom
+it was signed; to find that it was drawn by the cashier of the bank at
+which it was payable.
+
+Half an hour later, a rapid walk had brought him to the bank the name
+of which was on the check. It was an uptown one, which made a specialty
+of family and women’s accounts. Peter asked for the cashier.
+
+“I’ve called about this check,” he said, when that official
+materialized, handing the slip of paper to him.
+
+“Yes,” said the cashier kindly, though with a touch of the resigned
+sorrow in his voice which cashiers of “family’s” and women’s banks
+acquire. “You must sign your name on the back, on the left-hand end,
+and present it to the paying-teller, over at that window. You’ll have
+to be identified if the paying-teller doesn’t know you.”
+
+“I don’t want the money,” said Peter, “I want to know who sent the
+check to me?”
+
+The cashier looked at it more carefully. “Oh!” he said. Then he looked
+up 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 to
+see 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 to
+see 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 the
+person 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 will
+not be cashed till Mr. Stirling has been able to explain something to
+her.”
+
+“Certainly. She can’t object to that.”
+
+“Thank you.”
+
+“Not at all.” The president rose and escorted him to the door. “That
+was a splendid speech of yours, Mr. Stirling,” he added. “I’m not a bit
+ashamed 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 same
+handwriting 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 he
+was so cool over his intended call. In a few minutes he would be in the
+presence of a lady, the firmness of whose handwriting indicated that
+she was not yet decrepit. Three years ago such a prospect would have
+been replete with terror to him. Down to that—that week at the
+Pierce’s, he had never gone to a place where he expected to “encounter”
+(for that was the word he formerly used) women without dread. Since
+that week—except for the twenty-four hours of the wedding, he had not
+“encountered” a lady. Yet here he was, going to meet an entire stranger
+without any conscious embarrassment or suffering. He was even in a
+sense curious. Peter was not given to self-analysis, but the change was
+too marked a one for him to be unconscious of it. Was it merely the
+poise of added years? Was it that he had ceased to care what women
+thought of him? Or was it that his discovery that a girl was lovable
+had made the sex less terrible 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
+still shrouded in summer coverings, preventing Peter from inferring
+much, even if 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 an inference, the rustle of a woman’s draperies was heard.
+Rising, Peter found himself facing a tall, rather slender woman of
+between thirty-five and forty. It did not need a second glance from
+even Peter’s untrained eye, to realize the suggestion of breeding in
+the whole atmosphere about her. The gown was of the simplest summer
+material, but its very simplicity, and a certain lack of “latest
+fashion” rather than “old-fashionedness” gave it a quality of
+respectability. Every line of the 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 a
+low, mellow voice, by no means so common then as our women’s imitation
+of the English tone and inflexion has since made it, “for suiting your
+time to mine on such short notice.”
+
+“You were very kind,” said Peter, “to comply with my request. Any time
+was 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. I
+thank you for both. But I think you probably sent me the latter through
+a 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 ‘poor
+young lawyer’ as they said. My mother is comfortably off, and gives me
+an ample allowance.”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“And what is more,” continued Peter, “while they were right in saying
+that I paid some of the expenses of the case, yet I was more than
+repaid by my fees in some civil suits I brought for the relatives of
+the children, which we settled very advantageously.”
+
+“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Stirling?” said Miss De Voe. “I should like to
+hear about the cases.”
+
+Peter began a very simple narrative of the matter. But Miss De Voe
+interjected questions or suppositions here and there, which led to
+other explanations, and before Peter had finished, he had told not
+merely the history of the cases, but much else. His mention of the two
+Dooley children had brought out the fact of their visit to his mother,
+and this had explained incidentally her position in the world. The
+settlement of the cases involved the story of the visit to the brewer’s
+home, and Peter, to justify his action, added his interview with his
+pastor, Peter’s connection with the case compelled him to speak of his
+evenings in the “angle,” and the solitary life that had sent him there.
+Afterwards, Peter was rather surprised at how much he had told. He did
+not realize that a woman with tact and experience can, without making
+it evident, lead a man to tell nearly anything and everything he knows,
+if she is so minded. If women ever really take to the bar seriously,
+may Providence protect the average being in trousers, when on the
+witness stand.
+
+As Peter talked, a clock struck. Stopping short, he rose. “I must ask
+your 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
+see that I have made a very good thing out of the whole matter and do
+not need this.”
+
+“One moment, Mr. Stirling,” said the lady, still sitting. “Can you
+spare the time to lunch with me? We will sit down at once, and you
+shall be free to go whenever you wish.”
+
+Peter hesitated. He knew that he had the time, and it did not seem easy
+to refuse without giving an excuse, which he did not have. Yet he did
+not feel that he had the right to accept an invitation which he had
+perhaps necessitated by his long call.
+
+“Thank you,” said his hostess, before he had been able to frame an
+answer. “May I trouble you to pull that bell?”
+
+Peter pulled the bell, and coming back, tendered the check rather
+awkwardly 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 has
+really affected the circumstances which led me to send that check. You
+acknowledge yourself that you are the poorer for that prosecution, and
+received no fees for trying it. As I wrote you, I merely was giving a
+retaining fee in that case, and as none other has been given, I still
+wish to do it. I cannot do such things myself, but I am weal—I—I can
+well afford to aid others to do them, and I hope you will let me have
+the 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 I
+was 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
+the one to say ‘thank you,’ and I am most grateful. But we will
+consider that as ended, and discuss luncheon in its place.”
+
+Peter, despite his usual unconsciousness could not but notice the
+beauty of the table service. The meal itself was the simplest of summer
+luncheons, but the silver and china and glass were such as he had never
+seen before.
+
+“What wine will you have with your luncheon, Mr. Stirling?” he was
+asked by 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
+is really no deprivation to me, while it would mean great anxiety to
+her if I drank.”
+
+This started the conversation on Peter’s mother and his early years,
+and before it had ended, his hostess had succeeded in learning much
+more about his origin and his New York life. The clock finally cut him
+short again, 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 other cause 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. I
+leave town to-morrow, Mr. Stirling, but return to the city late in
+October, and if your work and inclination favor it, I hope you will
+come to 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 me
+word that you wish to see me.”
+
+Miss De Voe had slightly caught her breath while Peter hesitated. “I
+believe he is going to refuse!” she thought to herself, a sort of
+stunned amazement seizing her. She was scarcely less surprised at his
+reply.
+
+“I never ask a man twice to call on me, Mr. Stirling,” she said, with a
+slight hauteur in her voice.
+
+“I’m sorry for that,” said Peter quietly.
+
+Miss De Voe caught her breath again. “Good-afternoon,” she said,
+holding out her hand. “I shall hope to see you.”
+
+“Good-bye,” said Peter, and the next moment was walking towards his
+office.
+
+Miss De Voe stood for a moment thinking. “That was curious,” she
+thought, “I wonder if he intends to come?”
+
+The next evening she was dining with relatives in one of the
+fashionable summering 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
+to be buried under a bathos of thanks, or else have my gift declined
+with the expectation that I would gush over the disinterestedness of
+the refusal. Since I couldn’t well avoid seeing him, I was quite
+prepared to snub him, or to take back the money without a word. But he
+wasn’t a bit that kind of creature. He isn’t self-assured nor
+tonguey—rather the reverse. I liked him so, that I forced him to stay
+to luncheon, and made him tell me a good deal about himself, without
+his knowing I was doing so. He leads a very unusual life, without
+seeming conscious that he does, and he tells about it very well. Uses
+just the right word every time, so that you know exactly what he means,
+without taxing your own brain to fill up blanks. He has such a nice
+voice too. One that makes you 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 too heavy.”
+
+“Is he a gentleman, cousin Anneke?” asked one of the party.
+
+“He is a little awkward, and over-blunt at moments, but nothing to
+which one would give a second thought. I was so pleased with him that I
+asked him 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 all
+sure that he means to come. It was really refreshing not to be truckled
+to, but it is rather startling to meet the first man who does not want
+to win his way to my visiting list. I don’t think he even knows who
+Miss De Voe is.”
+
+“He will find out quick enough,” laughed a girl, “and then he will do
+what they all do.”
+
+“No,” said Miss De Voe. “I suspect it will make no difference. He isn’t
+that kind, I think. I really am curious to see if I have to ask him a
+second time. It will be the only case I can remember. I’m afraid, my
+dears, your cousin is getting to be an old woman.”
+
+Peter, had in truth, met, and spent over four hours in the company of a
+woman whom every one wished to know. A woman equally famous for her
+lineage, her social position, her wealth and her philanthropy. It would
+not have made any difference, probably, had he known it, though it
+might have increased his awkwardness a little. That he was not quite as
+unconscious as Miss De Voe seemed to think, is shown by a passage in a
+letter 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 of
+the cases, and told them of their good fortune. They each had a look at
+Bohlmann’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 the
+children.”
+
+“That it does,” said Mrs. Dooley, quite willing to deprive her husband
+of 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 put
+it in the savings bank. “Perhaps later we’ll find something better.”
+They all went around to a well-known institution on the Bowery, and
+Peter interviewed the cashier. It proved feasible to endorse over the
+check 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 the
+president, who had been called into the consultation.
+
+“Very well,” said Peter. “I shall want some of it before long, but the
+rest will be very well off here.” So a book was handed him, and the
+president shook him by the hand with all the warmth that eight thousand
+two hundred and fifty dollars of increased assets and four new
+depositors 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
+spoken in connection with the half-price drinks for the Milligan wake,
+and as spokesman 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 not
+know Mr. Moriarty’s name, never having had it given him, but he placed
+him instantly.
+
+“Thank you,” said Peter, holding out his hand. Peter did not usually
+shake hands in meeting people, but he liked the man’s face. It would
+never take a prize for beauty. The hair verged on a fiery red, the nose
+was a real sky-scraper and the upper lip was almost proboscidian in its
+length. But every one liked the face.
+
+“It’s proud Oi’m bein’ shakin’ the hand av Misther Stirling,” said the
+Irishman.
+
+“Sit down,” said Peter.
+
+“My name’s Moriarty, sir, Dinnis Moriarty, an’ Oi keeps a saloon near
+Centre Street, beyant.”
+
+“You were round here in the procession.”
+
+“Oi was, sir. Shure, Oi’m not much at a speech, compared to the likes
+av yez, 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 Justice
+Gallagher 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 the
+caretaker really, the brewer having an assignment of the lease and a
+chattel mortgage on your fixtures and stock.”
+
+“That’s it,” said Dennis. “It’s mighty quick yez got at it. It’s
+caretaker Oi am, an’ a divil of a care it is. Shure, who wants to work
+seven 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’s
+little 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 never
+let me sell anythin’ else.”
+
+“Then Edelhein is really the principal, and you are only put in to keep
+him 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 one
+sellin’ his beer could help bein’ fined!”
+
+“How is that?” said Peter, inferring that selling poor beer was a
+finable offence, yet ignorant of the statute.
+
+“Why yez see, sir, the b’ys don’t like that beer—an’ sensible they
+are—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’s
+little Oi can do at the primary, an’ so it’s no pull Oi have in
+politics, to get the perlice an’ the joodges to be easy wid me, like
+they are to the rest.”
+
+Peter studied his blank wall a bit.
+
+“Shure, if it’s good beer Oi had,” continued Moriarty, “Oi’d be afther
+beatin’ them all, for Oi was always popular wid the b’ys, on account of
+my 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’ then
+Oi’d lose my influence at the primary.”
+
+“What kind of beer does Mr. Bohlmann make?” asked Peter, somewhat
+irrelevantly.
+
+“Ah,” said Moriarty, “that’s the fine honest beer! There’s never
+anythin’ wrong wid his. An’ he treats his keepers fair. Lets them do as
+they want about keepin’ open Sundays, an’ never squeezes a man when
+he’s down 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 that
+clause 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 did
+not like either saloon-keepers or law-breakers, but this case seemed to
+him to have—to have—extenuating circumstances. His cogitations finally
+resulted in his going to Justice Gallagher’s court. He found the judge
+rather curt.
+
+“He’s been up here three times in as many months, and I intend to make
+an example of him.”
+
+“But why is only he arrested, when every saloon keeper in the
+neighborhood does the same thing?”
+
+“Now, sir,” said the judge, “don’t waste any more of my time. What’s
+the next case?”
+
+A look we have mentioned once or twice came into Peter’s face. He
+started to leave the court, but encountered at the door one of the
+policemen whom he was “friends with,” according to the children, which
+meant 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 had
+orders.”
+
+“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
+has the 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. Then
+he 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 to
+remit Dennis Moriarty’s fine?”
+
+“Will I? No. I will not. Der’s too many saloons, and one less will be
+bully.”
+
+“In that case,” said Peter quietly, “I suppose you won’t mind my
+closing yours 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
+his shoulders 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
+fight on 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 telling
+him the result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made the
+other 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
+between the 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 turn
+for 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 told
+him the story, asking his advice at the end.
+
+“Dondt you vool von minute mit dod Edelheim. I dells you vot I do. I
+harf choost a blace vacant down in Zender Streed, and your frient he
+shall it haf.”
+
+So they chatted till all the details had been arranged. Dennis was to
+go in as caretaker, bound to use only Bohlmann’s beer, with a
+percentage on that, and the profits on all else. He was to pay the
+rent, receiving a sub-lease from Bohlmann, who was only a lesee
+himself, and to give a chattel mortgage on the stock supplied him.
+Finally he was to have the right of redemption of stock, lease, and
+good-will at any time within five years, on making certain payments.
+
+“You draw up der babers, Misder Stirling, and send der bill to me. Ve
+vill give der yoonger a chance,” the brewer said.
+
+When Dennis called the next day, he was “spacheless” at the new
+developments. He wrung Peter’s hand.
+
+“Arrah, what can Oi say to yez?” he exclaimed finally. Then having
+found something, he quickly continued: “Now, Patsy Blunkers, lookout
+for yezself. 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 “celebrate
+the 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’s
+myself can do the hittin’, an’ the b’ys know it.”
+
+“My mother brought me up,” Peter explained, “not to go into saloons,
+and when I came to New York I promised her, if I ever did anything she
+had taught me not to, that I would write her about it. She would hardly
+understand this visit, and it might make her very unhappy.”
+
+Peter earned fifty dollars by drawing the papers, and at the end of the
+first 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, having
+recouped 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. The
+winter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadily
+growing acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July a
+new 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, with
+his 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 the
+primary?”
+
+“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 enormous
+proportions, “Oi suppose yez afther thinkin’ Oi’m a dirty black
+Republican.”
+
+Peter laughed, as few could help doing, when Dennis led the way. “Look
+here, Dennis,” he said, “don’t you run down that party. My father was a
+Democrat, but he voted for Lincoln, and fought for the blacks when the
+time came, and though I’m a Democrat like him, the Republicans are only
+black in their sympathies, and not in their acts.”
+
+“An’ what do yez say to the whisky frauds, an’ black Friday, an’ credit
+mobilier?” 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. Yet
+he’s an honest man.”
+
+Dennis scratched his head. “It’s a convincin’ way yez have wid yez,” he
+said; “but it’s scoundrels the Republicans are, all the same. Look at
+them in the district; there’s not one a decent man would invite to
+drink wid him.”
+
+“I think, Dennis,” said Peter, “that when all the decent men get into
+one party, there’ll be only one worth talking about.”
+
+“Av course,” replied Dennis. “That’s the reason there’s only the
+Democratic party in New York City.”
+
+“Tell me about this primary,” said Peter, concluding that abstract
+political philosophy was not the way to liberalize Dennis.
+
+“It’s most important, it is,” he was told, “it’s on top Patsy Blunkers
+an’ his gang av dirty spalpeens (Dennis seemed to forget that he had
+just expressed the opinion that all the “decent” men were Democrats)
+have been this two years, but we’ve got orders for a new enrollment at
+last, an’ if we don’t knock them this time, my name isn’t Dinnis
+Moriarty.”
+
+“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 so
+excited, sir, that it’s twice Oi’ve had to pound the b’ys a bit in my
+saloon to keep the peace.”
+
+“What do you want of me?”
+
+“Shure, every vote counts on a night like this. An’ ye’d be afther
+helpin’ us big, for the district likes yez.”
+
+“But, Dennis, I can’t vote without knowing something about the way
+things 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, are
+never nominated here. It’s real things we’re afther votin’ for in New
+York.”
+
+Peter laughed. “I’ve got to take you in hand, Dennis, and you’ve got to
+take me in hand. I think we both need each other’s help. Yes, I’ll come
+to the primary. Will they let me vote?”
+
+“The dirty spalpeens will never dare to stop yez! Thank yez, sir. Oi’ll
+be 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 well
+packed with men, and the interstices already filled in with dense
+tobacco smoke. He looked about him curiously, and was surprised to find
+how many of the faces he knew. Blackett, Dooley, and Milligan were
+there, and shook hands with him warmly. Judge Gallagher and Blunkers
+were 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 in
+the case, and one of the jurymen in it, likewise were visible. Also
+many faces which were familiar to Peter by a former occasional friendly
+word or nod exchanged in passing. Intense excitement evidently reigned,
+and every one was whispering in a sort of breathless way, which showed
+how deeply interested they were.
+
+At Dennis’s suggestion, made in walking to the room, Peter presented
+himself without guidance, at the desk. Some one behind him asked if he
+lived in the ward, and for how long, but this was the only apparent
+opposition made to the prompt entering of his name. Then Peter strolled
+round and talked to those whom he knew, and tried to find out, without
+much success, just what was the division. Every one knew that a fight
+was on, but in just what it consisted they seemed neither to know nor
+care.
+
+He noticed that hot words were constantly exchanged at the enrolling
+desk, over would-be members, but not understanding the exact nature of
+the qualifications needed, he could not follow the disputes. Finally
+these ceased, for want of applicants.
+
+“Misther Stirling,” said Dennis, coming up to him hurriedly. “Will yez
+be 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,
+the enrolling officer rose and spoke.
+
+“Are there any more to be enrolled?” he called. No one came forward, so
+after a moment he said: “Will the meeting choose a presiding officer?”
+
+“Mr. Chairman,” rang two voices so quickly that they in truth cut the
+presiding officer off in his suggestion.
+
+“Mr. Muldoon,” said that officer.
+
+“Oi spoke first,” shouted Dennis, and Peter felt that he had, and that
+he was not having fair play.
+
+Instantly a wave of protest, denials, charges, and counter-charges
+swept through the room, Peter thought there was going to be a fight,
+but the position was too critical to waste a moment on what Dennis
+styled “a diversion.” It was business, not pleasure, just then.
+
+“Mr. Muldoon,” said the officer again, not heeding the tempest in the
+least.
+
+“Mr. Chairman,” shouted Muldoon, “I am proud to nominate Justice
+Gallagher, the pride of the bar, for chairman of this distinguished
+meeting, 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 this
+meetin’ 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 the
+intelligince an’ manhood av this meetin’ that it will be that way for
+shure.”
+
+Peter saw a hurried consultation going on between Gallagher, Muldoon,
+and two others, during the latter part of this speech, and barely had
+Dennis 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 justly
+merits the honor of presiding on this important occasion. From recent
+events too well known to need mention, I am sure we can all look to him
+for justice and fairness.”
+
+“Bad cess to him!” groaned Dennis. “Oi hoped they’d be just fools
+enough to oppose yez, an’ then we’d have won the first blood.”
+
+Peter was chosen without dissent, and was escorted to the seat behind
+the 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,”
+he was told.
+
+Peter had presided at college in debates, and was not flurried. “Will
+you stay here so as to give me the names of those I don’t know?” he
+said to the enrolling officer. “The meeting will please come to order,”
+he continued aloud. “The nomination of delegates to the State
+convention is the business to be acted upon.”
+
+“Misther Chairman,” yelled Dennis, evidently expecting to find another
+rival as before. But no one spoke.
+
+“Mr. Moriarty,” said Peter.
+
+“Misther Chairman. It’s my delight to nominate as delegates to the
+State convention, the Honorable Misther Schlurger, our distinguished
+representative in the Assembly, the Honorable Misther Kennedy, our
+noble Police-commissioner, an’ Misther Caggs, whom it would be insult
+for me to 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 from
+such a source.”
+
+“What?” shrieked Dennis, amazement and rage contesting for first place
+in voice and expression.
+
+“Mr. Chairman,” said Dummer.
+
+“Mr. Dummer,” said Peter.
+
+“I have the honor to nominate the Honorable Justice Gallagher, Mr.
+Peter Sweeney, and Mr. Caggs, to whom Mr. Moriarty has just paid so
+glowing a tribute, as delegates to the State convention.”
+
+“Second the—” shouted some one, but the rest was drowned by another
+storm which swept through the room. Even above the tumult, Peter could
+hear Dennis challenging and beseeching Mr. Caggs to come “outside an’
+settle it like gentlemen.” Caggs, from a secure retreat behind
+Blunkers’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’ to
+speak av dirty, cowardly, black-hearted, treacherous snakes, wid souls
+blacker than the divil’s own—”
+
+“Order!” said Peter to the crowd.
+
+“No,” continued Dennis, in answer to the audible remarks of the
+opposition. “It’s no names Oi’m callin’. If yez know such a beast, such
+a 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’ wid
+discribin’ the conduct av a beast so vile that he must be the contempt
+av every honest man. Who would have been driven out by St. Patrick, wid
+the rest av the reptiles, if he’d lived at that time. Oi only rise to
+widdraw the name av Caggs from the list Oi nominated for delegates to
+the state convention, an’ to put in place av it that av a man who is as
+noble an’ true, as some are false an’ divilish. That of Misther Peter
+Stirling, God bless him!”
+
+Once more chaos came. Peter pounded in vain. Both sides were at fever
+heat. Finally Peter rose.
+
+“Gentlemen,” he shouted, in a voice that rang through the hall above
+even the tumult, “if this meeting does not come to order, I shall
+declare it adjourned.”
+
+Instant quiet fell, for all had paused a moment to hear his words, and
+they 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 to
+make?”
+
+A man next Justice Gallagher said, “Mr. Chairman,” and being duly
+recognized, proceeded to talk for ten minutes in a very useless way.
+But during this time, Peter noticed first a good deal of whispering
+among Blunkers’s friends, and then an interview between Gallagher and
+Dennis. The latter was apparently not reconcilable, and shook his head
+in a way that 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
+orator was “called down” and it was voted to proceed to an election.
+Peter named one of the firemen, Dooley, and Blunkers, tellers, who,
+after a ballot, announced that Dennis had carried his nominations,
+Peter heading the list with two hundred and twelve votes, and the
+others getting one hundred 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 the
+election had been read, and slipped away in the turmoil that
+immediately followed, without a word to any one. He was in truth not
+bewildered—because he had too much natural poise and phlegm—but he was
+surprised by the suddenness of it all, and wanted to think before
+talking with others. So he took advantage of the mutual bickerings and
+recriminations which seemed the order of the day, to get back to his
+office, and there he sat, studying his wall for a time. Then he went to
+bed, and slept as quickly and as calmly as if he had spent his evening
+in reading the “Modern Cottage Architecture” or “Questions de
+Sociologie,” which were on his table instead of presiding at a red-hot
+primary, 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 of
+grins, “let me salute the delegate to the State convention.”
+
+“Look here, Dennis,” said Peter, “you know you had no business to
+spring that on me.”
+
+“Ah, sir! Shure, when that dirty little spalpeen av a Caggs went back
+on us so, what could Oi do? Oi know it’s speak to yez Oi ought, but wid
+de room 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 been
+chosen, 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’s
+a fight like that makes them yieldin’ an’ friendly. Nothin’ but a
+little head-punchin’ could make them in a sweeter mood, an’ we’d a
+given them that 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 feels
+bad 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’s
+seldom that they’re not just as friendly the next day.”
+
+Peter looked at his wall. He had not liked Gallagher at either time he
+had met him. “Still,” he thought to himself, “I have no right to
+prevent him 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 was
+tellin’ me himself that he was a poor kind av creature, wid a strong
+objection to saloons.”
+
+Peter’s eye lost its last suggestion of doubt. “Oh, Justice Gallagher
+told 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 own
+way.”
+
+“Shure, sir, Oi’d not have yez do any thin’ else. It’s yezself knows
+better than me. Oi was only tellin’ yez what the Justice—”
+
+A knock at the door interrupted him. It proved to be Gallagher, who
+greeted them both in a hearty, friendly way. Peter brought another
+chair from his bedroom.
+
+“Well, Mr. Stirling, that was a fine contest we had last night,” said
+his honor.
+
+“It seemed to be earnest,” said Peter.
+
+“It’s just as well our friend here sprang your nomination on us as a
+surprise, for if we had known, we should not have put up an opposition
+candidate. You are just the sort of a man we want to represent us in
+the convention.”
+
+“I have never met my colleagues,” said Peter. “What kind of men are
+they?”
+
+So he got Gallagher’s opinion, and Dennis’s opinion. Then he wanted to
+know about the candidates, asking questions about them at considerable
+length. The intentions of the other city delegates were next
+introduced. Finally the probable planks of the platform were brought
+up. While they were still under discussion Gallagher said the sitting
+of his court compelled 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 nothing
+but 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 solid
+delegation!”
+
+“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 to
+offend. We all thought he would win.”
+
+“Oh, let them have their fights,” said the man crossly; “but it’s your
+business to see that the right men are put up, so that it doesn’t make
+any 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 this
+Stirling, and made out a strong case for Catlin, without seeming to
+care which 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
+that case and by being friendly to people. I don’t think, if he’s going
+into politics, 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 one
+experience with him, which showed me that any man who picked him up for
+a fool would drop him quick.” Then he told how Dennis’s fine had been
+remitted.
+
+In the next few weeks Peter met a good many men who wanted to talk
+politics with him. Gallagher brought some; Dennis others; his
+fellow-ward delegates, more. But Peter could not be induced to commit
+himself. He would talk candidates and principles endlessly, but without
+expressing his own mind. Twice he was asked point blank, “Who’s your
+man?” but he promptly answered that he had not yet decided. He had
+always read a Democratic paper, but now he read two, and a Republican
+organ as well. His other reading lessened markedly, and the time gained
+was spent in talking with men in the “district.” He even went into the
+saloons and listened to the discussions.
+
+“I don’t drink,” he had to explain several times, “because my mother
+doesn’t like it.” For some reason this explanation seemed to be
+perfectly satisfactory. One man alone sneered at him. “Does she feed
+yer still on milk, sonny?” he asked. “No,” said Peter, “but everything
+I have comes from her, and that’s the kind of a mother a fellow wants
+to please; don’t you think so?” The sneerer hesitated, and finally said
+he “guessed it was.” So Peter was made one of them, and smoked and
+listened. 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 had
+argued over something, they often looked at Peter, rather than at their
+opponents, 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
+makes them feel that he’s just the likes av them, an’ that he wants
+their minds an’ opinions to help him. Shure, they’d rather smoke one
+pipe av his tobaccy than drink ten times at Gallagher’s expense.”
+
+After Peter had listened carefully and lengthily, he wrote to “The
+Honorable Lemuel Porter, Hudson, N.Y.,” asking him if he could give him
+an hour’s talk some day. The reply was prompt, and told Peter that
+Porter would be glad to see him any time that should suit his
+convenience. So Peter took a day off and ran up to Hudson.
+
+“I am trying to find out for whom I should vote,” he explained to
+Porter. “I’m a new man at this sort of thing, and, not having met any
+of the men talked of, I preferred to see them before going to the
+convention.”
+
+Porter found that Peter had taken the trouble to go over a back file of
+papers, and read some of his speeches.
+
+“Of course,” Peter explained, “I want, as far as possible, to know what
+you think of questions likely to be matters for legislation.”
+
+“The difficulty in doing that, Mr. Stirling,” he was told, “is that
+every nominee is bound to surrender his opinions in a certain degree to
+the party platform, while other opinions have to be modified to new
+conditions.”
+
+“I can see that,” said Peter. “I do not for a moment expect that what
+you say to-day is in any sense a pledge. If a man’s honest, the poorest
+thing we can do to him is to tie him fast to one course of action, when
+the conditions are constantly changing. But, of course, you have
+opinions for the present state of things?”
+
+Something in Peter’s explanation or face pleased Mr. Porter. He
+demurred no more, and, for an hour before lunch, and during that meal,
+he talked with the utmost freedom.
+
+“I’m not easily fooled on men,” he told his secretary afterwards, “and
+you can say what you wish to that Stirling without danger of its being
+used unfairly or to injure one. And he’s the kind of man to be won by
+square dealing.”
+
+Peter had spoken of his own district “I think,” he said, “that some
+good can be done in the way of non-partisan legislation. I’ve been
+studying the food supplies of the city, and, if I can, I shall try to
+get a bill introduced this winter to have official inspections
+systematized.”
+
+“That will receive my approval if it is properly drawn. But you’ll
+probably find the Health Board fighting you. It’s a nest of
+politicians.”
+
+“If they won’t yield, I shall have to antagonize them, but I have had
+some 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 the drafting, for they can make it much better through their
+practical experience.”
+
+“If you do that, the opposition ought not to be troublesome. What else
+do you want?”
+
+“I’ve been thinking of a general Tenement-house bill, but I don’t think
+I shall try for that this winter. It’s a big subject, which needs very
+careful study, in which a lot of harm may be done by ignorance. There’s
+no doubt that anything which hurts the landlord, hurts the tenant, and
+if you make the former spend money, the tenant pays for it in the long
+run. Yet health must be protected. I shall try to find out what can be
+done.”
+
+“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 I
+shall hope to work in politics in the future.”
+
+Peter took another day off, and spent a few minutes of it with the
+other most promising candidate. He did not see very much of him, for
+they were interrupted by another caller, and Peter had to leave before
+he could have a chance to continue the interview.
+
+“I had a call to-day from that fellow Stirling, who’s a delegate from
+the sixth ward,” the candidate told a “visiting statesman” later. “I’m
+afraid he’ll give us trouble. He asks too many questions. Fortunately
+Dewilliger came to see me, and though I shouldn’t have seen him
+ordinarily, I found his call very opportune as a means of putting an
+end to Stirling’s cross-examination.”
+
+“He’s the one doubtful man on the city’s delegation,” said the
+statesman. “It happened through a mistake. It will be very unfortunate
+if we can’t cast a solid city vote.”
+
+Peter talked more in the next few days. He gave the “b’ys” his
+impressions of the two candidates, in a way which made them trust his
+conclusions. He saw his two fellow delegates, and argued long and
+earnestly with them. He went to every saloon-keeper in the district,
+and discussed the change in the liquor law which was likely to be a
+prominent issue in the campaign, telling them what he had been able to
+draw from both candidates about the subject.
+
+“Catlin seems to promise you the most,” he told them, “and I don’t want
+to say he isn’t trying to help you. But if you get the law passed which
+he 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 it
+will tempt people to go into the business, so that it will cut your
+profits that way. Then, you may stir up a big public sentiment against
+you in the next election, and so lay yourselves open to unfriendly
+legislation. It is success, or trying to get too much, which has beaten
+every party, sooner or later, in this country. Look at slavery. If the
+Southerners had left things as they were under the Missouri Compromise,
+they never would have stirred up the popular outbreak that destroyed
+slavery. Now, Porter is said to be unfriendly to you, because he wants
+a bill to limit the number of licenses, and to increase the fee to new
+saloons. Don’t you see that is all in your favor, though apparently
+against you? In the first place, you are established, and the law will
+be drawn so as to give the old dealer precedence over a new one in
+granting fresh licenses. This limit will really give the established
+saloon more trade in the future, by reducing competition. While the
+increase 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 he
+were stating a fact than reproving.
+
+Blunkers laughed good-naturedly. “Yer’ll be gittin’ usen to close up
+yet, Mister Stirling. Yer too good for us.”
+
+Peter looked at him. “Blunkers,” he said warmly, “no man is too good
+not to tell the truth to any one whom he thinks it will help.”
+
+“Shake,” said Blunkers. Then he turned to the men at the tables. “Step
+up, boys,” he called. “I sets it up dis time to drink der health of der
+feller 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, became
+current.
+
+“What’s this I hear?” said Gallagher’s former interviewer to that
+gentleman. “They say Schlurger says he intends to vote for Porter, and
+Kennedy’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 delegates
+pledge themselves to vote for Porter. He said they must go unbound.”
+
+The interviewer’s next remark is best represented by several “blank
+its,” no allusion however being intended to bed-coverings. Then he
+cited the lower regions to know what it all meant.
+
+“It means that that chap Stirling has got to be fixed, and fixed big. I
+thought I knew how to wire pull, and manage men, but he’s taken hold
+and just runs it as he wants. It’s he makes all the trouble.”
+
+The interviewer left the court, and five minutes later was in
+Stirling’s office.
+
+“My name’s Green,” he said. “I’m a delegate to the convention, and one
+of the committee who has the arranging of the special train and
+accommodations at Saratoga.”
+
+“I’m glad you came in,” said Peter. “I bought my ticket yesterday, and
+the man at headquarters said he’d see that I was assigned a room at the
+United States.”
+
+“There’ll be no trouble about the arrangements. What I want to see you
+for, is to ask if you won’t dine with me this evening? There’s to be
+several of the delegates and some big men there, to talk over the
+situation.”
+
+“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 two
+interviews. “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 that
+all the guests were well-known party men, whose names and opinions were
+matters of daily notice in the papers. What was more, they talked
+convention affairs, and Peter learned in the two hours’ general
+conversation 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 between
+the city and country members, and that this divided interest played a
+part in nearly every measure. “Now,” said one of the best known men at
+the 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
+well he intends by us, he can’t do more than agree to such bills as we
+can get passed. But Catlin has the Monroe members of the legislature
+under his thumb, and his brother-in-law runs Onandaga. He promises they
+shall vote for all we want. With that aid, we can carry what New York
+City needs, in spite of the country members.”
+
+“Would the country members refuse to vote for really good and needed
+city 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 this
+country in their hands, and threaten or throttle those interests every
+time anything is wanted.”
+
+“And when it comes to taxation,” added another, “the country members
+are always giving the cities the big end to carry.”
+
+“I had a talk with Catlin,” said Peter. “It seemed to me that he wasn’t
+the right kind of man.”
+
+“Catlin’s a timid man, who never likes to commit himself. That’s
+because he always wants to do what his backers tell him. Of course when
+a man does that, he hasn’t decided views of his own, and naturally
+doesn’t wish 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 a
+man who was able to do what the majority wants every time, we could
+re-elect him for the next fifty years. You must remember that in this
+country we elect a man to do what we want—not to do what he wants
+himself.”
+
+“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
+the people want than the man who sits in the governor’s room, with a
+doorkeeper 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
+this is very unusual, because it’s risky. Remember, we can only do
+things when our party is in power, so it is our interest to do what
+will please the people, if we are to command majorities and remain in
+office. Individually we have got to do what the majority of our party
+wants done, or we are thrown out, and new men take our places. And it’s
+just the same way with the parties.”
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “I understand the condition better, and can see
+what I could not fathom before, why the city delegates want Catlin. But
+my own ward has come out strong for Porter. We’ve come to the
+conclusion that 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 and tenement legislation we want.”
+
+“I know about that change, and want to say, Mr. Stirling, that few men
+of 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 not
+have yet considered. Any proposed restriction on the license will not
+merely scare a lot of saloon-keepers, who will only understand that it
+sounds unfriendly, but it will alienate every brewer and distiller, for
+their interest is to see saloons multiplied. Then food and tenement
+legislation always stirs up bad feeling in the dealers and owners. If
+the opposite party would play fair, we could afford to laugh at it, but
+you see the party out of power can oppose about anything, knowing that
+a minority is never held responsible, and so by winning over the
+malcontents which every piece of legislation is sure to make, before
+long it goes to the polls with a majority, though it has really been
+opposing the best interests of the whole state. We can’t sit still, and
+do nothing, yet everything we do will alienate some interest.”
+
+“It’s as bad as the doctrine of fore-ordination,” laughed another of
+the party:
+
+“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 the
+majority wants done every time, would be re-elected. Doesn’t it hold
+true as to a party?”
+
+“No. A party is seldom retained in power for such reasons. If it has a
+long tenure of office it is generally due to popular distrust of the
+other party. The natural tendency otherwise is to make office-holding a
+sort of see-saw. Let alone change of opinion in older men, there are
+enough new voters every four years to reverse majorities in almost
+every state. Of course these young men care little for what either
+party has done in the past, and being young and ardent, they want to
+change things. The minority’s ready to please them, naturally. Reform
+they call it, but it’s quite as often ‘Deform’ when they’ve done it.”
+
+Peter smiled and said, “Then you think my views on license, and
+food-inspection, and tenement-house regulation are ‘Deformities’?”
+
+“We won’t say that, but a good many older and shrewder heads have
+worked over those questions, and while I don’t know what you hope to
+do, you’ll not 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 must
+try 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 are
+all 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 not
+been twenty and thirty years in this business for nothing.”
+
+“I think you know how to run a party—but poisoned milk was peddled in
+my ward. I went to law to punish the men who sold it. Now I’m going
+into politics to try and get laws and administration which will prevent
+such evils. I’ve told my district what I want. I think it will support
+me. I know 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 so
+by majorities. I want you to give this city such a government that
+you’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 it
+would make clear the object of my particular endeavors. I want to have
+the Health Board help me to draft a food-inspection bill, and I want
+the legislature to pass it, without letting it be torn to pieces for
+the benefit of special interests. I don’t mind fair amendments, but
+they must 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 tell
+my ward that you have done them a great service.”
+
+Two of the men moved uneasily in their seats, as if not comfortable,
+and a 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.” Peter
+spoke in the same tone of voice, and still looked Mr. Costell in the
+face.
+
+“And if we don’t do either?”
+
+“What I shall do then will depend on whether you refuse for a good
+reason or for none. In either case I shall tell them the facts.”
+
+“This is damned——” began one of the dinner-party, but the lifting of
+Mr. Costell’s hand stopped the speech there.
+
+“Mr. Stirling,” said Mr. Costell, rising as he spoke, “I hope when you
+come to think it over, that you will vote with us for Catlin. But
+whether you do or not, we want you to work with us. We can help you,
+and you can help us. When you are ready to begin on your bills, come
+and see me.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Peter. “That is just what I want.” He said good-night
+to 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 with
+him 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 trial
+which 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 certain
+deep smile that was almost habitual with him, and which no one had ever
+yet been able to read. “No,” he said slowly. “You might beat him, but
+he isn’t the kind that stays beat. I’ll agree to outwit any man in
+politics, except the man who knows how to fight and to tell the people
+the truth. I’ve never yet seen a man beaten in the long run who can do
+both those, unless he chose to think himself beaten. Gentlemen, that
+Stirling is a fighter and a truth-teller, and you can’t beat him in his
+ward. There’s no use having him against us, so it’s our business to see
+that we have him with us. We may not be able to get him into line this
+time, but we must do it in the long run. For he’s not the kind that
+lets go. He’s beaten Nelson, and he’s beaten Gallagher, both of whom
+are old hands. Mark my words, in five years he’ll run the sixth ward.
+Drop all talk of fighting him. He is in politics to stay, and we must
+make it worth 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 he had gone through his papers, and drunk his coffee the next
+morning, he went back to wall-gazing again. He was working over two
+conundrums not very 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 than
+the 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
+it was easy to take the right one, but he had not then discovered that
+it is often difficult to know which is the right, in order to follow
+it. He had started in to punish Bohlmann, and had compromised. He had
+disapproved of Dennis breaking the law, and had compromised his
+disapproval. He had said he should not go into saloons, and had ended
+by going. Now he was confronted with the problem whether the interests
+of his ward would be better served by the nomination of a man of good
+record, whom Peter personally liked, or by that of a colorless man, who
+would be ruled by the city’s leaders. In the one case Peter feared no
+support for his measures from his own party. In the other case he saw
+aid 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 is
+much 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,”
+both surrounding and filling the special train which was to carry New
+York’s contribution to the collected party wisdom, about to concentrate
+at Saratoga.
+
+Peter felt like a stranger in the crowd, but on mingling in it he
+quickly found himself a marked man. He was seized upon by one of the
+diners of the evening before, and soon found himself forming part of a
+group, which constantly changed its components, but continued to talk
+convention affairs steadily. Nor did the starting of the train, with
+cheers, brass bands, flags, and other enthusing elements, make more
+than a temporary break. From the time the special started, till it
+rolled into Saratoga, six hours later, there was one long series of
+political debates and confabs. Peter listened much, and learned much,
+for the talk was very straight and plain. He had chats with Costell and
+Green. His two fellow-delegates from “de sixt” sought him and discussed
+intentions. He liked Schlurger, a simple, guileless German, who wanted
+only to do what 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’s talk about the “best man,” and about “helping the
+ward,” and had only found that Peter’s ideas had value after he had
+been visited by various of the saloon-keepers, seen the vast torchlight
+meeting, and heard the cheers at Peter’s arguments. Still, Peter was by
+no means sure that Kennedy was not a square man, and concluded he was
+right in not condemning him, when, passing through one of the cars, he
+overheard the following:
+
+“What kind of man is that Stirling, who’s raised such —— in the sixth?”
+
+“I don’t know him, but Kennedy told me, before he’d swung round, that
+he was a darned good sort of a cuss.”
+
+This was flattery, Peter understood, however questionable the form
+might seem, and he was pleased. Very few of us do not enjoy a real
+compliment. What makes a compliment uncomfortable is either a suspicion
+that the maker 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 night
+before had robbed him. But scarcely had the colored gentleman bowed
+himself out, after the usual “can I git de gentleman a pitcher of ice
+water” (which translated means: “has de gentleman any superfluous
+change?”) when a knock came at the door. Peter opened it, to find a man
+outside.
+
+“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 and
+overcoat 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 New
+York is otherwise a unit in opposing us.”
+
+“No,” said Peter. “My fellow-delegates from the sixth, Schlurger and
+Kennedy, 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 they
+have 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 had
+put into it. He gave a quick look at Peter’s face, as if to try and
+find from it what lay behind the words. He hesitated, as if divided in
+mind over two courses of action. Finally he said:
+
+“I needn’t tell you that this opposition of practically the whole of
+the New York City delegation, is the most serious set-back to Porter’s
+chance. Now, we have talked it over, and it seemed to us that it would
+be 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 delegate
+have to make a speech in his favor?”
+
+“Yes. But I can give you the material to-night. Or if you prefer, we’ll
+give 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 shall
+vote, and of course such an act is binding.”
+
+Mr. Maguire’s countenance changed again. “I’m sorry to hear that. I
+hoped 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 the
+armholes of his waistcoat. He thought he had fathomed Peter, and felt
+that the rest was plain sailing. “This is not a chap to be tolled. I’ll
+give him the gaff at once,” was his mental conclusion. Then he asked
+aloud:
+
+“What do you want?”
+
+It was a question susceptible of many different constructions, but as
+Mr. Maguire asked it, it seemed to him to have but one, and that not
+very honest. Peter hesitated. The temptation was strong to lead the
+Senator 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 the
+managers on Porter’s side would stoop to buy his support by some
+bargain. As Peter hesitated, weighing the pros and cons, Maguire spoke
+again.
+
+“What does the other side offer you?”
+
+Peter spoke quickly. “They haven’t offered me anything, but advice.
+That is, 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 he
+hadn’t spoken so quickly, I should have shown my hand before the call.
+I wonder if he got any inkling?” He never dreamed that Peter had spoken
+quickly to save that very disclosure.
+
+“I needn’t say, Mr. Stirling, that if you can see your way to nominate
+Porter, we shall not forget it. Nor will he. He isn’t the kind of man
+who forgets his friends. Many a man in to-morrow’s convention would
+give anything for the privilege we offer you.”
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “I realize the honor offered me, but I don’t see my
+way to take it. It will please me better to see him nominated by some
+one who has really stood close to him, than to gain his favor by doing
+it myself.”
+
+“Think twice, Mr. Stirling.”
+
+“If you would rather, I will not give you my answer till to-morrow
+morning?”
+
+“I would,” said Maguire rising, “Try and make it favorable. It’s a
+great chance 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 on
+second 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, and
+how much Porter? Ought I, for the sake of doing my best for my ward, to
+have let him go on? Has an agent any right to refuse what will help is
+client, 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?” he
+asked.
+
+“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.” Costell
+sat down on the window-ledge by Peter.
+
+“Thank you,” said Peter. “I like a cigar, but it must be a good one,
+and that kind I can’t afford.” He lit the cigar, and leaned back to
+luxuriate in it.
+
+“You’ll like that, I’m sure. Pretty sight, isn’t it?” Costell pointed
+to the 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 than
+this.”
+
+“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,” he
+continued, as soon as he had decided that plain speaking was fair to
+Maguire.
+
+“We shall be very sorry to see you do it.”
+
+“I don’t think I shall. They only want me because it would give the
+impression that Porter has a city backing, and to try to give that
+amounts 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 he
+rubbed out the light, and left the room. At the office, he learned the
+number of Kennedy’s room, and went to it. On knocking, the door was
+opened 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 attempt
+being made to get a city delegate to nominate Porter. It seems to me
+that is his particular friends’ business.”
+
+Maguire spoke so quickly that Kennedy had no chance to reply:
+“Kennedy’s promised 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?” Peter
+queried 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
+fear of 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 kind
+of a man that cries off from a promise. That’s women’s work.”
+
+“No,” said Kennedy stiffening suddenly in backbone, as he saw the
+outlet opened by Maguire, between antagonizing Peter, and retracting
+his consent. “I don’t play baby. Not me.”
+
+Peter stood thinking for a longer time than the others found
+comfortable. Maguire whistled to prove that he was quite at ease, but
+he would not have whistled if he had been.
+
+“I think, Mr. Kennedy, that I’ll save you from the difficulty by
+nominating 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 any
+bibliography. 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 usual
+kind, 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 nominates
+Porter.”
+
+“And that is?”
+
+“I don’t see,” said Peter, “why I need say it. You know it as well as I
+do.”
+
+“I know of many reasons why you should do it.”
+
+“No,” said Peter. “There’s only one, and that has been created in the
+last ten minutes. Mr. Maguire, if you insist on the sixth ward
+nominating 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
+a fraud, if I can help it.”
+
+Kennedy had been combining things spiritual and aqueous at his
+wash-stand. But his interest in the blending seemed suddenly to cease.
+Maguire, too, took his thumbs from their havens of rest, and looked
+dissatisfied.
+
+“Look here, Mr. Stirling,” he said, “it’s much simpler to leave it to
+Kennedy. You think you’re doing what’s right, but you’ll only do harm
+to us, and to yourself. If you nominate Porter, the city gang won’t
+forgive you, 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 to
+do it.”
+
+Maguire laughed rather a forced laugh. “I suppose we’ve got to satisfy
+you. 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
+and water with us?”
+
+“Thank you,” said Peter. “Mr. Costell’s in my room and he must be tired
+of 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 under
+Costell’s orders.”
+
+“But why should he give it away to us?”
+
+“How the —— should I know? Look here, Kennedy, you must do it, after
+all.”
+
+“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 you
+can —— your ward.”
+
+“I’ll do it.”
+
+“That’s the talk.”
+
+They sat and discussed plans and whisky for nearly an hour. Then
+Maguire said good-night.
+
+“You shall have the speech the first thing in the morning,” he said at
+parting. Then as he walked down the long corridor, he muttered, “Now
+then, 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 be
+nominated 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 other
+men. I don’t want you to suppose we are not conscious of it. I think
+you’ve done us a great service to-night, although it might have been
+very profitable to you if you had done otherwise. I don’t think that
+you’ll lose by it in the long run, but I’m going to thank you now, for
+myself. Good-night.”
+
+Peter had a good night. Perhaps it was only because he was sleepy, but
+a pleasant speech is not a bad night-cap. At least it is better than a
+mental question-mark as to whether one has done wrong. Peter did not
+know how it was coming out, but he thought he had done right, and need
+not 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 the
+next morning, and had tramped his eight miles through and around
+Saratoga, before the place gave many evidences of life. He ended his
+tramp at the Congress spring, and tasted the famous water, with
+exceeding disgust at the result. As he set down his half-finished
+tumbler, and turned to leave, he found Miss De Voe at his elbow, about
+to 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
+on that.”
+
+“Surely you are not a Democrat?” said Miss De Voe, a shade of horror
+showing itself in her face, in spite of her good breeding. In those
+days it was not, to put it mildly, a guarantee of respectability to
+belong to that party, and Miss De Voe had the strong prejudices of her
+social station, all the more because she was absolutely ignorant of
+political events.
+
+Peter said he was.
+
+“How can you be? When a man can ally himself with the best, why should
+he choose the worst?”
+
+“I think,” said Peter quietly, “that a Pharisee said the same thing, in
+different words, many hundred years ago.”
+
+Miss De Voe caught her breath and flushed. She also became suddenly
+conscious of the two girls who had come to the spring with her. They
+had been forgotten in the surprise over Peter, but now Miss De Voe
+wondered if they had heard his reply, and if they had enough Bible lore
+to enable them 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 I
+meant was that no one has a right to pick out the best for himself. I
+am sure, from your letter to me, that you think a man should help those
+not as well off as himself.”
+
+“Oh, but that is very different. Of course we should be charitable to
+those 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, and
+good 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, I
+wish to present Mr. Stirling. My cousin, Miss Ogden, and Miss Minna
+Ogden.”
+
+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 stopped
+here to try the spring, on my way to the United States.”
+
+“It is hardly worth while, but if you will get into our carriage, we
+will drop you there. Or if you can spare the time, we will drive to our
+cottage, 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 one
+of the girls, as soon as they were seated.
+
+“I don’t know,” Peter told her. “It is my first experience at it. There
+is pretty strong feeling, and that of course makes it interesting to
+the delegates, 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 care
+to 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 interesting
+part,” 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 City
+delegation room, and saw Costell. He easily secured admissions, and
+pencilling on a card, “At headquarters they tell me that the
+nominations will begin at the afternoon session, about two o’clock,” he
+sent them back by the carriage. Then bearding the terrors of the
+colored “monarch of all he surveys,” who guards the dining-room of
+every well-ordered Saratoga hotel, he satisfied as large an appetite as
+he remembered in a long time.
+
+The morning proceedings in the convention were purely formal. The
+election of the chairman, the roll-call, the naming of the committees,
+and other routine matter was gotten through with, but the real interest
+centred in the undertone of political talk, going on with little regard
+to the business in hand. After the committees were named, an unknown
+man came up to Peter, and introduced himself by a name which Peter at
+once recognized as that of one of the committee on the platform.
+
+“Mr. Costell thinks you might like to see this, and can perhaps suggest
+a change,” explained Mr. Talcott, laying several sheets of manuscript
+on Peter’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 the
+committee-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
+and wrote a paragraph for the platform. It pledged the party to
+investigate the food and tenement questions, and to pass such remedial
+legislation as should seem best. It pledged the party to do this, with
+as little disturbance and interference with present conditions as
+possible, “but fully recognizing the danger of State interference, we
+place human life above money profits, and human health above annual
+incomes, and shall use the law to its utmost to protect both.” When it
+appeared in the platform, there was an addition that charged the
+failure to obtain legislation “which should have rendered impossible
+the recent terrible lesson in New York City” to “the obstruction in the
+last legislature in the interest of the moneyed classes and landlords,
+by the Republican party.” 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. That was what others thought too. “Gad, that Stirling
+knows how to sling English,” said one of the committee, when the
+paragraph was read aloud. “He makes it take right hold.” Many an orator
+in that fall’s campaign read the nineteenth section of the Democratic
+platform aloud, feeling that it was ammunition of the right kind. It is
+in all the New York papers 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 him
+up. 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 what
+we 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
+few moments sufficed to complete the unfinished business, and then the
+chairman’s gavel fell, and every one knew without his announcement that
+the crucial moment had been reached.
+
+Much to Peter’s surprise, Kennedy was one of the members who was
+instantly on his feet, and was the one selected for recognition by the
+chairman. He was still more surprised when Kennedy launched at once
+into a glowing eulogium of Porter. Peter was sitting next Kennedy, and
+though he 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 deceiving of others. Most of all he grieved to think that a
+delegate of his ward, largely through his own interference, was acting
+discreditably. Peter wanted others to do right, and he felt that that
+was not what Kennedy was doing.
+
+The moment Kennedy finished, Peter rose, as did Maguire. The convention
+was cheering for Porter, and it took some time to quiet it to a
+condition when it was worth while recognizing any one. During this time
+the chairman leaned forward and talked with Green, who sat right below
+him, for a moment. Green in turn spoke to Costell, and a little slip of
+paper was presently handed up to the chairman, who from that moment
+became absolutely oblivious of the fact that Maguire was on his feet.
+When silence finally came, in spite of Maguire’s, “Mr. Chairman,” that
+individual said, “Mr. Stirling.”
+
+Peter began in a low voice, “In rising, Mr. Chairman, to second the
+nomination of Mr. Porter, I feel that it would be idle in me to praise
+one so well known to all of us, even if he had not just been the
+subject of so appreciative a speech from my colleague—”
+
+Here cries of “louder” interrupted Peter, during which interruption
+Green said to Costell, “We’ve been tricked.”
+
+“I’m not so sure,” replied Costell, “Maguire’s on his feet yet, and
+doesn’t look happy. Something’s happening which has not been slated.”
+
+When Peter resumed, there were no more cries of “louder.” His
+introduction had been a matter of trouble and doubt to him, for he
+liked Porter, and feared he might not show it. But now he merely had
+something to tell his audience, and that was easy work. So, his voice
+ringing very clear and distinct, he told them of the original election
+of the delegates; of the feeling of his ward; of the attempts to obtain
+a city nomination of Porter; of Maguire’s promise. “Gad, he hits from
+the shoulder,” said Green. As soon as the trend of his remarks was
+realized, Porter’s supporters began to hiss and hoot. Peter at once
+stopped, but the moment silence came he began again, and after a
+repetition of this a few times, they saw they could neither embarrass
+nor anger him, so they let 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 I
+had made up my mind to vote for him, I made no secret of that
+intention. But he should not have been nominated by a city delegate,
+for he is not the choice of New York City, and any attempt to show that
+he is, or that he has any true backing there, is only an attempt to
+deceive. In seconding his nomination therefore, I wish it to be
+distinctly understood that both his nomination and seconding are
+personal acts, and in no sense the act of the delegates of the city of
+New York.”
+
+There was a mingling of hoots and cheers as Peter sat down, though
+neither was very strong. In truth, the larger part of the delegates
+were very much in the dark as to the tendency of Peter’s speech. “Was
+it friendly or unfriendly to Porter?” they wondered.
+
+“Mr. Maguire,” said the chairman.
+
+“Mr. Chairman, the gentleman who has just sat down is to be
+complimented on his speech. In my whole life I have never heard so
+deceptive and blinding a narration. We know of Brutus stabbing his
+friend. But what shall we say of a pretended Brutus who caresses while
+he stabs?”
+
+Here the Porter adherents became absolutely sure of the character of
+Peter’s speech, and hissed.
+
+“Nor is it Imperial Caesar alone,” continued Maguire, “against whom he
+turns his poniard. Not content with one foul murder, he turns against
+Caesar’s friends. By devilish innuendo, he charges the honorable Mr.
+Kennedy and myself with bargaining to deceive the American people. I
+call on him for proof or retraction.”
+
+The convention laughed. Peter rose and said: “Mr. Chairman, I gave a
+truthful account of what actually took place last evening in the United
+States 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 my
+fault.”
+
+The convention laughed. “Do you mean to charge such a bargain?” angrily
+shouted 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 now
+find it necessary to apologize.”
+
+The convention roared. Maguire screamed something, but it could not be
+heard. The tenor of his remarks was indicated by his red face and
+clinched fist.
+
+Costell smiled his deep smile. “I’m very glad,” he said to the man next
+him, “that we didn’t pick Stirling up.”
+
+Then Milton was nominated and seconded, as were also Catlin, and four
+minor 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, though
+where it started, no one knew. Evidently his adherents thought so, for
+one made a motion to adjourn. It was voted down, and once more the roll
+call started.
+
+“I shall vote for Milton,” Peter told Schlurger, and the changes in the
+delegations as the call proceeded, proved that many changes were being
+made 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’ve
+beaten 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’s
+delegates, but the moment they had begun to turn to Milton, enough New
+York City delegates had been transferred to Catlin to prevent Milton
+being chosen. Amid protests and angry words on all sides another ballot
+was 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 by
+acclamation. Half an hour served to choose the Lieutenant-Governor and
+the rest of the ticket, for the bulk of it had already been slated. The
+platform was adopted, and the convention dissolved.
+
+“Well,” said Kennedy angrily to Peter, “I guess you’ve messed it this
+time. 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,” he
+thought, “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,
+as they 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 she
+paused 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 understands
+everything 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 many
+men. So the ladies entered the carriage.
+
+“At least we know that he said he was trying to tell the truth,” she
+went on, “and you just heard what that man said. I don’t know why they
+all 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 was
+really 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 varies
+very much. Oliver, drive to the United States. We will take him home to
+dinner.”
+
+“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. He
+turned 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 told
+him.
+
+“I am going to take the special to New York, and that leaves in half an
+hour.”
+
+“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 she
+said: “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 of
+questions about the convention.”
+
+“Hush, Minna,” said Miss De Voe. She was nettled that Peter should
+refuse, and that her niece could stoop to beg of “a criminal lawyer and
+ward politician,” as she put it mentally. But she was determined not to
+show it “We are sorry. Good-evening. Home, Oliver.”
+
+So they did not learn from Peter why the convention laughed. The
+subject was brought up at dinner, and Dorothy asked the opinion of the
+voters of the 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 were
+as much at sea in regard to the Stirling-sixth-ward incident, as had
+been the rank-and-file in the convention. Three took their views from
+Maguire, 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
+what effect it had had on the candidates none of the papers agreed in.
+One said it had killed Porter. Another, that “it was a purely personal
+matter without influence on the main question.” The other papers shaded
+between these, though two called it “a laughable incident.” The
+opposition press naturally saw in it an entire discrediting of both
+factions of the Democratic party, and absolute proof that the nominee
+finally selected was unfit for office.
+
+Unable to sift out the truth, the ladies again appealed to the voters
+of the 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 no
+objection,” laughed the enfranchised being.
+
+“I don’t think a man who made that speech about the children can be a
+scoundrel,” said Dorothy.
+
+“I don’t either,” said Minna.
+
+“That’s the way you women reason,” responded he of the masculine
+intellect. “Because a man looks out for some sick kittens, ergo, he is
+a political saint. If you must take up with politicians, do take
+Republicans, for then, at least, you have a small percentage of chance
+in your favor that they are gentlemen.”
+
+“Don’t be a Pharisee, Lispenard,” said Miss De Voe, utilizing Peter’s
+rebuke.
+
+“Then don’t trouble me with political questions. Politics are so vulgar
+in this country that no gentleman keeps up with them.”
+
+Miss De Voe and the two girls dropped the “vulgar” subject, but Miss De
+Voe 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 both
+that he shouldn’t call.” Woman-like, Miss De Voe forgot that she had
+said Peter was a gentleman.
+
+If Peter had found himself a marked man in the trip up, he was doubly
+so on the return train. He sat most of the time by himself, pondering
+on what had happened, but he could not be unconscious of the number of
+people to whom he was pointed out. He was conscious too, that his
+course had not been understood, and that many of those who looked at
+him with interest, did so without approbation. He was not buoyed up
+either, by a sense that he had succeeded in doing the best. He had
+certainly hurt Porter, and had made enemies of Maguire and Kennedy.
+Except for the fact that he had tried to do right, he could see no
+compensating balance.
+
+Naturally the newspapers the next morning did not cheer him, though
+perhaps 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 time
+a long letter, telling her how and why he had taken this course. He
+wrote also a long letter to Porter, explaining his conduct. Porter had
+already been told that Peter was largely responsible for his defeat,
+but after reading Peter’s letter, he wrote him a very kind reply,
+thanking him for his support and for his letter. “It is not always easy
+to do what one wants in politics,” he wrote, “but if one tries with
+high motives, for high things, even defeat loses its bitterness. I
+shall not be 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 time you think my aid worth the asking, do not hesitate to call on
+me for it. 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 and
+Kennedy’s course in the convention. He did not answer in kind the blame
+and criticism industriously sowed by Kennedy; but he dropped into a
+half-a-dozen saloons in the next few days, and told “the b’ys” a pretty
+full history of the “behind-the-scenes” part.
+
+“I’m afraid I made mistakes,” he frankly acknowledged, “yet even now I
+don’t see how I could have done differently. I certainly thought I was
+doing right.”
+
+“An’ so yez were,” shouted Dennis. “An’ if that dirty beast Kennedy
+shows his dirty face inside these doors, it’s a washin’ it will get wid
+the drainin’ av the beer-glasses. We wants none av his dirty bargains
+here.”
+
+“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 always
+makin’.”
+
+“Yes,” said Dennis. “It’s Kennedy looks out for himself, an’ we’ll let
+him do it next time all by himself.” It could not be traced to its
+origin, but in less than a week the consensus of opinion in the ward
+was that: “Kennedy voted for himself, but Stirling for us.”
+
+The ward, too, was rather proud of the celebrity it had achieved. The
+papers had not merely paragraphed Peter, and the peculiar position of
+the “district” in the convention, but they had begun now asking
+questions as to how the ward would behave. “Would it support Catlin?”
+“Was it true that the ward machine had split, and intended to nominate
+rival tickets?” “Had one faction made a deal with the Republicans?”
+
+“Begobs,” said Dennis, “it’s the leaders an’ the papers are just afther
+discoverin’ there is a sixth ward, an’ it’s Misther Stirling’s made
+them do it.”
+
+The chief party leaders had stayed over at Saratoga, but Peter had a
+call from Costell before the week was out.
+
+“The papers gave it to you rather rough,” Costell said kindly, “but
+they didn’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 course
+you 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 much
+who 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 to
+think he couldn’t do much?”
+
+“I don’t think he has much of a following. Even Moriarty, who was his
+strong 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 are
+settled. 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 in
+the saloons.”
+
+“So I’m told. You’ll never get a better place. Men listen there, as
+they never will at a mass-meeting.” Costell rose. “If you are free next
+Sunday, 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’s
+good enough to make my life happier, and after we’ve looked over my
+stables, I’ll bring you back to the city behind a gray mare that will
+pass about anything there is on the road.”
+
+So Peter had a half day in the country and enjoyed it very much. He
+looked over Mrs. Costell’s flower-garden, in which she spent almost her
+whole 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 to Peter that the atmosphere had a gentle, homely tone that
+was very pleasing. 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
+as possible. 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
+with me, but she liked you, I could see.”
+
+Peter spoke twice in the next week in small halls in his ward. He had
+good audiences, and he spoke well, if simply.
+
+“There ain’t no fireworks in his stuff,” said the ward satirist. “He
+don’t unfurl the American flag, nor talk about liberty and the
+constitution. He don’t even speak of us as noble freemen. He talks just
+as if he thought we was in a saloon. A feller that made that speech
+about the babies ought to treat us to something moving.”
+
+That was what many of the ward thought. Still they went because they
+wanted to see if he wouldn’t burst out suddenly. They felt that Peter
+had unlimited potentialities in the way of eloquence (for eloquence to
+them meant the ability to move the emotions) and merely saved his
+powers. Without quite knowing it they found what he had to say
+interesting. He brought the questions at issue straight back to
+elementary forms. He showed just how each paragraph in the platform
+would directly affect, not the state, but the “district.”
+
+“He’s thoroughly good,” the party leaders were told. “If he would abuse
+the other side a little more, and stick in a little tinsel and calcium
+light he would be great.”
+
+So he was called upon to speak elsewhere in the city. He worked at one
+of the polls on election day, and was pleased to find that he was able
+to prevent a little of the “trading” for which Kennedy had arranged.
+His ward went Democratic, as was a foregone conclusion, but by an
+unusually large majority, and Peter found that he and Dennis were given
+the credit for it, both in the ward, and at headquarters. Catlin was
+elected, and the Assembly had been won. So Peter felt that his three
+months’ work had not been an entire failure. The proceeds of his
+speeches had added also two hundred and fifty dollars to his savings
+bank account, and one hundred 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 worried
+over 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, my
+boy, 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
+not ask 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, you
+wouldn’t mind. Here, the saloon is chiefly a loafing place for the lazy
+and shiftless, but in New York, it’s very different. It’s the poor
+man’s club. If you could see the dark, cold, foul-aired tenements where
+they live, 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 wish the women could come. The bulk of the men are temperate, and
+only take a glass or two of beer or whisky, to pay for their welcome.
+They really go for the social part, and sit and talk, or read the
+papers. Of course a man gets drunk, sometimes, but usually it is not a
+regular customer, and even such cases would be fewer, it we didn’t tax
+whisky so outrageously that the dishonest barkeepers are tempted to
+doctor their whisky with drugs which drive men frantic if they drink.
+But most of the men are too sensible, and too poor, to drink so as
+really to harm themselves.”
+
+“Peter, Peter! To think that three years in New York should bring you
+to talk so! I knew New York was a sink-hole of iniquity, but I thought
+you were too good a boy to be misled.”
+
+“Mother, New York has less evil in it than most places. Here, after the
+mills shut down, there’s no recreation for the men, and so they amuse
+themselves with viciousness. But in a great place like New York, there
+are a thousand amusements specially planned for the evening hours.
+Exhibitions, theatres, concerts, libraries, lectures—everything to
+tempt one away from wrong-doing to fine things. And there wickedness is
+kept 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 the
+folks, while they say that in New York there isn’t enough seats in
+churches for mor’n a quarter of the people. A missionary was saying
+only last week that we ought to help raise money to build churches in
+New York. Just think of there being mor’n ten saloons for every church!
+And that 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
+do it.”
+
+“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 to
+deal 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 he
+thinks best.”
+
+“It’s dreadful though, to have your son’s first refusal be about going
+to 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.
+Bohlmann to come to a holiday festivity of which the Germans are so
+fond. He was too late to go, but he called promptly, to explain why he
+had not responded. He was very much surprised, on getting out his
+dress-suit, now donned for the first time in three years, to find how
+badly it fitted 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 the
+family room, and passed a very pleasant hour with the jolly brewer, his
+friendly wife, and the two “nice girls.” They were all delighted with
+Catlin’s election, and Peter had to tell them about his part in it.
+They did 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 for him 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
+be taken in. That individual protested loudly on the ground that the
+coat was so old-fashioned that it would be better to make a new suit.
+Peter told him that he wore evening dress too rarely to make a new suit
+worth the having, and the tailor yielded rather than lose the job.
+Scarcely had it been put in order, when Peter was asked to dine at his
+clergyman’s, and the next day came another invitation, to dine with
+Justice Gallagher. Peter began to wonder if he had decided wisely in
+vamping the old suit.
+
+He had one of the pleasantest evenings of his life at Dr. Purple’s. It
+was a dinner of ten, and Peter was conscious that a real compliment had
+been paid him in being included, for the rest of the men were not
+merely older than himself, but they were the “strong” men of the
+church. Two were trustees. All were prominent in the business world.
+And it pleased Peter to find that he was not treated as the youngster
+of the party, but had his opinions asked. At one point of the meal the
+talk drifted to a Bethel church then under consideration, and this in
+turn brought up the tenement-house question. Peter had been studying
+this, both practically and in books, for the last three months. Before
+long, the whole table was listening to what he had to say. When the
+ladies had withdrawn, there was political talk, in which Peter was much
+more a listener, but it was from preference rather than ignorance. One
+of the men, a wholesale dealer in provisions, spoke of the new
+governor’s recommendation 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 some
+day, 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, when
+they all joined the ladies, but Mrs. Purple took him off, and placed
+him between two women. They wanted to hear about “the case,” so Peter
+patiently went over that well-worn subject. Perhaps he had his pay by
+being asked to call upon both. More probably the requests were due to
+what Mrs. Purple had said of him during the smoking time:
+
+“He seems such a nice, solid, sensible fellow. I wish some of you would
+ask 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. There was more to eat and drink, and the talk was fast and lively.
+Peter was very 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,
+breezy talker on her other side. After the dinner Peter had a pleasant
+chat with the Justice’s seventeen-year-old daughter, who was just from
+a Catholic convent, and the two tried to talk in French. It is
+wonderful what rubbish is tolerable if only talked in a foreign tongue.
+
+“I don’t see what you wanted to have that Stirling for?” said Honorable
+Mrs. 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 put
+down.
+
+“Then you see that you treat Stirling as if he was somebody. He’s
+getting to be a power in the ward, and if you want to remain Mrs.
+Justice Gallagher and spend eight thousand—and pickings—a year, you see
+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 many
+more French books than I have.”
+
+Peter lunched with the wholesale provision-dealer as planned. The lunch
+hour proving insufficient for the discussion, a family dinner, a few
+days later, served to continue it. The dealer’s family were not very
+enthusiastic about Peter.
+
+“He knows nothing but grub talk,” grumbled the heir apparent, who from
+the proud altitude of a broker’s office, had come to scorn the family
+trade.
+
+“He doesn’t know any fashionable people,” said one of the girls, who
+having unfulfilled ambitions concerning that class, was doubly
+interested 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 go
+on. Brilliant! Fashionable! I don’t wonder marriage is a failure when I
+see 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 to
+say, 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 for
+dinners.”
+
+“He talked very well at Dr. Purple’s,” said the mamma, whose opinion of
+Peter had undergone a change.
+
+“And he was invited to call by Mrs. Dupont and Mrs. Sizer, which is
+more than you’ve ever been,” said Avery senior to Avery junior.
+
+“That’s because of the prog,” growled the son, seeing his opportunity
+to square accounts quickly.
+
+Coming out of church the next Sunday, Peter was laid hold of by the
+Bohlmanns and carried off to a mid-day dinner, at which were a lot of
+pleasant Germans, who made it very jolly with their kindly humor. He
+did not contribute much to the laughter, but every one seemed to think
+him an addition to the big table.
+
+Thus it came to pass that late in January Peter dedicated a week of
+evenings to “Society,” and nightly donning his dress suit, called
+dutifully on Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Sizer, Mrs. Purple, Mrs. Avery, Mrs.
+Costell, Mrs. Gallagher and Mrs. Bohlmann. Peter was becoming very
+frivolous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+AN EVENING CALL.
+
+
+But Peter’s social gadding did not end with these bread-and-butter
+calls. One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famous
+picture-dealer, to look over an exhibition then advertised, and had
+nearly finished his patient examination of each picture, which always
+involved 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: “I
+wonder why he wouldn’t buy another ticket?” Aloud she said, “I want you
+to know another of my cousins. Mr. Ogden, Mr. Stirling.”
+
+“Charmed,” said Mr. Ogden genially. Any expression which Peter had
+thought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this passive
+participle, 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 like
+them.”
+
+Miss De Voe looked puzzled.
+
+“Don’t,” said Mr. Ogden. “I tried once, when I first began. But it’s
+much easier to notice what women say, and answer ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at the
+right points.”
+
+Peter looked puzzled.
+
+“Nonsense, Lispenard,” said Miss De Voe. “He’s really one of the best
+connoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling.”
+
+“There,” said Lispenard. “You see. Only agree with people, and they
+think you know everything.”
+
+“I suppose you have seen the pictures, and so won’t care to go round
+with us?” inquired Miss De Voe.
+
+“I’ve looked at them, but I should like to go over again with you,”
+said Peter. Then he added, “if I shan’t be in the way.”
+
+“Not a bit,” said Lispenard heartily. “My cousin always wants a
+listener. It will be a charity to her tongue and my ears.” Miss De Voe
+merely gave him a very pleasant smile. “I wonder why he wouldn’t buy a
+ticket?” she thought.
+
+Peter was rather astonished at the way they looked at the pictures.
+They would pass by a dozen without giving them a second glance, and
+then stop at one, and chat about it for ten minutes. He found that Miss
+De Voe had not exaggerated her cousin’s art knowledge. He talked
+familiarly and brilliantly, though making constant fun of his own
+opinions, and often jeering at the faults of the picture. Miss De Voe
+also talked well, so Peter really did supply the ears for the party. He
+was very much pleased when 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 your
+liking.”
+
+“That’s womanly,” said Lispenard, “they are always deciding what a man
+should like.”
+
+“No,” denied Miss De Voe. “But I should think with your liking for
+children, that you would have preferred that piece of Brown’s, rather
+than this sad, desolate sand-dune.”
+
+“I cannot say why I like it, except, that I feel as if it had something
+to do with my own mood at times.”
+
+“Are you very lonely?” asked Miss De Voe, in a voice too low for
+Lispenard to hear.
+
+“Sometimes,” said Peter, simply.
+
+“I wish,” said Miss De Voe, still speaking low, “that the next time you
+feel so you would come and see me.”
+
+“I will,” said Peter.
+
+When they parted at the door, Peter thanked Lispenard: “I’ve really
+learned a good deal, thanks to Miss De Voe and you. I’ve seen the
+pictures 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 search
+of listeners.”
+
+“If you come and see me, Mr. Stirling,” said Miss De Voe, “you shall
+see my pictures. Good-bye.”
+
+“So that is your Democratic heeler?” said Lispenard, eyeing Peter’s
+retreating 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. “Then
+that’s your protector of sick kittens?”
+
+Miss De Voe made no reply. She was thinking of that dreary wintry
+stretch of sand and dune.
+
+Thus it came to pass that a week later, when a north-easter had met a
+south-wester overhead and both in combination had turned New York
+streets into a series of funnels, in and through which wind, sleet and
+snow fought for possession, to the almost absolute dispossession of
+humanity and horses, that Peter ended a long stare at his blank wall by
+putting on his dress-suit, and plunging into the streets. He had, very
+foolishly, decided to omit dinner, a couple of hours before, rather
+than face the storm, and a north-east wind and an empty stomach are
+enough to set any man staring at nothing, if that dangerous inclination
+is at all habitual. Peter realized this, for the opium eater is always
+keenly alive to the dangers of the drug. Usually he fought the tendency
+bravely, but this night he felt too tired to fight himself, and
+preferred to battle with a little thing like a New York storm. So he
+struggled through the deserted streets until he had reached his
+objective point in the broad Second Avenue house. Miss De Voe was at
+home, but was “still at dinner.”
+
+Peter vacillated, wondering what the correct thing was under the
+circumstances. The footman, remembering him of old, and servants in
+those simple days being still open to impressions, suggested that he
+wait. Peter gladly accepted the idea. But he did not wait, for hardly
+had the footman left him than that functionary returned, to tell Peter
+that Miss De Voe would see him in the dining-room.
+
+“I asked you to come in here, because I’m sure, after venturing out
+such a 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 a
+cup of coffee decidedly better in quality than his home-brew. Blank
+walls ceased to have any particular value for the time.
+
+In a moment Miss De Voe joined him at the fire. A small table was moved
+up, 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
+this evening. I was promising myself a very solitary time, and was
+dawdling over 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 give
+it up.”
+
+“You didn’t walk?”
+
+“Yes. I could have taken a solitary-car that passed, but the horses
+were so done up that I thought I was better able to walk.”
+
+Miss De Voe touched the bell. “Another cup of coffee, Morden, and bring
+the cognac,” she said. “I am not going to let you please your mother
+to-night,” she told Peter. “I am going to make you do what I wish.” So
+she 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 so
+obstinate sometimes, and so obedient at others,” thought Miss De Voe.
+“I don’t generally let men smoke, but I’m going to make an exception
+to-night in your case,” she continued.
+
+It was a sore temptation to Peter, but he answered quickly, “Thank you
+for 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 and
+sleeted 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 to hear about it?”
+
+Miss De Voe looked at him curiously, but she did not seem particularly
+interested in what Peter had to tell her, in response to her “yes.” It
+concerned an arrest on the streets for drunkenness.
+
+“I didn’t think the fellow was half as drunk as frozen,” Peter
+concluded, “and I told the policeman it was a case for an ambulance
+rather than a station-house. He didn’t agree, so I had to go with them
+both 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
+silent again.
+
+“It was coming up here,” he said finally.
+
+“What is he trying to keep back?” asked Miss De Voe mentally. “I
+suppose some of the down-town places are not quite—but he wouldn’t—”
+then she said out loud: “I wonder if you men do as women do, when they
+dine alone? Just live on slops. Now, what did you order to-night? Were
+you an ascetic 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 some
+conclusion from your menu.” Miss De Voe laughed, so as to make it
+appear a joke, but she knew very well that she was misbehaving.
+
+“I didn’t reply to your question,” said Peter, “because I would have
+preferred 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 she
+was sitting up very straight in her chair. Women will do without eating
+for an indefinite period, and think nothing of it, but the thought of a
+hungry man fills them with horror—unless they have the wherewithal to
+mitigate 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 for
+nothing.”
+
+“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
+you as—”
+
+Peter interrupted again. “If that is so,” he said, rising, “I had
+better go.”
+
+“No,” cried Miss De Voe. “Oh, won’t you please? It’s no trouble. I’ll
+not 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 should
+be 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?” asked
+Miss 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
+evening with me put above dinner. You know I had the feeling that you
+didn’t like 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
+wished to 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 fifty
+dollars in one month. I know men who would give that amount to dine
+with me.” It was a foolish brag, but Miss De Voe felt that her usual
+means of inspiring respect were not working,—not even realized.
+
+“Very likely. But I can’t afford such luxuries. I had spent more than
+usual and had to be careful.”
+
+“Then it was economy?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I had no idea my dinner invitations would ever be held in so little
+respect that a man would decline one to save seven dollars.” Miss De
+Voe was hurt. “I had given him five hundred dollars,” she told herself,
+“and he ought to have been willing to spend such a small amount of it
+to please me.” Then she said; “A great many people economize in foolish
+ways.”
+
+“I suppose so,” said Peter. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you. I really
+didn’t think I ought to spend the money.”
+
+“Never mind,” said Miss De Voe. “Were you pleased with the nomination
+and 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 the
+convention.”
+
+“A great many people seem to have misunderstood me. I tried to make it
+clear.”
+
+“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
+it must be a mortifying subject to Peter, and knew that she ought to
+discontinue it. But she could not help saying, “Why?”
+
+“It’s difficult to explain, I’m afraid. I had a feeling that a man was
+trying to do wrong, but I hoped that I was mistaken. It seemed to me
+that circumstances compelled me to tell the convention all about it,
+but I was very careful not to hint at my suspicion. Yet the moment I
+told them 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 put
+into it gave it a big meaning. “Then they were laughing at Maguire?”
+
+“At the time they were. Really, though, they were laughing at human
+weakness. 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 to
+understand. I ought to have said nothing, or charged a bargain right
+out, for then they would have understood. A friend of—a fellow I used
+to know, said I was the best chap for bungling he ever knew, and I’m
+afraid 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
+Peter told about the little woman who hated politics and loved flowers,
+and about the cool, able manager of men, who could not restrain himself
+from putting his arms about the necks of his favorite horses, and who
+had told about the death of one of his mares with tears in his eyes.
+“He had his cheek cut open by a kick from one of his horses once, and
+he speaks of 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 something
+about you to a group of men which called my attention to him.” Miss De
+Voe thought Peter would ask her what it was. “Would you like to know
+what 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 so
+absolutely without our standards.” Her chair suddenly ceased to be
+comfortable. She rose, saying, “Let us go to the library. I shall not
+show you my pictures now. The gallery is too big to be pleasant such a
+night. You must come again for that. Won’t you tell me about some of
+the other men you are meeting in politics?” she asked when they had sat
+down before another open fire. “It seems as if all the people I know
+are just alike—I suppose it’s because we are all so conventional—and I
+am very much 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.,
+and Miss Gallagher, and their dinner companions. He did not satirize in
+the least. He merely told various incidents and conversations, in a
+sober, serious way; but Miss De Voe was quietly amused by much of the
+narrative and said to herself, “I think he has humor, but is too
+serious-minded to yield to it.” She must have enjoyed his talk for she
+would not let Peter go early, and he was still too ignorant of social
+usages to know how to get away, whether a woman wished or no. Finally
+he insisted that he must leave 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 me
+send 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 very
+settling kind of voice.
+
+“He’s obstinate,” thought Miss De Voe. “And he makes his obstinacy so
+dreadfully—dreadfully pronounced!” Aloud she said: “You will come
+again?”
+
+“If you will let me.”
+
+“Do. I am very much alone too, as perhaps you know?” Miss De Voe did
+not choose to say that her rooms could be filled nightly and that
+everywhere she was welcome.
+
+“No. I really know nothing about you, except what you have told me, and
+what I have seen.”
+
+Miss De Voe laughed merrily at Peter’s frankness. “I feel as if I knew
+all 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
+get accustomed to Peter. All her social experience failed to bridge the
+chasm 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
+the pause could not continue indefinitely, and she finally said: “I
+have lived alone ever since my father’s death. I have relatives, but
+prefer to stay here. I am so much more independent. I suppose I shall
+have to move some day. This part of the city is beginning to change
+so.” Miss De Voe was merely talking against time, and was not sorry
+when Peter shook hands, and left her alone.
+
+“He’s very different from most men,” she said to the blazing logs. “He
+is 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 few
+days, in Peter’s receiving a formal dinner invitation, which he
+accepted with a promptness not to be surpassed by the best-bred
+diner-out. He regretted now his vamping of the old suit. Peter
+understood that he was in for quite another affair than the Avery, the
+Gallagher, or even the Purple dinner. He did not worry, however, and if
+in the dressing-room he looked furtively at the coats of the other men,
+he entirely forgot the subject the moment he started downstairs, and
+thought no further of it till he came to take off the suit in his own
+room.
+
+When Peter entered the drawing-room, he found it well filled with young
+people, and for a moment a little of the bewildered feeling of four
+years before came over him. But he found himself chatting with Miss De
+Voe, and the feeling left him as quickly as it had come. In a moment he
+was introduced to a “Miss Lenox,” who began talking in an easy way
+which gave Peter just as much or as little to say as he chose. Peter
+wondered if 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 other
+side. He had barely exchanged greetings with her, when he heard his
+name spoken from across the table, and looking up, he found Miss Leroy
+sitting opposite.
+
+“I hope you haven’t entirely forgotten me,” that girl said, the moment
+his 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 mortal
+terror 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 I
+thought 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 the Harvard 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 never
+before seen.
+
+“How strange. The letters must have gone astray. But you have written
+him?”
+
+“I did not know his address.”
+
+“Then you really haven’t heard of the little baby—why, it was born
+two—no, three years ago—and of Helen’s long ill-health, and of their
+taking a villa on the Riviera, and of how they hope to come home this
+spring?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Yes. They will sail in June if Helen is well enough. I’m to be
+god-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 to
+run across him?”
+
+“I will. He and Laurence—my second brother—are old cronies, and he
+often drops in on us. I want you to know my brothers. They are both
+here this evening.”
+
+“I have met the elder one, I suppose.”
+
+“No. That was a cousin, Lispenard Ogden. He spoke of meeting you. You
+would 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 own medicine.
+
+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 De
+Voe:
+
+“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
+a very 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 hit
+things off in epigrams, and sometimes he’s very foolish.” Then she
+turned 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 you
+remember. It’s curious I’ve never heard of him since then.”
+
+“You know he’s the man who made that splendid speech when the poor
+children 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 in
+talking!”
+
+“Was Mrs. D’Alloi a great friend of his?”
+
+“No. She told me that Watts had brought him to see them only once. I
+don’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 a
+moment, 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 she
+exploited 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 than
+there was in the army of the Potomac. My cousin Lispenard says it’s
+wrecking his nervous system to live up to the reputation she makes for
+him.”
+
+“I never had a sister, but it must be rather a good thing to live up
+to.”
+
+“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 same
+work. 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
+few clients.”
+
+“Fortunately it doesn’t take many. Two or three rich steady clients
+will keep a fellow running. I know a man who’s only got one, but he
+runs him for 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 the
+thought of making a steady living out of the Blacketts, Dooleys or
+Milligans.
+
+“It’s all a matter of friends.”
+
+Peter had a different theory, but he did not say so. Just at that point
+they were joined by Laurence Ogden, who was duly introduced, and in a
+moment the conversation at their end of the table became general. Peter
+listened, enjoying his Havana.
+
+When they joined the ladies, they found Lispenard Ogden there, and he
+intercepted 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. He
+hopes to have his own taste approved and flattered. I’m not a bit good
+at 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 to
+have 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 room
+together?”
+
+“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 you
+together?”
+
+“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
+front door 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 a
+pleasanter 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 remark
+about the questions.”
+
+Peter dined the next evening with Lispenard, who in the course of the
+meal turned the conversation to Miss De Voe. Lispenard was curious to
+learn 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
+her I 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 ask
+about a friend.”
+
+Lispenard laughed. “You’ve got a pretty bad case of conscience, I’m
+afraid. It’s a poor thing to have in New York, too. Well, my cousin is
+one 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,
+women in 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 my escortage very convenient. But while she thinks I’m a pretty
+good companion, she is sure I’m a poor sort of a man. If she takes a
+shine to you, make the most of it. She can give you anything she
+pleases socially.”
+
+“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 spell
+Society with a capital, do you?”
+
+“Possibly,” said Peter, “if I had more capital, I should use some on
+society.”
+
+“Good,” said Lispenard. “Heavens,” he said to himself, “he’s made a
+joke! 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 a
+mastiff.”
+
+Lispenard laughed good-naturedly. He was used to his cousin’s hits at
+his do-nothingness, and rather enjoyed them. “He is a big beast, isn’t
+he? But he’s a nice fellow. We had such a good time over Le Grand’s
+etchings last night. Didn’t get away till after one. It’s really a
+pleasure to find a man who can smoke and keep quiet, and yet enjoy
+things strongly. Le Grand was taken with him too. We just fitted each
+other.”
+
+“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 tell
+him 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
+you can give him.”
+
+“You don’t know what you are talking about.”
+
+But Lispenard was right. Peter had enjoyed the dinner at Miss De Voe’s
+and 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 was thinking 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 at
+home. He received a very pleasant letter expressing her regret at
+missing him, and a request to lunch with her two days later, and to go
+with 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, but business called him to Albany on that day.
+
+“I really regret it,” said Miss De Voe to Dorothy. “It is getting so
+late in the season, that unless he makes his call quickly, I shall
+hardly be able to give him more than one other chance.”
+
+Peter’s business in Albany had been sprung on him suddenly. It was
+neither more nor less than a request sent verbally through Costell from
+Governor 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’s hands.”
+
+“I hope he’ll make good appointments,” said Peter, anxiously.
+
+“I think he will,” said Costell, smiling quietly. “But I don’t believe
+they will be able to do much. Commissions are commonly a way of staving
+off legislation.”
+
+Peter went up to Albany and saw Catlin. Much to his surprise he found
+the Governor asking his advice about the bills and the personnel of the
+commissions. But after a few minutes he found that this seeking for aid
+and support in all matters was chronic, and meant nothing special in
+his own case.
+
+“Mr. Schlurger tells me, though he introduced the bills, that you
+drafted both. Do you think I had better sign them?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Mr. Costell told me to take your advice. You really think I had
+better?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+The Governor evidently found something solacing in the firm voice in
+which 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. Having
+committed himself, he wrote the rest rapidly. He paused for a moment
+over the second bill, and fingered it nervously. Then he signed it
+quickly. “That’s done.” He shoved them both away much as if they were
+dangerous.
+
+“I wonder,” thought Peter, “if he enjoys politics?”
+
+“There’s been a great deal of trouble about the commissioners,” said
+the Governor.
+
+“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 the
+appointments are bad.”
+
+“I know I shall. Just look over those lists, and see if you think
+they’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 you
+would think of me.”
+
+“That was done by Costell,” said the Governor, hastening to shift the
+responsibility.
+
+“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 each
+commission.”
+
+“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 take
+evidence; perhaps we can get the scientific part that way.”
+
+Peter did his best to brace Catlin up; and his talk or other pressure
+seemed to have partially galvanized the backbone of that limp
+individual, for a week later the papers announced the naming of the two
+commissions. The lists had been changed, however. That on food
+consisted of Green, a wholesale grocer, and a member of the Health
+Board. Peter’s name had been dropped. That on tenements, of five
+members, was made up of Peter; a very large property-owner in New York,
+who was a member as well of the Assembly; a professional labor
+agitator; a well-known politician of the better type, and a public
+contractor. Peter, who had been studying some reports of a British
+Royal Commission on the same subject, looked grave, thinking that what
+the trained men in England had failed in doing, he could hardly hope to
+accomplish with such ill-assorted instruments. The papers were rather
+down on the lists. “The appointments have destroyed any chance of
+possible benefit,” was their general conclusion, and Peter feared they
+were right.
+
+Costell laughed when Peter spoke of the commissions. “If you want
+Catlin to do anything well, you’ve got to stand over him till it’s
+done. I wanted you on both commissions, so that you could see how
+useless they all are, and not blame us politicians for failing in our
+duty. Green promises to get you appointed Secretary of the Food
+Commission, which is the 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
+to examine its motley members. The big landlord was a great swell, who
+had political ambitions, but was too exclusive, and too much of a
+dilettante to be a real force. Peter took a prejudice against him
+before meeting him, for he knew just how his election to the Assembly
+had been obtained—even the size of the check—and Peter thought buying
+an election was not a very creditable business. He did not like what he
+knew of the labor agitator, for such of the latter’s utterances and
+opinions 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. Then
+the naming of a secretary was discussed, each member but Peter having a
+candidate. Much to Peter’s surprise, the landlord, Mr. Pell, named Ray
+Rivington.
+
+“I thought he was studying law?” Peter said.
+
+“He is,” said Pell. “But he can easily arrange to get off for the few
+hours we shall meet a week, and the five dollars a day will be a very
+nice 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 every
+year. They try to live on their traditions, and traditions don’t pay
+grocers. I hope you’ll help him. He’s a very decent fellow.”
+
+“I shall vote for him,” replied Peter, marvelling that he should be
+able to give a lift to the man who, in the Harvard days, had seemed so
+thoroughly the mate of Watts and the other rich fellows of the “gang.”
+Rivington being the only candidate who had two votes, he was promptly
+selected.
+
+Thirty arduous minutes were spent in waiting for the arrival of the
+fifth member of the Commission, and in the election of chairman and
+secretary. A motion was then made to adjourn, on the ground that the
+Commission could not proceed without the secretary.
+
+Peter promptly objected. He had been named secretary for this
+particular meeting, and offered to act until Rivington could be
+notified. “I think,” he said, “that we ought to lay out our programme.”
+
+The labor agitator agreed with him, and, rising, delivered an extempore
+speech, declaring that “we must not delay. The leeches (here he looked
+at 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
+the chairman’s arm. “If you stop him,” he said in a low voice, “he’ll
+think we 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
+an outline of action which he had drawn up, and having written it in
+duplicate, he passed one draft over to Mr. Pell.
+
+They all let the speech go on, Peter, Mr. Pell and the chairman
+chatting over the plan, while the contractor went to sleep. The
+agitator tried to continue, but as the inattention became more and more
+evident, his speech 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’s
+outline was read aloud.
+
+“I don’t move its adoption,” said Peter. “I merely submit it as a
+basis.”
+
+Not one of the members had come prepared with knowledge of how to go to
+work, except the chairman, who had served on other commissions. He
+said:
+
+“I think Mr. Stirling’s scheme shows very careful thought and is
+admirable. 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 different
+conditions.”
+
+Mr. Pell objected to the proposed frequent sittings. Thereupon the
+agitator praised that feature. The hour of meeting caused discussion.
+But finally the scheme was adopted, and the date of the first session
+fixed.
+
+Peter went downstairs with Mr. Pell, and the latter offered to drop him
+at his office. So they drove off together, and talked about the
+Commission.
+
+“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 the
+preliminary work, drafted the “Inquiries” and other printed papers
+necessary to be sent out before the first meeting, and told him about
+the procedure at the meetings.
+
+“I know I shall get into all kinds of pickles,” said Ray. “I write such
+a bad hand that often I can’t read it myself. How the deuce am I to
+take down evidence?”
+
+“I shall make notes for my own use, and you will be welcome to them, if
+they will help you.”
+
+“Thanks, Peter. That’s like you.”
+
+The Commission began its inquiry, on the date fixed, and met three
+times a week from that time on. Peter did not try to push himself
+forward, but he was by far the best prepared on the subject, and was
+able to suggest the best sources of information. He asked good
+questions, too, of the various witnesses summoned. Finally he was the
+one regular attendant, and therefore was the one appealed to for
+information elicited at previous meetings. He found the politician his
+best helper. Pell was useful when he attended, which was not very
+often, and even this intermittent attendance ceased in June. “I’m going
+to Newport,” he explained, and did not appear again till late in the
+fall. The contractor really took no part in the proceedings beyond a
+fairly frequent attendance, and an occasional fit of attention whenever
+the inquiry 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
+in reading over the minutes of previous meetings. But he was in
+earnest, and proved to be perfectly reasonable as soon as he found that
+the commissioners’ duties were to inquire and not to make speeches.
+Peter walked home with him several times, and they spent evenings
+together in Peter’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 went
+to see these persons after they had been before the Commission, and
+talked with them, finding that they were quite willing to give facts in
+private which they did not care to have put on record.
+
+He had been appointed the Secretary of the Food Commission, and spent
+much time on that work. He was glad to find that he had considerable
+influence, and that Green not merely acted on his suggestions, but
+encouraged him to make them. The two inquiries were so germane that
+they helped him reciprocally. No reports were needed till the next
+meeting of the Legislature, in the following January, and so the two
+commissions took enough evidence to swamp them. Poor Ray was reduced
+almost to despair over the mass of “rubbish” as he called it, which he
+would subsequently have to put in order.
+
+Between the two tasks, Peter’s time was well-nigh used up. It was
+especially drawn upon when the taking of evidence ceased and the
+drafting of the reports began. Ray’s notes proved hopeless, so Peter
+copied out his neatly, and let Ray have them, rather glad that
+irrelevant and useless evidence was thus omitted. It was left to Peter
+to draw the report, and when his draft was submitted, it was
+accompanied by a proposed General Tenement-house Bill. Both report and
+bill were slightly amended, but not in a way that Peter minded.
+
+Peter drew the Food-Commission report as well, although it went before
+the Commission as Green’s. To this, too, a proposed bill was attached,
+which had undergone the scrutiny of the Health Board, and had been
+conformed to their suggestions.
+
+In November Peter carried both reports to Albany, and had a long talk
+with Catlin over them. That official would have preferred no reports,
+but since they were made, there was nothing to do but to submit them to
+the Legislature. Peter did not get much encouragement from him about
+the chances for the bills. But Costell told him that they could be
+“whipped through. The only danger is of their being amended, so as to
+spoil them.”
+
+“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 believe
+in your own truthfulness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+IN THE MEANTIME.
+
+
+In spite of nine months’ hard work on the two Commissions, it is not to
+be supposed that Peter’s time was thus entirely monopolized. If one
+spends but seven hours of the twenty-four in sleep, and but two more on
+meals, there is considerable remaining time, and even so slow a worker
+as Peter found spare hours not merely for society and saloons, but for
+what else he chose to undertake.
+
+Socially he had an evening with Miss De Voe, just before she left the
+city for the summer; a dinner with Mr. Pell, who seemed to have taken a
+liking to Peter; a call on Lispenard; another on Le Grand; and a family
+meal at the Rivingtons, where he was made much of in return for his aid
+to Ray.
+
+In the saloons he worked hard over the coming primary, and spent
+evenings as well on doorsteps in the district, talking over objects and
+candidates. 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’s politics. He had become a recognized quantity in the
+control of the district, and the various ward factions tried hard to
+gain his support. When the primary met, the proceedings, if exciting,
+were never for a moment doubtful, for Gallagher, Peter, Moriarty and
+Blunkers had been able to agree on both programme and candidates. An
+attempt had been made to “turn down” Schlurger, but Peter had opposed
+it, and had carried his point, to the great gratitude of the silent,
+honest German. What was more important to him, this had all been done
+without exciting hard feelings.
+
+“Stirling’s a reasonable fellow,” Gallagher told Costell, not knowing
+how much Peter was seeing of the big leader, “and he isn’t dead set on
+carrying his own schemes. We’ve never had so little talk of mutiny and
+sulking 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” visitings
+again, though not with quite the former regularity. Yet he rarely let a
+week pass without having spent a couple of evenings there. The
+spontaneous welcome accorded him was payment enough for the time, let
+alone the pleasure and enjoyment he derived from the imps. There was
+little that could raise Peter in their estimation, but they understood
+very well that he had become a man of vast importance, as it seemed to
+them. 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, who
+was about to “play ball.”
+
+“Cheese it yerself. He won’t dare tech me,” shouted Tim, “so long as
+Mister 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 by
+that 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 that
+part 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, with
+music, 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
+whisky cause some —— cusses don’t drink like as dey orter.” Then
+catching a look in Peter’s face, he laughed rather shamefacedly. “I
+forgits,” he explained. “Yer see I’m so da—” he checked himself—“I
+swears widout knowin’ 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. Yer wouldn’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 dull
+subject?”
+
+“Yer just talk what yer want. We’ll listen.”
+
+After Peter had thought it over for a day, he went to Blunkers’s gin
+palace.
+
+“Look here,” he said. “Would it be possible to hire one more barge, and
+take 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 was
+Peter’s idea. So every child who went, nearly wild with delight, felt
+that the sail, the sand, the sea, and the big feed, was all owed to
+Peter.
+
+It was rather an amusing experience to Peter. He found many of his
+party friends in the district, not excluding such men as Gallagher,
+Kennedy and others of the more prominent rank. He made himself very
+pleasant to those whom he knew, chatting with them on the trip down. He
+went into the water with the men and boys, and though there were many
+good swimmers, Peter’s country and river training made it possible for
+him to give 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 the tenement-house question for twenty minutes. The speech was
+very different from what they expected, and rather disappointed them
+all. However, he won back their good opinions in closing, for he ended
+with a very pleasant “thank you,” to Blunkers, so neatly worded, and
+containing such a thoroughly apt local joke, that it put all in a good
+humor, and gave them something to tell their neighbors, on their return
+home. The advantage of seldom joking is that people remember the joke,
+and it gets repeated. Peter almost got the reputation of a wit on that
+one joke, merely because it came after a serious harangue, and happened
+to be quotable. Blunkers was so pleased with the end of the speech that
+he got Peter to write it out, and to this day the “thank you” part of
+the address, in Peter’s neat handwriting, handsomely framed, is to be
+seen in Blunkers’s saloon.
+
+Peter also did a little writing this summer. He had gone to see three
+or four of the reporters, whom he had met in “the case,” to get them to
+write up the Food and Tenement subjects, wishing thereby to stir up
+public feeling. He was successful to a certain degree, and they not
+merely wrote articles themselves, but printed three or four which Peter
+wrote. In two cases, he was introduced to “staff” writers, and even
+wrote an editorial, for which he was paid fifteen dollars. This money
+was all he received for the time spent, but he was not working for
+shekels. All the men told him to let them know when he had more
+“stories” for them, and promised him assistance when the reports should
+go in to the legislature.
+
+Peter visited his mother as usual during August. Before going, he
+called on Dr. Plumb, and after an evening with him, went to two
+tenements in the district. As the result of these calls, he carried
+three children with him when he went home. Rather pale, thin little
+waifs. It is a serious matter to charge any one with so grave a crime
+as changling, but Peter laid himself open to it, for when he came back,
+after two weeks, he returned very different children to the parents.
+The fact that they did not prosecute for the substitution only proves
+how little the really poor care for their offspring.
+
+But this was not his only summering. He spent four days with the
+Costells, as well as two afternoons later, thoroughly enjoying, not
+merely the long, silent drives over the country behind the fast horses,
+but the pottering round the flower-garden with Mrs. Costell. He had
+been reading up a little on flowers and gardening, and he was glad to
+swap his theoretical for her practical knowledge. Candor compels the
+statement that he enjoyed the long hours stretched on the turf, or
+sitting idly on the veranda, puffing Mr. Costell’s good Havanas.
+
+Twice Mr. Bohlmann stopped at Peter’s office of a Saturday and took him
+out to stay over Sunday at his villa in one of the Oranges. The family
+all 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 Dummer
+id 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
+a lawyer 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 two
+statements. He liked the two girls. They were nice-looking, sweet,
+sincere women. He knew that Mr. Bohlmann was ranked as a millionaire
+already, and was growing richer fast. Yet—Peter needed no blank walls.
+
+During this summer, Peter had a little more law practice. A small
+grocer in one of the tenements came to him about a row with his
+landlord. Peter heard 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 can do something,” and the man agreeing, Peter went to
+see the landlord, a retail 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. Such
+material repairs could not have been foreseen when the lease was made.”
+
+The tobacconist was rather obstinate at first. Finally he said, “I’ll
+tell you what I’ll do. I’ll contribute one hundred dollars towards the
+repairs, if you’ll make a tenant named Podds in the same building pay
+his rent; or dispossess him if he doesn’t, so that it shan’t cost me
+anything.”
+
+Peter agreed, and went to see the tenant in arrears. He found that the
+man had a bad rheumatism and consequently was unable to work. The wife
+was doing what she could, and even the children had been sent on the
+streets to sell papers, or by other means, to earn what they could.
+They also owed a doctor and the above-mentioned grocer. Peter went back
+to the landlord and told him the story.
+
+“Yes,” he said, “it’s a hard case, I know, but, Mr. Stirling, I owe a
+mortgage on the place, and the interest falls due in September. I’m out
+four months’ rent, and really can’t afford any more.” So Peter took
+thirty-two dollars from his “Trustee” fund, and sent it to the
+tobacconist. “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 for
+their credit, taking his chance of pay, and now got it paid in an
+equivalent of cash. He gave the nine dollars with alacrity.
+
+Peter took it upstairs and gave it to Mrs. Podds. “If things look up
+with you later,” he said, “you can pay it back. If not, don’t trouble
+about 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 to
+his 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 her
+self-imposed work of introducing Peter. He was twice invited to dinner
+and was twice taken with opera parties to sit in her box, besides
+receiving a number of less important attentions. Peter accepted
+dutifully all that she offered him. Even ordered a new dress-suit of a
+tailor recommended by Lispenard. He was asked by some of the people he
+met to call, probably on Miss De Voe’s suggestion, and he dutifully
+called. Yet at the end of three months Miss De Voe shook her head.
+
+“He is absolutely a gentleman, and people seem to like him. Yet
+somehow—I don’t understand it.”
+
+“Exactly,” laughed Lispenard. “You can’t make a silk purse out of a
+sow’s ear.”
+
+“Lispenard,” angrily said Miss De Voe, “Mr. Stirling is as much better
+than—”
+
+“That’s it,” said Lispenard. “Don’t think I’m depreciating Peter. The
+trouble is that he is much too good a chap to make into a society or a
+lady’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, and
+simply 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 wants
+to know your swell friends.”
+
+Either this conversation or Miss De Voe’s own thoughts, led to a change
+in her course. Invitations to formal dinners and to the opera suddenly
+ceased, and instead, little family dinners, afternoons in galleries,
+and evenings at concerts took their place. Sometimes Lispenard went
+with them, sometimes one of the Ogden girls, sometimes they went alone.
+It was an unusual week when Peter’s mail did not now bring at least one
+little 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 you
+about something,” it said. That same evening he was shown into her
+drawing-rooms. She thanked him with warmth for coming so quickly, and
+Peter saw that only the other visitors prevented her from showing some
+strong feeling. He had stumbled in on her evening—for at that time
+people still had evenings—but knowing her wishes, he stayed till they
+were left alone together.
+
+“Come into the library,” she said. As they passed across the hall she
+told Morden, “I shall not receive any more to-night.”
+
+The moment they were in the smaller and cosier room, without waiting to
+sit even, she began: “Mr. Stirling, I dined at the Manfreys yesterday.”
+She spoke in a voice evidently endeavoring not to break. Peter looked
+puzzled.
+
+“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 had
+used it to help—” Miss De Voe broke down, and, leaning against the
+mantel, 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 the
+good it’s done. Suppose you sit down.” Peter brought a chair, and Miss
+De 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 the
+things which he had been able to do:—of the surgical brace it had
+bought; of the lessons in wood-engraving it had given; of the
+sewing-machine it had helped to pay for; of the arrears in rent it had
+settled. “You see,” he explained, “these people are too self-respecting
+to go to the big charities, or to rich people. But their troubles are
+talked over in the saloons and on the doorsteps, so I hear of them, and
+can 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. Miss
+De Voe’s life and surroundings were not exactly weepy ones, and when
+tears came they meant much. She said little, till Peter rose to go, and
+then only:
+
+“I shall want to talk with you, to see what I can do to help you in
+your work. Please come again soon. I ought not to have brought you here
+this evening, only to see me cry like a baby. But—I had done you such
+injustice in my mind about that seven dollars, and then to find
+that—Oh!” Miss De Voe showed signs of a recurring break-down, but
+mastered herself. “Good-evening.”
+
+Peter gone, Miss De Voe had another “good” cry—which is a feminine
+phrase, quite incomprehensible to men—and, going to her room, bathed
+her eyes. Then she sat before her boudoir fire, thinking. Finally she
+rose. 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, but
+Dorothy and Miss De Voe formed with him the party in the box on such
+nights. Miss De Voe took him to call on Mrs. Odgen, and sang his
+praises to both parents. She even went so far as to say frankly to them
+what was in 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 the
+politicians thought of him as a rising man.”
+
+“He seems a nice steady fellow,” said the mamma. “I don’t suppose he
+has much practice?”
+
+“Oh, don’t think of the money,” said Miss De Voe. “What is that
+compared to 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. They
+need not think of money. If he and Dorothy only will care for each
+other!”
+
+Peter and Dorothy did like each other. Dorothy was very pretty, and had
+all the qualities which make a girl a strong magnet to men. Peter could
+not help liking her. As for Dorothy, she was like other women. She
+enjoyed the talking, joking, “good-time” men in society, and chatted
+and danced with them with relish. But like other women, when she
+thought of marriage, she did not find these gingerbread ornamentations
+so attractive. The average woman loves a man, aside from his love for
+her, for his physical strength, and his stiff truth-telling. The first
+is attractive to her because she has it not. Far be it from man to say
+why the second attracts. So Dorothy liked Peter. She admired many
+qualities in him which she would not have tolerated in other men. It is
+true that she laughed at him, too, for many things, but it was the
+laughter of that peculiar nature which implies admiration and approval,
+rather than the lower feelings. When the spring separation came, Miss
+De Voe was really quite hopeful.
+
+“I think things have gone very well. Now, Mr. Stirling has promised to
+spend a week with me at Newport. I shall have Dorothy there at the same
+time,” she told Mrs. Ogden.
+
+Lispenard, who was present, laughed as usual. “So you are tired of your
+new plaything already?”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Arn’t you marrying him so as to get rid of his calls and his
+escortage?”
+
+“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 to
+Wellington 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 August
+visit to his mother. Miss De Voe had told him casually that Dorothy
+would be there, and Dorothy was there. Yet he saw wonderfully little of
+her. It is true that he could have seen more if he had tried, but Peter
+was not used to practice finesse to win minutes and hours with a girl,
+and did not feel called upon, bluntly, to take such opportunities. His
+stay was not so pleasant as he had expected. He had thought a week in
+the same house with Miss De Voe, Dorothy and Lispenard, without much
+regard 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 when
+she went home:
+
+“I can’t imagine what is the matter with Cousin Anneke. All last spring
+she was nicer to me than she has ever been before, but from the moment
+I arrived at Newport, and before I could possibly have said or done
+anything to offend her, she treated me in the snippiest way. After two
+days I asked her what the matter was, but she insisted there was
+nothing, and really lost her temper at my suggesting the idea. There
+was something, I know, for when I said I was coming home sooner than I
+had at first intended, she didn’t try to make me stay.”
+
+“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Ogden, “she was disappointed in something, and so
+vented her feeling on you.”
+
+“But she wasn’t cross—except when I asked her what the matter was. She
+was 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 some
+joke to himself, and kept making remarks that nobody could understand,
+and chuckling over them. I told him once that he was rude, but he said
+that ‘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 is the 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 a
+comedy, not a tragedy.’ What could he mean?”
+
+Lispenard stayed on to see the “comedy,” and seemed to enjoy it, if the
+amused expression on his face when he occasionally gave himself up to
+meditation was any criterion. Peter had been pressed to stay beyond the
+original 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
+gone before, although Dorothy had departed and Peter liked Dorothy. But
+he saw much more of Miss De Voe, and Miss De Voe was in a much
+pleasanter mood. They took long drives and walks together, and had long
+hours of talk in and about the pleasant house and grounds. Miss De Voe
+had cut down her social duties for the ten days Peter was there, giving
+far more time for them to kill than usually fell to Newporters even in
+those comparitively 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 marry
+Lispenard.”
+
+“Do you think cousins ought to marry?”
+
+Miss De Voe had looked at Peter when she made her remark. Peter had
+replied quietly, but his question, as Miss De Voe understood it, was
+purely scientific, not personal. Miss De Voe replied:
+
+“I suppose it is not right, but it is so much better than what may
+happen, that it really seems best. It is so hard for a girl in
+Dorothy’s position 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
+well situated to get the right kind of a husband.
+
+“It is hard to make it clear—but—I’ll tell you my own story, so that
+you can understand. Since you don’t ask questions, I will take the
+initiative. That is, unless your not asking them means you are not
+interested?” 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 in
+earnest?” 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 rise
+in New York real estate made them in time, much richer. They both
+belonged to old families. I was the only child—Lispenard says old
+families are so proud of themselves that they don’t dare to have large
+families for fear of making the name common. Of course they lavished
+all their thought, devotion and anxiety on me. I was not spoiled; but I
+was watched and tended as if I were the most precious thing the world
+contained. When I grew up, and went into society, I question if I ever
+was a half-hour out of the sight of one or the other of my parents. I
+had plenty of society, of course, but it was restricted entirely to our
+set. None other was good enough for me! My father never had any
+business, so brought no new element into our household. It was old
+families, year in and year out! From the moment I entered society I was
+sought for. I had many suitors. I had been brought up to fear
+fortune-hunting, and suspected the motives of many men. Others did not
+seem my equals—for I had been taught pride in my birth. Those who were
+fit as regarded family were, many of them, unfit in brains or
+morals—qualities not conspicuous in old families. Perhaps I might have
+found one to love—if it had not been for the others. I was surrounded
+wherever 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 few
+even of the men whom I met could gain an _entrée_ to our house.—They
+weren’t thought good enough. If a working, serious man had ever been
+able to see enough of me to love me, he probably would have had very
+little opportunity to press his suit. But the few men I might have
+cared for were frightened off by my money, or discouraged by my
+popularity and exclusiveness. They did not even try. Of course I did
+not understand it then. 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 slightest inducement to marry—especially among the men I saw
+the most. I led this life for six years. Then my mother’s death put me
+in mourning. When I went back into society, an almost entirely new set
+of men had appeared. Those whom I had known were many of them
+married—others were gone. Society had lost its first charm to me. So my
+father and I travelled three years. We had barely returned when he
+died. I did not take up my social duties again till I was thirty-two.
+Then it was as the spinster aunt, as you have known me. Now do you
+understand how hard it is for such a girl as Dorothy to marry rightly?”
+
+“Yes. Unless the man is in love. Let a man care enough for a woman, and
+money or position will not frighten him off.”
+
+“Such men are rare. Or perhaps it is because I did not attract them. I
+did not understand men as well then as I do now. Of some whom I thought
+unlovable or dull at that time, I have learned to think better. A woman
+does 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. Even
+now, thirty-seven though I am, if I could find a true man who could
+love me as I wish to be loved, I could love him with my whole heart. It
+would be my happiness not merely to give him social position and
+wealth, but to make his every hope and wish mine also.”
+
+All this had been said in the same natural manner in which they both
+usually spoke. Miss De Voe had talked without apparent emotion. But
+when she began the last remark, she had stopped looking at Peter, and
+had gazed off through the window at the green lawn, merely showing him
+her profile. 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 see this look pass and his face, and especially his mouth,
+settle into a rigid determination, even while the eyes remained sad.
+
+Miss De Voe ended the pause by beginning, “Don’t you”—but Peter
+interrupted her there, by saying:
+
+“It is a very sad story to me—because I—I once craved love and
+sympathy.”
+
+Miss De Voe turned and looked at him quickly. She saw the look of
+suffering 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,” she
+said, laying her hand on Peter’s shoulder, “we have both missed the
+great prize in life. Your lot is harder than the one I have told you
+about. It is very,”—Miss De Voe paused a moment,—“it is very sad to
+love—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 the
+train:
+
+“You see I go back to the city occasionally in the summer, so as to
+make the country bearable, and then I go back to the country, so as to
+make the city endurable. I shall be in Newport again in a week. When
+will you come 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 a
+question.
+
+“Perhaps,” continued Lispenard, “she talked too much, and so did not
+remember 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 know
+it.”
+
+The color blazed up into Lispenard’s face and he rose, saying:
+
+“Did I understand you aright?” The manner and attitude were both
+threatening though repressed.
+
+“If you tell me that I misunderstood you, I will apologize. If you
+think the statement insulting, I will withdraw it. I did not speak to
+insult you; but because I wished you to know how your questions
+impressed me.”
+
+“When a man tells another he is contemptible, he cannot expect to
+escape results. This is no place to have a scene. You may send me your
+apology when we reach New York—”
+
+Peter interrupted. “I shall, if you will tell me I wronged you in
+supposing your questions to be malicious.”
+
+Lispenard paid no attention to the interjection. “Otherwise,” he
+finished, “we will consider our relations ended.” He walked away.
+
+Peter wrote Lispenard that evening a long letter. He did not apologize
+in 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
+was told that Lispenard had gone west for a hunting trip, quite
+unexpectedly. “He said not to expect him back till he came. He seemed
+out of sorts at something.” In September Peter had a letter from Miss
+De Voe. Merely a few lines saying that she had decided to spend the
+winter abroad, and was on the point of sailing. “I am too hurried to
+see my friends, but did not like to go without some good-byes, so I
+write them.” On the whole, as in the case of most comedies, there was
+little amusement for the actual performers. A great essayist has
+defined laughter as a “feeling of superiority in the laugher over the
+object laughed at.” If this is correct, it makes all humor despicable.
+Certainly much coarseness, meanness and cruelty are every day
+tolerated, because of the comic covering with which it is draped.
+
+It is not to be supposed that this comedy nor its winter prologue had
+diverted Peter from other things. In spite of Miss De Voe’s demands on
+his time he had enough left to spend many days in Albany when the
+legislature took up the reports of the Commissions. He found strong
+lobbies against both bills, and had a long struggle with them. He had
+the help of the newspapers, and he had the help of Costell, yet even
+with this powerful backing, the bills were first badly mangled, and
+finally 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
+be entirely bad. Second only to Pell, was his whilom enemy, the former
+District-Attorney, now a state senator, who battled himself into
+Peter’s reluctant admiration and friendship by his devotion and loyalty
+to the bills. Peter concluded that he had not entirely done the man
+justice in the past. Curiously enough, his chief antagonist was
+Maguire.
+
+Peter did not give up the fight with this defeat. His work for the
+bills had revealed to him the real under-currents in the legislative
+body, and when it adjourned, making further work in Albany only a waste
+of time, he availed himself of the secret knowledge that had come to
+him, to single out the real forces which stood behind and paid the
+lobby, and to interview them. He saw the actual principals in the
+opposition, and spoke with utmost frankness. He told them that the
+fight would be renewed, on his part, at every session of the
+legislature till the bills were passed; that he was willing to consider
+proposed amendments, and would accept any that were honest. He made the
+fact very clear to them that they would have to pay yearly to keep the
+bills off the statute book. Some laughed at him, others quarrelled. But
+a few, after listening to him, stated their true objections to the
+bills, and Peter tried to meet them.
+
+When the fall elections came, Peter endeavored to further his cause in
+another way. Three of the city’s assemblymen and one of her senators
+had voted against the bills. Peter now invaded their districts, and
+talked against them in saloons and elsewhere. It very quickly stirred
+up hard feeling, which resulted in attempts to down him. But Peter’s
+blood warmed up as the fight thickened, and hisses, eggs, or actual
+attempts to injure him physically did not deter him. The big leaders
+were appealed to to call him off, but Costell declined to interfere.
+
+“He wouldn’t stop anyway,” he told Green, “so we should do no good. Let
+them fight it out by themselves.” Both of which sentences showed that
+Mr. Costell understood his business.
+
+Peter had challenged his opponents to a joint debate, and when that was
+declined by them, he hired halls for evenings and spoke on the subject.
+He argued well, with much more feeling than he had shown since his
+speech in “the case.” After the first attempt of this kind, he had no
+difficulty in filling his halls. The rumor came back to his own
+district that he was “talkin’ foin,” and many of his friends there
+turned out to hear him. The same news went through other wards of the
+city and drew men from them. People were actually excluded, for want of
+room, and therefore every one became anxious to hear his speeches.
+Finally, by subscription of a number of people who had become
+interested, headed by Mr. Pell, the Cooper Union was hired, and Peter
+made a really great speech to nearly three thousand people.
+
+The papers came to his help too, and stood by him manfully. By their
+aid, it was made very clear that this was a fight against a selfish
+lobby. By their aid, it became one of the real questions of the local
+campaign, and was carried beyond the borders of the city, so as to play
+a part in the county elections. Peter met many of the editors, and
+between his expert knowledge, acquired on the Commissions, and his
+practical knowledge, learned at Albany, proved a valuable man to them.
+They repaid his help by kind words and praise in their columns, and
+brought him forward as the chief man in the movement. Mrs. Stirling
+concluded that the conspiracy to keep Peter in the background had been
+abandoned.
+
+“Those York papers couldn’t help my Peter’s getting on,” was the way
+she put it.
+
+The results of this fight were even better than he had hoped. One
+Assemblyman gave in and agreed no longer to oppose the bills. Another
+was defeated. The Senator had his majority so cut down that he retired
+from the opposition. The questions too had become so much more
+discussed and watched, and the blame so fastened upon the lobby that
+many members from the country no longer dared to oppose legislation on
+the subject. Hence it was that the bills, newly drawn by Peter, to
+reduce opposition as far as possible, when introduced by Schlurger soon
+after the opening of the legislature, went through with a rush, not
+even ayes and nays being taken. Aided by Mr. Costell, Peter secured
+their prompt signing by Catlin, his long fight had ended in victory.
+
+The “sixt” was wild with joy over the triumph. Whether it was because
+it was 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
+voters got up a display of fireworks on the night when the news of the
+signing of the bills reached New York. When Peter returned to the city,
+he was called down to a hall one evening, to witness a torchlight
+procession and receive resolutions “engrossed and framed” from his
+admiring friends. Blunkers was chairman and made a plain speech which
+set the boys cheering by its combination of strong feeling and lack of
+grammar. Then Justice Gallagher made a fine-sounding, big-worded
+presentation. In the enthusiasm of the moment, Dennis broke the
+programme by rising and giving vent to a wild burst of feeling, telling
+his audience all that they owed to Peter, and though they knew already
+what he told them, they cheered 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 av
+order 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 fall
+campaign, and Dennis, who had insisted on escorting him, took him to
+task about his “physical culture.”
+
+“It’s thirty pounds yez are too heavy, sir,” he told Peter. “An’ it’s
+too little intirely yez afther knowin’ av hittin’.”
+
+Peter asked his advice, bought Indian clubs, dumb-bells, and
+boxing-gloves, and under Dennis’s tutelage began to learn the art of
+self-defence. He was rather surprised, at the end of two months, to
+find how much flesh he had taken off, how much more easily he moved,
+how much more he was eating, and how much more he was able to do, both
+mentally and 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
+militia regiment most patronized by the “sixth,” and in which Dennis
+was already a sergeant. Peter received a warm welcome from the
+regiment, for Dennis, who was extremely popular, had heralded his fame,
+and Peter’s physical strength and friendly way did the rest. Ogden
+Ogden laughed at him for joining 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 friends
+dutifully, but his long visits to Albany, his evenings with Dennis, and
+his drill nights, interfered badly with his acceptance of the
+invitations sent him. He had, too, made many friends in his commission
+work and politics, so that he had relatively less time to give to his
+older ones. The absence of Miss De Voe and Lispenard somewhat reduced
+his social obligations it is true, but the demands on his time were
+multiplying fast.
+
+One of these demands was actual law work. The first real case to come
+to him was from the contractor who had served on the
+tenement-commission. He was also employed by the Health Board as
+special counsel in a number of prosecutions, to enforce clauses of his
+Food Bill. The papers said it was because of his familiarity with the
+subject, but Peter knew it was the influence of Green, who had become a
+member of that Board. Then he began to get cases from the “district,”
+and though there was not much money in each case, before long the
+number of them made a very respectable total.
+
+The growth of his practice was well proven by a suggestion from Dummer
+that they should join forces. “Mr. Bohlmann wants to give you some of
+his work, and it’s easier to go into partnership than to divide his
+practice.”
+
+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
+to take 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 you
+choose. I’ll manage the others.”
+
+“I should like to,” said Peter. “I’m very grateful for the offer—but we
+could hardly do that successfully. If the firm was good for anything,
+we should be known as belonging to it, and the public could not well
+discriminate.”
+
+So that chance of success was passed. But every now and then Bohlmann
+sent him something to do, and Dummer helped him to a joint case
+occasionally.
+
+So, though friends grew steadily in numbers, society saw less and less
+of Peter. Those who cared to study his tastes came to recognize that to
+force formal entertaining on him was no kindness, and left it to Peter
+to drop in when he chose, making him welcome when he came.
+
+He was pleased to get a letter from Lispenard during the winter, from
+Japan. It was long, but only the first paragraph need be quoted, for
+the rest 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
+Miss De Voe, also, a line of Christmas greetings, and received a long
+letter from 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 case
+you again meet them.” From that time on Miss De Voe and he
+corresponded, she telling him of her Italian, Greek and Egyptian
+wanderings, and he writing of his doings, especially in regard to a
+certain savings bank fund standing in the name of “Peter Stirling,
+trustee” to which Miss De Voe had, the winter before, arranged to
+contribute a thousand dollars yearly.
+
+As his practice increased he began to indulge himself a little. Through
+the instrumentality of Mr. Pell, he was put first into one and later
+into a second of the New York clubs, and his dinners became far less
+simple in consequence. He used these comforters of men, indeed, almost
+wholly 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 he
+asked Mr. Costell to pick him up a saddle-horse, whereupon that friend
+promptly 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
+doorsteps of the district, yet candor compels us to add that he now had
+in his room a box of cigars labelled “Habana.” These were creature
+pleasures, however, which he only allowed himself on rare occasions.
+And most of these luxuries did not appear till his practice had
+broadened beyond the point already noted.
+
+Broaden it did. In time many city cases were thrown in his way. As he
+became more and more a factor in politics, the judges began to send him
+very profitable referee cases. Presently a great local corporation,
+with many 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 was
+added.
+
+“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 I
+think the right is with the plaintiff.” This caused demur at first, but
+eventually he was employed, and it was found that money was saved in
+the long run, for Peter was very successful in getting people to settle
+out of court.
+
+Then the savings bank, for which Peter had done his best (not merely as
+recorded, but at other times), turned over its law business to him,
+giving him many real estate transactions to look into, besides papers
+to draw. “He brings us a good many depositors,” Mr. Lapham told his
+trustees, “and is getting to be a large depositor himself.”
+
+Peter began to find help necessary, and took a partner. He did this at
+the suggestion of Ogden Ogden, who had concluded his clerkship, and who
+said to Peter:
+
+“I have a lot of friends who promise me their work. I don’t know how
+much it will be, but I should like to try it with you. Of course, yours
+is 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—one
+of Peter’s original “angle” friends, now six years older than when
+Peter and he had first met.
+
+Ogden’s friends did materialize, and brought good paying cases. As the
+city, referee, corporation and bank work increased, their joint
+practice needed 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
+over them 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 do all the palavering and running round very well. He’s just the
+fellow to please people.” This was what Ogden urged, adding, “I might
+as well tell you that I’m interested for another reason, too. He and
+Dorothy will marry, if he can ever get to the marrying point. This, of
+course, is to be between us.”
+
+“I’ll be very glad to have him, both for his own sake, and for what
+you’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’s
+original little “ten by twelve” being left to the possession of the
+office boy. That functionary gazed long hours at the map of Italy on
+the blank wall, but it did not trouble him. He only whistled and sang
+street songs at it. As for Peter, he was too busy to need blank walls.
+He had fought two great opponents. The world and himself. He had
+conquered them both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+A RENEWAL.
+
+
+If the American people had anglicized themselves as thoroughly into
+liking three-volume stories, as they have in other things, it would be
+a pleasure to trace the next ten years of Peter’s life; for his growing
+reputation makes this period a far easier matter to chronicle than the
+more obscure beginnings already recorded. If his own life did not
+supply enough material we could multiply our characters, as did
+Dickens, or journey sideways, into little essays, as did Thackeray. His
+life and his biographer’s pen might fail to give interest to such
+devices, but the plea is now for “realism,” which most writers take to
+mean microscopical examination of minutia. If the physical and
+psychical emotions of a heroine as she drinks a glass of water can
+properly be elaborated so as to fill two printed pages, Peter’s life
+could be extended endlessly. There were big cases, political fights,
+globe trottings, and new friends, all of which have unlimited
+potentialities for numerous chapters. But Americans are peculiar
+people, and do not buy a pound of sugar any the quicker because its
+bulk has been raised by a skilful admixture of moisture and sand. So it
+seems best partly to take the advice of the Bellman, in the “Hunting of
+the Snark,” to skip sundry years. 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 contents of 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 his
+diary calendar. After this he went to a door, and, opening it, said:
+
+“I am going uptown for the afternoon. If Mr. Murtha comes, Mr. Ogden
+will see him.”.
+
+Peter went down and took a cab, giving the driver a number in Grammercy
+Park.
+
+The footman hesitated on Peter’s inquiry. “Mr. D’Alloi is in, sir, but
+is having his afternoon nap, and we have orders he’s not to be
+disturbed.”
+
+“Take him my card. He will see me.”
+
+The footman showed Peter into the drawing-room, and disappeared. Peter
+heard low voices for a moment, then the curtains of the back room were
+quickly 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’Alloi
+continued:
+
+“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 that
+you 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 as well since you’ve found us out. Only you should have asked for
+both of us.”
+
+“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 warmest
+feeling 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 to disabuse 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 who
+it 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. Was
+it her long ill-health, or was it the mere lapse of years, which had
+wrought such changes in her? Except for the eyes, everything had
+altered. The cheeks had lost their roundness and color; the hair had
+thinned noticeably; lines of years and pain had taken away the sweet
+expression that formerly had counted for so much; the pretty roundness
+of the figure was gone, and what charm it now had was due to the
+modiste’s skill. Peter felt puzzled. Was this the woman for whom he had
+so suffered? Was it this memory that had kept him, at thirty-eight,
+still a bachelor? Like many another man, he found that he had been
+loving 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 been
+loving it for many years, to the exclusion of all other womankind. Now
+he 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 many
+pretty girls, and many sweet ones since that week at the Pierces. He
+had gained 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 a
+change. His years had brought tact, if they had not made him less
+straightforward. So he merely said, “You think so?”
+
+“Ever so much. You’ve really grown slender, in spite of your broad
+shoulders—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 great
+change. As the roundness had left it, the eyes and the forehead had
+both become more prominent features, and both were good. The square,
+firm jaw still remained, but the heaviness of the cheek and nose had
+melted into lines which gave only strength and character, and destroyed
+the dulness which people used to comment upon. The face would never be
+called handsome, in the sense that regular features are supposed to
+give beauty, but it was strong and speaking, with lines of thought and
+feeling.
+
+“You know,” laughed Mrs. D’Alloi, “you have actually become
+good-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-seventh
+Street can be put in order. It has been closed since Mrs. D’Alloi’s
+death. 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
+who have said you were getting very famous.”
+
+“I spend a good deal of time in politics. I cannot say whether I have
+made myself famous, or infamous. It seems to depend on which paper I
+read.”
+
+“Yes, I saw a paper on the steamer, that—” Mrs. D’Alloi hesitated,
+remembering that it had charged Peter with about every known sin of
+which man is capable. Then she continued, “But I knew it was wrong.”
+Yet there was quite as much of question as of assertion in her remark.
+In truth, Mrs. D’Alloi was by no means sure that Peter was all that was
+desirable, for any charge made against a politician in this country has
+a peculiar vitality and persistence. She had been told that Peter was
+an open supporter of saloons, and that New York politics battened on
+all forms of vice. So a favorite son could hardly have retained the
+purity that women take as a standard of measurement. “Don’t you find
+ward politics very hard?” she asked, dropping an experimental plummet,
+to see what depths of iniquity there might be.
+
+“I haven’t yet.”
+
+“But that kind of politics must be very disagreeable to gentlemen. The
+men 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 familiar
+with 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 is
+everything that is good and kind!” Mrs. D’Alloi’s face lighted up with
+happiness 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’t
+speak of yourself so, even if it is the truth. Leave that to me. How
+are you, Peter, old fellow? I’d apologize for keeping you waiting, but
+if you’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 better
+than I.”
+
+Watts laughed. “You’ll have to excuse this, old man. Will happen
+sometimes, 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 she
+prettier 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—Peter won’t mind—and now I know you two want to talk old times, so
+I’ll leave you together. Good-bye, Peter—or rather _au revoir_—for you
+must be a regular visitor now. Watts, arrange with Peter to dine with
+us some day this week.”
+
+Mrs. D’Alloi disappeared through the doorway. Peter’s pulse did not
+change a beat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+HELP.
+
+
+The moment she was gone, Watts held out his hand, saying: “Here, old
+man, let us shake hands again. It’s almost like going back to college
+days to see my old chum. Come to the snuggery, where we shan’t be
+interrupted.” They went through two rooms, to one fitted up as a
+smoking-room and office. “It’s papa-in-law’s workshop. He can’t drop
+his work 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 so
+quickly?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, the truth of it is, I’m in an awful mess. Yesterday I was so
+desperate I thought I should blow my brains out. I went round to the
+club to see if I couldn’t forget or drown my trouble, just as sick as a
+man could be. Fellows talking. First thing I heard was your name. ‘Just
+won a great case.’ ‘One of the best lawyers in New York.’ Thinks I to
+myself, ‘That’s a special providence.’ Peter always was the fellow to
+pull me through my college scrapes. I’ll write him.’ Did it, and played
+billiards for the rest of the evening, secure in the belief that you
+would 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 to
+you.”
+
+“Is it money trou—?”
+
+“No, no!” Watts interrupted. “It isn’t that. The truth is I’ve a great
+deal more money than is good for me, and apparently always shall have.
+I wish it were only that!”
+
+“How can I help you?” began Peter.
+
+“I knew you would,” cried Watts, joyfully. “Just the same old reliable
+you always were. Here. Draw up nearer. That’s it. Now then, here goes.
+I shan’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, and
+there’s the devil to pay. Now you’ll pull me through, old man, won’t
+you?”
+
+“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, very
+quietly. “I would rather know nothing about it.” Peter rose.
+
+“Don’t desert me,” cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting his
+hand 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 myself
+in 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
+the doorway. He stopped and turned. “She does not know?”
+
+“Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believe
+it. She worships me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore—if you won’t
+save me!”
+
+“Can they be saved?”
+
+“That’s what I want to know. Here—sit down, please! I’ll tell you all
+about it.”
+
+Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down.
+
+“It began in Paris twelve years ago. Such affairs have a way of
+beginning in Paris, old man. It’s in the atmosphere. She—”
+
+“Stop. I will ask questions. There’s no good going over the whole
+story.” Peter tried to speak calmly, and to keep his voice and face
+from showing what he felt. He paused a moment, and then said: “She
+threatens to expose you. Why?”
+
+“Well, after three years I tired of it and tried to end it. Then she
+used it to blackmail me for ten years, till, in desperation, I came to
+America, 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
+on earth, 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 perfectly
+furious over my coming off without telling her—always had an awful
+temper—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 of
+fleas 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 she
+says 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 only
+temper.”
+
+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
+write letters during my infatuation. Talleyrand was right when he said
+only fools 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 one
+woman 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 I
+am. 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 his
+emotion, but it would jerk out questions.
+
+“Yes, I know. I’ve said that to myself over and over again. Why, look
+here.” Watts pulled a small revolver from his hip pocket. “This will
+show you how close to the desperation point I have come. I’ve carried
+that for two days, so that if worse comes to worse—well. Phut!—_Voila
+tout_.”
+
+Peter rose, speaking in a voice ringing with scorn. “You would escape
+your sin, to leave it with added disgrace for your wife and daughter to
+bear! Put up your pistol, Watts D’Alloi. If I am to help you, I want to
+help 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 further
+offers 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 give me 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
+which made the man leave the room without waiting to see if Watts
+demurred.
+
+A complete silence followed. Then came the rustle of skirts, and a
+woman entered 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,” she
+said in French, speaking very low and distinctly, “you thought it best
+not to order your groom to turn me out, as you did that last day in
+Paris, when you supposed your flight to America left you free to do as
+you pleased? But you did not escape me. Here I am.”
+
+Watts sat down in an easy-chair, and striking a match, lighted a
+cigarette. “That, Celestine,” he said in French, “is what in English we
+call a self-evident proposition.”
+
+Celestine’s foot began to tap the floor, “You needn’t pretend you
+expected I would follow you. You thought you could drop me, like an old
+slipper.”
+
+Watts blew a whiff of tobacco from his mouth. “It was a remark of
+Ricard’s, I believe, ‘that in woman, one should always expect the
+unexpected.’”
+
+“_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 in
+French, “Will you not sit down, please?”
+
+She turned in surprise, for she had been too wrought up to notice that
+Peter 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 in
+all 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 to
+you? What are you to me? I don’t even know you. My mind’s made up. I
+tell you—” The woman was lashing herself into a fury, and Peter
+interrupted her again:
+
+“Pardon me. We are strangers. If I ask anything of you for myself, I
+should expect a refusal. But I ask it for humanity, to which we all owe
+help. Only hear what I have to say. I do not claim it as a right, but
+as a favor.”
+
+Celestine sat down. “I listen,” she said. She turned her chair from
+Watts and faced Peter, as he stood at the study table.
+
+Peter paused a moment, and then said: “After what I have seen, I feel
+sure 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’Alloi has carried a pistol in his pocket, and if you disgrace him he
+will probably shoot himself.”
+
+“Bon!”
+
+“But where is your revenge? He will be beyond your reach, and you will
+only 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 the
+cruelest acts possible. A wife, who trusts and believes in him, will
+have her faith and love shattered. His daughter—a young girl, with all
+her life before her—must ever after despise her father and blush at her
+name. Do not punish the weak and innocent for the sin of the guilty!”
+Peter spoke with an earnestness almost terrible. Tears came into his
+eyes as he made his appeal, and his two auditors both rose to their
+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 failed to
+hear the door from the dining-room move, or notice the entrance of Mrs.
+D’Alloi as Peter ended his plea.
+
+A moment’s silence followed Peter’s outburst of feeling. Then the
+Frenchwoman cried:
+
+“Truly, truly. But what will you do for me and my child? Haven’t we
+been ill-treated? Don’t you owe us help, too? Justice? Don’t we deserve
+tenderness 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 you
+talking? Whose child? Who is this woman?”
+
+Watts jumped as if he had been shot. Celestine even retreated before
+the terrible voice and face with which Mrs. D’Alloi asked her
+questions. A sad, 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
+managed to 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’s
+all 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 he
+said:
+
+“This is the mother, Mrs. D’Alloi.”
+
+“Yes? Yes?”
+
+Peter raised his eyes to Helen’s and looked at her. Then he said
+quietly:
+
+“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 by
+Mrs. D’Alloi, who threw her arms about Watt’s neck, and cried: “Oh! my
+husband. 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 passed
+out, which she did quietly. Another moment found the two on the
+sidewalk. “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
+ten blocks. When they reached the hotel entrance, Peter asked: “Can you
+see me for a few moments?”
+
+“Yes. Come to my private parlor.” They took the elevator, and were but
+a moment in reaching that apartment.
+
+Peter spoke the moment the door was closed. “Madame,” he said, “you saw
+that 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,
+your dramatic, _mon Dieu!_ your noble sacrifice? Non, non. Celestine
+Lacour could never do so. She will suffer cruelty, penury, insults,
+before she behaves so shamefully, so perfidiously.”
+
+Peter did not entirely sympathize with the Frenchwoman’s admiration for
+the dramatic element, but he was too good a lawyer not to accept an
+admission, no matter upon what grounds. He held out his hand promptly.
+“Madame,” he said, “accept my thanks and admiration for your generous
+conduct.”
+
+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—I
+leave 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 known
+only to the Latin races. Just then a side door was thrown open, and a
+boy of about twelve years of age dashed into the room, followed by a
+French poodle.
+
+“Little villain!” cried Celestine. “How dare you approach without
+knocking? 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 it
+known that I am the mother of a child of twelve. It would not be
+believed, 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, that
+for 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 did not have an expression of pleasure on his face as he
+rode down-town, nor was 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,
+and called on an insurance company and talked for a while with the
+president. Then he called at a steamship office. After that he spent
+twenty minutes with the head of one of the large schools for boys in
+the city. Then he returned to his office.
+
+“A Mr. D’Alloi is waiting for you in your private office, sir,” he was
+told. “He said that he was an old friend and insisted on going in
+there.”
+
+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, and
+interrupted him.
+
+“I have arranged it all with Madame Lacour,” Peter said coldly. “She
+sails on La Bretagne on Thursday. You are to buy an annuity for three
+thousand dollars a year. In addition, you are to buy an annuity for the
+boy till he is twenty-five, of one thousand dollars a year, payable to
+me as his guardian. This will cost you between forty and fifty thousand
+dollars. I will notify you of the amount when the insurance company
+sends it to me. In return for your check, I shall send you the letters
+and 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 you
+think—?”
+
+“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
+on his 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. I
+shan’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 long
+he would have sat will never be known, if his brown study had not been
+ended by Rivington’s entrance. “The Appeals have just handed down their
+decision 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
+see if I can’t knock some of my dulness out of me.” Within an hour he
+was at the Riding Club.
+
+“Hello,” said the stable man. “Twice in one day! You’re not often here
+at 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 not
+yourself need fear any horse. Only look out for the ice.”
+
+Peter rode into the Park in ten minutes. He met Lispenard at the first
+turn.
+
+“Hello! It’s not often you are here at this hour.” Lispenard reined his
+horse up alongside.
+
+“No,” said Peter. “I’ve been through a very revolt—a very disagreeable
+experience, and I’ve come up here to get some fresh air. I don’t want
+to be sociable.”
+
+“That’s right. Truthful as ever. But one word before we separate.
+Keppel has just received two proofs of Haden’s last job. He asks awful
+prices for them, but you ought to see them.”
+
+“Thanks.” And the two friends separated as only true friends can
+separate.
+
+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. He
+shook himself presently, and set Mutineer at a sharp canter round the
+larger circle of the bridle path. But before they had half swung the
+circle, he was deep in thought again, and Mutineer was taking his own
+pace. Peter deserved to get a stumble and a broken neck or leg, but he
+didn’t. He was saved from it by an incident which never won any credit
+for its good results to Peter, however much credit it gained him.
+
+Peter was so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not hear
+the clutter of a horse’s feet behind him, just as he struck the long
+stretch of the comparatively straight path along the Reservoir. But
+Mutineer did, and pricked up his ears. Mutineer could not talk
+articulately, but all true lovers of horses understand their language.
+Mutineer’s cogitations, transmuted into human speech, were something to
+this effect:
+
+“Hello! What’s that horse trying to do? He can’t for a moment expect to
+pass me!”
+
+But the next moment a roan mare actually did pass him, going at a swift
+gallop.
+
+Mutineer laid his ears back, “The impudence!” he said. “Does that
+little 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 who
+are most seldom passed by their kind, object to it most when it
+happens.
+
+Peter suddenly came back to affairs earthly to find Mutineer just
+settling into a gait not permitted by Park regulations. He drew rein,
+and Mutineer, knowing that the fun was up, danced round the path in his
+bad temper.
+
+“Really,” he said to himself, “if I wasn’t so fond of you, I’d give you
+and 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
+a groom was in view, going also at a gallop.
+
+“Hout of the way,” cried the groom, to Peter, for Mutineer was waltzing
+round the path in a way that suggested “no thoroughfare.” “Hi’m after
+that runaway.”
+
+Peter looked after the first horse, already a hundred feet away. He
+said nothing to groom nor horse, but Mutineer understood the sudden
+change in the reins, even before he felt that maddening prick of the
+spurs. There was a moment’s wild grinding of horse’s feet on the
+slippery road and then Mutineer had settled to his long, tremendous
+stride.
+
+“Now, I’ll show you,” he remarked, “but if only he wouldn’t hold me so
+damned tight.” We must forgive Mutineer for swearing. He lived so much
+with the stablemen, that, gentleman though he was, evil communications
+could not be entirely resisted.
+
+Peter was riding “cool.” He knew he could run the mare down, but he
+noticed that the woman, who formed the mount, was sitting straight, and
+he could tell from the position of her elbows that she was still
+pulling on her reins, if ineffectually. He thought it best therefore to
+let the mare wind herself before he forced himself up, lest he should
+only make the runaway horse the wilder. So after a hundred yards’ run,
+he drew Mutineer down to the mare’s pace, about thirty feet behind her.
+
+They ran thus for another hundred yards. Then suddenly Peter saw the
+woman drop her reins, and catch at the saddle. His quick eye told him
+in a moment what had happened. The saddle-girth had broken, or the
+saddle was turning. He dug his spurs into Mutineer, so that the horse,
+who had never had such treatment, thought that he had been touched by
+two branding irons. He gave a furious shake of his ears, and really
+showed the blood of his racing Kentucky forebears. In fifteen seconds
+the horse was running even with the mare.
+
+Peter had intended merely to catch the reins of the runaway, trusting
+to his strength to do what a woman’s could not. But when he came up
+alongside, he saw that the saddle had turned so far that the rider
+could not keep her seat ten seconds longer. So he dropped his reins,
+bent over, and putting his arms about the woman lifted her off the
+precarious seat, and put her in front of him. He held her there with
+one arm, and reached for his reins. But Mutineer had tossed them over
+his head.
+
+“Mutineer!” said Peter, with an inflection of voice decidedly
+commanding.
+
+“I covered a hundred yards to your seventy,” Mutineer told the roan
+mare. “On a mile track I could go round you twice, without getting out
+of breath. I could beat you now, even with double mount easily. But my
+Peter has dropped the reins and that puts me on my honor. Good-bye.”
+Mutineer checked his great racing stride, broke to a canter; dropped to
+a trot; altered that to a walk, and stopped.
+
+Peter had been rather astonished at the weight he had lifted. Peter had
+never lifted a woman before. His chief experience in the weight of
+human-kind had been in wrestling matches at the armory, and only the
+largest and most muscular men in the regiment cared to try a bout with
+him. 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 the
+cross-buttock with two hundred pounds of bone and brawn, he marvelled
+much at the ease with which he transferred the rider. “She can’t weigh
+over eighty pounds,” he thought. Which was foolish, for the woman
+actually weighed one hundred and eighteen, as Peter afterwards learned.
+
+The woman also surprised Peter in another way. Scarcely had she been
+placed in front of him, than she put her arms about his neck and buried
+her face in his shoulder. She was not crying, but she was drawing her
+breath in great gasps in a manner which scared Peter terribly. Peter
+had never 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 for
+a woman’s head.
+
+2. That a man’s arm about a woman’s waist is a very pleasant position
+for the arm.
+
+3. That a pair of woman’s arms round a man’s neck, with the clasped
+hands, even if gloved, just resting on the back of his neck, is very
+satisfying.
+
+Peter could not see much of the woman. His arm told him that she was
+decidedly slender, and he could just catch sight of a small ear and a
+cheek, whose roundness proved the youth of the person. Otherwise he
+could only see a head of very pretty brown hair, the smooth dressing of
+which could not entirely conceal its longing to curl.
+
+When Mutineer stopped, Peter did not quite know what to do. Of course
+it was his duty to hold the woman till she recovered herself. That was
+a plain duty—and pleasant. Peter said to himself that he really was
+sorry for her, and thought his sensations were merely the satisfaction
+of a father in aiding his daughter. We must forgive his foolishness,
+for Peter 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 ten
+seconds after, no change in the condition occurred. Then suddenly the
+woman stopped her gasps. Peter, who was looking down at her, saw the
+pale cheek redden. The next moment, the arms were taken from his neck
+and the woman was sitting up straight in front of him. He got a
+downward look at the face, and he thought it was the most charming he
+had ever seen.
+
+The girl kept her eyes lowered, while she said firmly, though with
+traces of breathlessness and tremulo in her voice, “Please help me
+down.”
+
+Peter was out of his saddle in a moment, and lifted the girl down. She
+staggered slightly on reaching the ground, so that Peter said: “You had
+better lean on me.”
+
+“No,” said the girl, still looking down, “I will lean against the
+horse.” She rested against Mutineer, who looked around to see who was
+taking this insulting liberty with a Kentucky gentleman. Having looked
+at her he said: “You’re quite welcome, you pretty dear!” Peter thought
+he would like to be a horse, but then it occurred to him that equines
+could not have had what he had just had, so he became reconciled to his
+lot.
+
+The girl went on flushing, even after she was safely leaning against
+Mutineer. There was another ten seconds’ pause, and then she said,
+still with downcast eyes, “I was so frightened, that I did not know
+what I was doing.”
+
+“You behaved very well,” said Peter, in the most comforting voice he
+could command. “You held your horse splendidly.”
+
+“I wasn’t a bit frightened, till the saddle began to turn.” The girl
+still kept her eyes on the ground, and still blushed. She was
+undergoing almost the keenest mortification possible for a woman. She
+had for a moment been horrified by the thought that she had behaved in
+this way to a groom. But a stranger—a gentleman—was worse! She had not
+looked at Peter’s face, but his irreproachable riding-rig had been
+noticed. “If it had 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
+her something else to think about.
+
+“As soon as you feel able to walk, you had better take my arm. We can
+get a cab at the 72d Street entrance, probably. If you don’t feel able
+to walk, sit down on that stone, and I’ll bring a cab. It oughtn’t to
+take me ten minutes.”
+
+“You are very good,” said the girl, raising her eyes, and taking a look
+at 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 she
+looked down after the glance, she ceased leaning against the horse, and
+said, “I behaved very foolishly, of course. Now I will do whatever you
+think best.”
+
+Before Peter had recovered enough from his thrill to put what he
+thought into speech, a policeman came riding towards them, leading the
+roan mare. “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 leave
+the other entrances before it’s as dark as this.”
+
+“Never mind the cab,” said the girl. “If you’ll help me to mount, I’ll
+ride 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 marvellously
+fascinating combination as was indicated by the clinging position of a
+minute ago and the erect one of the present moment. He tightened the
+girth with a pull that made the roan mare wonder if a steam-winch had
+hold of the end, and then had the pleasure of the little foot being
+placed 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 are
+required 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.
+“I beg your pardon, Mr. Stirling. It was so dark, and you are so seldom
+here afternoons that I didn’t know you.”
+
+“Tell the chief that this needn’t go on record, nor be given to the
+reporters.”
+
+“Very well, Mr. Stirling.”
+
+“I beg your pardon,” said the girl in a frank yet shy way, “but will
+you tell 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.
+I didn’t think I could behave so to a stranger! I must have felt it was
+you.” 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
+wrong to hold a young girl’s hand. If it was wrong, it was certainly a
+very small 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 and
+complimentary, but he failed to understand anything of it, except its
+general friendliness. His manner may have suggested this, for suddenly
+the girl said:
+
+“But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I am
+Leonore 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 something
+delightful in it.
+
+“But—she’s a child.”
+
+“I’ll be eighteen next week,” said Leonore, with all the readiness of
+that number of years to proclaim its age.
+
+Peter concluded that he must accept the fact. Watts could have a child
+that old. Having reached this conclusion, he said, “I ought to have
+known you by your likeness to your mother.” Which was an unintentional
+lie. Her mother’s eyes she had, as well as the long lashes; and she had
+her mother’s pretty figure, though she was taller. But otherwise she
+was far more like Watts. Her curly hair, her curvy mouth, the dimple,
+and the contour of the face were his. Leonore D’Alloi was a far greater
+beauty than her mother had ever been. But to Peter, it was merely a
+renewal of his dream.
+
+Just at this point the groom rode up. “Beg pardon, Miss D’Alloi,” he
+said, 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 broken
+something 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 Peter
+thought. He said, “I shall ride with you, of course.” So they started
+their 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 feet
+behind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could never
+overtake Fly-away. So when I felt the saddle begin to slip, I thought I
+was—was going to be dragged—as I once saw a woman in England—Oh!—and
+then suddenly I saw a horse’s head, and then I felt some one take hold
+of me so firmly that I didn’t have to hold myself at all, and I knew I
+was 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 in
+their strength, and Leonore and Fly-away glorified them for it. Yet in
+spite of this, as Peter looked down at the curly head, from his own and
+Mutineers altitude, he felt no superiority, and knew that the slightest
+wish expressed by that small mouth, would be as strong with him as if a
+European army obeyed its commands.
+
+“What a tremendous horse you have?” said Leonore. “Isn’t he?” assented
+Peter. “He’s got a bad temper, I’m sorry to say, but I’m very fond of
+him. He was given me by my regiment, and was the choice of a very dear
+friend 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—in
+1882—at Maggiore. The first time, I was only six, but she used to tell
+me stories about you and the little children in the angle. The last
+time she told me all she could remember about you. We used to drift
+about the lake moonlight nights, and talk about you.”
+
+“What made that worth doing to you?”
+
+“Oh from the very beginning, that I can remember, papa was always
+talking about ‘dear old Peter’”—the talker said the last three words in
+such a tone, shot such a look up at Peter, half laughing and half
+timid, that in combination they nearly made Peter reel in his
+saddle—“and you seemed almost the only one of his friends he did speak
+of, so I became very curious about you as a little girl, and then Miss
+De Voe made me more interested, so that I began questioning Americans,
+because I was really anxious to learn things concerning you. Nearly
+every 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 made
+one feel.
+
+“Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?”
+
+“Oh, nearly everybody knew something. That is, every one we’ve met in
+the 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 that
+time, except at the Shrubberies.”
+
+“No, he hadn’t seen you. But he knew a lot about you, from Mr. Lapharn
+and Mr. Avery, and some other men who had met you.”
+
+“Who else?”
+
+“Miss Leroy, mamma’s bridesmaid, who spent two weeks at our villa near
+Florence, and Dr. Purple, your clergyman, who was in the same house
+with us 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 all the rest put together.”
+
+“I feel quite safe in their hands. Dorothy and I formed a mutual
+admiration 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 wedding
+journey, and probably saw everything rose-colored.”
+
+“That was it. Dorothy told me about your giving Mr. Rivington a full
+partnership, in order that Mr. Ogden should give his consent.”
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+“Ray swore that he wouldn’t tell. And Dorothy has always appeared
+ignorant. And yet she knew it on her wedding trip.”
+
+“She couldn’t help it. She said she must tell some one, she was so
+happy. So she told mamma and me. She showed us your photograph. Papa
+and mamma 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, had
+the same frank, fearless gaze that her mother had of yore. But she did
+not look as often nor as long, and did not seem so wrapped up in the
+man’s remarks when she looked. We are afraid even at seventeen that
+Leonore had discovered that she had very fetching eyes, and did not
+intend to cheapen them, by showing them too much. During the whole of
+this 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 face
+up 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.
+For the moment Peter did not agree with Mr. Weller that “life isn’t all
+beer and skittles.”
+
+“I’ve been so anxious to meet you. I’ve begged papa ever since we
+landed to take me to see you. And he’s promised me, over and over
+again, to do it, but something always interfered. You see, I felt very
+strange and—and queer, not knowing people of my own country, and I felt
+that I really knew you, and wouldn’t have to begin new as I do with
+other people. I do so dread next winter when I’m to go into society. I
+don’t know 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 next
+winter. I’ve shut myself up too much.” This was a discovery of Peter’s
+made in the last ten seconds.
+
+“How nice that will be! And will you promise to give me a great deal of
+attention?”
+
+“You’ll probably want very little. I don’t dance.” Peter suddenly
+became conscious 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. Was
+it possible life had such richness in it? Then he said with a bitter
+note 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 men
+I’ve seen valsing. Young men I mean. And I’ve seen men seventy years
+old dancing 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 a
+stable.
+
+“Why,” said Leonore, “here we are already! What a short ride it has
+been.”
+
+Peter thought so too, and groaned over the end of it. But then he
+suddenly remembered that Leonore was to be lifted from her horse. He
+became cold with the thought that she might jump before he could get to
+her, and he was off his horse and by her side with the quickness of a
+military training. He put his hands up, and for a moment had—well,
+Peter could usually express himself but he could not put that moment
+into words. And it was not merely that Leonore had been in his arms for
+a 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 the
+groom. “I wish to see Miss D’Alloi home.”
+
+“Thank you very much, but my maid is here in the brougham, so I need
+not trouble you. Good-bye, and thank you. Oh, thank you so much!” She
+stood very close to Peter, and looked up into his eyes with her own.
+“There’s no one I would rather have had save me.”
+
+She stepped into the brougham, and Peter closed the door. He mounted
+his horse 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
+to bother 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 evening
+papers. His dinner was eaten with equal coolness. Not till he had
+reached his study did he vary his ordinary daily routine. Then, instead
+of working or reading, he rolled a comfortable chair up to the fire,
+put on 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 he smoked are not recorded, lest the statement should make
+people skeptical of the narrative.
+
+Of course Peter knew that life had not lost its troubles. He was not
+fooling himself as to what lay before him. He was not callous to the
+sufferings already endured. But he put them, past, and to come, from
+him for 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 did not seem to be thinking of that. He had just been through what
+he called a “revolting experience,” but it is doubtful if he was
+thinking of that. Whatever his thoughts were, they put a very different
+look on his face than that which it used to wear while he studied blank
+walls.
+
+When Peter sat down, rather later than usual at his office desk the
+next morning, he took a sheet of paper, and wrote, “Dear sir,” upon it.
+Then he tore it up. He took another and wrote, “My dear Mr. D’Alloi.”
+He tore that up. Another he began, “Dear Watts.” A moment later it was
+in the paper basket. “My dear friend,” served to bring a similar fate
+to the fourth. Then Peter rose and strolled about his office aimlessly.
+Finally he went out into a gallery running along the various rooms,
+and, opening a door, put his head in.
+
+“You hypocritical scoundrel,” he said. “You swore to me that you would
+never 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’ve
+never been on a honeymoon. Really, old fellow, I was so happy over your
+generosity in giving me a full share, when I didn’t bring a tenth of
+the business, and so happy over Dorothy, that If I hadn’t told her, I
+should have 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 a
+secret.”
+
+“How can you expect a person to keep a secret when you can’t keep it
+yourself?” Peter and Ray were both laughing.
+
+Ray said to himself, “Peter has some awfully knotty point on hand, and
+is resting the brain tissue for a moment.” Ray had noticed, when Peter
+interrupted him during office hours, on matters not relating to
+business, that he had a big or complex question in hand.
+
+Peter closed the door and went back to his room. Then he took a fifth
+sheet 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 not
+hear 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 moment
+he looked up, jump he did. He jumped so that he was shaking hands
+before 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
+have spent ten minutes palavering your boy, in order to make him let us
+surprise you, and then when we spring it on you, you don’t budge.
+Wasn’t it shabby treatment, Dot?”
+
+“You’ve disappointed us awfully, Mr. Stirling.”
+
+Peter was shaking hands more deliberately with Leonore than he had with
+Watts. He had been rather clever in shaking hands with him first, so
+that he need not hurry himself over the second. So he had a very nice
+moment—all too short—while Leonore’s hand lay in his. He said, in order
+to prolong the moment, without making it too marked, “It will take
+something more frightful than you, Miss D’Alloi, to make me jump.” Then
+Peter was sorry he had said it, for Leonore dropped her eyes.
+
+“Now, old man, give an account of yourself.” Watts was speaking
+jauntily, but not quite as easily as he usually did. “Here Leonore and
+I waited all last evening, and you never came. So she insisted that we
+come this morning.”
+
+“I don’t understand?” Peter was looking at Leonore as if she had made
+the remark. Leonore was calmly examining Peter’s room.
+
+“Why, even a stranger would have called last night to inquire about
+Dot’s health, after such an accident. But for you not to do it, was
+criminal. If you have aught to say why sentence should not now be
+passed on you, speak now or forever—no—that’s the wedding ceremony,
+isn’t it? Not criminal sentence—though, on second thought, there’s not
+much difference.”
+
+“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 his
+voice.
+
+Miss D’Alloi’s interest in legal literature suddenly ceased. She turned
+and Peter had a momentary glimpse of those wonderful eyes. Either his
+words or tone had evidently pleased Miss D’Alloi. The corners of her
+mouth 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 suffered
+no serious shock from her runaway, and passed a good night. It seemed
+to Miss D’Alloi that the least return she could make for Mr. Stirling’s
+kindness, was to save him the trouble of coming to inquire about Miss
+D’Alloi’s health, and so leave Mr. Stirling more time to his grimy old
+law 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
+my loss; but I can say that I’m sorry.”
+
+“That’s quite enough,” said Leonore. “I thought perhaps you didn’t want
+to be friends. And as I like to have such things right out, I made papa
+bring me down this morning so that I could see for myself.” She spoke
+with a frankness that seemed to Peter heavenly, even while he grew cold
+at the thought that she should for a moment question his desire to be
+friends.
+
+“Of course you and Peter will be friends,” said Watts.
+
+“But mamma told me last night—after we went upstairs, that she was sure
+Mr. Stirling would never call.”
+
+“Never, Dot?” cried Watts.
+
+“Yes. And when I asked her why, she wouldn’t tell me at first, but at
+last she said it was because he was so unsociable. I shan’t be friends
+with any one who won’t come to see me.” Leonore was apparently looking
+at the floor, but from under her lashes she was looking at something
+else.
+
+Whatever Peter may have felt, he looked perfectly cool. Too cool,
+Leonore thought. “I’m not going to make any vows or protestations of
+friendship,” 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 are
+to be friends, we must each leave the other to act freely.”
+
+“Well,” said Leonore, “that is, I suppose, a polite way of saying that
+you 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
+the telling till the first time I call on you.” Peter was smiling down
+at her.
+
+Miss D’Alloi looked up at Peter, to see what meaning his face gave his
+last remark. Then she held out her two hands. “Of course we are to be
+the best of friends,” she said. Peter got a really good look down into
+those eyes as they shook hands.
+
+The moment this matter had been settled, Leonore’s manner changed. “So
+this is the office of the great Peter Stirling?” she said, with the
+nicest tone of interest in her voice, as it seemed to Peter.
+
+“It doesn’t look it,” said Watts. “By George, with the business people
+say your firm does, you ought to do better than this. It’s worse even
+than our old Harvard quarters, and those were puritanical enough.”
+
+“There is a method in its plainness. If you want style, go into Ogden’s
+and 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
+room simple, to put them at their ease. I’ve never heard of my losing a
+client yet, because my room is as it is, while I should have frightened
+away 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 to
+frighten away. There can’t be any money in their business?”
+
+“We weren’t talking of money. We were talking of people. I am very glad
+to say, that with my success, there has been no change in my relations
+with 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.
+The one shelf of law books. The one cheap cabinet of drawers. The four
+simple chairs, and the plain desk. Behold the great politician! The man
+of the people.”
+
+Peter made no reply. But Leonore said to him, “I’m glad you help the
+poor people still, Mr. Stirling,” and gave Peter another glimpse of
+those eyes. Peter didn’t mind after that.
+
+“Look here, Dot,” said Watts. “You mustn’t call chum Mr. Stirling. That
+won’t do. Call him—um—call him Uncle Peter.”
+
+“I won’t,” said Leonore, delighting Peter thereby. “Let me see. What
+shall I call you?” she asked of Peter.
+
+“Honey,” laughed Watts.
+
+“What shall I call you?” Miss D’Alloi put her head on one side, and
+looked 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 spoke
+hesitatingly till she said his name, but that went very smoothly. Peter
+on 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 the
+law?”
+
+“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
+defend me. A man named Peter.” Leonore sat down in Peter’s chair. “I’m
+going to write him at once about it.” She took one of his printed
+letter sheets and his pen, and, putting the tip of the holder to her
+lips (Peter has that 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 you
+can have this note.” Leonore rose with the missive in her hand.
+
+“I never answer letters till I’ve received them.” Peter took hold of
+the slender wrist, and possessed himself of the paper. Then he sat down
+at his 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 will
+have 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
+ever do 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 very
+deliberately proceeded to empty the contents out on his blotter. He
+handled each article. There was a crisp ten-dollar bill, evidently the
+last of those given by the bank at the beginning of the month. There
+were two one-dollar bills. There was a fifty-cent piece, two quarters
+and a dime. A gold German twenty-mark piece, about eight inches of
+narrow crimson ribbon, and a glove button, completed the contents.
+Peter returned the American money and the glove button to the purse and
+handed it 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, with
+anything but legal guardedness concerning unprovable statements. He
+folded up the ribbon neatly and put it, with the coin, in his waistcoat
+pocket.
+
+“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 his
+tone.
+
+“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 crossing
+the Ghemi. And I must have the ribbon. I need it to match for a gown it
+goes with.” Miss D’Alloi put true anxiety into her voice, whatever she
+really felt.
+
+“I shall be glad to help you match it,” said Peter, “and any time you
+send me word, I will go shopping with you. As for your luck, I shall
+keep that for the present.”
+
+“Now I know,” said Leonore crossly, “why lawyers have such a bad
+reputation. They are perfect thieves!” She looked at Peter with the
+corners of her mouth drawn down. He gazed at her with a very grave look
+on his face. They eyed each other steadily for a moment, and then the
+corners of Leonore’s mouth suddenly curled upwards. She tried hard for
+a moment to keep serious. Then she gave up and laughed. Then they both
+laughed.
+
+Many people will only see an amusing side to the dialogue here so
+carefully recorded. If so, look back to the time when everything that
+he or she said was worth listening to. Or if there has never been a he
+or a she, 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
+Leonore was not heart-whole. Leonore had merely had a few true friends,
+owing to her roving life, and at seventeen a girl craves friends. When,
+therefore, the return to America was determined upon, she had at once
+decided that Peter and she would be the closest of friends. That she
+would tell him all her confidences, and take all her troubles to him.
+Miss De Voe and Dorothy had told her about Peter, and from their
+descriptions, as well as from her father’s reminiscences, Leonore had
+concluded that Peter was just the friend she had wanted for so long.
+That Leonore held her eyes down, and tried to charm yet tantalize her
+intended friend, was because Leonore could not help it, being only
+seventeen and a girl. If Leonore had felt anything but a friendly
+interest and liking, blended with much curiosity, in Peter, she never
+would have gone to see him in his office, and would never have talked
+and laughed so frankly with him.
+
+As for Peter, he did not put his feelings into good docketed shape. He
+did not attempt to label them at all. He had had a delicious half-hour
+yesterday. He had decided, the evening before, that he must see those
+slate-colored eyes again, if he had to go round the world in pursuit of
+them. How he should do it, he had not even thought out, till the next
+morning. He had understood very clearly that the owner of those
+slate-colored eyes was really an unknown quantity to him. He had
+understood, too, that the chances were very much against his caring to
+pursue those eyes after he knew them better. But he was adamant that he
+must see those eyes again, and prove for himself whether they were but
+an _ignis fatuus_, or the radiant stars that Providence had cast for
+the horoscope of Peter Stirling. He was studying those eyes, with their
+concomitants, at the present time. He was studying them very coolly, to
+judge from his appearance and conduct. Yet he was enjoying the study in
+a way that he had never enjoyed the study of somebody “On Torts.”
+Somebody “On Torts,” never looked like that. Somebody “On Torts,” never
+had luck-pieces, and silk ribbons. Somebody “On Torts,” never wrote
+letters and touched the end of pens to its lips. Somebody “On Torts,”
+never courtesied, nor looked out from under its eyelashes, nor called
+him Peter.
+
+While this investigation had been progressing, Watts had looked at the
+shelf of law books, had looked out of the window, had whistled, and had
+yawned. Finally, in sheer _ennui_ he had thrown open a door, and looked
+to 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 and
+railroads, 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
+the unsociable old hermit bestows himself.”
+
+So Leonore and Peter followed Watts’s lead. The room into which they
+went 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 side
+street. It had one other door besides that by which they had entered.
+Here the ordinary quality ended. Except for the six openings already
+noted and a large fireplace, the walls were shelved from floor to
+ceiling (which was not a low one), with dusky oak shelving. The ceiling
+was panelled in dark oak, and the floor was covered with a smooth
+surface of the same wood. Yet though the shelves were filled with
+books, few could be seen, for on every upright of the shelving, were
+several frames of oak, hinged as one sees them in public galleries
+occasionally, and these frames contained etchings, engravings, and
+paintings. Some were folded back against the shelves. Others stood out
+at right angles to them and showed that the frames were double ones,
+both sides containing something. Four easy-chairs, three less easy
+chairs, and a large table desk, likewise of dusky oak were the sole
+other fittings of the room, if we except two large polar bear skins.
+
+“Oh,” cried Leonore looking about, “I’m so glad to see this. People
+have told me so much about your rooms. And no two of them ever agreed.”
+
+“No,” said Peter. “It seems a continual bone of contention with my
+friends. They scold me because I shelved it to the ceiling, because I
+put in one-colored wood, because I framed my pictures and engravings
+this way, and because I haven’t gone in for rugs, and bric-à-brac, and
+the usual furnishings. At times I have really wondered, from their
+determination to change things, whether it was for them to live in, or
+for my use?”
+
+“It is unusual,” said Leonore, reluctantly, and evidently selecting a
+word 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 no
+background.”
+
+“It’s—it’s—” Leonore hesitated. “It’s not so startling, after a
+moment.”
+
+“You see they had to hang this way, or go unhung. I hadn’t wall space
+for 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,’” called
+Watts. “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
+have had 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 his
+money, and I bought them of him.”
+
+“That was Mr. Le Grand?” asked Leonore, ceasing her study of the “Three
+Crosses.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Mrs. Rivington told me about it.”
+
+“It must have been devilish hard for him to part with such a
+collection,” said Watts.
+
+“He hasn’t really parted with them. He comes down here constantly, and
+has a good time over them. It was partly his scheme to arrange them
+this way.”
+
+“And are the paintings his, too, Peter?”
+
+Peter could have hugged her for the way she said Peter. “No,” he
+managed to remark. “I bought some of them, and Miss De Voe and
+Lispenard Ogden the others. People tell me I spoil them by the flat
+framing, and the plain, broad gold mats. But it doesn’t spoil them to
+me. I think the mixture of gold mats and white mats breaks the
+monotony. And the variation 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?” inquired
+Watts.
+
+“Really, papa, it is plain. Just as simple as can be.”
+
+“Simple! Yes, sweet simplicity! Three-thousand-dollar-etching
+simplicity! Millet simplicity! Oh, yes. Peter’s a simple old dog.”
+
+“No, but the woodwork and the furniture. Isn’t this an enticing chair?
+I must try it.” And Leonore almost dissolved from view in its depths.
+Peter has that chair still. He would probably knock the man down who
+offered to buy it.
+
+It occurred to Peter that since Leonore was so extremely near the
+ground, and was leaning back so far, that she could hardly help but be
+looking up. So he went and stood in front of the fireplace, and looked
+down at her. He pretended that his hands were cold. Watts perhaps was
+right. Peter was not as simple as people thought.
+
+It seemed to Peter that he had never had so much to see, all at once,
+in his 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 would have been very restful to the eye; if it hadn’t been for the
+distracting chin below it. Then there were the little feet, just
+sticking out from underneath the tailor-made gown, making Peter think
+of Herrick’s famous lines. Finally there were those two hands! Leonore
+was very deliberately taking off her gloves. Peter had not seen those
+hands ungloved yet, and waited almost breathlessly for the unveiling.
+He decided that he must watch and shake hands at parting before Leonore
+put those gloves on again.
+
+“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
+owns the building, and when it came to rebuild, it had the architect
+fit this floor for me just as I wished it. So I put our law-offices in
+front and arranged my other rooms along the side street. Would you like
+to see them?” Peter asked this last question very obviously of Leonore.
+
+“Very much.”
+
+So they passed through the other door, to a little square hall, lighted
+by 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 city
+and the bay, which is very fine,” Peter said. “And I have a staircase
+to the 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 my
+idiosyncracies. This is my mealing closet.”
+
+It was a room nine feet square, panelled, ceiled and floored in
+mahogany, and the table and six chairs were made of the same material.
+
+“So this is what the papers call the ‘Stirling political incubator?’ It
+doesn’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 sit
+here blowy nights, with the candles lit, eating nuts and telling
+stories? It makes me think of the expression, ‘snug as a bug.’”
+
+“Miss Leroy told me, Peter, what a reputation your dinners had, and how
+every 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 it
+contained, including its owner—Then Peter said to himself, “You really
+don’t know anything about her. Stop your foolishness.” Still Peter knew
+that—that foolishness was nice. He said, “People only care for my
+dinners because they are few and far between, and their being way down
+here in the city, after business hours, makes them something to talk
+about. Society wants badly something to talk about most of the time. Of
+course, my friends are invited.” Peter looked down at Leonore, and she
+understood, 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. He
+looks after me generally, but his true forte is cooking. For oysters
+and fish and game I can’t find his equal. And, as I never attempt very
+elaborate dinners, he cooks and serves for a party of six in very good
+shape. We are not much in haste down here after six, because it’s so
+still and quiet. The hurry’s gone up-town to the social slaves. Suppose
+you stay and try his skill at lunch to-day? My partners generally are
+with 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
+first time we come.” Peter and Watts tried to persuade her, but she was
+not persuadable. Leonore had no intention, no matter how good a time it
+meant, 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 of
+food matters under the pretext that she was displaying great
+housekeeping knowledge. She told Peter that he ought to keep his
+champagne 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. It
+ought to be stood on end, so that the sediment can settle.” She
+criticised the fact that a brace of canvas-backs were on ice. “All your
+game should be hung,” she said. She put her finger or her eyes into
+every drawer and cupboard, and found nothing to praise. She was
+absolutely grave over it, but before long Peter saw the joke and
+entered into it. It was wonderful how good some of the things that she
+touched tasted later.
+
+Then they went into Peter’s sleeping-room, Leonore said it was very
+ordinary, 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 potters
+with them. She keeps all the windows full of flowers—perhaps you have
+noticed them in the other rooms, as well?”
+
+“Yes. I liked them, but I didn’t think they could be yours. They grow
+too well for a man.”
+
+“It seems as if Mrs. Costell had only to look at a plant, and it breaks
+out blossoming,” Peter replied.
+
+“What a nice speech,” said Leonore.
+
+“It’s on a nice subject,” Peter told her. “When you have that, it’s
+very easy 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 had
+evidently been planned as an umbrella-stand.
+
+“Why do you have three swords?” she asked, taking the handsomest from
+its resting place.
+
+“So that I can kill more people.”
+
+“Why, Dot, you ought to know that an officer wants a service sword and
+a dress-sword.”
+
+“But these are all dress-swords. I’m afraid you are very proud of your
+majorship.”
+
+Peter only smiled a reply down at her.
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore, “I have found out your weakness at last. You like
+gold lace and fixings.”
+
+Still Peter only smiled.
+
+“This sword is presented to Captain Peter Stirling in recognition of
+his gallant conduct at Hornellsville, July 25, 1877,” Leonore read on
+the scabbard. “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 keep
+the 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 was
+subscribed for by some friends. The one you have was given me by a
+railroad.”
+
+“For what?”
+
+“For doing my duty.”
+
+“Come, papa. We’ll go home.”
+
+Peter surrendered. “There were some substitutes for strikers in freight
+cars that were fitted up with bunks. The strikers fastened the doors on
+them, 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
+you anything more to show us?”
+
+“No. I have a spare room, and Jenifer has a kitchen and sleeping place
+beyond, 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 very
+often, I like down-town New York.” Leonore was making her first trip to
+it, so that she spoke from vast knowledge.
+
+“I can’t tell you how pleasant it has been to me. It isn’t often that
+such 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. I
+have a good mind—yes, I will—leave you these violets,” Leonore took a
+little bunch that she had worn near her throat and put them and her
+hand in Peter’s. And she hadn’t put her glove on yet! Then she put her
+gloves on, and Peter shook hands. Then he remembered that he ought to
+see them to the elevator, so he took them out—and shook hands again.
+After that he concluded it was his duty to see them to the carriage—and
+he shook hands 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 back
+to work. “He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in the
+Hall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning over
+those awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn’t make. Yet
+he came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air.”
+
+When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop work
+and think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them
+now and then. He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to
+have a look at that bit of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation.
+He said: “Peter Stirling, go to work.” So all the treasures were put in
+a drawer 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 and
+dumb-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 a
+box of cigars, or a bunch of violets, gold-piece, ribbon and sheet of
+paper? One thing is certain. Peter passed another evening without
+reading or working. And two such idle evenings could not be shown in
+another week of his life for the last twenty years.
+
+The next day Peter was considerably nearer earth. Not that he didn’t
+think those eyes just as lovely, and had he been thrown within their
+radius, he would probably have been as strongly influenced as ever. But
+he was not thrown within their influence, and so his strong nature and
+common sense reasserted themselves. He took his coffee, his early
+morning ride, and then his work, in their due order. After dinner, that
+evening, he only smoked one cigar. When he had done that, he remarked
+to himself—apropos of the cigars, presumably—“Peter, keep to your work.
+Don’t burn yourself again.” Then his face grew very firm, and he read a
+frivolous 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
+afternoon rode out to Westchester to pass the evening there with Mrs.
+Costell. Peter thought his balance was quite recovered. Other men have
+said the same thing. The fact that they said so, proved that they were
+by no means sure of themselves.
+
+This was shown very markedly on Monday in Peter’s case, for after lunch
+he did not work as steadily as he had done in the morning hours. He was
+restless. Twice he pressed his lips, and started in to work very, very
+hard—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,
+and go to work again, with a great determination in his face, only to
+look at the watch again before long. Finally he touched his bell.
+
+“Jenifer,” he said, “I wish you would rub off my spurs, and clean up my
+riding 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 at
+a sharp canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden far
+when he suddenly checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple of
+riders. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said frankly. Peter had not
+ceased to be straightforward.
+
+“Hello! This is nice,” said Watts.
+
+“Don’t you think it’s about time?” said Leonore. Leonore had her own
+opinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry with Peter—not
+at 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’m here now.”
+
+“How long ago did that occur to you, please?” said Leonore, with
+dignity.
+
+“About the time it occurred to me that you might ride here regularly
+afternoons.”
+
+“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
+those eyes. 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 is
+very nice, Peter,” said Leonore. “If we see each other every day in the
+Park, we can tell each other everything that we are doing or thinking
+about. So we will be very good friends for sure.” Leonore spoke and
+looked as if this was the pleasantest of possibilities, and Peter was
+certain it was.
+
+“I say, Peter,” said Watts. “What a tremendous dude we have come out. I
+wanted to joke you on it the first time I saw you, but this afternoon
+it’s positively appalling. I would have taken my Bible oath that it was
+the last thing old Peter would become. Just look at him, Dot. Doesn’t
+he fill 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 man
+absolutely 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
+toney friends?”
+
+“Of course I tried to dress correctly for my up-town friends, when I
+was with them. But it was not they who made me careful, though they
+helped me 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 the
+furnishing 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 at
+first. 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 in
+positions to a certain extent representative of it. I never thought
+much how I dressed, and it seems that sometimes at public meetings, and
+parades, and that sort of thing, I wasn’t dressed quite as well as the
+other men. So when the people of my ward, who were present, were asked
+to point me out to strangers, they were mortified about the way I
+looked. It seemed to reflect on the ward. The first inkling I had of it
+was after one of these parades, in which, without thinking, I had worn
+a soft hat. I was the only man who did not wear a silk one, and my ward
+felt very badly about it. So they made up a purse, and came to me to
+ask me to buy a new suit and silk hat and gloves. Of course that set me
+asking questions, and though they didn’t want to hurt my feelings, I
+wormed enough out of them to learn how they felt. Since then I’ve spent
+a good deal of money on tailors, and dress very carefully.”
+
+“Good for ‘de sixt’! Hurrah for the unwashed democracy, where one man’s
+as good as another! So a ‘Mick’ ward wants its great man to put on all
+the frills? I tell you, chum, we may talk about equality, but the lower
+classes can’t but admire and worship the tinsel and flummery of
+aristocracy.”
+
+“You are mistaken. They may like to see brilliant sights. Soldiers,
+ball-rooms or the like, and who does not? Beauty is aesthetic, not
+aristocratic. But they judge people less by their dress or money than
+is usually supposed. Far less than the people up-town do. They wanted
+me to dress better, because it was appropriate. But let a man in the
+ward try to 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 hardest
+thing to forgive in this world is your equal’s success. But they
+wouldn’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 told
+to get out. I don’t believe you could get a drink. And you would stand
+a chance of pretty rough usage. Last week I went right from a dinner to
+Blunkers’s to say a word to him. I was in evening dress, newcastle, and
+crush hat—even a bunch of lilies of the valley—yet every man there was
+willing to shake hands and have me sit down and stay. Blunkers couldn’t
+have been dressed so, because it didn’t belong to him. For the same
+reason, you would have no business in Blunkers’s place, because you
+don’t belong there. But the men know I dressed for a reason, and came
+to the saloon for a reason. I wasn’t putting on airs. I wasn’t
+intruding my wealth on them.”
+
+“Look here, chum, will you take me into Blunkers’s place some night,
+and let 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 bring
+Blunkers up to watch one of your formal dinners. He would enjoy the
+sight, 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 one
+tooth. The question arose as to which it should be. ‘I’m so brave,’
+said one, ‘that I can wait till to-morrow.’ ‘I’m such a coward,’ said
+the other, ‘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 my blood tingle when I hear them talk over the ‘fun’ as they call
+it. They get detectives to protect them, and then go through the
+tenements—the homes of the poor—and pry into their privacy and poverty,
+just out of curiosity. Then they go home and over a chafing dish of
+lobster or terrapin, and champagne, they laugh at the funny things they
+saw. If the poor could get detectives, and look in on the luxury and
+comfort of the rich, they wouldn’t see much fun in it, and there’s less
+fun in a down-town tenement than there is in a Fifth Avenue palace. I
+heard a girl 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
+people weeping and drinking whisky at the same time. Isn’t it
+heartless?’ Yet the dead—perhaps the bread-winner of the family, fallen
+in the struggle—perhaps the last little comer, not strong enough to
+fight this 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 over that body, according to their customs, or the party who
+looked in on them and laughed?” Peter had forgotten where he was, or to
+whom he was talking.
+
+Leonore had listened breathlessly. But the moment he ceased speaking,
+she bowed her head and began to sob. Peter came down from his indignant
+tirade 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 he
+had 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 the
+most intricate puzzle ever yet propounded by man or woman—that is, to
+find a woman’s pocket. She complicated things even more by trying to
+talk. “I—I—know I’m ver—ver—very fooooooolish,” she managed to get out,
+however much she failed in a similar result with her
+pocket-handkerchief.
+
+“Since I caused the tears, you must let me stop them,” said Peter. He
+had produced his own handkerchief, and was made happy by seeing Leonore
+bury her face in it, and re-appear not quite so woe-begone.
+
+“I—only—didn’t—know—you—could— talk—like—like that,” explained Leonore.
+
+“Let this be a lesson for you,” said Watts. “Don’t come any more of
+your jury-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 hear
+talking about you. I tell you, when you rear your head up like that,
+and your eyes blaze so, and you put that husk in your voice, I don’t
+wonder you fetch them. By George, you were really splendid to look at.”
+
+That was the reason why Leonore had not cried till Peter had finished
+his speech. We don’t charge women with crying whenever they wish, but
+we are 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, Watts
+saying he would go with Peter to his club. As soon as they were in the
+cab, he said:
+
+“I wanted to see you about your letter.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Everything’s going as well as can be expected. Of course the little
+woman’s scandalized over your supposed iniquity, but I’m working the
+heavy sentimental ‘saved-our-little-girl’s life’ business for all it’s
+worth. I had her crying last night on my shoulder over it, and no woman
+can do that and be obstinate long. She’ll come round before a great
+while.”
+
+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 himself
+that she was not for him, be it understood—and how could he see enough
+of her to do that—for Peter recognized that it would take a good deal
+of that charming face and figure and manner to pall on him—if he was
+excluded from her home? So he justified the continuance of the attempt
+by saying to himself: “She only excludes me because of something of
+which I am guiltless, and I’ve saved her from far greater suffering
+than my presence can ever give her. I have earned the privilege if ever
+man earned 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 on his audience. We call it “saying what the people want said.”
+But many of the greatest speakers first suggest an idea to their
+listeners, and when they say it in plain English, a moment later, the
+audience say, mentally, “That’s just what we thought a moment ago,” and
+are convinced that the speaker is right.
+
+Peter remained silent, and Watts continued: “We get into our own house
+to-morrow, and give Leonore a birthday dinner Tuesday week as a
+combined house-warming and celebration. Save that day, for I’m
+determined you shall be asked. Only the invitation may come a little
+late. You won’t mind that?”
+
+“No. But don’t send me too many of these formal things. I keep out of
+them as much as I can. I’m not a society man and probably won’t fit in
+with your friends.”
+
+“I should know you were not _de societé_ by that single speech. If
+there’s one thing easy to talk to, or fit in with, it’s a society man
+or woman. It’s their business to be chatty and pleasant, and they would
+be polite and entertaining to a kangaroo, if they found one next them
+at dinner. That’s what society is for. We are the yolk of the egg,
+which holds and blends all the discordant, untrained elements. The oil,
+vinegar, salt, and mustard We don’t add much flavor to life, but people
+wouldn’t mix without us.”
+
+“I know,” said Peter, “if you want to talk petty personalities and
+trivialities, that it’s easy enough to get through endless hours of
+time. But I have other things to do.”
+
+“Exactly. But we have a purpose, too. You mustn’t think society is all
+frivolity. 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, and
+that the people who will centre their whole life on it must be the
+leaders of it? To you, the spending hours over a new _entrée_, or over
+a cotillion figure, seems rubbish, but it’s the exact equivalent of
+your spending hours over who shall be nominated for a certain office.
+Because you are willing to do that, you are one of the ‘big four.’
+Because we are 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 so much in running it, that we don’t have enough for other
+subjects, and so you think we are stupid. I remember a woman once
+saying she didn’t like conversazioni, ‘because they are really
+brain-parties, and there is never enough to go round, and give a second
+help,’ Any way, how can you expect society to talk anything but
+society, when men like yourself stay away 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, intellectual
+men.”
+
+“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
+a dinner together, where there was a Chicago man who became irritated
+at one or two bits of ignorance displayed by some of the other guests
+over the 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
+even know how to pronounce its name.’ He turned to Miss De Voe and
+said, ‘We say Chicawgo. Now, how do you pronounce it in New York?’ Miss
+De Voe put on that quiet, crushing manner she has when a man displeases
+her, and said, ‘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, and
+could only mortify. But it does describe the position of the lower
+wards of New York towards society. I’ve been working in them for nearly
+sixteen years, and I’ve never even heard the subject mentioned.”
+
+“But I thought the anarchists and socialists were always taking a whack
+at us?”
+
+“They cry out against over-rich men—not against society. Don’t confuse
+the constituents with the compound. Citric acid is a deadly poison, but
+weakened down with water and sugar, it is only lemonade. They growl at
+the poison, not at the water and sugar. Before there can be hate, there
+must be strength.”
+
+The next day Peter turned up in the park about four, and had a
+ride—with Watts. The day after that, he was there a little earlier, and
+had a ride—with the groom. The day following he had another ride—with
+the groom. Peter thought they were very wonderful rides. Some one told
+him a great many interesting things. About some one’s European life,
+some one’s thoughts, some one’s hopes, and some one’s feelings. Some
+one really wanted a friend to pour it all out to, and Peter listened
+well, and encouraged well.
+
+“He doesn’t laugh at me, as papa does,” some one told herself, “and so
+it’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 to be.”
+
+This put some one in a very nice frame of mind, and Peter thought he
+had never met such a wonderful combination of frankness, of confluence,
+and yet of a certain girlish shyness and timidity. Some one would tell
+him something, and then appeal to him, if he didn’t think that was so?
+Peter generally thought it was. Some one did not drop her little touch
+of coquetry, for that was ingrain, as it is in most pretty girls. But
+it was the most harmless kind of coquetry imaginable. Someone was not
+thinking at all of winning men’s hearts. That might come later. At
+present all she wanted was that they should think her pretty, and
+delightful, so that—that they should want to be friend.
+
+When Peter joined Watts and Leonore, however, on the fourth day, there
+was a noticeable change in Leonore’s manner to him. He did not get any
+welcome except a formal “Good-afternoon,” and for ten minutes Watts and
+he had to sustain the conversation by firing remarks at each other past
+a very silent intermediary. Peter had no idea what was wrong, but when
+he found that she did not mollify at the end of that time, he said to
+her;
+
+“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 be
+friends.”
+
+“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 a
+little. “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 would
+do it soon, because mamma said to-day she thought of asking you to my
+birthday dinner next Tuesday, but I said you oughtn’t to be asked till
+you 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 her
+mouth.
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “I wish you had said this evening, because that’s
+nearer, 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 tell
+him 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. Do
+tell 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 I
+haven’t found anybody yet who could really tell it to me. Please tell
+about it nicely, Peter.” Leonore was looking at Peter with the most
+pleading of looks.
+
+“It was during the great railroad strike. The Erie had brought some men
+up from New York to fill the strikers’ places. The new hands were
+lodged in freight cars, when off work, for it wasn’t safe for them to
+pass outside the guard lines of soldiers. Some of the strikers applied
+for work, and were reinstated. They only did it to get inside our
+lines. At night, when the substitutes in the cars were fast asleep,
+tired out with the double work they had done, the strikers locked the
+car-doors. They pulled the two cars into a shed full of freight, broke
+open a petroleum tank, and with it wet the cars and some others loaded
+with jute. They set fire to the cars and barricaded the shed doors. Of
+course we didn’t know till the flames burst through the roof of the
+shed, when by the light, one of the superintendents found the bunk cars
+gone. The fire-department was useless, for the strikers two days
+before, had cut all the hose. So we were ordered up to get the cars
+out. Some strikers had concealed themselves in buildings where they
+could overlook the shed, and while we were working at the door, they
+kept firing on us. We were in the light of the blazing shed, and they
+were in the dark, which gave them a big advantage over us, and we
+couldn’t spare the time to attend 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, and fortunately they were the nearest to the
+door. We took our muskets—for the frames of the cars were blazing, and
+the metal part too hot to touch—and fixing bayonets, drove them into
+the woodwork and so pushed the cars out. When we were outside, we used
+the rails again, to smash an opening in the ends of the cars which were
+burning the least. We got the men 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
+taking up the rails. I happened to know how to get a rail up quickly,
+without waiting to unscrew the bolts. I had read it, years before, in a
+book on railroad construction. I didn’t think that paragraph would ever
+help me to save forty lives—for five minutes’ delay would have been
+fatal. The inside 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 the real 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 new
+toggery out of that night’s work. I’ve heard people say militia are no
+good. If they could have stood by me that night, and seen my company
+working over those blazing cars, in that mass of burning freight, with
+the roof liable to fall any minute, and the strikers firing every time
+a man showed himself, I think they would have altered their opinion.”
+
+“Oh,” said Leonore, her eyes flashing with enthusiasm. “How splendid it
+is to be a man, and be able to do real things! I wish I had known about
+it in Europe.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because the officers were always laughing about our army. I used to
+get perfectly wild at them, but I couldn’t say anything in reply. If I
+could only 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’t
+that 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 this
+country when you become of age. That constitutes nationality.”
+
+“Oh, how lovely! I knew I was an American, really, but papa was always
+teasing me and saying I was a foreigner. I hate foreigners.”
+
+“Confound you, chum, you’ve spoiled one of my best jokes! It’s been
+such fun to see Dot bristle when I teased her. She’s the hottest little
+patriot that ever lived.”
+
+“I think Miss D’Alloi’s nationality is akin to that of a case of which
+I once heard,” said Peter, smiling. “A man was bragging about the
+number of famous men who were born in his native town. He mentioned a
+well-known personage, among others, and one of his auditors said: ‘I
+didn’t know he was born there,’ ‘Oh, yes, he was,’ replied the man. ‘He
+was 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 certain
+object 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 a
+syndicate, and charged eight thousand dollars.”
+
+“Oh, dear!” said Leonore. “I wonder if I can afford to get your opinion
+on my being an American? I should like to frame it and hang it in my
+room. Would it be expensive?”
+
+“It is usual with lawyers,” said Peter gravely, “to find out how much a
+client has, and then make the bill for a little less. How much do you
+have?”
+
+“I really haven’t any now. I shall have two hundred dollars on the
+first. 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 my
+property on Tuesday. I forget how much it is, but I’m sure I can afford
+to have an opinion.”
+
+“Why, Dot, we must get those papers out, and you must find some one to
+put 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 all
+your work, that he does each thing cheaper, doesn’t he?”
+
+“Yes. Because he divides what his client has, on several jobs, instead
+of on one,” Peter told her.
+
+“Then I think I’ll have you do it all. We’ll come down and see you
+about it. But write out that opinion at once, so that I can prove that
+I’m an American.”
+
+“Very well. But there’s a safer way, even, of making sure that you’re
+an American.”
+
+“What is that?” said Leonore, eagerly.
+
+“Marry one,” said Peter.
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Leonore, “I’ve always intended to do that, but not for
+a great many years.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+CALLS.
+
+
+Peter dressed himself the next evening with particular care, even for
+him. As Peter dressed, he was rather down on life. He had been kept
+from his ride that afternoon by taking evidence in a referee case. “I
+really needed the exercise badly,” he said. He had tried to work his
+dissatisfaction off on his clubs and dumb-bells, but whatever they had
+done 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
+a proper meal. Still, he did not look happy, when, on rising from his
+coffee, he glanced at his watch and found that it was but ten minutes
+past 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 walked four blocks, and then threw open the swing door of a
+brilliantly lighted place, stepping at once into a blaze of light and
+warmth which was most attractive 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 attitudes
+denoting ease. Two, at a small table in the corner, were playing
+dominoes. Three others, in another corner, were amusing themselves with
+“High, Low, Jack.” Two were reading papers. The rest were collected
+round the centre table, most of them smoking. Some beer mugs and
+tumblers were standing about, but not more than a third of the twenty
+were drinking anything. The moment Peter entered, one of the men jumped
+to his feet.
+
+“B’ys,” he cried, “here’s Misther Stirling. Begobs, sir, it’s fine to
+see yez. It’s very scarce yez been lately.” He had shaken hands, and
+then put a chair in place for Peter.
+
+The cards, papers, and dominoes had been abandoned the moment Dennis
+announced Peter’s advent, and when Peter had finished shaking the hands
+held out to him, and had seated himself, the men were all gathered
+round the big table.
+
+Peter laid his hat on the table, threw back his Newcastle and lit a
+cigar. “I’ve been very short of time, Dennis. But I had my choice this
+evening before going uptown, of smoking a cigar in my own quarters, or
+here. 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 Board
+next Tuesday. He won’t vote for it, he says. I told him I thought it
+was in the interest of the city to multiply means of transit, and asked
+him why he refused. He replied that he thought the Hummel gang had been
+offering 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 Board
+to vote the rival road.”
+
+“I don’t think there’s much doubt that money is being spent by both
+sides,” said Peter. “I fear no bill could ever pass without it. But the
+Hummel crowd are really responsible people, who offer the city a good
+percentage. The other men are merely trying to get the franchise, to
+sell 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 simply
+a choice between the two. I shouldn’t mind if Denton voted against both
+schemes, but to say he’ll vote against Hummel for that reason, and yet
+vote for the other franchise shows that he’s not square. I didn’t say
+so to him, because I wanted to talk it over with the ward a little
+first to see if they stood with me.”
+
+“That we do, sir,” said Dennis, with a sureness which was cool, if
+nothing more. Fortunately for the boldness of the speaker, no one
+dissented, 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,
+or some 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’t
+agree widus, shure, Oi’ll make them.”
+
+“Thank you. Good-night.”
+
+“Good-night, Mr. Stirling,” came a chorus, and Peter passed into the
+street by the much maligned side-door.
+
+Dennis turned to the group with his face shining with enthusiasm. “Did
+yez see him, b’ys? There was style for yez. Isn’t he somethin’ for the
+ward to be proud av?”
+
+Peter turned to Broadway, and fell into a long rapid stride. In spite
+of the cold he threw open his coat, and carried his outer covering on
+his arm. Peter had no intention of going into an up-town drawing-room
+with any suggestion of “sixt” ward tobacco. So he walked till he
+reached Madison 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 the
+Fifty-seventh Street house, in reply to Peter’s ring. Yet he was told
+that, “The ladies are still at dinner.”
+
+Peter turned and went down the stoop. He walked to the Avenue, and
+stopped at a house not far off.
+
+“Is Mrs. Pell at home?” he asked, and procured entrance for both his
+pasteboard and himself.
+
+“Welcome, little stranger,” was his greeting. “And it is so nice that
+you 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 talking
+about, so that I could enlighten our legislators when I go back,” said
+a man of forty.
+
+“I wrote Pope a long letter to-day, which I asked him to show you,”
+said Peter. “Things are in a bad shape, and getting worse.”
+
+“But, Peter,” queried the woman, “if you are the leader, why do you let
+them get so?”
+
+“So as to remain the leader,” said Peter, smiling quietly.
+
+“Now that’s what comes of ward politics,” cried Mrs. Pell, “You are
+beginning to make Irish bulls.”
+
+“No,” replied Peter, “I am serious, and because people don’t understand
+what I mean, they don’t understand American politics.”
+
+“But you say in effect that the way you retain your leadership, is by
+not leading. That’s absurd!”
+
+“No. Contradiction though it may seem the way to lose authority, is to
+exercise it too much. Christ enunciated the great truth of democratic
+government, 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 nominate
+Maguire?” 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’t
+seen for time out of mind, and just as I think I have a red-letter
+evening before me, you begin your everlasting politics.”
+
+“I merely stopped in to shake hands,” said Peter. “I have a call to
+make elsewhere, and can stay but twenty minutes. For that time we
+choose you speaker, and you can make us do as it pleases you.”
+
+Twenty minutes later Peter passed into the D’Alloi drawing-room. He
+shook Mrs. D’Alloi’s hand steadily, which was more than she did with
+his. Then he was made happy for a moment, with that of Leonore. Then he
+was introduced to a Madame Mellerie, whom he placed at once as the
+half-governess, half-companion, who had charge of Leonore’s education;
+a Mr. Maxwell, and a Marquis de somebody. They were both good-looking
+young fellows; and greeted Peter in a friendly way. But Peter did not
+like 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 see
+Madame Mellerie. But he made a virtue of necessity, and he was too
+instinctively courteous not to treat the Frenchwoman with the same
+touch of deference his manner towards women always had. After they had
+been chatting for a little on French literature, it occurred to Peter
+that her opinion of him might have some influence with Leonore, so he
+decided that he would try and please her. But this thought turned his
+mind to Leonore, and speaking of her to her governess, he at once
+became so interested in the facts she began to pour out to him, that he
+forgot entirely 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 was
+completed, Mrs. D’Alloi turned to place her puppets properly again. But
+she found a decided bar to her intentions. Peter had formed his own
+conclusions as to why he had been set to entertain Madame Mellerie, not
+merely from the fact itself, but from the manner in which it had been
+done, and most of all, from the way Mrs. D’Alloi had managed to stand
+between Leonore and himself, as if protecting the former, till she had
+been able to force her arrangements. So with the first stir Peter had
+risen, and when the little bustle had ceased he was already standing by
+Leonore, talking to her. Mrs. D’Alloi did not look happy, but for the
+moment she was helpless.
+
+Peter had had to skirt the group to get to Leonore, and so had stood
+behind her during the farewells. She apparently had not noticed his
+advent, but the moment she had done the daughter-of-the-house duty, she
+turned to him, and said: “I wondered if you would go away without
+seeing me. 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 had
+seen you. I’m rather a persistent man in some things.”
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore, bobbing her head in a very knowing manner, “Miss
+De Voe told me.”
+
+“Mr. Stirling,” said Mrs. D’Alloi, “can’t you tell us the meaning of
+the Latin motto on this seal?” Mrs. D’Alloi held a letter towards him,
+but did not stir from her position across the room.
+
+Peter understood the device. He was to be drawn off, and made to sit by
+Mrs. D’Alloi, not because she wanted to see him, but because she did
+not want him to talk to Leonore. Peter had no intention of being
+dragooned. So he said: “Madame Mellerie has been telling me what a good
+Latin scholar Miss D’Alloi is. I certainly shan’t display my ignorance,
+till she 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 for himself. Mrs. D’Alloi looked discouraged, the more
+when Peter and Leonore put their heads close together, to examine the
+envelope.
+
+“‘_In bonam partem_,’” read Leonore. “That’s easy, mamma. It’s—why, she
+isn’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 then
+said in an apologetic tone—“Would you like to invite madame? I’ve been
+telling her about your rooms—and you—and I think it would please her
+so.”
+
+“That makes five,” said Peter.
+
+“Oh, goody!” said Leonore, “I mean,” she said, correcting herself,
+“that that is very kind of you.”
+
+“And now the sixth?”
+
+“That must be a man of course,” said Leonore, wrinkling up her forehead
+in the intensity of puzzlement. “And I know so few men.” She looked out
+into space, and Peter had a moment’s fear lest she should see the
+marquis, and name him. “There’s one friend of yours I’m very anxious to
+meet. 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 of
+him.”
+
+“Oh! I haven’t that feeling about him. I——”
+
+“I think you would understand him and see the fine qualities. But do
+you think 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
+can have 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 really
+begun 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 the
+Burgundy for that day, if your mamma accedes.”
+
+“Peter, I wanted to ask you the other day about that. I thought you
+didn’t drink wine.”
+
+“I don’t. But I give my friends a glass, when they are good enough to
+come to me. I live my own life, to please myself, but for that very
+reason, I want others to live their lives to please themselves. Trying
+to live other people’s lives for them, is a pretty dog-in-the-manger
+business.”
+
+Just then Mrs. D’Alloi joined them. “Were you able to translate it?”
+she asked, sitting down by them.
+
+“Yes, indeed,” said Leonore. “It means ‘Towards the right side,’ or as
+a motto it might be translated, ‘For the right side.’”
+
+Mrs. D’Alloi had clearly, to use a western expression, come determined
+to “settle down and grow up with the country.” So Peter broached the
+subject of the dinner, and when she hesitated, Leonore called Watts
+into the group. He threw the casting ballot in favor of the dinner, and
+so it was 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, he turned 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
+to you, 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
+Hall to-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
+a surly tone and manner.
+
+“Sit down,” said Peter. Peter had learned that, with a certain class of
+individuals, a distance and a seat have a very dampening effect on
+anger. It is curious, man’s instinctive desire to stand up to and be
+near the object for which anger is felt.
+
+“You’ve been talking against me in the ward, and makin’ them down on
+me.”
+
+“No, I didn’t talk against you. I’ve spoken with some of the people
+about the way you think of voting on the franchises.”
+
+“Yes. I wasn’t round, but a friend heard Dennis and Blunkers a-going
+over it last night. And it’s you did it.”
+
+“Yes. But you know me well enough to be sure, after my talk with you
+yesterday, 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 the
+franchises.”
+
+“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 law
+business?”
+
+“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
+in them. He did not know whether _tu quoque_ meant something about
+votes, an insulting charge, or merely a reply, and feared to make
+himself ridiculous by his response to them. He was not the first man
+who has been hampered and floored by his own ignorance. He concluded he
+must make 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 that
+kind of a man.”
+
+“I takes my orders from no one.”
+
+“Denton, no one wants you to vote by order. We elected you alderman to
+do what was best for the ward and city, as it seems to you. You are
+responsible for your votes to us, and no other man can be. I don’t care
+who orders you or advises you; in the end, you must vote yourself, and
+you 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 game
+between 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 to
+deceive the men in talking to them. If they trust what I tell them,
+it’s because 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’ll
+find I’ve said so.”
+
+“But now?”
+
+“If you vote for that franchise, I shall certainly tell the ward that I
+think 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 make
+the ward think as I do, I couldn’t do anything. What would you care for
+my 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 was
+alone 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 feels
+about the franchises.”
+
+“Shure. It’s one man they is. An’ if Denton will step down to my place
+this night, he’ll find out how they think.”
+
+“They never would have felt so, if Mister Stirling hadn’t talked to
+them. Not one in twenty knew the question was up.”
+
+“That’s because they are most of them too hard working to keep track of
+all 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
+with others. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the
+future or 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’t know a man I would rather see at the Hall.” Peter held
+out his hand, and Denton 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,
+and it’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 av
+mind this mornin’, they was tellin’ me, but he’s all right now, an’
+will vote 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 strangely
+enough, Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, and
+after the greetings, Peter said:
+
+“Miss D’Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis, Miss
+D’Alloi has wanted to know you because she’s heard of your being such a
+friend 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, av
+such 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, all
+in due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red ink
+marginal references to such solid works as “Wheaton,” “Story,” and
+“Cranch’s” and “Wallace’s” reports. Peter had taken it practically from
+a “Digest,” but many apparently learned opinions come from the same
+source. And the whole was given value by the last two lines, which
+read, “Respectfully submitted, Peter Stirling.” Peter’s name had value
+at the bottom of a legal opinion, or a check, if nowhere else.
+
+“Look, Mr. Moriarty,” cried Leonore, too full of happiness over this
+decision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to share
+it, “I’ve always thought I was French—though I didn’t feel so a bit—and
+now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I’m so happy. I hate
+foreigners.”
+
+Watts laughed. “Why, Dot. You mustn’t say that to Mr. Moriarty. He’s a
+foreigner 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 most
+ardent Americans I know. As far as my experience goes, to make one of
+Dennis’s bulls, the hottest American we have to-day, is the
+Irish-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 finds
+a 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
+old weak 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 Misther Stirling. 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 view
+and as oratory; but it isn’t business. Peter, we came down this morning
+to take whatever legal steps are necessary to put Dot in possession of
+her grandmother’s money, of which I have been trustee. Here is a lot of
+papers 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 of
+it, and pay me the income, I can’t have the principal till I’m
+twenty-five.”
+
+“You must tie it up some way, Peter, or Dot will make ducks and drakes
+of it. She has about as much idea of the value of money as she has of
+the value of foreigners. When we had our villa at Florence, she
+supported the entire pauper population of the city.”
+
+Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds. But it struck
+him that this was really a chance—from a business standpoint, entirely!
+It is true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trust
+company 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 for his time. “Sometimes, however,” said Peter to himself, “these,
+trusteeships have very handsome picking’s, aside from the half per
+cent.” Peter did not say that the “pickings,” as they framed themselves
+in his mind, were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiable
+reason at all times for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of letters
+and other unearned increment. So Peter was not obstinate this time.
+“It’s such a simple matter that I can have the papers drawn while you
+wait, if you’ve half an hour to spare.” Peter did this, thinking it
+would keep them longer, but later it occurred to him it would have been
+better to find some other reason, and leave the papers, because then
+Leonore would have had to come again soon. Peter was not quite as cool
+and far-seeing as he was normally.
+
+He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion that
+they go into his study. Peter rang for his head clerk, and explained
+what was needed with great rapidity, and then left the latter and went
+into the study.
+
+“I wonder what he’s in such a hurry for?” said the clerk, retiring with
+the papers.
+
+When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing in
+chairs, and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking. This was what
+Dennis was saying:
+
+“‘Schatter, boys, an’ find me a sledge.’ Shure, we thought it was
+demented 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
+it a swing, an’ struck the bolts crosswise like, so that the heads flew
+off, like they was shootin’ stars. Then he struck the rails sideways,
+so as to loosen them from the ties. Then says he: ‘Half a dozen av yez
+take off yez belts an’ strap these rails together!’ Even then we didn’t
+understand, but we did it All this time the dirty spal—Oi ask yez
+pardon, miss—all this time the strikers were pluggin’ at us, an’
+bullets flyin’ like fun. ‘Drop your muskets,’ says the captain, when we
+had done; ‘fall in along those rails. Pick them up, and double-quick
+for the shed door,’ says he, just as if he was on parade. Then we saw
+what he was afther, and double-quick we went. Begobs, that door went
+down as if it was paper. He was the first in. ‘Stand back,’ says he,
+‘till Oi see what’s needed.’ Yez should have seen him walk into that
+sheet av flame, an’ stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin’, an’ it so hot
+that we at the door were coverin’ our faces to save them from
+scorchin’. Then he says: ‘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,’ But not he. He came out, an’ he says: ‘B’ys, it’s hot in
+there, but, if you don’t mind a bit av a burn, we can get the poor
+fellows out. Will yez try?’ ‘Yes!’ we shouted. So he explained how we
+could push cars widout touchin’ them. ‘Fall in,’ says he. ‘Fix
+bayonets. First file to the right av the cars, second rank to the left.
+Forward, march!’ An’ we went into that hell, an’ rolled them cars out
+just as if we was marchin’ down Broadway, 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 divil
+himsilf. Hardly one av us but didn’t have the hair burnt off the part
+his cap didn’t cover; an’, as for eyelashes, an’ mustaches, an’
+blisters, no one thought av them the next day. Shure, the whole company
+was 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 blind
+he’d be; but he went to Paris, an’ they did somethin’ to him there that
+saved 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 so
+absorbing to watch Leonore’s face, and its changing expression, as,
+unconscious of his presence, she listened to Dennis, that Peter had not
+the heart to do it. But now Watts spoke up.
+
+“Do you hear that, Peter? There’s value for you! You’re better than the
+cat.”
+
+So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennis
+left. Then the necessary papers were brought in and looked over at
+Peter’s study-table, and Miss D’Alloi took another of his pens. Peter
+hoped she’d stop and think a little, again, but she didn’t. Just as she
+had begun an L she hesitated, however.
+
+“Why,” she said, “this paper calls me ‘Leonore D’Alloi, spinster!’ I’m
+not going to sign that.”
+
+“That is merely the legal term,” Peter explained. Leonore pouted for
+some 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 on
+the blotter, “Leonore D’Alloi. Her very untidy mark.” “That was what
+Madame Mellerie always made me write on my exercises.”
+
+Then they said “Good-bye.” “I like down-town New York better and
+better,” 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, and
+make 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
+young lady 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
+decided to only take papa’s. But I put yours up in my room, and shall
+keep them there.” Then Peter had to give place to another, just as he
+had decided that 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
+the pretty rounded figure in the dainty evening dress of French
+open-work embroidery. “I didn’t think she could be lovelier than she
+was in her street and riding dresses but she is made for evening
+dress,” was his thought. He knew this observation wasn’t right,
+however, so he glanced round the room, and then walked up to a couple.
+
+“There, I told Mr. Beekman that I was trying to magnetize you, and
+though your back was turned, you came to me at once.”
+
+“Er—really, quite wonderful, you know,” said Mr. Beekman. “I positively
+sharn’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 over
+here.”
+
+Peter smiled. “I go out so little now, that I have turned selfish. I
+don’t go to entertain people. I go to be entertained. Tell me what you
+have 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 the
+dining-room. Miss De Voe gave her arm to Beekman calmly, but her eyes
+followed Peter. They both could have made a better arrangement. Most
+dinner guests can.
+
+It was a large dinner, and so was served in the ball-room. The sixty
+people gathered were divided into little groups, and seated at small
+tables holding six or eight. Peter knew all but one at his table, to
+the extent of having had previous meetings. They were all fashionables,
+and the talk took the usual literary-artistic-musical turn customary
+with that set. “Men, not principles” is the way society words the old
+cry, or perhaps “personalities, not generalities” is a better form. So
+Peter ate his dinner quietly, the conversation being general enough not
+to force him to do more than respond, when appealed to. He was, it is
+true, appealed to frequently. Peter had the reputation, as many quiet
+men have, of being brainy. Furthermore he knew the right kind of
+people, was known to enjoy a large income, was an eligible bachelor,
+and was “interesting and unusual.” So society no longer rolled its
+Juggernaut over him regardlessly, as of yore. A man who was close
+friends with half a dozen exclusives of the exclusives, was a man not
+to be disregarded, simply because he didn’t talk. Society people
+applied much the same test as did the little “angle” children, only in
+place of “he’s frinds wid der perlice,” they substituted “he’s very
+intimate with Miss De Voe, and the Ogdens and the Pells.”
+
+Peter had dimly hoped that he would find himself seated at Leonore’s
+table—He had too much self depreciation to think for a moment that he
+would take her in—but hers was a young table, he saw, and he would not
+have minded so much if it hadn’t been for that Marquis. Peter began to
+have a very low opinion of foreigners. Then he remembered that Leonore
+had the same prejudice, so he became more reconciled to the fact that
+the Marquis was sitting next her. And when Leonore sent him a look and
+a smile, and held up the wrist, so as to show the pearl bracelet, Peter
+suddenly thought what a delicious _rissole_ he was eating.
+
+As the dinner waned, one of the footmen brought him a card, on which
+Watts had written: “They want me to say a few words of welcome and of
+Dot. 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? Only
+one? 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 to hear it.” Peter said, “Tell Mr. D’Alloi that I will with
+pleasure.” Then he 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 may
+give me a glass,” and Watts was on his feet. He gave “our friends” a
+pleasant welcome, and after apologizing for their absence, said that at
+least, “like the little wife in the children’s play, ‘We too have not
+been idle,’ for we bring you a new friend and introduce her to you
+to-night.”
+
+Then Peter rose, and told the host: “Your friends have been grieved at
+your long withdrawal from them, as the happy faces and welcome we
+tender you 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 of American nature, despite its life and strength
+and freshness; that we had lost you for all time. But to-night we can
+hardly regret even this long interlude, if to that circumstance we owe
+the happiest and most charming combination of American nature and
+European art—Miss D’Alloi.”
+
+Then there was applause, and a drinking of Miss D’Alloi’s health, and
+the ladies passed out of the room—to enjoy themselves, be it
+understood, leaving the men in the gloomy, quarrelsome frame of mind it
+always does.
+
+Peter apparently became much abstracted over his cigar, but the
+abstraction was not perhaps very deep, for he was on his feet the
+moment Watts 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
+different from what I had been told to think you. Every one said you
+were very silent and very uncomplimentary, and never joked, but you are
+not a bit as they said, and I thought you had probably changed, just as
+you had about the clothes. But Mrs. Grinnell says she never heard you
+make a joke or a compliment in her life, and that at the Knickerbocker
+they call you ‘Peter, the silent.’ You are a great puzzle.”
+
+Dorothy laughed. “Here we four women—Mrs. Grinnell, and Mrs. Winthrop
+and Leonore and myself—have been quarrelling over you, and each
+insisting you are something different. I believe you are not a bit firm
+and stable, as people say you are, but a perfect chameleon, changing
+your tint according to the color of the tree you are on. Leonore was
+the worst, though! She says that you talk and joke a great deal. We
+could have 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, do
+you 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 a
+woman-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 so
+untalkative to women. I don’t like men who think badly of women. Now, I
+want 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, nor
+treated me as they do other men. And so, when I am put with a
+small-talk woman, I feel all at sea, and, try as I may, I can’t please
+her. They are never friendly with me as they are with other men.”
+
+“Rubbish!” said Dorothy. “It’s what you do, not what she does, that
+makes the trouble. You look at a woman with those grave eyes and that
+stern jaw of yours, and we all feel that we are fools on the spot, and
+really become so. I never stopped being afraid of you till I found out
+that in reality you were afraid of me. You know you are. You are afraid
+of all women.”
+
+“He isn’t a bit afraid of women,” affirmed Leonore.
+
+Just then Mr. Beekman came up. “Er—Mrs. Rivington. You know this
+is—er—a sort of house-warming, and they tell me we are to go over the
+house, don’t you know, if we wish. May I harve the pleasure?”
+
+Dorothy conferred the boon. Peter looked down at Leonore with a laugh
+in his 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 only imitated
+so far and then they both laughed.
+
+Leonore rose. “With pleasure. I only wish Mrs. Grinnell had heard you.
+I didn’t know you could mimic?”
+
+“I oughtn’t. It’s a small business. But I am so happy that I couldn’t
+resist 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!
+What room 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.
+There were her pictures, most of them her own purchases in Europe; and
+her books and what she thought of them; and her thousand little
+knick-knacks of one kind and another. Peter wasn’t at all in a hurry to
+see the rest of the house.
+
+“These are the photographs of my real friends,” said Leonore, “except
+yours. 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 have
+none left.”
+
+“Then you must sit.”
+
+“Very well. But it must be an exchange.” Peter almost trembled at his
+boldness, 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 open
+a 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, and let me have these four?”
+
+“Oh, you greedy!” said Leonore, laughing. “Yes, if you’ll do something
+I’m going to ask you.”
+
+Peter pocketed the four. “That is a bargain,” he said, with a brashness
+simply disgraceful in a good business man. “Now, what is it?”
+
+“Miss De Voe told me long ago about your savings-bank fund for helping
+the poor people. Now that I have come into my money, I want to do what
+she does. Give a thousand dollars a year to it—and then you are to tell
+me just what you do with it.”
+
+“Of course I’m bound to take it, if you insist. But it won’t do any
+good. Even Miss De Voe has stopped giving now, and I haven’t added
+anything to it for over five years.”
+
+“Why is that?”
+
+“You see, I began by loaning the fund to people who were in trouble, or
+who could be boosted a little by help, and for three or four years, I
+found the money went pretty fast. But by that time people began to pay
+it back, with interest often, and there has hardly been a case when it
+hasn’t been repaid. So what with Miss De Voe’s contributions, and the
+return of the money, I really have more than I can properly use
+already. There’s only about eight thousand loaned at present, and
+nearly five thousand 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 kill
+temporary pain. It stops the pain for the moment, but only to weaken
+the system 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 as it helps.”
+
+“I have thought about this for five years as something I should do. I’m
+so grieved.” And Leonore looked her words.
+
+Peter could not stand that look. “I’ve been thinking of sending a
+thousand dollars of the fund, that I didn’t think there was much chance
+of using, to a Fresh Air fund and the Day Nursery. If you wish I’ll
+send two thousand instead and then take your thousand? Then I can use
+that for whatever I have a chance.”
+
+“That will do nicely. But I thought you didn’t think regular charities
+did much good?”
+
+“Some don’t. But it’s different with children. They don’t feel the
+stigma and are not humiliated or made indolent by help. We can’t do too
+much to help them. The future of this country depends on its poor
+children. 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 food
+and 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 much
+better chance.”
+
+“Oh, it’s very interesting,” said Leonore. “Tell me some more about the
+poor 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, trying
+to find some way to do it. I think the finest opportunity for
+benevolence, not already attempted, would be a company to lend money to
+the poor, just as I have attempted, on a small scale, in my ward. You
+see there are thousands of perfectly honest people who are living on
+day wages, and many of them can lay up little or no money. Then comes
+sickness, or loss of employment, or a fire which burns up all their
+furniture and clothes, or some other mischance, and they can turn only
+to pawnbrokers and usurers, with their fearful charges; or charity,
+with its shame. Then there are hundreds of people whom a loan of a
+little money would help wonderfully. This boy can get a place if he had
+a respectable suit of clothes. Another can obtain work by learning a
+trade, but can’t live while he learns it. A woman can support herself
+if she can buy a sewing-machine, but hasn’t the money to buy it.
+Another can get a job at something, but is required to make a deposit
+to the value of the goods intrusted to her. Now, if all these people
+could go to 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 of
+knowing how much would be asked for. But a hundred thousand dollars
+would do to start with.”
+
+“Why, that’s only a hundred people giving a thousand each,” cried
+Leonore eagerly. “Peter, I’ll give a thousand, and I’ll make mamma and
+papa give a thousand, and I’ll speak to my friends and—”
+
+“Money isn’t the difficult part,” said Peter, longing to a fearful
+degree to take Leonore in his arms. “If it were only money, I could do
+it myself—or if I did not choose to do it alone, Miss De Voe and Pell
+would help me.”
+
+“What is it, then?”
+
+“It’s finding the right man to run such a company. I can’t give the
+time, for I can do more good in other directions. It needs a good
+business man, yet one who must have many other qualities which rarely
+go with a business training. He must understand the poor, because he
+must look into every case, to see if it is a safe risk—or rather if the
+past life of the applicant indicates that he is entitled to help. Now
+if your grandfather, who is such an able banker, were to go into my
+ward, and ask about the standing of a man in it, he wouldn’t get any
+real information. But if I ask, every one will tell me what he thinks.
+The man in control of such a bank must be able to draw out the truth.
+Unless the management was just what it ought to be, it would be
+bankrupt in a few months, or else would not lend to one quarter of the
+people who deserve help. Yet from my own experience, I know, that money
+can be loaned to these people, so that the legal interest more than
+pays for the occasional loss, and that most of these losses are due to
+inability, more than to dishonesty.”
+
+“I wish we could go on talking,” sighed Leonore. “But the people are
+beginning 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-night to 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 better not interrupt.”
+
+“I didn’t see you,” said Leonore.
+
+“Indeed!” said Lispenard, with immense wonderment. “I can’t believe
+that. You know you were cutting us.” Then he turned to Peter. “You old
+scamp, 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,
+but this one has been the pleasantest of my life.”
+
+“That’s very nice. And thank you, Peter, for the bracelet, and the
+flowers, and the compliment. They were all lovely. Would you like a
+rose?”
+
+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 from
+Washington 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 that
+evening. 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 she
+doesn’t care for money, and she isn’t eaten up with ambition. She is
+absolutely untouched by the world yet. Then she is natural, yet
+reserved, with other men. She’s not husband-hunting, like so many of
+them. And she’s loving, not merely of those about her, but of
+everything.”
+
+Musicians will take a simple theme and on it build unlimited
+variations. This was what Peter proceeded to do. From Fifty-seventh
+Street to Peter’s rooms was a matter of four miles. Peter had not half
+finished his thematic treatment of Leonore when he reached his
+quarters. He sat down before his fire, however, and went on, not with
+hope of exhausting all 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 my
+best to make her love me.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+A GOOD DAY.
+
+
+The next day it was raining torrents, but despite this, and to the
+utter neglect of his law business, Peter drove up-town immediately
+after lunch, to the house in Fifty-seventh Street. He asked for Watts,
+but while he was waiting for the return of the servant, he heard a
+light foot-step, and turning, he found Leonore fussing over some
+flowers. At the 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
+lips were trembling slightly.
+
+Peter felt a great temptation to say something strong. “Why can’t the
+women let such an innocent child alone?” he thought to himself. Aloud
+he said, “If any wrong was done, which I don’t think, it was my fault.
+Can I do anything?”
+
+“I don’t believe so,” said Leonore, with a slight unsteadiness in her
+voice. “They say that men will always monopolize a girl if she will
+allow it, and that a really well-mannered one won’t permit it for a
+moment.”
+
+Peter longed to take her in his arms and lay the little downcast head
+against his shoulder, but he had to be content with saying: “I am so
+sorry they blame you. If I could only save you from it.” He evidently
+said it in a comforting voice, for the head was raised a trifle.
+
+“You see,” said Leonore, “I’ve always been very particular with men,
+but with you it seemed different. Yet they both say I stayed too long
+upstairs, and were dreadfully shocked about the photographs. They said
+I ought 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
+this point.
+
+Peter turned to go, but in leaving he said: “Is there any pleasure or
+service I can do, to make up for the trouble I’ve caused you?”
+
+Leonore put her head on one side, and looked a little less
+grief-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 I
+would rather see her choose, or to whom I would sooner trust her.”
+
+“Thank you, Watts,” said Peter, gratefully. “Watts is weak, but he is a
+good fellow,” was his mental remark. Peter entirely forgot his opinion
+of two weeks ago. It is marvellous what a change a different point of
+view 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 the
+little woman, and how she loves me. From no other man can she learn
+what will 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 shall
+have a clear field and every chance.”
+
+“I fear not. There’s something more. Mrs. D’Alloi won’t pardon that
+incident—nor do I blame her. I can’t force my presence here if she does
+not give her consent. It would be too cruel, even if I could hope to
+succeed in spite of her. I want to see her this morning. You can tell
+better than I whether you had best speak to her first, or whether I
+shall tell her.”
+
+“H’m. That is a corker, isn’t it? Don’t you think you had better let
+things drift?”
+
+“No. I’m not going to try and win a girl’s love behind the mother’s
+back. Remember, Watts, the mother is the only one to whom a girl can go
+at 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. Watts
+put his head in. “Is my Rosebud so busy that she can’t spare her lover
+a few moments?”
+
+“Watts, you know I live for you.”
+
+Watts dropped down on the lounge. “Come here, then, like a loving
+little wife, 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 some
+more.
+
+“Now, I want to talk with you seriously, dear,” he said. “Who do you
+think 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
+face to her husband.
+
+“I’ve thought she attracted him, but he’s such an impassive, cool old
+chap, 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 ranged
+themselves in Watts’s mind). “I don’t see what more you can ask, short
+of a title, and titles not only never have all those qualities
+combined, but they are really getting decidedly _nouveau richey_ and
+not respectable enough for a Huguenot family, who’ve lived two hundred
+and fifty years in New York. What a greedy mamma she is for her little
+girl.”
+
+“Oh, Watts! But think!”
+
+“It’s hard work, dear, with your eyes to look at. But I will, if you’ll
+tell me what to think about.”
+
+“My husband! You cannot have forgotten? Oh, no! It is too horrible for
+you to have forgotten that day.”
+
+“You heavenly little Puritan! So you are going to refuse Peter as a
+son-in-law, because he—ah—he’s not a Catholic monk. Why, Rosebud, if
+you are going to apply that rule to all Dot’s lovers, you had better
+post 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 better
+than trust our little girl to Peter.”
+
+“With that stain! Oh, Watts, give him our pure, innocent, spotless
+child!”
+
+“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 and
+true 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’m
+no better than I should be, and it’s nothing but your love that makes
+you think I am.”
+
+“I won’t hear you say such things of yourself. You know you are the
+best and 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
+arms round 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
+believe would not be true to her, or make her happy. I know every
+circumstance of Peter’s connection with that woman, and he is as
+blameless as man ever was. Such as it was, it was ended years ago, and
+can never give him more trouble. He is a strong man, and will be true
+to Dot. She might get a man who would make her life one long torture.
+She may be won by a man who only cares for her money, and will not even
+give her the husks of love. But Peter loves her, and has outgrown his
+mistakes. And don’t forget that but for him we might now have nothing
+but some horribly mangled remains to remember of our little darling.
+Dear, I love Dot twenty times more than I love Peter. For her sake, and
+yours, I am trying to do my best for her.”
+
+So presently Mrs. D’Alloi came into the library, where Peter sat. She
+held out her hand to him, but Peter said:
+
+“Let me say something first. Mrs. D’Alloi, I would not have had that
+occurrence happen in your home or presence if I had been able to
+prevent it. It grieves me more than I can tell you. I am not a roué. In
+spite of appearances I have lived a clean life. I shall never live any
+other in the future. I—I love Leonore. Love her very dearly. And if you
+will give her to me, should I win her, I pledge you my word that I will
+give her the love, and tenderness, and truth which she deserves. Now,
+will you give me your hand?”
+
+“He is speaking the truth,” thought Mrs. D’Alloi, as Peter spoke. She
+held 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
+Leonore reposing in an exceedingly undignified position before the fire
+on a big tiger-skin, and stroking a Persian cat, who, in delight at
+this enviable treatment, purred and dug its claws into the rug. Peter
+stood for a time watching the pretty tableau, wishing he was a cat.
+
+“Yes, Tawney-eye,” said Leonore, in heartrending tones, “it isn’t a
+good day at all.”
+
+“I’m going to quarrel with you on that,” said Peter. “It’s a glorious
+day.”
+
+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 and
+the 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 dinner
+and am to monopolize you till then. Thirdly, she says we may be just as
+good friends as we please. Fourthly, she has asked me to come and stay
+for 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
+forgot her “papas, proprieties, potatoes, prunes and prisms,” and
+dropping down on the rug, buried her face in the cat’s long silky hair.
+Then she reappeared 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 her
+dignity enough to rise, and say, “Now, I want to pay you for your
+niceness. 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 the
+tea-table, and we’ll have afternoon tea together. It’s the day of all
+others 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 the
+same.”
+
+“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 you
+were 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 you
+feel that it really is. I never saw him in my life, when it wasn’t ‘a
+foine day.’ I tell him he carries his sunshine round in his heart.”
+
+“You are so different,” said Leonore, “from what every one said. I
+never knew a man pay such nice compliments. That’s the seventh I’ve
+heard you make.”
+
+“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
+warm cup of tea; perhaps it was the blazing logs; perhaps it was the
+shade of the lamp, which cast such a pleasant rosy tint over
+everything; perhaps it 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 begun
+to read the papers—the political part, I mean—and there are so many
+things I don’t understand which I want to ask you to explain.”
+
+“That is very nice,” said Peter, “because there are a great many things
+of which I want to tell you.”
+
+“Goody!” said Leonore, forgetting again she was now bound to conduct
+herself as befit a society girl. “And you’ll not laugh at me if I ask
+foolish 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 a
+certain extent.”
+
+“But don’t they speak of a boss as something not nice?” asked Leonore,
+a little timidly, as if afraid of hurting Peter’s feelings.
+
+“Usually it is used as a stigma,” said Peter, smiling. “At least by the
+kind 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 are
+bosses bad, and are you a boss?”
+
+“You are asking me one of the biggest questions in American politics. I
+probably can’t answer it, but I’ll try to show you why I can’t. Are
+there 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 abstract
+politics.” Then he rallied and said: “Well, that is the condition of
+men as well, and it is that condition, which creates the so-called
+boss. In every community there are men who influence more or less the
+rest. It may be that one can only influence half a dozen other
+intimates. Another may exert power over fifty. A third may sway a
+thousand. One may do it by mere physical superiority. Another by a
+friendly manner. A third by being better informed. A fourth by a
+deception or bribery. A fifth by honesty. 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 he has his admirers.
+Sloftky is popular with the Jews, because he is of their 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 of men who are a little
+more marked than the rest, who have power to influence the opinions of
+men about them, and therefore have power to influence 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 can
+usually affect an average of twenty-five votes. But now we get to
+another rung of the ladder. Here we have Dennis, and such men as
+Blunkers, Denton, Kennedy, Schlurger and others. They not merely have
+their own set of followers, but they have more or less power to
+dominate the little bosses of whom I have already spoken. Take Dennis
+for instance. He has fifty adherents who stick to him absolutely, two
+hundred and fifty who listen to him with interest, and a dozen of the
+smaller bosses, who pass his opinions to their followers. So he can
+thus have some effect on about five hundred votes. Of course it takes
+more force and popularity to do this and in this way we have a better
+grade of men.”
+
+“Yes. I like Mr. Moriarty, and can understand why others do. He is so
+ugly, 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 by
+being better informed, and by being more far-seeing. Such men as
+Gallagher 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 with
+other work have no time. They don’t need the great personal popularity
+of 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 their
+intentions, must meet and try to arrange to pull together, for
+otherwise they can do nothing. Naturally, in a dozen or twenty men,
+there will be grades, 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 the papers call a boss of a ward. Then when these various
+ward bosses endeavor to unite for general purposes, the strongest man
+will sway them, 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 city
+without consultation with me. But of course I am more dependent on the
+voters than they are on me, for if they choose to do differently from
+what 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 right
+over 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 the
+voters. If they should defeat what I want three times running, every
+one would laugh at me, and my power would be gone. So you see that a
+boss is only 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
+you do anything?”
+
+“There comes in the problem of practical politics. The question of who
+can affect the voters most. Take my own ward. Suppose that I want
+something done so much that I insist. And suppose that some of the
+other leaders are equally determined that it shan’t be done. The ward
+splits on 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 tell them why and what I want to do. Then the men I have had to
+antagonize do the same, and the voters decide between us. It then is a
+question as to which side can win the majority of the voters. Because I
+have been very successful in this, I am the so-called boss. That is, I
+can make the voters feel that I am right.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“For many reasons. First, I have always tried to tell the voters the
+truth, and never have been afraid to acknowledge I was wrong, when I
+found I had made a mistake, so people trust what I say. Then, unlike
+most of the leaders in politics, I am not trying to get myself office
+or profit, and so the men feel that I am disinterested. Then I try to
+be friendly with the whole ward, so that if I have to do what they
+don’t like, their personal feeling for me will do what my arguments
+never could. With these simple, strong-feeling, and unreasoning folk,
+one can get ten times the influence by a warm handshake and word that
+one can by a logical argument. We are so used to believing what we
+read, if it seems reasonable, that it is hard for us to understand that
+men who spell out editorials with difficulty, and who have not been
+trained to reason from facts, are not swayed by what to us seems an
+obvious argument. But, on the contrary, if a man they trust, puts it in
+plain language to them, they see it at once. I might write a careful
+editorial, 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
+the saloons, and tell the men just the same thing, and there isn’t a
+man who wouldn’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 have
+tried very hard to be popular. I have endeavored to make a friend of
+every man in it with whom one could be friendly, because I wished to be
+as powerful as possible, so that the men would side with me whenever I
+put 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 by
+political influence. When I was able to take a hand, I felt that I
+could do 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 in the ward, and on election day I asked a good many men, as
+a personal favor, to vote for the Republican, and my friends asked
+others. Even Dennis 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 their ballots.’ 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 that
+year. It was a great surprise to every one—even to myself—for the ward
+is Democratic by about four thousand majority. But I couldn’t do that
+sort of thing often, for the men wouldn’t stand it. In other words, I
+can 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 their
+opinions 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 of
+the old idea that great things are done by one-man power. If you will
+go over the men who are said to control—the bosses, as they are
+called—in this city, you will find that they all have worked their way
+into influence slowly, and have been many years kept in power, though
+they could be turned out in a single fight. Yet this power is obtained
+only by the wish of a majority, for the day they lose the consent of a
+majority of the voters that day their power ends. We are really more
+dependent than the representatives, for they are elected for a certain
+time, while our tenure can be ended at any moment. Why am I a power in
+my ward? Because I am supposed to represent a given number of votes,
+which are influenced by my opinions. It would be perfectly immaterial
+to my importance how I influenced those votes, so long as I could
+control them. But because I can influence them, the other leaders don’t
+dare to antagonize me, and so I can have my way up to a certain point.
+And because I can control the ward I have made it a great power in city
+politics.”
+
+“How did you do that?”
+
+“By keeping down the factional feeling. You see there are always more
+men struggling for power or office, than can have it, and so there
+cannot but be bad blood between the contestants. For instance, when I
+first became interested in politics, Moriarty and Blunkers were quite
+as anxious to down each other as to down the Republicans. Now they are
+sworn 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.
+Still others 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 at first, and from being one of the most uncertain wards in
+the city, the sixth has been known at headquarters for the last five
+years as ‘old reliability’ from the big majority it always polls. So at
+headquarters I am looked up to and consulted. Now do you understand why
+and what a boss is?”
+
+“Yes, Peter. Except why bosses are bad.”
+
+“Don’t you see that it depends on what kind of men they are, and what
+kind of voters are back of them. A good man, with honest votes back of
+him, is a good boss, and _vice versa_.”
+
+“Then I know you are a good boss. It’s a great pity that all the bosses
+can’t be good?”
+
+“I have not found them so bad. They are quite as honest, unselfish, and
+reasonable 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, I
+have never known a man who could control a thousand votes for five
+years, who was not a better man, all in all, than the voters whom he
+influenced. More one cannot expect. The people are not quick, but they
+find 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
+the people all of the time,’” laughed a voice.
+
+Peter took his eyes off Leonore’s face, where they had been resting
+restfully, and glanced up. Watts had entered the room.
+
+“Go on,” said Watts. “Don’t let me interrupt your political
+disquisitions; I have only come in for a cup of tea.”
+
+“Miss D’Alloi and I were merely discussing bosses,” said Peter. “Miss
+D’Alloi, when women get the ballot, as I hope they will, I trust you
+will be a good boss, for I am sure you will influence a great many
+votes.”
+
+“Oh!” said Leonore, laughing, “I shan’t be a boss at all. You’ll be my
+boss, 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, but
+instead 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 Queen
+Isabella 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 broiled
+oysters, onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was
+becoming irritated at such evident doubt of his abilities.
+
+Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried. He
+glanced round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search of
+possible sources for slips, but did not see them. All he was able to
+say was, “That broth smells very nice, Jenifer.”
+
+“Yissah. Dar ain’t nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and de
+squeezin’s of a hunerd clams, sah. Dat sup will make de angels sorry
+dey died. 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’ll be pow’ful glad yo’ didn’t.” To himself, Jenifer
+remarked: “Who he gwine hab dis day? He neber so anxious befoh, not
+even when de Presidint an Guv’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 that
+he looked in his glass for some minutes. Not, however, apparently with
+much pleasure, for an anxious look came into his face, and he remarked
+aloud, as he turned away, “I don’t look so old, but I once heard Watts
+say that I should never take a prize for my looks, and he was right. I
+wonder if she cares for handsome men?”
+
+Peter forgot his worry in the opening of a box in the dining-room and
+the taking out of the flowers. He placed the bunches at the different
+places, raising one of the bouquets of violets to his lips, before he
+laid it down. Then he took the cut flowers, and smilax, and spread them
+loosely in the centre of the little table, which otherwise had nothing
+on it, except the furnishings placed at each seat. After that he again
+kissed a bunch of violets. History doesn’t state whether it was the
+same bunch. 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?” he
+continued, 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 the
+rest. Peter, here’s a letter from Muller. He’s got that ‘Descent’ in
+its first state, in the most brilliant condition. You had better get
+it, and trash your present impression. It has always looked cheap
+beside the rest.”
+
+“Very well. Will you attend to it?”
+
+Just then came the sound of voices and the rustle of draperies in the
+little hall.
+
+“Hello! Ladies?” said Le Grand. “This is to be one of what Lispenard
+calls your ‘often, frequently, only once’ affairs, is it?”
+
+“I’m afraid we are early,” said Mrs. D’Alloi. “We did not know how much
+time to allow.”
+
+“No. Such old friends cannot come too soon.”
+
+“And as it is, I’m really starved,” said another personage, shaking
+hands with Peter as if she had not seen him for a twelve-month instead
+of parting with him but two hours before. “What an appetite riding in
+the 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. So
+Leonore had to fight her country’s battles by herself.
+
+“What’s all this to-day’s papers are saying, Peter?” asked Watts, as
+soon 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
+nomination for 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 tried
+to get Peter, first and last, to talk politics, but not a fact do we
+get. They say it’s his ability to hold his tongue which made Costell
+trust him and push him, and that that was the reason he was chosen to
+fill Costells place.”
+
+“_I_ don’t fill his place,” said Peter. “No one can do that. I merely
+succeeded 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 the
+French.”
+
+“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 appealed
+to the one face on which no amusement or skepticism was shown.
+
+“I think it is rather dangerous to ascribe any particular trait to any
+nationality. It is usually misleading. But most men who think much,
+talk little, and the French have many thinkers”
+
+“I always liked Von Moltke, just for it being said of him that he could
+be silent in seven languages,” said Le Grand.
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore. “It’s so restful. We crossed on the steamer with a
+French Marquis who can speak six languages, and can’t say one thing
+worth 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
+never will 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 to
+him as to what you said about the bosses, and he told me that bosses
+could never be really good, unless the better element were allowed to
+vote, 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
+the men and the laws which are to govern them. Aside from this, every
+ounce of 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 vote rightly, and if the wrong half carries the election, it is
+because more intelligent people have voted wrongly, have not voted, or
+have not taken the trouble to try and show the people the right way,
+but have left them to the mercies of the demagogue. If we grant that
+every man who takes care of himself has some brain, and some
+experience, his vote is of some value, even if not a high one. Suppose
+we have an eagle, and a thousand pennies. Are we any better off by
+tossing away the coppers, because each is worth so little. That is why
+I have always advocated giving the franchise to women. If we can add
+ten million voters to an election, we have added just so much knowledge
+to it, and made it just so much the harder to mislead or buy enough
+votes to change results.”
+
+“You evidently believe,” said Watts, “in the saying, ‘Everybody knows
+more than anybody?’”
+
+Peter had forgotten all about his company in his interest over—over the
+franchise. So he started slightly at this question, and looked up
+from—from his subject.
+
+“Yes,” said Le Grand. “We’ve been listening and longing to ask
+questions. When we see such a fit of loquacity, we want to seize the
+opportunity.”
+
+“No,” said Leonore, “I haven’t finished. Tell me. Can’t you make the
+men do 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
+because a 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 as
+one makes a child behave without regard to its own desires. With grown
+men, such a system only results in widening the distance between the
+classes 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 him
+nearer to the more educated. He even educates himself by his own
+mistakes; for every bad man elected, and every bad law passed, make him
+suffer the results, and he can only blame himself. Of course we don’t
+get as good a government or laws, but then we have other offsetting
+advantages.”
+
+“What are those?”
+
+“We get men and laws which are the wish of the majority. Such are
+almost self-supporting and self-administering. It is not a mere
+combination of words, printing-ink, and white paper which makes a law.
+It is the popular sentiment back of it which enforces it, and unless a
+law is the wish of a majority of the people who are to be governed by
+it, it is either 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 by force, in the face of popular sentiment. Then, too, we get a
+stability almost unknown in governments which do not conform to the
+people. This country has altered its system of government less than any
+other great country in the last hundred years. And there is less
+socialistic legislation and propaganda here than anywhere else. That
+is, less discontent.”
+
+“But, Peter, if the American people are as sensible as you think, how
+do you 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’t
+these men elected?”
+
+“Who are as absolutely inexperienced and blind as to the way to
+influence votes, as well can be. Look at it, as a contest, without
+regard to the merit of the cause. On one side we have bosses, who know
+and understand the men in their wards, have usually made themselves
+popular, are in politics for a living, have made it a life-study, and
+by dear experience have learned that they must surrender their own
+opinions in order to produce harmony and a solid vote. The reformer, on
+the contrary, is usually a man who has other occupations, and, if I may
+say so, has usually met with only partial success in them. By that I
+mean that the really successful merchant, or banker, or professional
+man cannot take time to work in politics, and so only the less
+successful try. Each reformer, too, is sure that he himself is right,
+and as his bread and butter is not in the issue, he quarrels to his
+heart’s content with his associates, so that they rarely can unite all
+their force. Most of the reform movements in this city have been
+attempted in a way that is simply laughable. What should we say if a
+hundred busy men were to get together to-morrow, and decide that they
+would open a great bank, to fight the clearing-house banks of New York?
+Yet this, in effect, is what the reformers have done over and over
+again in politics. They say to the men who have been kept in power for
+years by the people, ‘You are scoundrels. The people who elected you
+are ignorant We know how to do it better. Now we’ll turn you out.’ In
+short, they tell the majority they are fools, but ask their votes. The
+average reformer endorses thoroughly the theory ‘that every man is as
+good as another, and a little better.’ And he himself always is the
+better man. The people won’t stand that. The ‘holier than thou’ will
+defeat a man quicker in this 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
+told that they are ignorant and wrong, and this assumption is the basis
+of most of the so-called educational campaigns. To give impetus to a
+new movement takes immense experience, shrewdness, tact, and many other
+qualities. The people are obstructive—that is conservative—in most
+things, and need plenty of time.”
+
+“Unless _you_ tell them what they are to do,” laughed Watts. “Then they
+know quick enough.”
+
+“Well, that has taken them fifteen years to learn. Don’t you see how
+absurd it is to suppose that the people are going to take the opinions
+of 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
+it with campaign literature, which has served to light fires; their
+papers have argued, and nobody read them. But the ward knows me.
+There’s hardly a voter who doesn’t. They’ve tested me. Most of them
+like me. I’ve lived among them for years. I’ve gone on their summer
+excursions. I’ve talked with them all over the district. I have helped
+them in their troubles. I have said a kind word over their dead. I’m
+godfather to many. With others I’ve stood shoulder to shoulder when the
+bullets were flying. Why, the voters who were children when I first
+came here, with whom I use to sit in the angle, are almost numerous
+enough now to carry an election 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? That is the true secret of the failure of
+reformers. A logical argument is all right in a court of appeals, but
+when it comes to swaying five thousand votes, give me five thousand
+loving hearts rather than five thousand logical reasons.”
+
+“Yet you have carried reforms.”
+
+“I have tried, but always in a practical way. That is, by not
+antagonizing the popular men in politics, but by becoming one of them
+and making them help me. I have gained political power by recognizing
+that I could only have my own way by making it suit the voters. You see
+there are a great many methods of doing about the same thing. And the
+boss who does the most things that the people want, can do the most
+things that the people don’t want. Every time I have surrendered my own
+wishes, 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 do not 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 of
+man as George William Curtis in office?”
+
+“Mr. Curtis probably stood for the noblest political ideas this country
+has ever produced. But he held a beacon only to a small class. A man
+who writes from an easy-chair, will only sway easy-chair people. And
+easy-chair people never carried an election in this country, and never
+will. This country cannot have a government of the best. It will always
+be a government of the average. Mr. Curtis was only a leader to his own
+grade, just as Tim Sullivan is the leader of his. Mr. Curtis, in his
+editorials, spoke the feelings of one element in America. Sullivan, in
+Germania Hall, voices another. Each is representative, the one of five
+per cent. of New York; the other of ninety-five per cent. If the
+American people have decided one thing, it is that they will not be
+taken care of, nor coercively ruled, by their better element, or
+minorities.”
+
+“Yet you will acknowledge that Curtis ought to rule, rather than
+Sullivan?”
+
+“Not if our government is to be representative. I need not say that I
+wish 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
+be a successful boss, as to be a successful merchant or banker. Yet one
+cannot tell. I myself have never been able to say what elements make a
+boss, except that he must be in sympathy with the men whom he tries to
+guide, and that he must be meeting them. Mr. Curtis had a broad, loving
+nature and sympathies, and if the people had discovered them, they
+would have liked him. But the reserve which comes with culture makes
+one largely conceal one’s true feelings. Super-refinement puts a man
+out of sympathy 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 what Watts calls a tough, and such a man, to understand and
+admire one another.”
+
+“But don’t you think,” said Mrs. D’Alloi, “that the people of our class
+are better and finer?”
+
+“The expression ‘noblesse oblige’ shows that,” said madame.
+
+“My experience has led me to think otherwise,” said Peter. “Of course
+there is a difference of standards, of ideals, and of education, in
+people, and therefore there are differences in conduct. But for their
+knowledge of what is right and wrong, I do not think the so-called
+better classes, which should, in truth, be called the prosperous
+classes, live up to their own standards of right any more than do the
+poor.”
+
+“Oh, I say, draw it mild. At least exclude the criminal classes,” cried
+Watts. “They know better.”
+
+“We all know better. But we don’t live up to our knowledge. I crossed
+on one of the big Atlantic liners lately, with five hundred other
+saloon passengers. They were naturally people of intelligence, and
+presumably of easy circumstances. Yet at least half of those people
+were plotting to rob our government of money by contriving plans to
+avoid paying duties truly owed. To do this all of them had to break our
+laws, and in most cases had, in addition, to lie deliberately. Many of
+them were planning to accomplish this theft by the bribery of the
+custom-house inspectors, thus not merely making thieves of themselves,
+but bribing other men to do wrong. In this city I can show you blocks
+so densely inhabited that they are election districts in themselves.
+Blocks in which 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 eat less and be less warm; where man and woman, old and young,
+must shiver in winter, and stifle in summer; where there is not room to
+bury the people who live in the block within the ground on which they
+dwell. But I cannot find you, in the poorest and vilest parts of this
+city, any block where the percentage of liars and thieves and
+bribe-givers is as large as was that among the first-class passengers
+of that floating palace. Each condition of society has its own
+mis-doings, and I believe varies little in the percentage of
+wrong-doers to the whole.”
+
+“To hear Peter talk you would think the whole of us ought to be
+sentenced to life terms,” laughed Watts. “I believe it’s only an
+attempt on 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 call
+bad. I have met men whom I thought so, but when I knew them better I
+found the good in them more than balancing the evil. Our mistake is in
+supposing that some men are ‘good’ and others ‘bad,’ and that a sharp
+line can be drawn between them. The truth is, that every man has both
+qualities in him and in very few does the evil overbalance the good. I
+marvel at the goodness I find in humanity, when I see the temptation
+and opportunity 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 show
+it. “Let me tell you something in connection with that. A high light in
+place of a dark shadow. There was an attempt to convict some of the
+strikers, but it failed, for want of positive evidence. The moral
+proof, however, against a fellow named Connelly was so strong that
+there could be no doubt that he was guilty. Two years later that man
+started out in charge of a long express, up a seven-mile grade, where
+one of our railroads crosses the Alleghanies. By the lay of the land
+every inch of that seven miles of track can be seen throughout its
+entire length, and when he had pulled half way up, he saw a section of
+a freight train coming down the grade at a tremendous speed. A coupling
+had broken, and this part of the train was without a man to put on the
+brakes. To go on was death. To stand still was the same. No speed which
+he could give his train by backing would enable it to escape those
+uncontrolled cars. He sent his fireman back to the first car, with
+orders to uncouple the engine. He whistled ‘on brakes’ to his train, so
+that it should be held on the grade safely. And he, and the engine
+alone, went on up that grade, and met that flying mass of freight. He
+saved two hundred people’s lives. Yet that man, two years before, had
+tried to burn alive forty 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
+are thoroughly and wholly good things in this world, and one of them is
+this stuffing. Would it be possible for a fellow to have a second
+help?”
+
+Peter smiled. “Jenifer always makes the portions according to what is
+to follow, 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 gentmun
+want’t sell his ap’tite foh a mess ob potash.”
+
+“Never mind,” said Watts. “I’m not a dyspeptic, and so don’t need
+potash. But you might wrap the rest up in a piece of newspaper, and
+I’ll take it home.”
+
+“Peter, you must have met a great many men in politics whom you knew to
+be dishonest?” said Mrs. D’Alloi.
+
+“No. I have known few men whom I could call dishonest. But then I make
+a great distinction between the doer of a dishonest act and a dishonest
+man.”
+
+“That is what the English call ‘a fine-spun’ distinction, I think,”
+said madame.
+
+“I hope not. A dishonest man I hold to be one who works steadily and
+persistently with bad means and motives. But there are many men whose
+lives tell far more for good than for evil in the whole, yet who are
+not above doing wrong at moments or under certain circumstances. This
+man will lie under given conditions of temptations. Another will bribe,
+if the inducement is strong enough. A third will merely trick. Almost
+every man has a weak spot somewhere. Yet why let this one weakness—a
+partial moral obliquity or imperfection—make us cast him aside as
+useless and evil. As soon say that man physically is spoiled, because
+he is near-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 not
+hesitate which to use. But if we only have the latter, how foolish to
+refuse to employ it as we may, because we know there are in the world a
+few better ones.”
+
+“Is not condoning a man’s sins, by failing to blame him, direct
+encouragement to them?” said Mrs. D’Alloi.
+
+“One need not condone the sin. My rule has been, in politics, or
+elsewhere, to fight dishonesty wherever I found it. But I try to fight
+the act, not the man. And if I find the evil doer beyond hope of
+correction, I do not antagonize the doer of it. More can be done by
+amity and forbearance than by embittering and alienating. Man is not
+bettered by being told that he is bad. I had an alderman in here three
+or four days ago who was up to mischief. I could have called him a
+scoundrel, without telling him untruth. But I didn’t. I told him what I
+thought was right, in a friendly way, and succeeded in straightening
+him out, so that he dropped his intention, yet went away my friend. If
+I had quarrelled with him, we should have parted company, he would have
+done the wrong, I should have fought him when election time came—and
+defeated him. But he, and probably fifty of his adherents in the ward
+would have become my bitter enemies, and opposed everything I tried in
+the future. If I quarrelled with enough such men, I should in time
+entirely lose my influence in the ward, or have it generally lessened.
+But by dealing as a friend with him, I actually prevented his doing
+what he intended, and we shall continue to work together. Of course a
+man can be so bad that this course is impossible, but they are as few
+in politics as they are elsewhere.”
+
+“Taciturnity Stirling in his great circus feat of riding a whole ward
+at once,” said Watts.
+
+“I don’t claim that I’m right,” said Peter. “I once thought very
+differently. 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 that
+if most people gave the energy they spend in reforming the world, or
+their friends, to reforming themselves, there would be no need of
+reformers.”
+
+“The old English saying that ‘people who can’t mind their own business
+invariably mind some one’s else,’ seems applicable,” said Watts.
+
+“But is it not very humiliating to you to have to be friends with such
+men?” 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 notoriously
+one of the worst influences in New York State politics. At Albany, in
+the interest of a great corporation, he was responsible for every job
+and bit of lobbying done in its behalf. I don’t mean to say that he
+really bribed men himself, for he had lieutenants for the actual dirty
+work, but every dollar spent passed through his hands, and he knew for
+what purpose it was used. At the end of that time, so well had he done
+his work, that he was made president of the corporation. Because of
+that position, and because he is clever, New York society swallowed him
+and has ever since delighted to fête him. I find it no harder to shake
+hands and associate with the men he bribed, than you do to shake hands
+and associate with the man who gave the bribe.”
+
+“Even supposing the great breweries, and railroads, and other interests
+to be chiefly responsible for bribery, that makes it all the more
+necessary to elect men above the possibility of being bribed,” said Le
+Grand. “Why not do as they do in Parliament? Elect only men of such
+high character and wealth, that money has no temptation for them.”
+
+“The rich man is no better than the poor man, except that in place of
+being 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. The
+slave-holders’ course on secession. The millionaire silver senators’
+course on silver. The one was willing to make every poor man in England
+pay a half more for his bread than need be, in order that land might
+rent for higher prices. The slave-owner was willing to destroy his own
+country, rather than see justice done. The last are willing to force a
+great commercial panic, ruining hundreds and throwing thousands out of
+employment, if they can only get a few cents more per ounce for their
+silver. 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 the
+descent, “I’m afraid the politics were rather dull to you. I lectured
+because 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
+in the 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 trouble
+you, 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 other
+everything.”
+
+When Leonore had settled back in the carriage for the long drive, she
+cogitated: “Mr. Le Grand said that he and Miss De Voe, and Mr. Ogden
+had all 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’s very 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 limit
+to all intricacy, and after a time Leonore began to get an inkling of
+the secret. She first noticed that Peter seemed to spend an undue
+amount of time with her. He not merely turned up in the Park daily, but
+they were constantly meeting elsewhere. Leonore went to a gallery.
+There was Peter! 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 with nothing better to do than to see her home. At first
+Leonore merely thought these meetings were coincidences, but their
+frequency soon ended this theory, and then Leonore noticed that Peter
+had a habit of questioning her about her plans beforehand, and of
+evidently shaping his accordingly.
+
+Nor was this all. Peter seemed to be constantly trying to get her to
+spend time with him. Though the real summer was fast coming, he had
+another 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 at the Country Club.
+
+Flowers, too, seemed as frequent as their meetings. Peter had always
+smiled inwardly at bribing a girl’s love with flowers and bon-bons, but
+he had now discovered that flowers are just the thing to send a girl,
+if you love her, and that there is no bribing about it. So none could
+be too beautiful and costly for his purse. Then Leonore wanted a dog—a
+mastiff. The legal practice of the great firm and the politics of the
+city nearly stopped till the finest of its kind had been obtained for
+her.
+
+Another incriminating fact came to her through Dorothy.
+
+“I had a great surprise to-day,” she told Leonore. “One that fills me
+with delight, and that will please you.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“Peter asked me at dinner, if we weren’t to have Anneke’s house at
+Newport for the summer, and when I said ‘yes,’ he told me that if I
+would save a room for him, he would come down Friday nights and stay
+over Sunday, right through the summer. He has been a simply impossible
+man hitherto to entice into a visit. Ray and I felt like giving three
+cheers.”
+
+“He seemed glad enough to be invited to visit Grey-Court,” thought
+Leonore.
+
+But even without all this, Peter carried the answer to the puzzle about
+with him in his own person. Leonore could not but feel the difference
+in the way he treated, and talked, and looked at her, as compared to
+all about 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, and later certain, that there was a shade of eagerness in
+his manner, a tenderness 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, having
+found the answer. But the solving did not bring her much apparent
+pleasure.
+
+“Oh, dear!” she remarked to herself. “I thought we were going to be
+such good friends! That we could tell each other everything. And now
+he’s gone and spoiled it. Probably, too, he’ll be bothering me later,
+and then he’ll be disappointed, and cross, and we shan’t be good
+friends any more. Oh, dear! Why do men have to behave so? Why can’t
+they just be friends?”
+
+It is a question which many women have asked. The query indicates a
+degree of modesty which should make the average masculine blush at his
+own self-love. The best answer to the problem we can recommend to the
+average woman is a careful and long study of a mirror.
+
+As a result of this cogitation Leonore decided that she would nip
+Peter’s troublesomeness in the bud, that she would put up a sign,
+“Trespassing forbidden;” by which he might take warning. Many women
+have done the same thing to would-be lovers, and have saved the lovers
+much trouble and needless expense. But Leonore, after planning out a
+dialogue in her room, rather messed it when she came to put it into
+actual public performance. Few girls of eighteen are cool over a
+love-affair. And so it occurred thusly:
+
+Leonore said to Peter one day, when he had dropped in for a cup of
+afternoon 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 in
+London, who has followed me over here, and is troubling me. He’s
+dreadfully poor, and papa says he thinks he is after my money. Do you
+think that can be so?”
+
+So far the public performance could not have gone better if it had been
+rehearsed. 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 leaning
+back 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 on
+my eyes they sometimes misbehave themselves. It’s neuralgia of the
+optic nerve. Sometimes it pains me badly. Don’t mind me. It will be all
+right in 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
+long since I have had a return of my trouble that I have stopped
+carrying it.”
+
+“What causes it?”
+
+“Usually a shock. It’s purely nervous.”
+
+“But there was no shock now, was there?” said Leonore, feeling so
+guilty that she felt it necessary to pretend innocence.
+
+Peter pulled himself together instantly and, leaning over, began
+deliberately to gather up the fragments of the cup. Then he laid the
+pieces on the tea-table and said: “I was dreadfully frightened when I
+felt the cup slipping. It was very stupid in me. Will you try to
+forgive me 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 original
+question, saying bravely: “I don’t know enough about Mr. Max —— the
+Englishman, to speak of him, but I think I would not suspect men of
+that, even if they are poor.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because it would be much easier, to most men, to love you than to love
+your money.”
+
+“You think so?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I’m so glad. I felt so worried over it. Not about this case, for I
+don’t care for him, a bit. But I wondered if I had to suspect every man
+who came near me.”
+
+Peter’s eyes ceased to burn, and his second cup of tea, which a moment
+before 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
+so dangerous 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 least
+five 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,
+and she could talk of five years! It was the clearest possible
+indication to Peter that Leonore was heart-whole. “No one, who is in
+love,” he thought, “could possibly talk of five years, or five months
+even.” When Peter got back to his chambers that afternoon, he was as
+near being despairing as he had been since—since—a long time ago. Even
+the obvious fact, that, if Leonore was not in love with him, she was
+also not in love with any one else, did not cheer him. There is a flag
+in the navy known as the Blue-Peter. That evening, Peter could have
+supplied our whole marine, with considerable bunting to spare.
+
+But even worse was in store for him on the morrow. When he joined
+Leonore in the Park that day, she proved to him that woman has as much
+absolute brutality as the lowest of prize-fighters. Women get the
+reputation of being less brutal, because of their dread of
+blood-letting. Yet when it comes to torturing the opposite sex in its
+feelings, they are brutes compared with their sufferers.
+
+“Do you know,” said Leonore, “that this is almost our last ride
+together?”
+
+“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, I
+have at last persuaded papa to travel a little, so that I can see
+something of my own country, and not be so shamefully ignorant. We are
+going to Washington on Saturday, and from there to California, and then
+through the Yellowstone, and back by Niagara. We shan’t be in Newport
+till the middle of August”
+
+Peter did not die at once. He caught at a life-preserver of a most
+delightful 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
+her little hand softly on the wound she had herself just made, in a way
+which women have. Then she stabbed again. “But we think it pleasanter
+to have it just a party of four.”
+
+“How long shall you be in Washington?” asked Peter, catching wildly at
+a straw this time.
+
+“For a week. Why?”
+
+“The President has been wanting to see me, and I thought I might run
+down 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 to
+ask.
+
+“The President wants me with him, but I may go to a hotel. It leaves
+one so much freer.” Peter was a lawyer, and saw no need of committing
+himself. “If I am there when you are, I can perhaps help you enjoy
+yourself. I think I can get you a lunch at the White House, and, as I
+know most of the officials, I have an open sesame to some other nice
+things.” Poor Peter! He was trying to tempt Leonore to tolerate his
+company by offering attractions in connection therewith. A chromo with
+the pound of tea. And this from the man who had thought flowers and
+bon-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 papers
+say?”
+
+“No, I would give twenty-five thousand dollars to-day if I could name
+the 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
+of yours which I want to know.”
+
+“No,” said Leonore. “I don’t think that’s necessary. You are to tell me
+without making me promise anything.” Leonore might deprecate a man’s
+falling in love with her, but she had no objection to the power and
+perquisites 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’s sudden firmness was real and how much pretence. Then she became
+unconscious of his presence.
+
+Peter said something.
+
+Silence.
+
+Peter said something else.
+
+Silence.
+
+“Are you really so anxious to know?” he asked, surrendering without
+terms.
+
+He had a glorious look at those glorious eyes. “Yes,” said the dearest
+of all mouths.
+
+“The great panic,” said Peter, “has led to the formation of a so-called
+Labor party, and, from present indications, they are going to nominate
+a bad man. Now, there is a great attempt on foot to get the Democratic
+convention 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 in
+something discreditable. But he’s truckled himself into a kind of
+popularity and power, and, having always been ‘a Democrat,’ he hopes to
+get 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 country
+with 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 very
+disagreeable to myself.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“This is a great secret, you understand?”
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore, all interest and eagerness. “I can keep a secret
+splendidly.”
+
+“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 in
+our trying to be friends. So we had better give up at once. Don’t you
+think so?”
+
+“What a pretty horse Miss Winthrop has?” said Leonore. And she never
+obtained an answer to her question, nor answered Peter’s.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+A MUTINEER.
+
+
+After Peter’s return from Washington, there was a settled gloom about
+him positively appalling. He could not be wooed, on any plea, by his
+closest friends, to journey up-town into the social world. He failed
+entirely to avail himself of the room in the Rivington’s Newport villa,
+though Dorothy wrote appealingly, and cited his own words to him. Even
+to his partners he became almost silent, except on law matters. Jenifer
+found 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
+moments that this atmosphere seemed to yield at all was when Peter took
+a very miscellaneous collection of rubbish out of a little sachet,
+meant for handkerchiefs, which he now carried in his breast-pocket, and
+touched the various articles to his lips. Then for a time he would look
+a little less suicidal.
+
+But it was astonishing the amount of work he did, the amount of reading
+he got through, the amount of politics he bossed, and the cigars he
+smoked, between the first of June, and the middle of August The
+party-leaders had come to the conclusion that Peter did not intend to
+take a hand in this campaign, but, after his return from Washington,
+they decided otherwise. “The President must have asked him to
+interfere,” was their whispered conclusion, “but it’s too late now.
+It’s all cut and dried.”
+
+Peter found, as this remark suggested, that his two months’ devotion to
+the dearest of eyes and sweetest of lips, had had serious results. As
+with Mutineer once, he had dropped his bridle, but there was no use in
+uttering, as he had, then, the trisyllable which had reduced the horse
+to order. He had a very different kind of a creature with which to
+deal, than a Kentucky gentleman of lengthy lineage, a creature called
+sometimes a “tiger.” Yet curiously enough, the same firm voice, and the
+same firm manner, and a “mutineer,” though this time a man instead of a
+horse, was effective here. All New York knew that something had been
+done, and wanted to know what. There was not a newspaper in the city
+that would have refused to give five thousand dollars for an authentic
+stenographic report of what actually was said in a space of time not
+longer than three hours in all. Indeed, so intensely were people
+interested, that several papers felt called upon to fabricate and print
+most absurd versions of what did occur, all the accounts reaching
+conclusions as absolutely different as the press portraits of
+celebrities. From three of them it is a temptation to quote the display
+headlines 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 read
+and almost unknown by reading people, yet which had more city
+advertising than all the other papers put together, and a circulation
+to match 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 truth
+to suggest inspiration. But there is no need to reprint the article
+that followed, for now it is possible, for the first time, to tell what
+actually occurred; and this contribution should alone permit this work
+to rank, as no doubt it is otherwise fully qualified to, in the dullest
+class of all books, that of the historical novel.
+
+The facts are, that Peter alighted from a hansom one evening, in the
+middle of July, and went into the Manhattan Club. He exchanged
+greetings with a number of men in the halls, and with more who came in
+while he was reading the evening papers. A man came up to him while he
+still read, and said:
+
+“Well, Stirling. Reading about your own iniquity?”
+
+“No,” said Peter, rising and shaking hands. “I gave up reading about
+that 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. Peter
+shook hands with three men who were there, and they all drew up round
+one of the little tables. A good many men who saw that group, nudged
+each other, and whispered remarks.
+
+“A reporter from the _Sun_ is in the strangers’ room. Mr. Stirling, and
+asks to see you,” said a servant.
+
+“I cannot see him,” said Peter, quietly. “But say to him that I may
+possibly 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
+imagine any of you, for instance, making a political mistake but
+perhaps you may some day.”
+
+A pause of a curious kind came after this, which was only interrupted
+by the arrival of three more men. They all shook hands, and Peter rang
+a bell.
+
+“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 a
+bewildered way. Thomas had served the club many years, but he had never
+heard of that cocktail.
+
+“Well, Thomas,” said Peter, “if you don’t have that in stock, make it
+seven Blackthorns.”
+
+Then presently eight men packed themselves into the elevator, and a
+moment later were sitting in one of the private dining-rooms. For an
+hour and a half they chatted over the meal, very much as if it were
+nothing more than a social dinner. But the moment the servant had
+passed the cigars and light, and had withdrawn, the chat suddenly
+ceased, and a silence 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 ratification
+meeting.”
+
+“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 original
+speaker 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 first
+speaker.
+
+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
+on our local nominations, and Maguire is not merely a Democrat, but he
+gives 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,” said
+Number Two.
+
+Then they all looked at Peter, and became silent. Peter puffed his
+cigar thoughtfully.
+
+“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 we
+can’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
+of the party. For every vote the Labor people give Maguire, the support
+of that party will lose us a Democratic vote.”
+
+“But we can’t win with a triangular fight. The Republicans will simply
+walk over the course.”
+
+If Peter had been a hot-headed reformer, he would have said: “Better
+that than that such a scoundrel shall win.” But Peter was a politician,
+and so saw no need of saying the unpleasantest thing that occurred to
+him, even if he felt it. Instead, he said: “The Labor party will get as
+many votes from the Republicans as from us, and, for every vote the
+Labor party takes from us, we shall get a Republican vote, if we put up
+the 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
+his truckling to the lowest passions and his socialistic speeches, will
+frighten conservative men enough to make them break party lines, and
+unite 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 trade
+with or endorse the Labor party. We can elect Maguire by the aid of the
+worst votes in this city, or we can elect our own man by the aid of the
+best. The one weakens our party in the future; the other strengthens
+it.”
+
+“You think that possible?” asked the man who had sought information as
+to what they “were here for.”
+
+“Yes. The Labor party makes a stir, but it wouldn’t give us the oyster
+and be content with the shells if it really felt strong. See what it
+offers us. All the local and State ticket except six assemblymen, two
+senators, and a governor, tied hand and foot to us, whose proudest
+claim for years has been that he’s a Democrat.”
+
+“But all this leaves out of sight the fact that the thing’s done,” said
+Number 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 Two
+cried:
+
+“Come. We’ve decided. Now, put up or shut up. No more beating about the
+bush.”
+
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+
+“Tell us what you intend, Stirling,” said Number One. “We are committed
+beyond retreat. Come in with us, or stay outside the breastworks.”
+
+“Perhaps,” said Peter, “since you’ve taken your own position, without
+consulting 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
+to support 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 Number
+One. “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 pledged
+to 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 Stephen
+Maguire, to speak against him in every ward of this city, and ask every
+man 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. You
+insist on supporting the Labor candidate and I shall support the
+Republican 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. “How
+many 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 not
+single. Bohlmann says the brewers will back me, Hummel says he’ll be
+guided by me, and the President won’t interfere.”
+
+“You might as well give up,” continued the previous questioner. “The
+Sixth is a sure thirty-five hundred to the bad, and between Stirling’s
+friends, and the Hummel crowd, and Bohlmann’s people, you’ll lose
+twenty-five thousand in the rest of the city, besides the Democrats
+you’ll frighten off by the Labor party. You can’t put it less than
+thirty-five thousand, to say nothing of the hole in the campaign fund.”
+
+The beauty about a practical politician is that votes count for more
+than his own wishes. Number One said:
+
+“Well, that’s ended. You’ve smashed our slate. What have you got in its
+place?”
+
+“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
+has intellect. Why don’t you ask us to choose a college professor, and
+have done with it.”
+
+“Come, Stirling,” said the previous questioner, “the thing’s been
+messed so that we’ve got to go into convention with just the right man
+to rally the 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’t
+see 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 it
+back 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,” said
+Number Three, laughing and doing the same.
+
+“It’s a pity Costell isn’t here,” added the previous questioner. “After
+you’re not yielding to him, he’d never believe we had forced you to
+take it.”
+
+And that was what actually took place at that very-much-talked-about
+dinner.
+
+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 he
+turned to the newcomer. “It’s all right,” he said, “so far as the party
+is 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 of the front door instantly, leaving the reporter with a
+disappointed look on 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 what he didn’t care to tell, yet he could have helped me to pay
+my month’s rent as easily as could be.”
+
+As for Peter, he fell into a long stride, and his face nearly equalled
+his 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 the
+gloom in his face which had been so fixed an expression for the last
+month. But he looked as a man might look who knew he had but a few
+hours to live, yet to whom death had no terror.
+
+“I am giving up,” Peter thought, “everything that has been my true life
+till now. My profession, my friends, my chance to help others, my
+books, and my quiet. I shall be misunderstood, reviled and hated.
+Everything I do will be distorted for partisan purposes. Friends will
+misjudge. Enemies will become the more bitter. I give up fifty thousand
+dollars a year in order to become a slave, with toadies, trappers,
+lobbyists and favor-seekers as my daily quota of humanity. I even
+sacrifice the larger part of my power.”
+
+So ran Peter’s thoughts, and they were the thoughts of a man who had
+not worked seventeen years in politics for nothing. He saw alienation
+of friends, income, peace, and independence, and the only return a mere
+title, which to him meant a loss, rather than a gain of power. Yet this
+was one of the dozen prizes thought the best worth striving for in our
+politics. Is it a wonder that our government and office-holding is left
+to the foreign element? That the native American should prefer any
+other work, rather than run the gauntlet of public opinion and press,
+with loss of income and peace, that he may hold some difficult office
+for a brief term?
+
+But finally Peter rose. “Perhaps she’ll like it,” he said aloud, and
+presumably, since no woman is allowed a voice in American politics, he
+was thinking of Miss Columbia. Then he looked at some photographs, a
+scrap of ribbon, a gold coin (Peter clearly was becoming a money
+worshipper), three letters, a card, a small piece of blotting-paper, a
+handkerchief (which Leonore and Peter had spent nearly ten minutes in
+trying to find one day), a glove, and some dried rose-leaves and
+violets. Yet this was the man who had grappled an angry tiger but two
+hours 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
+of August, his mail brought him a letter from Watts, announcing that
+they had been four days installed in their Newport home, and that Peter
+would now be welcome any time. “I have purposely not filled Grey-Court
+this summer, so that you should have every chance. Between you and me
+and the post, I think there have been moments when mademoiselle missed
+‘her friend’ 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 I
+come to-day by Shore line limited? P.S.”
+
+“When you get back, Jenifer,” said Peter, “you may pack my trunk and
+your own. We may start for Newport at two.” Evidently Peter did not
+intend to run any risks of missing the train, in case the answer should
+be favorable.
+
+Peter passed into his office, and set to work to put the loose ends in
+such shape that nothing should go wrong during his absence. He had not
+worked 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 what
+business?”
+
+“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 was
+stamped “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 to
+listen 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 of
+his head.
+
+“I have a message for you, Mr. Stirling,” said the man, pulling a chair
+into 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 after
+a pause.
+
+“Mr. Samuels is my confidential clerk. You can speak with perfect
+freedom before him.” Peter spoke without raising his eyes from his
+writing.
+
+“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 it
+unsaid.”
+
+“Well, then,” said the man, “your party’s been tricking us, and we
+won’t stand it.”
+
+Peter wrote diligently.
+
+“And we know who’s back of it. It was all pie down to that dinner of
+yours.”
+
+“Is that Maguire’s message?” asked Peter, though with no cessation of
+his labors.
+
+“Nop,” said the man. “That’s the introduction. Now, we know what it
+means. You needn’t deny it. You’re squinting at the governorship
+yourself. And you’ve made the rest go back on Maguire, and work for you
+on 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 fur
+and feathers, and if you go before the convention as a candidate, we’ll
+fill 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’ll
+hunt down and expose every discreditable thing you’ve ever done.”
+
+Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his
+hands on 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, that I think we have the message at last. Go to him, and say
+that I have received his message. That I know him, and I know his
+methods. That I understand his hopes of driving me, as he has some,
+from his path, by threats of private scandal. That, judging others by
+himself, he believes no 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 accept the nomination. That rather than see him the
+nominee of the Democratic party, I will take it myself. Tell him to set
+on his blood-hounds. They are welcome to all they can unearth in my
+life.”
+
+Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he was
+not quite sure that he could sustain this altitude, if he saw more of
+the 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. We
+have proof already.”
+
+Peter turned, with an amused look on his face. “I was wondering,” he
+said, “if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague threats.”
+
+“No siree,” said Curlew with a self-assured manner, but at the same
+time putting Peter’s desk between the clerk and himself, so that his
+flank could not be turned. “We’ve got some evidence that won’t be sweet
+reading for you, and we’re going to print it, if you take the
+nomination.”
+
+“Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once. That
+I 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 before
+it’s through with.”
+
+Peter stood silent for a moment, but his hands trembled slightly, and
+any one who understood anatomy could have recognized that every muscle
+in 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, “about
+yours and some one else’s goings on. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Rivington
+won’t thank you for having them printed.”
+
+Instantly came a cry of fright, and the crack of a revolver, which
+brought Peter’s partners and the clerks crowding into the room. It was
+to find Curlew lying back on the desk, held there by Peter with one
+hand, while his other, clasping the heavy glass inkstand, was swung
+aloft. There was a look on Peter’s face that did not become it. An
+insurance company would not have considered Curlew’s life at that
+moment a fair risk.
+
+But when Peter’s arm descended it did so gently, put the inkstand back
+on the desk, and taking a pocket-handkerchief wiped a splash of ink
+from the hand that had a moment before been throttling Curlew. That
+worthy struggled up from his back-breaking attitude and the few parts
+of his face not drenched with ink, were very white, while his hands
+trembled more 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. And
+keep this to yourselves. I don’t think the other floors could have
+heard anything through the fire-proof brick, but if any one comes,
+refer them to me.” As the office cleared, Peter turned to his partners
+and said: “Mr. Curlew came here with a message which he thought needed
+the protection of a revolver. He judged rightly, it seems.”
+
+“Are you hit?”
+
+“I felt something strike.” Peter put his hand to his side. He
+unbuttoned his coat and felt again. Then he pulled out a little sachet
+from his breast-pocket, and as e did so, a flattened bullet dropped to
+the floor. Peter looked into the sachet anxiously. The bullet had only
+gone through the lower corner of the four photographs and the glove!
+Peter laughed happily. “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 looking
+stunned.
+
+Curlew moved towards the door.
+
+“One moment,” said Peter, and Curlew stopped.
+
+“Ray,” Peter continued, “I am faced with a terrible question. I want
+your advice?”
+
+“What, Peter?”
+
+“A man is trying to force me to stand aside and permit a political
+wrong. To do this, he threatens to publish lying affidavits of
+worthless scoundrels, to prove a shameful intimacy between a married
+woman and me.”
+
+“Bosh,” laughed Ray. “He can publish a thousand and no one would
+believe them of you.”
+
+“He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it would
+connect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that ever
+lived. He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloat
+over it. That the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. That
+in the heat of a political contest, the partisans will be only too glad
+to believe it and repeat it. That no criminal prosecution, no court
+vindication, will ever quite kill the story as regards her. And so he
+hopes that, rather than entail this on a woman whom I love, and on her
+husband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I know of such a case
+in Massachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such a danger,
+the man 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’ve
+bribed, or forged affidavits of two of the stewards of the ‘Majestic.’”
+
+Ray tried to spring forward towards Curlew. But Peter’s hand still
+rested on his shoulder, and held him back, “I started to kill him,”
+Peter said quietly, “but I remembered he was nothing but the miserable
+go-between.”
+
+“My God, Peter! What can I say?”
+
+“Ray! The stepping aside is nothing to me. It was an office which I was
+ready to take, but only as a sacrifice and a duty. It is to prevent
+wrong that I interfered. So do not think it means a loss to me to
+retire.”
+
+“Peter, do what you intended to do. We must not compromise with wrong
+even for her sake.”
+
+The two shook hands, “I do not think they will ever use it, Ray,” said
+Peter. “But I may be mistaken, and cannot involve you in the
+possibility, without your consent.”
+
+“Of course they’ll use it,” cried Ogden. “Scoundrels who could think of
+such a thing, will use it without hesitation.”
+
+“No,” said Peter. “A man who uses a coward’s weapons, is a coward at
+heart. We can prevent it, I think.” Then he turned to Curlew. “Tell Mr.
+Maguire about this interview. Tell him that I spared you, because you
+are not the principal. But tell him from me, that if a word is breathed
+against Mrs. Rivington, I swear that I’ll search for him till I find
+him, and when I find him I’ll kill him with as little compunction as I
+would 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 to
+the Labor headquarters and told his story.
+
+“And he’ll do it too, Mr. Maguire,” he said. “You should have seen his
+look 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 in
+Ray’s room.
+
+“I wouldn’t think so if I hadn’t seen his face as he stood over that
+skunk. But if ever a man looked murder he did at that moment. And quiet
+old 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 what
+you 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. Think
+of such an end to your life. No matter what that scoundrel does, don’t
+end your life on a gallows. It—”
+
+Peter held up his hand. “You don’t know the American people, Ray. If
+Maguire uses that lying story, I can kill him, and there isn’t a jury
+in the country which, when the truth was told, wouldn’t acquit me.
+Maguire knows 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
+stood looking at the ink-stains on his desk and floor, “that people
+think politics nothing but trickery and scoundrelism. Yet such vile
+weapons and slanders would not be used if there were not people vile
+and mean enough at heart to let such things influence them. The fault
+is not in politics. It is in humanity.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+SUNSHINE.
+
+
+But just as Peter was about to continue this rather unsatisfactory
+train of thought, his eye caught sight of a flattened bullet lying on
+the floor. He picked it up, with a smile. “I knew she was my good
+luck,” he said. Then he took out the sachet again, and kissed the
+dented and bent coin. Then he examined the photographs. “Not even the
+dress is cut through,” he said gleefully, looking at the full length.
+“It couldn’t have hit in a better place.” When he came to the glove,
+however, he grieved a little over it. Even this ceased to trouble him
+the next moment, for a telegram was laid on his desk. It merely said,
+“Come by all 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 blank wall, and thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. But his
+expression bore no resemblance to the one formerly assumed when that
+particular practice had been habitual.
+
+Nor was this expression the only difference in this day, to mark the
+change from Peter past to Peter present. For instead of manoeuvring to
+make Watts sit on the back seat, when he was met by the trap late that
+afternoon, at Newport, he took possession of that seat in the coolest
+possible manner, leaving the one by the driver to Watts. Nor did Peter
+look away from the girl on that back seat. Quite the contrary. It did
+not 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 to
+heighten his present joy. A sort of “shadow-box.”
+
+He had had the nicest kind of welcome from his “friend.” If the manner
+had not been quite so absolutely frank as of yore, yet there was no
+doubt as to her pleasure in seeing Peter. “It’s very nice to see you
+again,” she had said while shaking hands. “I hoped you would come
+quickly.” Peter was too happy to say anything in reply. He merely took
+possession of that vacant seat, and rested his eyes in silence till
+Watts, after climbing into place, asked him how the journey to Newport
+had been.
+
+“Lovelier than ever,” said Peter, abstractedly. “I didn’t think it was
+possible.”
+
+“Eh?” said Watts, turning with surprise on his face.
+
+But Leonore did not look surprised. She only looked the other way, and
+the corners of her mouth were curving upwards.
+
+“The journey?” queried Watts.
+
+“You mean Newport, don’t you?” said Leonore helpfully, when Peter said
+nothing. Leonore was looking out from under her lashes—at things in
+general, 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 deceiving
+loophole she had opened.
+
+Watts said, “Oh, of course. It improves every year. But wasn’t the
+journey 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.
+It was just as maddening as could be, how hard it was to get New York
+papers way out west. I’m awfully in the dark about some things. I’ve
+asked 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
+the Tennis Tournament, and thought he would tell me all about it. But
+he was horrid! His whole manner said: ‘I can’t waste real talk on a
+girl.’ I told him I was a great friend of yours, and that you would
+tell me when you came, but he only laughed and said, he had no doubt
+you would, for you were famous for your indiscretion. I hate men who
+laugh at women the moment they try to talk as men do.”
+
+“I think,” said Peter, “we’ll have to turn Pell down. A Congressman who
+laughs 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 for
+you to tell him, that will astonish him very much, and make him want to
+know 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 Miss
+D’Alloi, so that if it leaks beyond Pell, I shall know whom to blame
+for it.”
+
+“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 take
+back what I just said.”
+
+“Did you roar, and did the tiger put its tail between its legs?” asked
+Watts.
+
+“That is the last thing our friends, the enemies, have found,” said
+Peter.
+
+“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 boat
+to-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 drawn
+down.
+
+“I was not dodging,” said Peter. “I only was asking a preliminary
+question. If you will get up, before breakfast, and ride with me, I
+will tell you everything that actually occurred at that dinner. You
+will be the only person, I think, who wasn’t there, who knows.” It was
+shameful and open bribery, but bosses are shameful and open in their
+doings, so Peter was only living up to his rôle.
+
+The temptation was too strong to be resisted, Leonore said, “Of coarse
+I will,” and the corners of her mouth reversed their position. But she
+said to herself: “I shall have to snub you in something else to make up
+for it.” Peter was in for a bad quarter of an hour somewhere.
+
+Leonore had decided just how she was going to treat Peter. To begin
+with, she intended to accentuate that “five years” in various ways.
+Then she would be very frank and friendly, just as long as he, too,
+would keep within those limits, but if Peter even verged on anything
+more, she intended to leave him to himself, just long enough to show
+him that such remarks as his “not caring to be friends,” brought
+instant and dire punishment. “And I shan’t let him speak,” Leonore
+decided, “no matter if he wants to. For if he does, I’ll have to say
+‘no,’ and then he’ll go back to New York and sulk, and perhaps never
+come near me again, since he’s so obstinate, while I want to stay
+friends.” Many such campaigns have been planned by the party of the
+first part. But the trouble is that, usually, the party of the second
+part also has a plan, which entirely disconcerts the first. As the
+darkey remarked: “Yissah. My dog he wud a beat, if it hadn’t bin foh de
+udder dog.”
+
+Peter found as much contrast in his evening, as compared with his
+morning, 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 papa
+always beats me. I’ll teach you.”
+
+So there was the jolliest of hours spent in this way, all of them
+laughing 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 to smash it.”
+
+“It’s something I really must learn,” said Peter, who had refused over
+and 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 the
+drawing-room, Leonore asked: “Have you been learning how to valse?”
+
+Peter smiled at so good an American using so European a word, but said
+seriously, “No. I’ve been too busy.”
+
+“That’s a shame,” said Leonore, “because there are to be two dances
+this week, 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
+skirts back 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 in
+one’s arms. But he recognized that this would follow. So he set to work
+manfully to imitate that dainty little glide. It seemed easy as she did
+it. 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 feet
+and 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
+all night, with absolute contentment, so long as Leonore, after every
+failure, would show him the right way in her own person.
+
+Finally she said, “Now take my hands. No. Way apart, so that I can see
+your 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 strength
+failed. 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 a girl 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 the
+shortness, 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
+idea at 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 dances
+the other men don’t ask of me. But you don’t dance well enough, in case
+I can get a better partner. I love valsing too much to waste one with a
+poor dancer.”
+
+A moment before Peter thought waltzing the most exquisite pleasure the
+world contained. But he suddenly changed his mind, and concluded it was
+odious.
+
+“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 listener
+to his account of that dinner. The listener, speaking from vast
+political knowledge, told him at the end. “You did just right. I
+thoroughly approve of you.”
+
+“That takes a great worry off my mind,” said Peter soberly. “I was
+afraid, since we were to be such friends, and you wanted my help in the
+whirligig this winter, that you might not like my possibly having to
+live 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 having
+friends if they don’t live near one.”
+
+“That’s what I think,” said Peter. “I suppose I couldn’t tempt you to
+come and keep house for me?”
+
+“Now I must snub him,” thought Leonore. “No,” she said, “It will be bad
+enough to do that five years from now, for the man I love.” She looked
+out from under her eyelashes to see if her blow had been fatal, and
+concluded from the glumness in Peter’s face, that she really had been
+too cruel. So she added: “But you may give me a ball, and we’ll all
+come up and stay a week with you.”
+
+Peter relaxed a little, but he said dolefully, “I don’t know what I
+shall do. I shall be in such need of your advice in politics and
+housekeeping.”
+
+“Well,” said Leonore, “if you really find that you can’t get on without
+help, we’ll make it two weeks. But you must get up toboggan parties,
+and other nice things.”
+
+“I wonder what the papers will say,” thought Peter, “if a governor
+gives toboggan parties?”
+
+After the late breakfast, Peter was taken down to see the tournament.
+He thought 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 to the score. Then that the men who fluttered round her would
+have had the good taste to keep away. It enraged Peter to see how
+perfectly willing she was to talk and chat about things of which he
+knew nothing, and how more 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 know
+whether he’s in love or not. I suppose he thinks he is. Boys fifteen
+years old always do.”
+
+Leonore forgot the score, even, in her surprise. “Why,” she said, “you
+growl just like Bêtise (the mastiff). Now I know what the papers mean
+when they say you roar.”
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “it makes me cross to see a lot of boys doing
+nothing but hit a small ball, and a lot more looking at them and
+thinking that it’s worth doing.” Which was a misstatement. It was not
+that 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 business
+to come. I’m a ward boss, and my place is in saloons. Don’t hesitate to
+say it.”
+
+All this was very foolish, but it was real to Peter for the moment, and
+he looked straight ahead with lines on his face which Leonore had never
+seen before. He ought to have been ordered to go off by himself till he
+should be in better mood.
+
+Instead Leonore turned from the tennis, and said: “Please don’t talk
+that way, Peter. You know I don’t think that.” Leonore had understood
+the misery which lay back of the growl. “Poor fellow,” she thought, “I
+must cheer him up.” So she stopped looking at the tennis. “See,” she
+said, “there are Miss Winthrop and Mr. Pell. Do take me over to them
+and let 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 Peter
+talked, or rather listened, to that young lady, though sighing
+internally. Then, _Laus Deo!_ up came the poor little chap, whom Peter
+had libelled in age and affections, only ten minutes before, and set
+Peter free. He turned to see how Leonore’s petard was progressing, to
+find her and Pell deep in tennis. But just as he was going to expose
+his ignorance 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 the
+Democratic 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
+the Manhattan 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
+more airily. “I thought of course you would know about it. I’m so
+surprised!”
+
+Pell looked at her half quizzingly, and half questioningly. “What is
+the resolution?”
+
+“Naming a candidate for the vacancy for the Senate.”
+
+“Nonsense,” said Pell, laughing. “The convention has nothing to do with
+the senators. The Legislature elects them.” He thought, “Why can’t
+women, if they will talk politics, at least learn the ABC.”
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore, “but this is a new idea. The Senate has behaved so
+badly, that the party leaders think it will be better to make it a more
+popular body by having the New York convention nominate a man, and then
+they intend to make the legislature elect him. If the other states will
+only follow New York’s lead, it may make the Senate respectable and
+open to 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. “The
+papers are always behind the times. But I didn’t think that you would
+be, 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 you
+for next senator?” said Leonore, with both wonder and pity in her face
+and voice.
+
+“Who told you that?” said Pell, with an amount of interest blended with
+doubt that was a decided contrast to a moment ago.
+
+“That’s telling,” said Leonore. “You know, Mr. Pell, that one mustn’t
+tell people who are outside the party councils everything.”
+
+“I believe you are trying to stuff me,” said Pell, “If it is so, or
+anything like it, you wouldn’t know.”
+
+“Oh,” said Leonore, tantalizingly, “I could tell you a great deal more
+than 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, who
+had 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,” said
+Peter seriously, “and she, and the President, and I, talked politics.
+Politically, Miss D’Alloi is rather a knowing person. I hope you
+haven’t been saying anything indiscreet, Miss D’Alloi?”
+
+“I’m afraid I have,” laughed Leonore, triumphantly, adding, “but I
+won’t tell anything more.”
+
+Pell looked after them as they went towards the carriage. “How
+extraordinary!” he said. “She couldn’t have it from Peter. He tells
+nothing. 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 to
+have talked politics. But he’ll get nothing but torture from me if he
+tries.”
+
+It began to dawn on Peter that Leonore did not, despite her frank
+manner, mean all she said. He turned to her, and asked:
+
+“Are you really in earnest in saying that you’ll refuse every man who
+asks you to marry him within five years?”
+
+Leonore’s triumph scattered to the four winds. “What an awfully
+impudent question,” she thought, “after my saying it so often. What
+shall I answer?” 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 to attempt it, I’ll tell him frankly I don’t care to listen.”
+
+“She really means it,” sighed Peter internally. “Why is it, that the
+best girls don’t care to marry?” Peter became very cross, and, what is
+worse, looked it.
+
+Nor was Leonore much better, “There,” she said, “I knew just how it
+would be. He’s getting sulky already. He isn’t nice any more. The best
+thing will be to let him speak, for then he’ll go back to New York, and
+won’t bother me.” The corners of her mouth drew away down, and life
+became very gray.
+
+So “the best of friends” rode home from the Casino, without so much as
+looking 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 condition
+long. First Leonore had to be helped out of the carriage. This was
+rather pleasant, for she had to give Peter her hand, and so life became
+less unworth living to Peter. Then the footman at the door gave Peter
+two telegraphic envelopes of the bulkiest kind, and Leonore too began
+to take an interest in life again.
+
+“What are they about?” she asked.
+
+“The Convention. I came off so suddenly that some details were left
+unarranged.”
+
+“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 another
+waltzing lesson after lunch?”
+
+“Don’t bargain,” said Leonore, disapprovingly.
+
+“Very well,” said Peter, putting the telegrams in his pocket, and
+turning towards the stairs.
+
+Leonore let him go up to the first landing. But as soon as she became
+convinced that he was really going to his room, she said, “Peter.”
+
+Peter turned and looked down at the pretty figure at the foot of the
+stairs. 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 read
+them to me,” she said, “since we are such friends.”
+
+“I do,” said Peter, “And you ought to want to teach me to waltz, since
+we 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, by
+reading them to you.”
+
+“Now I will teach him,” said Leonore to herself.
+
+Peter unfolded the many sheets. “This is very secret, of course,” he
+said.
+
+“Yes.” Leonore looked round the hall as if she was a conspirator. “Come
+to the window-seat upstairs,” she whispered, and led the way. When they
+had 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
+for that, if I wasn’t afraid you wouldn’t read it.”
+
+“You understand that you are not to repeat this to anyone.” Peter was
+smiling over something.
+
+Leonore said, “Yes,” half crossly and half eagerly.
+
+So Peter read:
+
+“Use Hudson knowledge counties past not belief local twenty imbecility
+certified of yet till yesterday noon whose Malta could accurately it at
+seventeen. Potomac give throw Haymarket estimated Moselle thirty-three
+to 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
+to sit 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 not
+to 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. How
+tremendously interesting! We’ll go at it right after lunch and decipher
+it 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. “I really must be careful,” she told the enviable sponge as it
+passed over her face, “he’s a man who needs very special treatment. I
+ought to send him 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 to live in Albany, and that will make it all right. Let
+me see. He said the governor served three years. That isn’t five, but
+perhaps he’ll have become sensible before then.”
+
+As for Peter, he actually whistled during his ablutions, which was
+something 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
+he danced a little. Then the two sat at the big desk in the deserted
+library and worked together over those very complex dispatches till
+they had them translated. Then they had to discuss their import.
+Finally they had to draft answers and translate them into cipher. All
+this with their heads very close together, and an utter forgetfulness
+on the part of a certain personage that snubbing rather than politics
+was her “plan of campaign.” But Leonore began to feel that she was a
+political power herself, and so forgot her other schemes. When they had
+the answering dispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter and
+said:
+
+“I think we’ve done that very well,” in the most approving voice. “Do
+you think they’ll do as we tell them?”
+
+Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so frankly
+and with such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed was
+noble or great enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times that
+afternoon, it had seemed to him that he could not keep himself from
+leaning over and taking one. He even went so far now as to speculate on
+exactly what Leonore would do if he did. Fortunately his face was not
+given to expressing his thoughts. Leonore never dreamed how narrow an
+escape 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’ll
+answer my question.”
+
+“I think they’ll do as we tell them,” smiled Peter. “But we’ll get word
+to-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we shall know better how the
+land lies, and can talk plainer.”
+
+“Will there be more ciphers, to-morrow?”
+
+“Yes.” To himself Peter said, “I must write Green and the rest to
+telegraph 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
+the little tea-table.
+
+“I wouldn’t live in Albany for the whole world,” said Leonore, resuming
+her old self with horrible rapidity. But just then she burnt her finger
+with the match with which she was lighting the lamp, and her cruelty
+vanished 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 that
+there was a painful absence of all signs of injury, and feared Peter
+would laugh at such a burn after those he had suffered.
+
+But Peter treated it very seriously. “I’m sure it does,” he said,
+taking possession of the hand. “And I know how it hurts.” He leaned
+over and kissed the little thumb. Then he didn’t care a scrap whether
+Leonore liked Albany or not.
+
+“I won’t snub you this time,” said Leonore to herself, “because you
+didn’t laugh at me for it.”
+
+Peter’s evening was not so happy. Leonore told him as they rose from
+dinner 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
+better dancers. If you choose to stay round I’ll take you for those.”
+
+“Do you ever have a dance over?” asked Peter, marvelling at such a
+possibility.
+
+“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 he
+laughed, so Leonore laughed too.
+
+After a game of billiards they all went to the dance. As they entered
+the hall, Peter heard his name called in a peculiar voice behind. He
+turned and saw Dorothy.
+
+Dorothy merely said, “Peter!” again. But Peter understood that
+explanations were in order. He made no attempt to dodge.
+
+“Dorothy,” he said softly, giving a glance at Leonore, to see that she
+was out of hearing, “when you spent that summer with Miss De Voe, did
+Ray 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 at
+last!”
+
+We hope our readers can grasp the continuity of Dorothy’s mental
+processes, for her verbal ones were rather inconsequent.
+
+“She’s lovely,” continued the verbal process. “And I’m sure I can help
+you.”
+
+“I need it,” groaned Peter. “She doesn’t care in the least for me, and
+I can’t get her to. And she says she isn’t going to marry for—”
+
+“Nonsense!” interrupted Dorothy, contemptuously, and sailed into the
+ladies’ dressing-room.
+
+Peter gazed after her. “I wonder what’s nonsense?” he thought.
+
+Dorothy set about her self-imposed task with all the ardor for
+matchmaking, possessed by a perfectly happy married woman. But Dorothy
+evidently intended that Leonore should not marry Peter, if one can
+judge from the tenor of her remarks to Leonore in the dressing-room.
+Peter liked Dorothy, and would probably not have believed her capable
+of treachery, but it is left to masculine mind to draw any other
+inference from the dialogue which took place between the two, as they
+prinked before a cheval glass.
+
+“I’m so glad to have Peter here for this particular evening,” said
+Dorothy.
+
+“Why?” asked Leonore, calmly, in the most uninterested of tones.
+
+“Because Miss Biddle is to be here. For two years I’ve been trying to
+bring those two together, so that they might make a match of it. They
+are made for each other.”
+
+Leonore tucked a rebellious curl in behind the drawn-back lock. Then
+she said, “What a pretty pin you have.”
+
+“Isn’t it? Ray gave it to me,” said Dorothy, giving Leonore all the
+line she wanted.
+
+“I’ve never met Miss Biddle,” said Leonore.
+
+“She’s a great beauty, and rich. And then she has that nice
+Philadelphia manner. Peter can’t abide the young-girl manner. He hates
+giggling and talking 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 on subjects which please him. She is very much interested in
+politics and philanthropy.”
+
+“I thought,” said Leonore, fluffing the lace on her gown, “that Peter
+never talked politics.”
+
+“He doesn’t,” said Dorothy. “But she has studied political economy.
+He’s willing to talk abstract subjects. She’s just the girl for a
+statesman’s wife. Beauty, tact, very clever, and yet very discreet. I’m
+doubly glad they’ll meet here, for she has given up dancing, so she can
+entertain Peter, 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 kind
+of man with whom every woman’s ready to fall in love. Why, my dear,
+he’s had chance after chance, if he had only cared to try. But, of
+course, he doesn’t care for such women as you and me, who can’t enter
+into his thoughts or sympathize with his ambitions. To him we are
+nothing but dancing, dressing, prattling flutter-birds.” Then Dorothy
+put her head on one side, and seemed far more interested in the effect
+of her own frock than in Peter’s fate.
+
+“He talks politics to me,” Leonore could not help saying. Leonore did
+not 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,
+and he is delightfully courteous, and one would think he liked it. But,
+from little 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 ready
+during the whole of this dialogue. Watts was cross; Peter wasn’t. Peter
+would willingly have waited an hour longer, impatient only for the
+moment of meeting, not to get downstairs. That is the difference
+between a husband and a lover.
+
+“Peter,” said Leonore, the moment they were on the stairs, “do you ever
+tell other girls political secrets?”
+
+Dorothy was coming just behind, and she poked Peter in the back with
+her fan. Then, when Peter turned, she said with her lips as plainly as
+one can without speaking: “Say yes.”
+
+Peter looked surprised. Then he turned to Leonore and said, “No. You
+are the 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 quite
+inscrutable. Peter had told the truth.
+
+But, after the greetings were over, Dorothy helped Peter greatly. She
+said to him, “Give me your arm, Peter. There is a girl here whom I want
+you to meet.”
+
+“Peter’s going to dance this valse with me,” said Leonore. And Peter
+had two 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 a
+moment. I want to speak to Dorothy.”
+
+“I knew you would be philandering after the young married women. Men of
+your age always do,” said Leonore, with an absolutely incomprehensible
+cruelty.
+
+So Peter did not speak to Dorothy. He sat down by Leonore and talked,
+till a scoundrelly, wretched, villainous, dastardly, low-born, but very
+good-looking fellow carried off his treasure. Then he wended his way to
+Dorothy.
+
+“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 the
+men, and she doesn’t dance. Now, if I introduce you, won’t you try to
+make her have a good time?”
+
+“Certainly,” said Peter, gloomily.
+
+“And don’t go and desert her, just because another man comes up. It
+makes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle is
+very sensitive. I know you don’t want to hurt her feelings.” All this
+had been said as they crossed the room. Then: “Miss Biddle, let me
+introduce Mr. Stirling.”
+
+Peter sat down to his duty. “I mustn’t look at Leonore,” he thought,
+“or I shan’t be attentive.” So he turned his face away from the room
+heroically. As for Dorothy, she walked away with a smile of
+contentment. “There, miss,” she remarked, “we’ll see if you can trample
+on dear old Peter!”
+
+“Who’s that girl to whom Mr. Stirling is talking?” asked Leonore of her
+partner.
+
+“Ah, that’s the rich Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia,” replied the
+scoundrel, in very gentleman-like accents for one of his class. “They
+say she’s never been able to find a man good enough for her, and so
+she’s keeping herself on ice till she dies, in hopes that she’ll find
+one 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 man
+unless he’s clever. Look at her to-night! She got her big fish right
+off, 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’t
+think any people good enough for him but the Pells, and Miss De Voe,
+and the Ogdens. What they can see in him I can’t imagine. I sat
+opposite him once at dinner, this spring, at the William Pells, and he
+only said three things in the whole meal. And he was sitting next that
+clever Miss Winthrop.”
+
+After the fifth dance, Dorothy came up to Leonore. “It’s going
+beautifully,” she said; “do you see how Peter has turned his back to
+the room? And I heard a man say that Miss Biddle was freezing to every
+man who tried to interrupt them. I must arrange some affairs this week
+so that 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 rides
+beautifully. Did Peter bring his horses?”
+
+“One,” said Leonore, with a suggestion of reluctance in stating the
+fact.
+
+“I’ll go and arrange it at once,” said Dorothy, thinking that Peter
+might 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
+Biddle the 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?
+I haven’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 had
+only one waltz,” he told himself, “and did not really see anything else
+of 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
+better informed one.” Peter’s tone of voice carried the inference that
+he hated unusual and informed women, and as this is the case with most
+men, his voice presumably reflected his true thoughts.
+
+“I should say so,” said Watts. “At our little table she said the
+brightest 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 an
+Italian lesson of her.”
+
+“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. D’Alloi.
+
+“I have a chap who breakfasts with me three times a week, to talk
+Italian, 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 it was very good of her to offer, for I knew very little as yet,
+and don’t think 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 so
+silent?” 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 have
+an 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 be
+disturbed 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 fell
+asleep peacefully, remarking to herself, just before she drifted into
+dreamland, “Every man in love ought to have a guardian, and I’ll be
+Peter’s.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+INTERFERENCE.
+
+
+When Peter returned from his ride the next day, he found Leonore
+reading the papers in the big hall. She gave him a very frigid
+“good-morning,” yet instantly relaxed a little in telling him there was
+another long telegram for him on the mantel. She said nothing of his
+reading the despatch to her, but opened a new sheet of paper, and began
+to read its columns with much apparent interest. That particular page
+was devoted to the current prices of “Cotton;” “Coffee;” “Flour;”
+“Molasses;” “Beans;” “Butter;” “Hogs;” “Naval Stores;” “Ocean
+Freights,” and a large number of equally kindred and interesting
+subjects.
+
+Peter took the telegram, but did not read it. Instead he looked down at
+all of his pretty “friend” not sedulously hidden by the paper; He
+recognized that his friend had a distinctly “not-at-home” look, but
+after a moment’s hesitation he remarked, “You don’t expect me to read
+this alone?”
+
+Silence.
+
+“Because,” continued Peter, “it’s an answer to those we wrote and sent
+yesterday, 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 could
+see 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
+it on.
+
+But Peter said, “I caught you,” and laughed. Then Leonore laughed. Then
+they filled in the space before lunch by translating and answering the
+telegram.
+
+As soon as that meal was over, Peter said, “Now will you teach me
+waltzing again?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I’m not going to spend time teaching a man to dance, who doesn’t
+dance.”
+
+“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 to
+one girl as to another. Since you don’t like my dancing, I supposed you
+would hardly choose to dance again with me, or ropes wouldn’t have held
+me.”
+
+“I can talk Italian too,” said Leonore, with no apparent connection.
+
+“Will you talk it with me?” said Peter eagerly. “You see, there are a
+good many Italians in the district, now, who by their ignorance and
+their not speaking English, are getting into trouble all the time. I
+want to learn, so as to help them, without calling in an interpreter.”
+Peter was learning to put his requests on grounds other than his own
+wishes.
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore very sweetly, “and I’ll give you another lesson in
+dancing. How did you enjoy your ride?”
+
+“I like Dorothy,” said Peter, “and I like Miss Biddle. But I didn’t get
+the 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 was
+over, 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 to
+some other girl.”
+
+Peter only smiled quietly.
+
+“Peter,” said Leonore, later, as he was sipping his tea, “do you think
+I’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 a
+society 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 the
+nicest 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
+telegrams and write the replies?”
+
+Peter was rather astonished, but said, “Yes.”
+
+But he did it very badly, Leonore thought, for meeting Dorothy the next
+day at a lawn party, after the mere greetings, he said:
+
+“Dorothy, Miss D’Alloi has been helping me translate and write cipher
+telegrams.”
+
+Dorothy looked startled at the announcement for a moment. Then she gave
+a glance at Leonore, who was standing by Peter, visibly holding herself
+in a very triumphant attitude. Then she burst out into the merriest of
+laughs, 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
+very red. And when some one spoke to Dorothy, and took her attention,
+Leonore said 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 suppose
+she won’t be nice for the rest of the day. If it was only law or
+politics! But women!”
+
+But Leonore didn’t abuse him. She was very kind to him, despite her
+displeasure. “If Dorothy would only let me alone,” thought Peter, “I
+should have a glorious time. Why can’t she let me stay with her when
+she’s in such a nice mood. And why does she insist on my being
+attentive to her. I don’t care for her. It seems as if she was
+determined to break up 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. His thoughts are merely reported verbatim, as
+the easiest way. It certainly indicates that, as with most troubles,
+there was a woman in it.
+
+Peter said much this same thing to himself quite often during the
+following week, and always with a groan. Dorothy was continually
+putting her finger in. Yet it was in the main a happy time to Peter.
+His friend treated him very nicely for the most part, if very variably.
+Peter never knew in what mood he should find her. Sometimes he felt
+that Leonore considered him as the dirt under her little feet. Then
+again, she could not be too sweet to him. There was an evening—a
+dinner—at which he sat between Miss Biddle and Leonore when, it seemed
+to Peter, Leonore said and looked such nice things, that the millennium
+had come. Yet the next morning, she told him that: “It was a very dull
+dinner. I talked to nobody but you.”
+
+Fortunately for Peter, the D’Allois were almost as new an advent in
+Newport, so Leonore was not yet in the running. But by the time Peter’s
+first week had sped, he found that men were putting their fingers in,
+as well as Dorothy. Morning, noon, and night they gathered. Then
+lunches, teas, drives, yachts and innumerable other affairs also
+plunged their fingers in. Peter did not yield to the superior numbers,
+he went wherever Leonore went. But the other men went also, and
+understood the ropes far better. He fought on, but a sickening feeling
+began to creep over him of impending failure. It was soon not merely
+how Leonore treated him; it was the impossibility of getting her to
+treat him at all. Even though he was in the same house, it seemed as if
+there was always some one else calling or mealing, or taking tea, or
+playing tennis or playing billiards, or merely dropping in. And then
+Leonore took fewer and fewer meals at home, and spent fewer and fewer
+hours there. 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, he considered himself lucky. He understood at last what Miss De
+Voe had meant when she had spoken of the difficulty of seeing enough of
+a popular girl either to love her or to tell her of it. They prayed for
+rain 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’m
+needed in Syracuse.” Peter spoke as if Syracuse was the ultimate of
+human 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 to
+Syracuse. 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 day
+and the next the wires to Newport from New York and Syracuse were kept
+hot, 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, because
+she 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
+to his one ball-room accomplishment.
+
+“I’ll give you the first,” said Leonore, “and then if you’ll sit near
+me, I’ll give you a look every time I see a man coming whom I don’t
+like, 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 I
+didn’t go to Syracuse! What a shame it is there are other dances than
+waltzes.”
+
+But after Peter had had two waltzes, he overheard his aged friend of
+fifteen years say something to a girl that raised him many degrees in
+his mind. “That’s a very brainy fellow,” said Peter admiringly. “That
+never occurred to me!”
+
+So he waited till he saw Leonore seated, and then joined her. “Won’t
+you sit out this dance with me?” he asked.
+
+Leonore looked surprised. “He’s getting very clever,” she thought,
+never dreaming that Peter’s cleverness, like so many other people’s
+nowadays, consisted in a pertinent use of quotations. Parrot
+cleverness, we might term it. Leonore listened to the air which the
+musicians were beginning, and finding it the Lancers, or dreariest of
+dances, she made Peter happy by assenting.
+
+“Suppose we go out on the veranda,” said Peter, still quoting.
+
+“Now of what are you going to talk?” said Leonore, when they were
+ensconced on a big wicker divan, in the soft half light of the Chinese
+lanterns.
+
+“I want to tell you of something that seems to me about a hundred years
+ago,” said Peter. “But it concerns myself, and I don’t want to bore
+you.”
+
+“Try, and if I don’t like it I’ll stop you,” said Leonore, opening up a
+line of retreat worthy of a German army.
+
+“I don’t know what you’ll think about it,” said Peter, faltering a
+little. “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 could
+not see it, because Leonore sat so that her face was in shadow. But she
+could see his expression, and when he hesitated, with that drawn look
+on his face, Leonore said softly:
+
+“You mean—about—mamma?”
+
+Peter started. “Yes! You know?”
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore gently. “And that was why I trusted you, without
+ever 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 been
+disappointed, so I asked mamma if she knew the girl, and then mamma
+told me. 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 I
+apologized 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 are
+paining me greatly. There is nothing in my whole life so bitter to me
+as what 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, and
+because 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. “Are
+you 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! And
+such 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 a
+despatch says your name was sprung on the Convention at nine, and that
+you 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 knew
+all about it.”
+
+Every one laughed at this, except Dorothy. Dorothy had a suspicion that
+it 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 to
+take 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 my
+friends 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 this
+day holds woman to be the weaker vessel!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+OBSTINACY.
+
+
+The next morning Peter found that his prayer for a rainy day had been
+answered, 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 fortunately
+too, 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
+were they seated at breakfast when Pell dropped in to congratulate him,
+and from that moment, despite the rain, every friend in Newport seemed
+to feel it a bounden duty to do the same, and to stay the longer
+because of the rain. Peter wished he had set the time for the
+Convention two days earlier or two days later.
+
+“I hope you won’t ask any of these people to luncheon,” Peter said in
+an aside to Mrs. D’Alloi.
+
+“Why?” he was asked.
+
+Peter looked puzzled, and finally said weakly, “I—I have a good deal to
+do.”
+
+And then as proper punishment for his misdemeanor, the footman
+announced Dorothy and Miss Biddle, Ray and Ogden. Dorothy sailed into
+the 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 you
+seen this morning’s ‘Voice of Labor?’ No? Good gracious, they’ve raked
+up that old verse in Watts’s class-song and print it as proof that you
+were a drunkard in your college days. Here it is. Set to music and
+headed ‘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 other
+paper. But I wouldn’t take the trouble in this case. The opposition
+would merely say that: ‘Of course Mr. Stirling’s intimate friends are
+bound to give such a construction to the song, and the attempt does
+them credit.’”
+
+“But why don’t you deny it, Peter?” asked Leonore anxiously. “It’s
+awful to think of people saying you are a drunkard!”
+
+“If I denied the untruths told of me I should have my hands full.
+Nobody believes such things, except the people who are ready to believe
+them. They wouldn’t believe otherwise, no matter what I said. If you
+think a man 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 the
+newspapers, and see what they said about you, and then will misjudge
+you.”
+
+“I am not afraid of that. I shall hardly be of enough account to figure
+in 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 which
+seems impossible now. The greater the man, the greater the abuse.”
+
+“Why do the papers call you ‘Pete’?” asked Leonore, anxiously. “I
+rather like 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 to
+convince 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 convince
+the voters who can be convinced by such arguments, that I am what they
+call me, they’ll elect me.”
+
+“How?” asked Mrs. D’Alloi.
+
+“Because intelligent people are not led astray but outraged by such
+arguments, and ignorant people, who can be made to believe all that is
+said of me, by such means, will think I am just the man for whom they
+want to vote.”
+
+“How is it possible that the papers can treat you so?” said Watts. “The
+editors know you?”
+
+“Oh, yes. I have met nearly every man connected with the New York
+press.”
+
+“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 Miss
+Biddle.
+
+“It’s rather a puzzling matter in ethics,” said Peter. “I don’t think
+that the newspaper fraternity have any lower standard of morals, than
+men in other professions. In the main they stand for everything that is
+admirable, so long as it’s non-partisan, and some of the men who to-day
+are 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 honorable
+statesmen of Europe and America will lie and cheat each other to their
+utmost extent, under cover of the term ‘diplomacy,’ and get rewarded
+and praised by their respective countries for their knavery, provided
+it is successful, I think ‘dishonest’ is a strong word for a merely
+partisan press. Certain it is, that the partisan press would end
+to-morrow, but for the narrowness and meanness of readers.”
+
+“Which they cause,” said Ogden.
+
+“Just as much,” said Peter, “as the saloon makes a drunkard, food
+causes hunger, and books make readers.”
+
+“But, at least, you must acknowledge they’ve got you, when they say you
+are 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
+gross form of physical enjoyment as tippling shall cease entirely. But
+till that day comes, till humanity has taught itself and raised itself,
+I want 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, and
+get what he wants at any time and all times. It is not fair, because a
+man’s pockets are filled with nickels instead of eagles, that he shall
+not have the same right. For that reason, I have always spoken for the
+saloon, and even for Sunday openings. You know what I think myself of
+that day. You know what I think of wine. But if I claim the right to
+spend Sunday in my way and not to drink, I must concede an equal right
+to 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, in
+proportion to the number of drinkers of each. But a man who drinks
+champagne, is sent home in a cab, and is put to bed, while the man who
+can’t afford that kind of drink, and is made mad by poisoned and
+doctored whisky, doctored and poisoned because of our heavy tax on it,
+must take his chance of arrest. That is the shameful thing about all
+our so-called temperance legislation. It’s based on an unfair
+interference with personal liberty, and always discriminates in favor
+of the man with money. 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 wine
+everywhere.”
+
+“That is neither possible nor right. You can’t strengthen humanity by
+tying its hands. It must be left free to become strong. I have thought
+much about the problem, and I see only one fair and practical means of
+bettering our present condition. But boss as the papers say I am, I am
+not 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 another
+person’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 restraining
+him, as it does thieves, or murderers, or wife-beaters. My idea is,
+that a license, something perhaps like our dog-license, shall be given
+to every one who applies for it. That before a man can have a drink,
+this license must be shown. Then if a man is before the police court a
+second time, for drunkenness, or if his family petition for it, his
+license shall be cancelled, and a heavy fine incurred by any one who
+gives or sells that man a drink thereafter.”
+
+“Oh,” laughed Watts, “you are heavenly! Just imagine a host saying to
+his dinner-party, ‘Friends, before this wine is passed, will you please
+show me your drink licenses.’”
+
+“You may laugh, Watts,” said Peter, “but such a request would have
+saved many a young fellow from ruin, and society from an occasional
+terrible occurrence which even my little social experience has shown
+me. And it would soon be so much a matter of course, that it would be
+no more than showing your ticket, to prove yourself entitled to a ride.
+It solves the problem of drunkenness. And that is all we can hope to
+do, till humanity is—” 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 his
+sentence, it would have been, “half as perfect as you are.”
+
+After this last relay of callers had departed, it began to pour so
+nobly that Peter became hopeful once more. He wandered about, making a
+room-to-room canvass, in search of happiness, and to his surprise saw
+happiness 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 conversation
+had carried them, “You mustn’t go out,” he said.
+
+“I’m going,” said Leonore, made all the more eager now that it was
+forbidden.
+
+“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
+to walk. 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 his
+head into the two rooms. Empty. He looked out of the front door. There
+in the distance, was that prettiest of figures, distinguishable even
+when 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
+take Peter 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,” she
+thought. “We’ll see who can be the most obstinate.” Aloud she said,
+“Who says 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, Peter
+would have been less nonplussed by it.
+
+Leonore felt her advantage, and used it shamefully. She knew that Peter
+was helpless, and she said, “How?” again, laughing at him.
+
+Peter groped blindly. “I shall make you,” he said again, for lack of
+anything better.
+
+“Perhaps,” said Leonore, helping him out, though with a most insulting
+laugh 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’s
+perambulator,” continued that segment of the Spanish Inquisition. If
+ever an irritating, aggravating, crazing, exasperating, provoking
+fretting enraging, “I dare you,” was uttered, it was in Leonore’s
+manner as she said this.
+
+Peter looked about hopelessly.
+
+“Please hurry up and say how,” Leonore continued, “for I want to get
+down to the cliff walk. It’s very wet here on the grass. Perhaps you
+will carry me back? You evidently think me a baby in arms.” “He’s such
+fun to tease,” was her thought, “and you can say just what you please
+without being afraid of his doing anything ungentlemanly.” Many a woman
+dares to torture a man for just the same reason.
+
+She was quite right as to Peter. He had recognized that he was
+powerless; that he could not use force. He looked the picture of utter
+indecision. But as Leonore spoke, a sudden change came over his face
+and figure. “Leonore had said it was wet on the grass! Leonore would
+wet her feet! Leonore would take cold! Leonore would have pneumonia!
+Leonore would 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 for the moment, and he said to himself: “I must do it, even if
+she never forgives me.” Then the indecision left his face, and he took
+a step forward.
+
+Leonore caught her breath with a gasp. The “dare-you” look, suddenly
+changed 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
+felt that she must fly, however ignominious such retreat might be.
+
+Peter followed, but though he could have caught her in ten seconds, he
+did not. As on a former occasion, he thought: “I’ll let her get out of
+breath. Then she will not be so angry. At least she won’t be able to
+talk. How gracefully she runs!”
+
+Presently, as soon as Leonore became convinced that Peter did not
+intend to 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 to
+acknowledge that she was out of breath since Peter wasn’t. So she made
+no reply.
+
+“You are walking in the wrong direction,” said Peter, laying his hand
+on her arm. Then, since she made no reply, his hand encircled the arm,
+and he stopped. Leonore took two more steps. Then she too, curiously
+enough, halted.
+
+“Stop holding me,” she said, not entirely without betraying her
+breathlessness.
+
+“You are to come back,” said Peter.
+
+He got an awful look from those eyes. They were perfectly blazing with
+indignation.
+
+“Stop holding me,” she repeated.
+
+It was a fearful moment to Peter. But he said, with an appeal in his
+voice, “You know I suffer in offending you. I did not believe that I
+could touch you without your consent. But your health is dearer to me
+than your anger is terrible. You must come home.”
+
+So Leonore, realizing that helplessness in a man exists only by his own
+volition, turned, and began walking towards the now distant house.
+Peter at once released her arm, and walked beside her. Not a glimpse
+did he get of those dear eyes. Leonore was looking directly before her,
+and a grenadier could not have held himself straighter. If insulted
+dignity was to be acted in pantomime, the actor could have obtained
+some valuable points from that walk.
+
+Peter walked along, feeling semi-criminal, yet semi-happy. He had saved
+Leonore 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 made
+Leonore’s cheeks blaze, as Peter’s touch had made her eyes. The rain
+had condensed in little diamonds on her stray curls, and on those long
+lashes. It seemed to Peter that he had never seen her lovelier. The
+longing to take her in his arms was so strong, that he almost wished
+she had 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 day at least. That meant a very terrible thing to him. A whole
+day of neglect; a whole day with no glimpse of these eyes; a whole day
+without a smile from those lips!
+
+Peter had too much sense to say anything at once. He did not speak till
+they were back in the hall. Leonore had planned to go straight to her
+room, but Peter was rather clever, since she preceded him, in getting
+to the foot of the staircase so rapidly that he was there first.
+
+This secured him his moment for speech. He said simply: “Miss D’Alloi,
+I ask your forgiveness for offending you.”
+
+Leonore had her choice of standing silent, of pushing passed Peter, or
+of speaking. If she had done the first, or the second, her position was
+absolutely impregnable. But a woman’s instinct is to seek defence or
+attack in words rather than actions. So she said: “You had no right,
+and you 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 was
+weakening. She said, “Let me by, please.”
+
+Peter with reluctance gave her just room to pass. He felt that he had
+not 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 moment
+Leonore 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 him
+without 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 very
+different,” he was told. “I put on tips and a mackintosh. You didn’t
+put on 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, and
+Sweden 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. “It
+isn’t worth while,” he said.
+
+“I never heard of such obstinacy,” said Leonore. “I pity your wife, if
+you 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 his
+hope 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 may
+keep me from taking cold.” It was nearly five, o’clock, and Peter was
+longing for that customary half-hour at the tea-table.
+
+Leonore said in the kindness of her heart, “When you’ve changed your
+clothes, I’ll make you a cup.” Then she went upstairs. When she had
+reached the second floor, she turned, and leaning over the balustrade
+of the gallery, said, “Peter.”
+
+“Yes,” said Peter, surveying her from below, and thinking how lovely
+she was.
+
+Leonore was smiling saucily. She said in triumph: “I had my way. I did
+get my walk.” Then she went to her room, her head having a very
+victorious carriage.
+
+Peter went to his room, smiling. “It’s a good lawyer,” he told his
+mirror, “who compromises just enough to make both sides think they’ve
+won.” Peter changed his clothes with the utmost despatch, and hurried
+downstairs to the tea-table. She was not there! Peter waited nearly
+five minutes quietly, with a patience almost colossal. Then he began to
+get restless. He wandered about the room for another two minutes. Then
+he became woe-begone. “I thought she had forgiven me,” he remarked.
+
+“What?” said the loveliest of visions from the doorway. Most women
+would have told one that the beauty lay in the Parisian tea-gown. Peter
+knew better. Still, he was almost willing to forgive Leonore the delay
+caused by the donning of it, the result was so eminently satisfactory.
+“And it will 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,
+taking possession of that article.
+
+“But then I can’t put any sugar in.”
+
+“Fingers were made before forks,” suggested Peter. “You don’t want to
+give 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 five
+months—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, but
+thought you must have gone to walk after all. Here, Peter. Here’s a
+special delivery letter, for which I receipted a while ago. Give me a
+cup, Dot.”
+
+Peter said, “Excuse me,” and, after a glance at the envelope, opened
+the letter with a sinking sensation. He read it quickly, and then
+reached over and rang the bell. When the footman came, Peter rose and
+said something 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
+had started upstairs, Leonore said, “Peter,” on the landing. When Peter
+stopped, 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 to
+her room. “He’s different,” she said. “He isn’t a bit afraid of
+displeasing me any more. I don’t know what to do with him.”
+
+Peter found Jenifer waiting. “Only pack the grip,” he said. “I hope to
+come back in a few days.” But he looked very glum, and the glumness
+stuck 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 back
+next week.”
+
+“Next week!” cried Watts. “What has been sprung on you that will take
+you that long?”
+
+“It doesn’t depend on me, unfortunately,” said Peter, “or I wouldn’t
+go.”
+
+When the carriage was announced later, Peter shook hands with Watts and
+Mrs. D’Alloi, and then held out his hand to Leonore. “Good-bye,” he
+said.
+
+“Are you going to tell me why you are going?” said that young lady,
+with her 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 if
+Leonore could have looked into the future she would have seen in her
+refusal the bitterest sorrow she had ever known.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+OATHS.
+
+
+As soon as Peter was on the express he went into the smoking cabin of
+the sleeping-car, and lighting a cigar, took out a letter and read it
+over again. While he was still reading it, a voice exclaimed:
+
+“Good! Here’s Peter. So you are in it too?” Ogden continued, as Ray and
+he took seats by Peter.
+
+“I always did despise Anarchists and Nihilists,” sighed Ray, “since I
+was trapped into reading some of those maudlin Russian novels, with
+their 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
+party now, and I only have a formal notification to hold my regiment in
+readiness. If it’s nothing but this Socialist and Anarchist talk, there
+is no real danger in it.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“This country can never be in danger from discontent with our
+government, for it’s what the majority want it to be, or if not, it is
+made so at the next election. That is the beauty of a Democracy. The
+majority always supports the government. We fight our revolutions with
+ballots, not with bullets.”
+
+“Yet Most says that blood must be shed.”
+
+“I suppose,” said Peter, “that he has just reached the stage of
+intelligence which doctors had attained when they bled people to make
+them 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’t
+express himself, but way down underneath all the absurd talk of
+‘natural monopolies,’ and of ‘the oppression of the money-power,’ there
+lies a germ of truth, without which none of their theories would have a
+corporal’s guard of honest believers. We have been working towards that
+truth in an unsystematic way for centuries, but we are a long way from
+it, and till we solve how to realize it, we shall have ineffectual
+discontent.”
+
+“But that makes the whole thing only the more arrant nonsense,”
+grumbled Ray. “It’s foolish enough in all conscience sake, if they had
+a chance of success, but when they haven’t any, why the deuce do they
+want to drag us poor beggars back from Newport?”
+
+“Why did Rome insist on burning while Nero fiddled?” queried Peter
+smiling. “We should hear nothing of socialism and anarchy if Newport
+and the 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 with
+Peter’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 and
+methods, but I sympathize with them, for I see the fearful problems
+which they think their theories will solve, and though I know how
+mistaken they are, I cannot blame them, when I see how seriously and
+honestly they believe in, and how unselfishly they work for, their
+ideas. Don’t blame the Socialists, for they are quite as conscientious
+as were the Abolitionists. Blame it to the lack of scientific
+education, which leaves these people to believe that theories
+containing a half truth are so wholly true that they mean the
+regeneration and salvation of society.”
+
+“I suppose you are right,” sighed Ray, “for you’ve thought of it, and I
+haven’t. I don’t want to, either. I thank the Lord I’m not as serious
+as you, Graveyard. But if you want to air your theory, I’ll lend you my
+ears, 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-bred men. They seem to think they’ve done all the work and
+study of their life in their four years, and so can dissipate mentally
+ever after.” But Peter smiled as he said this and continued, more
+seriously: “Society and personal freedom are only possible in
+conjunction, when law or public opinion interferes to the degree of
+repressing all individual acts that interfere with the freedom of
+others; thus securing the greatest individual freedom to all. So far as
+physical force is concerned, we have pretty well realized this
+condition. Because a man is strong he can no longer take advantage of
+the weak. But strength is not limited to muscle. 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 it attempts to repress
+individualism, and reduce mankind to an evenness opposed to all natural
+laws, is suicidal of the best in favor of mediocrity. But so far as it
+attempts to protect that mediocrity and weakness from the superior
+minds of the best, it is only in line with the laws which protect us
+from murder and robbery. You can’t expect men of 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, or
+joins a regiment. What’s the good of being a good citizen, when the
+other 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 I
+furnish the raw material on which the dearest of women may lavish her
+affection. Heigh-ho! I wish I was before the fire with her now. It’s
+rather 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’s
+before us, and may not have much after to-night. But, Ray, there’s a
+harder 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 really
+matters.” Peter passed out of the cabin.
+
+“By George!” said Ray, “if it wasn’t Peter, I’d have sworn there was
+salt water in his eyes.”
+
+“Anneke has always insisted that he was lonely. I wonder if she’s
+right?” Ogden queried.
+
+“If he is, why the deuce does he get off in those solitary quarters of
+his?”
+
+“Ray,” said Ogden, “I have a sovereign contempt for a man who answers
+one 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; who
+promptly went and did the same to still others. While they were doing
+this, Peter drove uptown, and went into Dickel’s riding academy. As he
+passed through the office, a man came out.
+
+“Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning.”
+
+“Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes,” said Peter. “How serious is it likely to
+be?”
+
+“We can’t say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle the
+Anarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall need
+you.”
+
+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 in
+force at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, that
+they’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 the
+unemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have called
+in the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying of
+arms.”
+
+“It’s rather rough on you, Stirling,” spoke up a man, “to have it come
+while you are a nominee.”
+
+Peter smiled, and passed into the room beyond. “Good-morning, General
+Canfield,” he said. “I have taken the necessary steps to embody my
+regiment. Are there any further orders?”
+
+“If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station,” the officer
+replied; “so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had better
+familiarize yourself at once.”
+
+“General Canfield,” said Peter, “my regiment has probably more
+sympathizers with the strikers than has any other in the city. It could
+not 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 prevent
+trouble.”
+
+The man and Peter looked each other in the eye.
+
+“You have your orders,” said the man, but he didn’t look pleased or
+proud.
+
+Peter turned and left the room, looking very grave. He look his cab and
+went to his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went down
+into the streets. They seemed peaceably active as he walked through
+them. A small boy was calling an extra, but it was in reference to the
+arrival of a much-expected racing-yacht. There was nothing to show that
+a great business depression rested with crushing weight on the city,
+and especially on the poor; that anarchy was lifting its head, and from
+hungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood and blaze; that
+capital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle which
+perhaps meant death and destruction.
+
+The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeeze
+through, and was guarded by a keeper. Peter passed in, however, without
+question, and heard a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy was
+gathering, so too was order. Peter called his officers together, and
+gave a few orders. Then he turned and whispered for a moment with
+Dennis.
+
+“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
+for the 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
+on September 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 they
+are tryin’ to put yez in a hole, an’ they’ll stan’ by yez, no matter
+what yez are told to do.”
+
+As quickly as possible Peter put on his fatigue uniform. When he came
+out, it was to find that the rank and file had done the same, and were
+now standing in groups about the floor. A moment later they were lined
+up.
+
+Peter stepped forward and said in a clear, ringing voice: “Before the
+roll is called I wish to say a word. We may receive orders any moment
+to take possession of the buildings and switches at the Central
+Station, to protect the property and operators of that road. This will
+be hard to some of you, who believe the strikers are right. But we have
+nothing to do with that. We have taken our oath to preserve order and
+law, and we are interested in having it done, far more than is the
+capitalist, for he can buy protection, whether laws are enforced or
+not, while the laboring man cannot. But if any man here is not prepared
+to support the State in its duty to protect the life and property of
+all, by an enforcement 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” was
+mustered 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 later
+came the rap of the drum, and the men rose from the floor and fell in.
+A few sharp, quick words were passed from mouth to mouth. Guns rose to
+the shoulders with a click and a movement almost mechanical. The
+regiment swung 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 break their lines to get within the curbs. So without sound of
+drum or music they passed through street after street. A regiment is
+thrilling when it parades to music: it is more so when it marches in
+silence.
+
+Presently it passed into a long tunnel, where the footfall echoed in a
+startling way. But as it neared the other end, a more startling sound
+could be heard. It was a low murmur, as of many voices, and of voices
+that were not pleasant. Peter’s wisdom in availing himself of the
+protection and secrecy of the tunnel as an approach became obvious.
+
+A moment later, as the regiment debouched from the tunnel’s mouth, the
+scene broke upon them. A vast crowd filled Fourth Avenue and
+Forty-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 melted
+into a long-thin one again, even as the regiment went forward. It was
+greeted with yells, and bottles and bricks were hurled from above it,
+but the appearance of the regiment had taken the men too much by
+surprise for them to do more. The head entered the mob, and seemed to
+disappear. 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. The
+regiment had passed through the crowd, and was within the station.
+Peter breathed a sigh of relief. To march up Fifth Avenue, with empty
+guns, in a parade, between ten thousand admiring spectators is one
+thing. To march between ten thousand angry strikers and their
+sympathizers, with ball cartridges in the rifles, is quite another. It
+is all the difference between smoking a cigar after dinner, and smoking
+one in a powder magazine.
+
+The regiment’s task had only just begun, however. Peter had orders to
+clear the streets about the station. After a consultation with the
+police captain, the companies were told off, and filing out of the
+various doors, they began work. Peter had planned his debouchments so
+as to split the mob into sections, knowing that each fragment pushed
+back rendered the remainder less formidable. First a sally was made
+from the terminal station, and after two lines of troops had been
+thrown across Forty-second Street, the second was ordered to advance.
+Thus a great tongue of the mob, which stretched towards Third Avenue,
+was pressed back, almost to that street, and held there, without a
+quarter of the mob knowing that anything was being done. Then a similar
+operation was repeated on Forty-third Street and Forty-fourth Street,
+and possession was taken of Madison Avenue. Another wedge was driven
+into the mob and a section pushed along Forty-second, nearly to Fifth
+Avenue. Then what was left of the mob was pushed back from the front of
+the building down Park Avenue. Again Peter breathed more freely.
+
+“I think the worst is done,” he told his officers. “Fortunately the
+crowd did not expect us, and was not prepared to resist. If you can
+once split 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
+Moriarty orders 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 a
+line. On one side of this line sat or reclined Company D. and eight
+policemen. 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 the
+committee. The rest were the ubiquitous reporters. From the newspaper
+report 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. looked
+astounded. Finally, however, one of the committee said, “There’s no
+good wasting time here.” Then a reporter said to a confrère, “What a
+stunning headline that will make?” Then the Captain of Company D. got
+his mouth closed enough to exclaim, “Oi always thought he could swear
+if he tried hard. Begobs, b’ys, it’s proud av him we should be this
+day. Didn’t he swear strong an’ fine like? Howly hivens! it’s a delight
+to hear damn said like that.”
+
+For some reason that “swear-word” pleased New York and the country
+generally, showing that even an oath has its purpose in this world, so
+long as it is properly used. Dean Swift said a lie “was too good to be
+lavished about.” So it is of profanity. The crowd understood Peter’s
+remark as they would have understood nothing else. They understood that
+besides those rifles and bayonets there was something else not to be
+trifled with. So in this case, it was not wasted.
+
+And Mr. Bohlmann, Christian though he was, as he read his paper that
+evening cried, “Och! Dod Beder Stirling he always does say chust der
+righd 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
+gathering crowds. The reinforcement of the militia. The clearing and
+holding of Forty-second Street to the river. The arrival of the three
+barge-loads of “scabs.” Their march through that street to the station
+safely, though at every cross street greeted with a storm of stones and
+other missiles. The struggle of the mob at the station to force back
+the troops so as to get at the “rats.” The impact of the “thin line”
+and that dense seething mass of enraged, crazed men. The yielding of
+the troops 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. Then the dozen shots fired almost simultaneously. The great
+surge of the mob forward. The quick order, and the rattle of guns, as
+they rose to the shoulder. Another order, and the sheet of flame. The
+great surge of the mob 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 of
+wages, and were trying to settle it. At first blush capital had the
+best of it. “Only a few strikers and militia-men killed,” was the
+apparent result of that struggle. The scabs were in safety inside the
+station, and trains were already making up, preparatory to a resumption
+of traffic. But capital did not go scot-free. “Firing in the streets of
+New York,” was the word sent out all over the world, and on every
+exchange in the country, stocks fell. Capital paid twenty-five million
+dollars that day, for those few ounces of lead. Such a method of
+settlement seems rather crude and costly, for the last decade of the
+nineteenth century.
+
+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 on
+fences, lamp-posts, or barrels, wherever they could get an audience,
+and shrieked out invectives against police, troops, government, and
+property; and waved red flags. Orders went out to embody more
+regiments. Timid people retired indoors, and bolted their shutters. The
+streets became deserted, except where they were filled by groups of
+angry men listening to angrier speakers. It was not a calm night in New
+York.
+
+Yet in reality, the condition was less serious, for representatives of
+Capital, Labor, and Government were in consultation. Inside the
+station, in the Directors’ room of the railroad, its officials, a
+committee of the strikers, and an officer in fatigue uniform, with a
+face to match, were seated in great leather-covered chairs, around a
+large table. When they had first gathered, there had been dark brows,
+and every sentence had been like the blow of flint on steel. At one
+moment all but the officer had risen from their seats, and the meeting
+had seemed ended. But the officer had said something quietly, and once
+more they had seated themselves. Far into the night they sat, while
+mobs yelled, and sentries marched their beats. When the gathering
+ended, the scowls were gone. Civil partings were exchanged, and the
+committee and the officer passed out together.
+
+“That Stirling is a gritty bull-dog for holding on, isn’t he?” said one
+of 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
+be the 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
+hope you’ll remember it when you’re governor and we want things done.”
+
+“Gentlemen,” said Peter, “for every surrender of opinion you and the
+railroad officials have made to-night, I thank you. But you should have
+compromised twelve hours sooner.”
+
+“So as you should not have had to make yourself unpopular?” asked
+Kurfeldt. “You needn’t be afraid. You’ve done your best for us. Now
+we’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 all
+was as it should be. Then spreading his blanket in the passenger
+waiting-room, he fell asleep, not with a very happy look on the grave
+face.
+
+But the morning-papers announced that the strike was ended by a
+compromise, and New York and the country breathed easier.
+
+Peter did not get much sleep, for he was barely dreaming of—of a
+striker, who had destroyed his peace, by striking him in the heart with
+a 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.”
+In ten 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,
+we shall have it.” Then he smiled. “You’ll have to have an
+understanding hereafter, before you make a man colonel, that he shan’t
+run for office.”
+
+“What are we in for now?”
+
+“I can’t say. To-day’s the time of the parade and meeting in City Hall
+Park.”
+
+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 the
+bulletin boards of the newspapers, which were chiefly devoted to the
+doings about the Central Station, could be taken as such. Except for
+this, the regiment was the only indication that the universal peace had
+not come, and even this looked peaceful, as soon as it had settled down
+to hot coffee, bread and raw ham.
+
+In the park, however, was a suggestive sight. For not merely were all
+the benches filled with sleeping men, but the steps of the City Hall,
+the grass, and even the hard asphalt pavement were besprinkled with a
+dirty, ragged, hungry-looking lot of men, unlike those usually seen in
+the streets of New York. When the regiment marched into the square, a
+few of the stragglers rose from their recumbent attitudes, and looked
+at it, without much love in their faces. As the regiment breakfasted,
+more and more rose from their hard beds to their harder lives. They
+moved about restlessly, as if waiting for something. Some gathered in
+little groups and listened to men who talked and shrieked far louder
+than was necessary in order that their listeners should hear. Some came
+to the edge of the street and cursed and vituperated the breakfasting
+regiment. Some sat on the ground and ate food which they produced from
+their pockets 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
+few scuffles occurred in attempts to get some. That crowd represented
+the slag and scum of the boiling pot of nineteenth-century conditions.
+And as the flotsam on a river always centres at its eddies, so these
+had drifted, from the country, and from the slums, to the centre of the
+whirlpool of American life. Here they were waiting. Waiting for what?
+The future only would show. But each moment is a future, till it
+becomes the present.
+
+While the regiment still breakfasted it became conscious of a
+monotonous sound, growing steadily in volume. Then came the tap of the
+drum, and the 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 ten minutes?”
+
+The next moment the head of another regiment swung from Chambers Street
+into the square. It was greeted by hisses and groans from the denizens
+of the park, but this lack of politeness was more than atoned for, by
+the order: “Present arms,” passed down the immovable line awaiting it.
+After a return salute the commanding officers advanced and once more
+saluted.
+
+“In obedience to orders from headquarters, I have the honor to report
+my regiment to you, Colonel Stirling, and await your orders,” said the
+officer 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, as
+they sliced meat off the same ham-bones and emptied the same cracker
+boxes. What was more, each was respecting and liking the other. One
+touch of danger is almost as efficacious as one touch of nature. It is
+not 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 their
+grub, much as if it was a legal rather than an illegal trouble to be
+dealt with.
+
+“Where were you?” asked Peter.
+
+“At the Sixty-third Street terminals,” said Ray. “We didn’t have any
+fun at all. As quiet as a cow. You always were lucky! Excuse me, Peter,
+I oughtn’t to have said it,” Ray continued, seeing Peter’s face. “It’s
+this 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 intention
+to protect the substitutes. They thought I was too much of a politician
+to dare to do it. So I swore, thinking they would understand that as
+they would not anything else. I hoped it might save actual firing. But
+they 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
+to freedom. Freedom of life, of property, of food, of water, of air, of
+land. Destroy the money power!”
+
+“If we ever get to the freedom he wants,” said Ray, “we’ll utilize that
+chap 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,” said
+Peter, “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’t
+make 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 common
+sense, and therefore capable of thinking they can do anything, just as
+John 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 are
+comparatively few here, or else to go back to our armories, and let
+them have their meeting in peace. Our being here will only excite
+them.”
+
+“Hear that,” said Ray, as the crowd gave a great roar as another
+regiment came up Park Place, across the Park and spread out so as to
+cover Broadway.
+
+As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business. But many
+seemed to have none, and drifted into the Park. Some idlers came from
+curiosity, but most seemed to have some purpose other than the mere
+spectacle. From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twenty
+streets. As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking up
+positions, lay at ease. There was something terrible about the quiet
+way in which both crowd and troops increased. The mercury was not high,
+but it promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the car lines took
+off their cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The exchanges and
+the banks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their
+example. New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy
+faced each other.
+
+While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been
+yelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted
+himself, and limped towards Peter.
+
+“Mr. Stirling,” he shouted, “come out from those murderers. I want to
+tell 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 want
+yours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here, quick. Hide
+yourself before the people rise in their might.”
+
+Peter smiled sadly. “How are Mrs. Podds and the children?” he asked
+kindly.
+
+“What is a family at such a moment?” shrieked Podds.
+
+“The world is my family. I love the whole world, and I’m going to
+revolutionize it. I’m going to give every man his rights. The gutters
+shall reek with blood, and every plutocrat’s castle shall be levelled
+to the 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 away
+from here. Get away before it’s too late.”
+
+Just then the sound of a horse’s feet was heard, and a staff officer
+came cantering from a side street into the square. He saluted Peter and
+said, “Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamation
+forbidding the meeting and parade. General Canfield orders you to clear
+the Park, by pushing the mob towards Broadway. The regiments have been
+drawn 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.
+We claim 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 thousand
+men.
+
+“Brethren,” yelled Podds, “the foot of the tyrant is on us. Rise. Rise
+in your might.” Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of bayonets
+close upon him. He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing his
+arms about Peter’s neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his free
+arm.
+
+“Don’t push me off,” shrieked Podds in his ear, “it’s coming,” and he
+clung with desperate energy to Peter.
+
+Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and the
+whole figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to send
+Podds flying across the street.
+
+But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then the
+earth shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers,
+rose in the air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street. Into that
+chasm a moment later, stones, rails, anarchists, and soldiers fell,
+leaving nothing but a thick cloud of overhanging dust. Underneath that
+great dun pall lay soldier and anarchist, side by side, at last at
+peace. The one died for his duty, the other died for his idea. The
+world was 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 ballad
+entitled “Happiness.” She had sung it several times, and with gusto.
+
+The next morning she read the political part of the papers. “I don’t
+see anything to have taken him back,” she said “but I am really glad,
+for he was getting hard to manage. I couldn’t send him away, but now I
+hope he’ll stay there.” Then Leonore fluttered all day, in the true
+Newport style, 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 was
+summoned back to New York last night, by business, quite unexpectedly,
+and Mr. Dupont telegraphed me this afternoon that he was detained
+there.”
+
+“It’s curious,” said Dorothy. “Mr. Rivington and my brother came on
+Tuesday expecting to stay for a week, but they had special delivery
+letters yesterday, and both started for New York. They would not tell
+me what it was.”
+
+“Mr. Stirling received a special delivery, too,” said Leonore, “and
+started at once. And he wouldn’t tell.”
+
+“How extraordinary!” said the hostess. “There must be something very
+good at the roof-gardens.”
+
+“It has something to do with headwears,” said Leonore, not hiding her
+light 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 for
+headwear too.”
+
+“They do that already,” said a man, “but unlike women, they do it on
+the inside, 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
+their carriage, Leonore said, “What a dull dinner it was?”
+
+“Oh, Leonore,” cried Dorothy, “don’t talk about dinners. I’ve kept up
+till now, bu—” and Dorothy’s sentence melted into a sob.
+
+“Is it home, Mrs. Rivington?” asked the tiger, sublimely unconscious,
+as a 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 anarchist
+talk 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
+her arm around Dorothy, and trying blindly to comfort her.
+
+“Is it a message, Mrs. Rivington?” asked the man, opening the
+carriage-door.
+
+“Ask for Mr. Melton, or Mr. Duer, and say Mrs. Rivington wishes to see
+one of them.” Dorothy dried her eyes, and braced up. Before Leonore had
+time to demand an explanation, Peter’s gentlemanly scoundrel was at the
+door.
+
+“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 been
+called 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 kissed
+each other in parting, not with the peck which women so often give each
+other, but with a true kiss. And when Leonore, in crossing the porch,
+encountered the mastiff which Peter had given her, she stopped and
+kissed him too, very tenderly. What is more, she brought him inside,
+which was against the rules, and put him down before the fire. Then she
+told the footman to bring her the evening-papers, and sitting down on
+the rug by Bêtise, proceeded to search them, not now for the political
+outlook, but for the labor troubles. Leonore suddenly awoke to the fact
+that there were such things as commercial depressions and unemployed.
+She read it all with the utmost care. She read the outpourings of the
+Anarchists, in a combination of indignation, amazement and fear, “I
+never dreamed there could be such fearful wretches!” she said. There
+was one man—a fellow named Podds—whom the paper reported as shrieking
+in Union 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 would
+blow you in pieces!” Thereby was she proving herself not unlike Podds.
+All humanity have something of the Anarchist in them. Then Leonore
+turned to the mastiff and told him some things. Of how bad the strikers
+were, and how terrible were the Anarchists. “Yes, dear,” she said, “I
+wish 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 the
+street, compelling Leonore to assume a more proper attitude.
+
+“Hello, Dot!” said Watts. “Still up? Vaughan and I are going to have a
+game of billiards. Won’t you score for us?”
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore.
+
+“Bad news from New York, isn’t it?” said Vaughan, nonchalantly, as he
+stood back after his first play.
+
+Leonore saw her father make a grimace at Vaughan, which Vaughan did not
+see. 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’s
+credit.
+
+“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 was
+killed.”
+
+Leonore thought to herself: “You are as bad every bit as Podds!” Aloud
+she 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 game
+out with that position. I think, papa, that I’ll go to bed. I find I’m
+a little tired. Good-night, Mr. Vaughan.” Leonore went upstairs,
+slowly, deep in thought. She did not ring for her maid. On the contrary
+she lay down on her bed in her dinner-gown, to its everlasting
+detriment. “I know he isn’t hurt,” she said, “because I should feel it.
+But I wish the telegram had said.” She hardly believed herself,
+apparently, for she buried her head in the pillow, and began to sob
+quietly. “If I only had said 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 till
+eight o’clock.”
+
+Leonore took the newspaper silently and went to the library. Then she
+opened 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, and
+because he had my luck piece.” Then she stepped out of one of the
+windows, 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
+recorded the end of the strike. Leonore even laughed over that big, big
+D. “I can’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
+hinted at afternoon tea, as she had a poor unfortunate who suggested
+tennis earlier 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 his
+voice.
+
+Leonore was raising a spoon to her mouth, but suddenly her hand
+trembled a little. After a glance at her father and mother, she pushed
+her tea-cup into the centre of the table as if she had finished it,
+though it had just been poured. Then she turned and began to talk and
+laugh with 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 he
+went 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 you
+to-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 I
+suffer 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
+a bomb.”
+
+“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, and
+went towards the door.
+
+“Leonore,” cried her mother, “stay here with me, dear.”
+
+“I’d rather be alone,” said Leonore, quietly. She went upstairs to her
+room 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 before her at nothing, as Peter had so often done. Is it
+harder to lose out of life the man or woman whom one loves, or to see
+him or her happy in the love of another. Is the hopelessness of the
+impossible less or greater than 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 the
+library, 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
+all over the city.”
+
+“I must go to New York,” said Leonore. “If you won’t take me, I’ll go
+with madame.”
+
+“Not for a moment—” began Watts.
+
+“Papa,” cried Leonore, “don’t you see it’s killing me? I can’t bear
+it—” and Leonore stopped.
+
+“Yes, Watts, we must,” said Mrs. D’Alloi.
+
+Two hours later they were all three rolling towards New York. It was a
+five hours’ ride, but Leonore sat the whole distance without speaking,
+or showing any consciousness of her surroundings. For every turn of
+those wheels seemed to fall into a rhythmic repetition of: “If I had
+only said ‘good-bye.’”
+
+The train was late in arriving, and Watts tried to induce Leonore to go
+to a hotel for the night. She only said “No. Take me to him,” but it
+was in a voice which Watts could not disregard. So after a few
+questions at the terminal, which produced no satisfactory information,
+Watts told the cabman to drive to the City Hall Park.
+
+They did not reach it, however, for at the corner of Centre Street and
+Chambers, 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 by
+Broadway.”
+
+“Why?” asked Watts.
+
+“The street is impassable.”
+
+Watts got out, and held a whispered dialogue with the sentry. This
+resulted in the summoning of the officer of the watch. In the mean time
+Leonore descended and joined them. Watts turned and said to her: “The
+sentry says he’s here.”
+
+Presently an officer came up.
+
+“An’ what do the likes av yez want at this time av night?” he inquired
+crossly. “Go away wid yez.”
+
+“Oh, Captain Moriarty,” said Leonore, “won’t you let me see him? I’m
+Miss D’Alloi.”
+
+“Shure,” said Dennis, “yez oughtn’t to be afther disturbin’ him. It’s
+two nights he’s had no sleep.”
+
+Leonore suddenly put her hand on Dennis’s arm. “He’s not killed?” she
+whispered, 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 av
+a 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 eye
+if he was dead?”
+
+Leonore put her head on Dennis’s shoulder, and began to sob softly. For
+a moment Dennis looked aghast at the results of his speech, but
+suddenly his face changed. “Shure,” he whispered, “we all love him just
+like that, an that’s why the Blessed Virgin saved him for us.”
+
+Then Leonore, with tears in her eyes, said, “I felt it,” in the most
+joyful 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 promise
+you.”
+
+“That yez shall,” said Dennis. “Will yez take my arm?” The four passed
+within the lines. “Step careful,” he continued. “There’s pavin’ stones,
+and rails, and plate-glass everywheres. It looks like there’d been a
+primary itself.”
+
+All thought that was the best of jokes and laughed. They passed round a
+great chasm in the street and sidewalk. Then they came to long rows of
+bodies stretched on the grass, or rather what was left of the grass, in
+the Park. Leonore shuddered. “Are they all dead?” she whispered. “Dead!
+Shurely not. It’s the regiment sleepin’,” she was told. They passed
+between these rows for a little distance. “This is him,” said Dennis,
+“sleepin’ like a babby.” Dennis turned his back and began to describe
+the 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
+down on the ground beside him, regardless of the proprieties or the
+damp. She listened to hear if he was breathing, and when she found that
+he actually was, her face had on it a little thanksgiving proclamation
+of its own. Then with the prettiest of motherly manners, she softly
+pulled the blanket up and tucked it in about his arms. Then she looked
+to see if there was not something else to do. But there was nothing. So
+she made more. “The poor dear oughtn’t to sleep without something on
+his head. He’ll take cold.” She took her handkerchief and tried to fix
+it so that it should protect Peter’s head. She tried four different
+ways, any one of which would have served; but each time she thought of
+a better way, and had to try once more. She probably would have thought
+of a fifth, if Peter had not suddenly opened his eyes.
+
+“Oh!” said Leonore, “what a shame? I’ve waked you up. And just as I had
+fixed it right.”
+
+Peter studied the situation calmly, without moving a muscle. He looked
+at the kneeling figure for some time. Then he looked up at the arc
+light a little distance away. Then he looked at the City Hall clock.
+Then his eyes came back to Leonore. “Peter,” he said finally, “this is
+getting to be a monomania. You must stop it.”
+
+“What?” said Leonore, laughing at his manner as if it was intended as a
+joke.
+
+Peter put out his hand and touched Leonore’s dress. Then he rose
+quickly to his feet. “What is the matter?” he asked.
+
+“Hello,” cried Watts. “Have you come to? Well. Here we are, you see.
+All the 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. “Such
+friends 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 want
+of sleep, so the best thing we can do, since we needn’t hunt for you in
+scraps, is to go to the nearest hotel. Where is that?”
+
+“You’ll have to go uptown,” said Peter. “Nothing down here is open at
+this time.”
+
+“I’m not sleepy,” said Leonore, “but I am so hungry!”
+
+“Serves you right for eating no din—” Watts started to say, but Leonore
+interjected, in an unusually loud voice. “Can’t you get us something?”
+
+“Nothing; that will do for you, I’m afraid,” said Peter. “I had Dennett
+send up one of his coffee-boilers so that the men should have hot
+coffee through the night, and there’s a sausage-roll man close to him
+who’s doing 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 the
+sidewalk, and three Newport swells, and the Democratic nominee for
+governor sat upon it, with their feet in the gutter, and drank
+half-bean coffee and ate hot sausage rolls, made all the hotter by the
+undue amount of mustard which the cook would put in. What is worse,
+they enjoyed it as much as if it was the finest of dinners. Would not
+society have been scandalized had it known of their doings?
+
+How true it is that happiness is in a mood rather than in a moment. How
+eagerly we prepare for and pursue the fickle sprite, only to find our
+preparations 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 of
+the four. The coffee might have been all beans, and yet it would have
+been better than the best served in Viennese cafés. The rolls might
+have had even a more weepy amount of mustard, and yet the burning and
+the tears would only have been the more of a joke. The sun came up, as
+they ate, talked and laughed, touching everything about them with gold,
+but it 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 his
+friends to their cab. It had all been arranged that they were to go to
+Peter’s quarters, and get some sleep. These were less than eight blocks
+away, but the parting was very terrific! However, it had to be done,
+and so it was gone through with. Hard as it was, Peter had presence of
+mind enough to say, through the carriage window.
+
+“You had better take my room, Miss D’Alloi, for the spare room is the
+largest. I give you the absolute freedom of it, minus the gold-box. Use
+anything you find.”
+
+Then Peter went back to the chaotic street and the now breakfasting
+regiment, feeling that strikes, anarchists, and dynamite were only
+minor circumstances in life.
+
+About noon Leonore came back to life, and succeeded in making a very
+bewitching toilet despite the absence of her maid. Whether she peeped
+into 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 into
+some of the window flowers, she started to go to the bookshelves. As
+she walked her foot struck something which rang with a metallic sound,
+as it moved on the wood floor. The next moment, a man started out of a
+deep chair.
+
+“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 the
+hall, as if she were planning for a sudden flight.
+
+“The regiment was relieved by another from Albany this morning. So I
+came up here for a little sleep.”
+
+“What a shame that I should have kept you out of your room,” said
+Leonore, still eyeing the door. From Leonore’s appearance, one would
+have supposed that she had purloined something of value from his
+quarters, and was meditating a sudden dash of escape with it.
+
+“I don’t look at it in that light,” said Peter. “But since you’ve
+finished 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.
+Then Leonore’s anxious look left her, and she no longer looked at the
+door. One would almost have inferred that Leonore was afraid of Peter,
+but that is absurd, since they were such good friends, since Leonore
+had come all the way from Newport to see him, and since Leonore had
+decided that Peter must do as she pleased.
+
+Yet, curiously enough, when Peter returned in about twenty minutes, the
+same look came into Leonore’s face.
+
+“We shall have something to eat in ten minutes,” Peter said, “for I
+hear your father and mother moving.”
+
+Leonore looked towards the door. She did not intend that Peter should
+see her do it, but he did.
+
+“Now what shall we do or talk about?” he said. “You know I am host and
+mustn’t do anything my guests don’t wish.”
+
+Peter said this in the most matter-of-fact way, but Leonore, after a
+look 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,” as
+well as he was able, for, despite his intentions, his mind would wander
+as 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 inflammatory
+rheumatism by the exposure, and was discharged. He suffered fearful
+pain, and saw his family suffer for bread. He grew bitter, and took up
+with these wild theories, not having enough original brain force, or
+education, 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 to
+despise me and ordered me out of his rooms. I had once done him a
+service, and felt angered at what I thought ungrateful conduct, so I
+made no attempt to keep up the friendliness. He knew yesterday that
+dynamite was in the hands of some of those men, and tried to warn me
+away. When I refused to go, he threw himself upon me, to protect me
+from the 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 driven
+off 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 a
+couple 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 door
+again, 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 you
+too.” That was the way she paid Peter for his forbearance.
+
+Then they all went up on the roof, where in one corner there were pots
+of flowers about a little table, over which was spread an awning. Over
+that table, too, Jenifer had spread himself. How good that breakfast
+was! What a glorious September day it was! How beautiful the view of
+the city and the bay was! It was all so thoroughly satisfactory, that
+the three nearly missed the “limited.” Of course Peter went to the
+station with them, and, short as was the time, he succeeded in
+obtaining for one of the party, “all the comic papers,” “the latest
+novel,” a small basket of fruit, and a bunch of flowers, not one of
+which, with the exception of the latter, the real object of these
+attentions wanted in the least.
+
+Just here it is of value to record an interesting scientific discovery
+of Leonore’s, because women so rarely have made them. It was, that the
+distance from New York to Newport is very much less than the distance
+from Newport to New York.
+
+Curiously enough, two days later, his journey seemed to Peter the
+longest railroad ride he had ever taken. “His friend” did not meet him
+this time. His friend felt that her trip to New York must be offset
+before she could resume her proper self-respect. “He was very nice,”
+she had said, in monologue, “about putting the trip down to friendship.
+And he was very nice that morning in his study. But I think his very
+niceness is suspicious, and so I must be hard on him!” A woman’s
+reasoning is apt to seem defective, yet sometimes it solves problems
+not otherwise answerable.
+
+Leonore found her “hard” policy harder than she thought for. She told
+Peter the first evening that she was going to a card-party. “I can’t
+take 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 the
+flowers, she remarked to some one who stood and watched her, “Miss
+Winthrop is engaged. How foolish of a girl in her first season! Before
+she’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 case
+her speech was too much for one dose, but when she glanced at him, he
+was smiling happily.
+
+“What is it?” asked Leonore, disapprovingly.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” said Peter. “I wasn’t listening. Did you say Miss
+Winthrop 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
+I may.”
+
+In truth, Peter was not worrying any longer over what Leonore said or
+did to him. He was merely enjoying her companionship. He was at once
+absolutely happy, and absolutely miserable. Happy in his hope.
+Miserable in its non-certainty. To make a paradox, he was confident
+that she loved him, yet he was not sure. A man will be absolutely
+confident that a certain horse will win a race, or he will be certain
+that a profit will accrue from a given business transaction. Yet, until
+the horse has won, or the profit is actually made, he is not assured.
+So it was with Peter. He thought that he had but to speak, yet dared
+not do it. The present was so certain, and the future might have such
+agonies. So for two days he merely followed Leonore about, enjoying her
+pretty ways and hardly heeding her snubs and petulance. He was very
+silent, and often abstracted, but his silence and abstraction brought
+no relief to Leonore, and only frightened her the more, for he hardly
+let her out of his sight, and the silent devotion and tenderness were
+so obvious that Leonore 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 look in his face which really said the words: “My
+darling.” Leonore thought this was a mean trick, of apparently
+sustaining the conventions of society, while in reality outraging them
+horribly, but she was helpless to better his conduct. Twice unwittingly
+he even called her “Leonore” (as he had to himself for two months),
+thereby terribly disconcerting the owner of that name. She wanted to
+catch him up and snub him each time, but she was losing her courage.
+She knew that she was walking on a mine, and could not tell what chance
+word or deed of hers would bring an explosion. “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 equipped
+as the law directs” for a cotillion. In the large hallway, he found
+Leonore, likewise in gala dress, resting her hand on the tall mantel of
+the hall, and looking down at the fire. Peter stopped on the landing to
+enjoy that pose. He went over every detail with deliberation. But girl,
+gown, and things in general, were much too tempting to make this
+distant glimpse over lengthy. So he descended to get a closer view. The
+pose said nothing, and Peter strolled to the fire, and did likewise.
+But if he 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
+felt uneasy under that silent gaze.
+
+“It’s only a little past ten,” said Peter, who was quite satisfied with
+the _status quo_.
+
+Then silence came again. After this had held for a few moments, the
+pose said: “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
+the Purdies’ dressing-rooms, as standing here. Suppose we go to the
+library and 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
+me tell 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 have
+had 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 in
+adding, “I want you to give me—a kiss.”
+
+“Peter!” said Leonore, drawing back grieved and indignant. “I didn’t
+think 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 obviously
+struggled to find words to say what he did mean as he had never
+struggled over the knottiest of legal points, or the hardest of
+wrestling matches. “If I thought you were a girl who would kiss a man
+for the asking, I should not care for a kiss from you.” Peter strayed
+away from the fire uneasily. “But I know you are not.” Peter gazed
+wildly round, as if the furnishings, of the hall might suggest the
+words for which he was blindly groping. But they didn’t, and after one
+or two half-begun sentences, he continued: “I haven’t watched you, and
+dreamed about you, and loved you, for all this time, without learning
+what you are.” Peter roamed about the great hall restlessly. “I know
+that your lips will never give what your heart doesn’t.” Then his face
+took a despairing look, and he continued quite rapidly: “I ask without
+much hope. 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
+have deceived you. I probably am what women say of me. But if I’ve been
+otherwise with you it is because you are different from any other woman
+in the world.” Here the sudden flow of words ended, and Peter paced up
+and down, trying to find what to say. If any one had seen Peter as he
+paced, without his present environment, he would have thought him a man
+meditating suicide. Suddenly his voice and face became less wild, and
+he said tenderly: “There is no use in my telling you how I love you.
+You know it now, or will never learn it from anything I can say.” Peter
+strode back to the fire. “It is my love which asks for a kiss. And I
+want 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 the
+whole of this monologue. But she must have seen something of Peter’s
+uneasy wanderings about the room, for she had said to herself: “Poor
+dear! He must be fearfully in earnest, I never knew him so restless. He
+prowls 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
+the words, “Give me what I ask, my darling.”
+
+“Yes,” said Leonore softly. “On your birthday.” Then Leonore shrank
+back a little, as if afraid that her gift would be sought sooner. No
+young girl, 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
+previous training to make them an unalloyed pleasure. The girl who is
+over-ready for her lover’s first kiss, has tasted the forbidden fruit
+already, or has waited over-long for it.
+
+Peter saw the little shrinking and understood it. What was more, he
+heeded it as many men would not have done. Perhaps there was something
+selfish in his self-denial, for the purity and girlishness which it
+indicated were very dear to him, and he hated to lessen them by
+anything he did. He stood quietly by her, and merely said, “I needn’t
+tell you how happy I am!”
+
+Leonore looked up into Peter’s face. If Leonore had seen there any lack
+of desire to take her in his arms and kiss her, she would never have
+forgiven him. But since his face showed beyond doubt that he was
+longing to 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’s confidingly, and said, “So am I.” It means a good deal when a
+girl does not wish to run away from her lover the moment after she has
+confessed her love.
+
+So they stood for some time, Leonore looking down into the fire, and
+Peter 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
+me what 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,
+and I want to see what my dream is like in reality.”
+
+“That’s a very funny request,” said Leonore perversely. “You ought to
+have 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 a
+thoroughly satisfying look at them.”
+
+“You look at them every time I look at you,” said Leonore. “Sometimes
+it was very embarrassing. Just supposing that I showed them to you now,
+and that you find they aren’t what you like?”
+
+“I never waste time discussing impossibilities,” said Peter. “Are you
+going 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, still
+perversely, though smiling a look of contentment down into the fire.
+
+Peter said nothing for a moment, wishing to give Leonore’s conscience a
+chance to begin to prick. Then be ended the silence by saying: “If I
+had anything that would give you pleasure, I wouldn’t make you ask for
+it twice.”
+
+“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 did
+not find that steady look altogether easy to bear, and yet was not
+willing to confess herself stared out of countenance, asked: “Do you
+like them?”
+
+“Yes,” said Peter.
+
+“Is that all you can say? Other people have said very complimentary
+things!” 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 your
+eyes, 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 that Peter still held the hand given him some time before. To use
+a poker term, Peter was standing “pat,” and wished no change. Once or
+twice the little hand had hinted that it had been held long enough, but
+Peter did not think so, and the hand had concluded that it was safest
+to let well alone. If it was too cruel It might rouse the sleeping lion
+which the owner of that hand knew to exist behind that firm, quiet
+face.
+
+Presently Peter put his unoccupied hand in his breast-pocket, and
+produced a small sachet. “I did something twice,” he said, “that I have
+felt very meanly about at times. Perhaps you’ll forgive me now?” He
+took from the sachet, a glove, and a small pocket-handkerchief, and
+without a word 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 your
+second 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 was
+cross-examining them.
+
+“I knew you had them all the time,” said Leonore laughing. “It was
+dreadfully funny to see you pretend to hunt, when the guilty look on
+your own face was enough to show you had them. That’s why I was so
+determined 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
+in your room?” Leonore suddenly looked as worried as had Peter the
+moment before.
+
+Peter put his hand in the sachet, and produced a bent coin. “Look at
+that,” he said.
+
+“Why, it’s my luck-piece!” exclaimed Leonore. “And you’ve spoiled that
+too. What a careless boy!”
+
+“No,” said Peter. “They are not spoiled to me. Do you know what cut
+these 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 the
+news of the shooting came, because I knew you had it. I was so glad you
+had 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 to
+have my luck.”
+
+“I shall have it just the same even after I’ve given it to you,” said
+Peter.
+
+“How?”
+
+“I’m going to have it made into a plain gold ring,” replied Peter, “and
+when 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 talking
+about five years!”
+
+“Oh! Really, Peter,” Leonore hastened to explain, in an anxious way, as
+if Peter had charged her with murder or some other heinous crime. “I
+did think so. I didn’t find it out till—till that night. Really! Won’t
+you believe 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 prick
+of conscience. She said: “Well—Peter—I mean—that is—at least, I did
+sometimes think before then—that when I married, I’d marry you—but I
+didn’t think it would come so soon. Did you? I thought we’d wait. It
+would 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, which
+held hers.
+
+Peter enjoyed this exquisite pleasure in silence for a time, but the
+enjoyment 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 say
+it 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 absence
+of words. How long the absence would have continued is a debatable
+point. 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 stairs
+hurriedly.
+
+“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 he
+forgot the cigar and Watts. He went to his room, and thought of—of his
+birthday gift.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+“GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY.”
+
+
+If Peter had roamed about the hall that evening, he was still more
+restless the next morning. He was down early, though for no apparent
+reason, 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’s seeing her was a question which puzzled him not a little, when,
+by a chance glance out of a window, he saw that personage clipping
+roses off the bushes. He did not have time to spare, however, to reason
+out an explanation. He merely stopped roaming, and went out to—to the
+roses.
+
+“Good-morning,” said Leonore pleasantly, though not looking at Peter,
+as she 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 its
+enormous weight. “Let me help you carry it,” he said.
+
+“Very well,” said Leonore. “But there’s no occasion to carry my hand
+too. 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 hold
+something.”
+
+“Very well,” said Peter meekly.
+
+“Do you know,” said Leonore, as she snipped, and dropped roses into the
+basket, “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
+be gained by so doing. To that extent I am not at all obstinate.”
+
+“Suppose,” said Leonore, “that you go and cut the roses on those
+furthest 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’t
+have any more roses for a week. You’ve cut twice as many roses as you
+usually do.”
+
+“Then I’ll go in and arrange them. I wish you would give Bêtise a run
+across 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
+arranging the 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. You
+can’t do less than pin it in my button-hole, considering that it is my
+birthday.”
+
+“If I have a duty to do, I always get through with it at once,” said
+Leonore. She picked out a rose, arranged the leaves as only womankind
+can, and, turning to Peter, pinned it in his button-hole. But when she
+went to take her hands away, she found them held against the spot so
+firmly that she could feel the heart-beats underneath.
+
+“Oh, please,” was all she said, appealingly, while Peter’s rose seemed
+to 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 I
+dreamed 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
+so long!”
+
+Then Leonore, with very red cheeks, and a very timid manner, held her
+lips 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 it
+when you did get it.”
+
+“I’m sorry I did it so badly,” said Peter, contritely. “I always was
+slow! 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 take
+so long! I shan’t be able to give you more than one a day. It takes so
+much 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 not
+profitable to write what they said. It is idle to write of the week
+that followed. To all others what they said and did could only be the
+sayings and doings of two very intolerable people. But to them it was
+what 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
+lingered brought letter and telegraphic appeals to him from the
+party-leaders, over which Peter only laughed, and which he not
+infrequently failed even to answer. But Mr. Pell told Leonore something
+one day which made her say 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 forgive
+myself if I defeat you.”
+
+“But a whole week,” groaned Peter.
+
+“We shall break up here on the eighteenth, and of course you would have
+to 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
+I shall lose before I go.”
+
+“Dear me, Peter,” sighed Leonore, “you oughtn’t to ask them, since it’s
+for your own sake. I can’t keep you contented. You do nothing but
+encroach.”
+
+“I should get them if I was here,” said Peter, “And one a day is little
+enough! I think, if I oblige you by going away, I shouldn’t be made to
+suffer 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 just as hard for me.”
+
+So Peter buckled on his armor and descended into the arena. Whether he
+spoke well or ill, we leave it to those to say who care to turn back to
+the files of the papers of that campaign. Perhaps, however, it may be
+well to add that an entirely unbiassed person, after reading his
+opening speeches, delivered in the Cooper Union and the Metropolitan
+Opera House, in New York City, wrote him: “It is libel to call you
+Taciturnity. They are splendid! How I wish I could hear you—and see
+you, dear. I’m very lonely, and so are Bêtise and Tawney-eye. We do
+nothing but wander round the house all day, waiting for your letter,
+and the papers.” Three thousand people in the Brooklyn Rink were kept
+waiting for nearly ten minutes by Peter’s perusal of that letter. But
+when he had finished it, and had reached the Rink, he out-Stirlinged
+Stirling. A speaker nowadays speaks far more to the people absent than
+to the people present. Peter did this that evening. He spoke, it is
+true, to only one person that night, but it was the best speech of the
+campaign.
+
+A week later, Peter rang the bell of the Fifty-seventh Street house. He
+was 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
+went through the hall, but his hurry suddenly came to an end, when a
+young lady, carrying her napkin, added herself to the vista. “I knew it
+must be you,” she said, offering her hand very properly—(on what
+grounds Leonore surmised that a ring at the door-bell at nine o’clock
+meant Peter, history does not state)—“I wondered if you knew enough to
+come to breakfast. Mamma sent me out to say that you are to come right
+in.”
+
+Peter was rather longer over the handshake than convention demands, but
+he asked very politely, “How are your father and—?” But just then the
+footman closed a door behind him, and Peter’s interest in parents
+suddenly ceased.
+
+“How could you be so late?” said some one presently. “I watched out of
+the 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 this
+particular 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 after
+breakfast, so I dressed for it.”
+
+“Suppose the disagreeable girl should break her engagement—or declare
+there never was one?”
+
+“She won’t,” said Peter. “It may not have been put in the contract, but
+the common law settles it beyond question.”
+
+Leonore laughed a happy laugh. Then she asked: “For whom are those
+violets?”
+
+“I had to go to four places before I could get any at this season,”
+said Peter. “Ugly girls are just troublesome enough to have
+preferences. What will you give me for them?”
+
+“Some of them,” said Leonore, and obtained the bunch. Who dares to say
+after that that women have no business ability nor shrewdness? It is
+true that she kissed the fraction returned before putting it in Peter’s
+button-hole, which raises the question which had the best of the
+bargain.
+
+“I’m behind the curtain, so I can’t see anything,” said a voice from a
+doorway, “and therefore you needn’t jump; but I wish to inquire if you
+two want any breakfast?”
+
+A few days later Peter again went up the steps of the Fifty-seventh
+Street house. This practice was becoming habitual with Peter; in fact,
+so habitual that his cabby had said to him this very day, “The old
+place, sir?” Where Peter got the time it is difficult to understand,
+considering that his law practice was said to be large, and his
+political 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 a
+hall; from a hall he passed into a room; from a room he passed into a
+pair of arms.
+
+“Thank the Lord, you’ve come,” Watts remarked. “Leonore has up and down
+refused to make the tea till you arrived.”
+
+“I was at headquarters, and they would talk, talk, talk,” said Peter.
+“I get out of patience with them. One would think the destinies of the
+human race depended on this campaign!”
+
+“So the Growley should have his tea,” said a vision, now seated on the
+lounge at the tea-table. “Then Growley will feel better.”
+
+“I’m doing that already,” said Growley, sitting down on the
+delightfully short lounge—now such a fashionable and deservedly popular
+drawing-room article. “May I tell you how you can make me absolutely
+contented?”
+
+“I suppose that will mean some favor from me,” said Leonore. “I don’t
+like children who want to be bribed out of their bad temper. Nice
+little boys are never bad-tempered.”
+
+“I was only bad-tempered,” whispered Peter, “because I was kept from
+being with you. That’s cause enough to make the best-tempered man in
+the universe 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
+I thought 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 ten
+thousand, the ‘Tribune’ three thousand, and the ‘Voice of Labor’ ‘a
+handful.’ Oh! by the way, I brought you a ‘Voice’.” He handed Leonore a
+paper, which he took from his pocket.
+
+Now this was simply shameful of him! Peter had found, whenever the
+papers really abused him, that Leonore was doubly tender to him, the
+more, if he pretended that the attacks and abuse pained him. So he
+brought her regularly now that organ of the Labor party which was most
+vituperative of him, and looked sad over it just as long as was
+possible, 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 Peter
+coughed, suddenly looked sad, and continued—“the parts that do not
+speak 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-time
+straightforwardness.
+
+“After its saying that you had deceived your clients into settling
+those suits against Mr. Bohlmann, upon his promise to help you in
+politics, I don’t believe they can say anything worse,” said Leonore,
+putting two lumps of sugar (with her fingers) into a cup of tea. Then
+she stirred the tea, and tasted it. Then she touched the edge of the
+cup with her lips. “Is that right?” she asked, as she passed it to
+Peter.
+
+“Absolutely,” said Peter, looking the picture of bliss. But then he
+remembered that this wasn’t his rôle, so he looked sad and said: “That
+hurt me, I confess. It is so unkind.”
+
+“Poor dear,” whispered a voice. “You shall have an extra one to-day,
+and you 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
+indefinite thing. Perhaps Leonore merely meant another cup of tea.
+Whatever she meant, Peter never learned, for, barely had he tasted his
+tea when the girl 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 the
+suffering 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 the stain great enough, but you must make my poor child suffer for
+it?” She shoved Peter away, and clasped Leonore wildly in her arms.
+
+“Mamma!” cried Leonore. “Don’t talk so! Don’t! I know he didn’t! He
+couldn’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 so
+worded as to convey everything vile by innuendo and inference, yet in
+truth saying nothing.
+
+“Oh, my darling!” continued Mrs. D’Alloi. “You have a right to kill me
+for 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 only
+said “Watts?” but it was a cry for help and mercy as terrible as
+Leonore’s had been the moment before.
+
+“Of course, chum,” cried Watts. “Leonore, dear, it’s all right. You
+mustn’t mind. Peter’s a good man. Better than most of us. You mustn’t
+mind.”
+
+“Don’t,” cried Leonore. “Let me speak. Mamma, did Peter tell you it was
+so?”
+
+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 to
+see us? Oh! I see it all! This is what mamma knew. This is what pained
+you. 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 threw
+herself upon the rug weeping. It was fearful the way those sobs shook
+her.
+
+“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’s
+nothing to be done.”
+
+Peter leaned over and picked up the prostrate figure, and laid it
+tenderly on the sofa. Then he kissed the edge of her skirt. “Yes.
+That’s all I can do,” he said quietly. “Good-bye, sweetheart. I’ll go
+away.” He looked 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 down them, staggering a little as if dizzy, and tried to walk
+towards the Avenue. Presently he ran into something. “Clumsy,” said a
+lady’s voice. “I beg your pardon,” said Peter mechanically. A moment
+later he ran into something again. “I beg your pardon,” said Peter, and
+two well-dressed girls laughed to see a bareheaded man apologize to a
+lamp-post. He walked on once more, but had not gone ten paces when a
+hand was rested on his shoulder.
+
+“Now then, my beauty,” said a voice. “You want to get a cab, or I shall
+have 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.
+Then he gave Peter’s office address, and also got in. He was fined the
+next day for being off his beat “without adequate reasons,” but he
+never told where he had been. When they reached the building, he helped
+Peter into the 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 been told that Peter would dine up-town, had departed on his own
+leave of absence. The policeman had already gone through Peter’s
+pockets to get money for cabby, and now he repeated the operation,
+taking possession of Peter’s keys. He opened the door and, putting him
+into a deep chair in the study, laid the purse and keys on Peter’s
+desk, writing on a scrap of paper with much difficulty: “mr. stirling
+$2.50 I took to pay the carriage. John Motty policeman 22 precinct,” he
+laid it beside the keys and purse. Then he went back to his beat.
+
+And what was Peter doing all this time? Just what he now did. He tried
+to 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
+stumbling over the desk and chairs. As he stumbled he thought,
+sometimes to himself, sometimes aloud: “If I could only think! I can’t
+see. What was it Dr. Pilcere said about her eyes? Or was it my eyes?
+Did he give me some medicine? I can’t remember. And it wouldn’t help
+her. Why can’t I think? What is this pain in her head and eyes? Why
+does everything look so dark, except when those pains go through her
+head? They feel like flashes of lightning, and then I can see. Why
+can’t I think? Her eyes get in the way. He gave me something to put on
+them. But I can’t give it to 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 the petroleum! Be quick, boys. Can’t you hear my
+darling scream? It’s terrible. If I could only think. What was it the
+French doctor said to do, if it came back? No. We want to get some
+rails.” Peter dashed himself against a window. “Once more, men,
+together. Can’t you hear her scream? Break down the door!” Peter caught
+up and hurled a pot of flowers at the window, and the glass shattered
+and fell to the floor and street “If I could see. But it’s all dark.
+Are those lights? No. It’s too late. I can’t save her from it.”
+
+So he wandered physically and mentally. Wandered till sounds of martial
+music came up through the broken window. “Fall in,” cried Peter. “The
+Anarchists are after her. It’s dynamite, not lightning. Podds, Don’t
+let them hurt her. Save her. Oh! save her I Why can’t I get to her?
+Don’t try to hold me,” he cried, as he came in contact with a chair. He
+caught it up and hurled it across the room, so that it crashed into the
+picture-frames, smashing chair and frames into fragments. “I can’t be
+the 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 to see 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, will you stand by me, and help me to save her?”
+
+The band of music stopped. A moment’s silence fell and then up from the
+street, came the air of: “Marching through Georgia,” five thousand
+voices 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’t
+shoot them. No! I only gave the order. It hurt me, but I didn’t mean to
+hurt her. She’s all I have. Do you think I intended to kill her? No! No
+sacrifice would be too great. And you can talk to me of votes! Two
+hundred thousand votes! I did my best for her. I didn’t mean to hurt
+her. And I went to see the families. I went to see them all. If I only
+could think. But she is suffering too much. I can’t think as long as
+she lies on the rug, and trembles so. See the flashes of lightning pass
+through her head. Don’t bury your face in the rug. No wonder it’s all
+dark. Try to think, and then it will be all right.”
+
+Up from the street came the air of: “There were three crows,” and the
+words:
+
+“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’ve
+killed her. Now!” And another chair went flying across the room with
+such force, that the door to the hall flew off its hinges, and fell
+with a crash. “I’ve killed him” screamed Peter. “I’ve—No, I’ve killed
+my darling. All I have in the world!”
+
+And so he raved, and roamed, and stumbled, and fell; and rose, and
+roamed, and raved, and stumbled, and fell, while the great torchlight
+procession sang and cheered him from below.
+
+He was wildly fighting his pain still when two persons, who, after
+ringing and ringing, had finally been let in by Jenifer’s key, stood
+where 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 that
+wild-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 on
+the 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
+nothing but burn. It’s the petroleum!” He started forward, but a
+slender arm arrested his attempt to rise, and he sank back again as if
+it had some power over him.
+
+“Hyah, miss. Foh de lub ub heaben, put some ub dis yar on he eyes,”
+said Jenifer, who had appeared with a bottle, and was blubbering enough
+to supply a whole whaling fleet. “De doctor he done give dis yar foh de
+Aspic 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 the
+wash, began rubbing it softly over his eyes. It has always been a
+problem whether it was the remedy or the ends of those fingers which
+took those lines of suffering out of Peter’s face and made him sit
+quietly in that chain Those having little faith in medicines, and much
+faith in a woman’s hands, will opine the latter. Doctors will not.
+
+Sufficeth it to say, after ten minutes of this treatment, during which
+Peter’s face had slowly changed, first to a look of rest, and then to
+one which denoted eagerness, doubt and anxiety, but not pain, that he
+finally 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?” He
+opened his eyes wildly and would have risen, only Leonore was kneeling
+in front of the chair still.
+
+“Don’t excite yourself, Peter,” begged Leonore. “We’ll not talk of that
+now. 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 from
+Leonore’s look than by what she said.
+
+“Oh, Peter. I made papa bring me—because—Oh! I wanted to ask you to do
+something. For my sake!”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“I wanted to ask you,” sobbed Leonore, “to marry her. Then I shall
+always think you were what I—I—have been loving, and not—” Leonore laid
+her head down on his knee, and sobbed bitterly.
+
+Peter raised Leonore in his arms, and laid the little head on his
+shoulder.
+
+“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
+his mother.”
+
+“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
+in her eyes, as well as of doubt.
+
+“Because it was better at that time than the truth. But Watts will tell
+you 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 you
+believe me?”
+
+“I do,” cried Leonore. “I know you speak the truth. It’s in your face
+and voice.” And the next moment her arms were about Peter’s neck, and
+her 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 listeners
+only, and for quite a time in the last three hours Mr. Pierce had been
+compelled to be silent. But at last Mr. Pierce believed his moment had
+come. Mr. Pierce thought he had an audience, and a plastic audience at
+that. And these three circumstances in combination made Mr. Pierce
+fairly bubbling with words. No longer would he have to waste his
+precious wit and wisdom, _tête-à-tête,_ or on himself.
+
+At first blush Mr. Pierce seemed right in his conjecture. Seated—in
+truth, collapsed, on chairs and lounges, in a disarranged and
+untidy-looking drawing-room, were nearly twenty very tired-looking
+people. 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 the
+multitude of flowers and the gay dresses proved beyond question that
+something else had made the disorder of the room and had put that
+exhausted look upon the faces.
+
+Experienced observers would have understood it at a glimpse. From the
+work and fatigues of this world, people had gathered for a little
+enjoyment of what we call society. It is true that both the room and
+its occupants did not indicate that there had been much recreation.
+But, then, one can lay it down as an axiom that the people who work for
+pleasure are the hardest-working people in the world; and, as it is
+that for which society labors, this scene is but another proof that
+they get very much fatigued over their pursuit of happiness and
+enjoyment, considering that they hunt for it in packs, and entirely
+exclude the most delicious intoxicant known—usually called oxygen—from
+their list of supplies from the caterer. Certainly this particular
+group did look exhausted far beyond the speech-making point. But this,
+too, was a deception. These limp-looking individuals had only remained
+in this drawing-room for the sole purpose of “talking it over,” and Mr.
+Pierce had no walk-over before him.
+
+Mr. Pierce cleared his throat and remarked: “The development of
+marriage customs and ceremonies from primeval days is one of the most
+curious and—”
+
+“What a lovely wedding it has been!” said Dorothy, heaving a sigh of
+fatigue 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’s
+hard it would be to find the equal av that tureen!’ He was right! Its
+equal for ugliness is inconceivable.”
+
+“Yet the poor beggars spent eight hundred dollars on it” sighed
+Lispenard, wearily.
+
+“Relative to the subject—” said Mr. Pierce.
+
+“And Leonore told me,” said a charmingly-dressed girl, “that she liked
+it 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. We
+weren’t in it at all with the Micks. She has come out as much a
+worshipper 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 worship
+him.”
+
+“Well,” sighed Lispenard, “that’s the way things go in life. There’s
+that fellow gets worshipped by every one, from the Irish saloon-keeper
+up to Leonore. While look at me! I’m a clever, sweet-tempered, friendly
+sort of a chap, but nobody worships me. There isn’t any one who gives a
+second thought for yours truly. I seem good for nothing, except being
+best man to much luckier chaps. While look at Peter! He’s won the love
+of a lovely girl, who worships him to a degree simply inconceivable. I
+never saw such idealization.”
+
+“Then you haven’t been watching Peter,” said Mrs. D’Alloi, who, as a
+mother, had no intention of having it supposed that Leonore was not
+more loved 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 very
+proud 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 cast
+reflection on my statement.”
+
+“He’s the only one who dares,” said Ogden.
+
+“Well, I did. Leonore would never have cared for such a silent, serious
+man if I hadn’t shown her that other women did, and—”
+
+“Nonsense,” laughed Ogden. “It was Podds did it. Dynamite is famous for
+the uncertainty of the direction in which it will expend its force, and
+in this case it blew in a circle, and carried Leonore’s heart clear
+from Newport to Peter.”
+
+“Or, to put it scientifically,” said Lispenard, “along the line of
+least resistance.”
+
+“It seems to me that Peter was the one who did it,” said Le Grand. “But
+of course, as a bachelor, I can’t expect my opinion to be accepted.”
+
+“No,” said Dorothy. “He nearly spoiled it by cheapening himself. No
+girl will think a man is worth much who lets her tramp on him.”
+
+“Still,” said Lispenard, “few girls can resist the flattery of being
+treated by a man as if she is the only woman worth considering in the
+world, and Peter did that to an extent which was simply disgraceful. It
+was laughable to see the old hermit become social the moment she
+appeared, and to see how his eyes and attention followed her. And his
+learning to dance! That showed how things were.”
+
+“He began long before any of you dreamed,” said Mrs. D’Alloi. “Didn’t
+he, Watts?”
+
+“Undoubtedly,” laughed Watts. “And so did she. I really think Leonore
+did quite as much in her way, as Peter did. I never saw her treat any
+one quite as she behaved to Peter from the very first. I remember her
+coming in after her runaway, wild with enthusiasm over him, and saying
+to me ‘Oh, I’m so happy. I’ve got a new friend, and we are going to be
+such friends always!’”
+
+“That raises the same question,” laughed Ogden, “that the Irishman did
+about the street-fight, when he asked ‘Who throwed that last brick
+first?’”
+
+“Really, if it didn’t seem too absurd,” said Watts, “I should say they
+began it the moment they met.”
+
+“I don’t think that at all absurd,” said a gray-haired, refined looking
+woman who was the least collapsed of the group, or was perhaps so well
+bred as to conceal her feelings. “I myself think it began before they
+even 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 who
+imagines 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. He
+is not at all the kind of man who allows himself to be controlled by an
+ideal.”
+
+“I do not feel that I have ever known Peter. He does not let people
+perceive what is underneath,” said Miss De Voe. “But of one thing I am
+sure. Nearly everything he does is done from sentiment. At heart he is
+an idealist.”
+
+“Oh!” cried several.
+
+“That is a most singular statement,” said Mr. Pierce. “There is not a
+man I know who has less of the sentimental and ideal in him. An
+idealist is a man of dreams and romance. Peter is far too sensible a
+fellow to be that. There is nothing heroic or romantic in him.”
+
+“Nonsense, _Paternus_,” said Watts. “You don’t know anything about the
+old chap. You’ve only seen him as a cool clever lawyer. If your old
+definition of romance is right: that it is ‘Love, and the battle
+between good and evil,’ Peter has had more true romance than all the
+rest of us put together.”
+
+“No,” said Mr. Pierce. “You have merely seen Peter in love, and so you
+all think he is romantic. He isn’t. He is a cool man, who never acts
+without weighing his actions, and therein has lain the secret of his
+success. He calmly marks out his line of life, and, regardless of
+everything else, pursues it. He disregards everything not to his
+purpose, and utilizes everything that serves. I predicted great success
+for him many years ago when he was fresh from college, simply from a
+study of his mental characteristics and I have proved myself a prophet.
+He has never made a slip, legally, politically, or socially. To use a
+yachting expression, he has ‘made everything draw.’ An idealist, or a
+man 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 her
+collapse as if galvanized into life and speech by Mr. Pierce’s
+monologue. “You don’t understand Peter. He is a man of great feeling.
+Think of that speech of his about those children! Think of his conduct
+to his mother as long as she lived! Think of the goodness and kindness
+he showed to the poor! Why, Ray says he has refused case after case for
+want of time in recent years, while doing work for people in his ward
+which was worth nothing. If—”
+
+“They were worth votes,” interjected Mr. Pierce.
+
+“Look at his buying the Costell place in Westchester when Mr. Costell
+died so poor, and giving it to Mrs. Costell,” continued Dorothy,
+warming with her subject. “Look at his going to those strikers’
+families, and arranging to help them. Were those things done for votes?
+If I could only tell you of something he once did for me, you would not
+say that he was a man without feeling.”
+
+“I have no doubt,” said Mr. Pierce blandly, “that he did many things
+which, on their face, seemed admirable and to indicate feeling. But if
+carefully examined, they would be found to have been advantageous to
+him. Any service he could have done to Mrs. Rivington surely did not
+harm him. His purchase of Costell’s place pleased the political friends
+of the dead leader. His aiding the strikers’ families placated the men,
+and gained him praise from the press. I dislike greatly to oppose this
+rose-colored view of Peter, but, from my own knowledge of the man, I
+must. He is without feeling, and necessarily makes no mistakes, nor is
+he led off from his own ambitions by sentiment of any kind. When we had
+that meeting with the strikers, he sat there, while all New York was
+seething, with mobs and dead just outside the walls, as cool and
+impassive as a machine. He was simply determined that we should
+compromise, because his own interests demanded it, and he carried his
+point merely because he was the one cool man at that meeting. If he had
+had feeling he could not have been cool. That one incident shows the
+key-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 to
+make friends. It was simply marvellous. I’ve seen it, over and over
+again, both in politics and society. He never seemed to excite envy or
+bitterness. He had a way of doing things which made people like him.
+Every one he meets trusts him. Yet nobody understands him. So he
+interests people, without exciting hostility. I’ve heard person after
+person say that he was an uninteresting, ordinary man, and yet nobody
+ever seemed to forget him. Every one of us feels, I am sure, that, as
+Miss De Voe says, he had within something he never showed people. I
+have never been able to see why he did or did not do hundreds of
+things. Yet it always turned out that what he did was right. He makes
+me think of the 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 by
+Peter’s own explanation of his success. I spoke to him once of a rather
+curious line of argument, as it seemed to me, which he was taking in a
+case, and he said: ‘Ogden, I take that course because it is the way
+Judge Potter’s mind acts. If you want to convince yourself, take the
+arguments which do that best, but when you have to deal with judges or
+juries, take the lines which fit their capacities. People talk about my
+unusual success in winning cases. It’s simply because I am not certain
+that my way and my argument are the only way and the only argument.
+I’ve studied the judges closely, so that I know what lines to take, and
+I always notice what seems to interest the jury most, in each case.
+But, more important than this study, is the fact that I can comprehend
+about how the average man will look at a certain thing. You see I am
+the son of plain people. Then I am meeting all grades of mankind, and
+hearing what they say, and getting their points of view. I have never
+sat in a closet 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 have succeeded, because I am merely the normal or average man,
+and therefore am understood by normal or average people, or by
+majorities, to put it in another way.’”
+
+“But Mr. Stirling isn’t a commonplace man,” said another of the
+charmingly dressed girls. “He is very silent, and what he says isn’t at
+all clever, but he’s very unusual and interesting.”
+
+“Nevertheless,” said Ogden, “I believe he was right. He has a way of
+knowing what the majority of people think or feel about things. And
+that is the secret of his success, and not his possession or lack of
+feeling.”
+
+“You none of you have got at the true secret of Peter’s success,” said
+Ray. “It was his wonderful capacity for work. To a lazy beggar like
+myself it is marvellous. I’ve known that man to work from nine in the
+morning till one at night, merely stopping for meals.”
+
+“Yet he did not seem an ambitious man,” said Le Grand. “He cared
+nothing for social success, he never has accepted office till now, and
+he has refused over and over again law work which meant big money.”
+
+“No,” said Ray. “Peter worked hard in law and politics. Yet he didn’t
+want office or money. He could more than once have been a judge, and
+Costell wanted him governor six years ago. He took the nomination this
+year against his own wishes. He cared as little for money or reputation
+in law, as he cared for society, and would compromise cases which would
+have added greatly to his reputation if he had let them go to trial. He
+might have been worth double what he is to-day, if he had merely
+invested his money, instead of letting it lie in savings banks or trust
+companies. I’ve spoken about it repeatedly to him, but he only said
+that he wasn’t going to spend time taking care of money, for money
+ceased to be valuable when it had to be taken care of; its sole use to
+him being to 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,” said
+Miss De Voe. “He had no desire for reputation or money, and so did not
+care to increase either.”
+
+“And mark my words,” said Lispenard. “From this day, he’ll set no limit
+to his endeavors to obtain both.”
+
+“He can’t work harder than he has to get political power,” said an
+usher. “Think of how anxious he must have been to get it, when he would
+spend so much time in the slums and saloons! He couldn’t have liked the
+men he met there.”
+
+“I’ve taken him to task about that, and told him he had no business to
+waste his time so,” said Ogden; “but he said that he was not taking
+care of other people’s money or trying to build up a great business,
+and that if he chose to curtail his practice, so as to have some time
+to work in politics, it was a matter of personal judgment.”
+
+“I once asked Peter,” said Miss De Voe, “how he could bear, with his
+tastes and feelings, to go into saloons, and spend so much time with
+politicians, and with the low, uneducated people of his district. He
+said, ‘That is my way of trying to do good, and it is made enjoyable to
+me by helping men over rough spots, or by preventing political wrong. I
+have taken the world and humanity as it is, and have done what I could,
+without stopping to criticise or weep over shortcomings and sins. I
+admire men who stand for noble impossibilities. But I have given my own
+life to the doing of small possibilities. I don’t say the way is the
+best. But it is my way, for I am a worker, not a preacher. And just
+because I have been willing to do things as the world is willing to
+have them done, power and success have come to me to do more.’ I
+believe it was 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 love
+my own kin, with due apology to those of it who are present, but I must
+say that his whole career has been the worst case of sheer, downright
+luck of which I ever saw or heard.”
+
+“Luck!” exclaimed Dorothy.
+
+“Yes, luck!” said Lispenard. “Look at it. He starts in like all the
+rest of us. And Miss Luck calls him in to look at a sick kitten die.
+Very ordinary occurrence that! Health-board report several hundred
+every week. But Miss Luck knew what she was about and called him in to
+just the right kind of a kitten to make a big speech about. Thereupon
+he makes it, blackguarding and wiping the floor up with a millionaire
+brewer. Does the brewer wait for his turn to get even with him? Not a
+bit. Miss Luck takes a hand in and the brewer falls on Peter’s
+breast-bone, and loves him ever afterwards. My cousin writes him, and
+he snubs her. Does she annihilate him as she would have other men? No.
+Miss Luck has arranged all that, and they become the best of friends.”
+
+“Lispenard—” Miss De Voe started to interrupt indignantly, but
+Lispenard continued, “Hold on till I finish. One at a time. Well. Miss
+Luck gets him chosen to a convention by a fluke and Peter votes against
+Costell’s wishes. What happens? Costell promptly takes him up and
+pushes him for all he’s worth. He snubs society, and society concludes
+that a man who is more snubby and exclusive than itself must be a man
+to cultivate. He refuses to talk, and every one promptly says: ‘How
+interesting he is!’ He gets in the way of a dynamite bomb. Does it kill
+him? 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
+one breathes easier, and likes him the better. He enrages and shoots
+the strikers. Does he lose votes? Not one. Miss Luck arranges that the
+directors shall yield things which they had sworn not to yield; and the
+strikers are reconciled and print a card in praise of him. He runs for
+office. Do the other parties make a good fight of it? No. They promptly
+nominate a scoundrelly demagogue and a nonentity who thinks votes are
+won by going about in shirtsleeves. So he is elected by the biggest
+plurality the State has ever given. Has Miss Luck done enough? No. She
+at once sets every one predicting that he’ll get the presidential
+nomination two years from now, if he cares for it. Be it friend or
+enemy, intentional or unintentional, every one with whom he comes in
+contact gives him a boost. While look at me! There isn’t a soul who
+ever gave 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
+Peter would never marry, because he would insist on taking women
+seriously, and because at heart he was afraid of them to a woeful
+degree, and showed it in such a way, as simply to make women think he
+didn’t like them individually. But Miss Luck wouldn’t allow that. Oh,
+no! Miss Luck isn’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. So she takes the loveliest of girls and trots her
+all over Europe, so that she shan’t have friends, or even know men
+well. She arranges too, that the young girl shall have her head filled
+with Peter by a lot of admiring women, who are determined to make him
+into a sad, unfortunate hero, instead of the successful man he is. A
+regular conspiracy to delude a young girl. Then before the girl has
+seen anything of the world, she trots her over here. Does she introduce
+them at a dance, so that Peter shall be awkward and silent? Not she!
+She puts him where he looks his best—on a horse. She starts the thing
+off romantically, so that he begins on the most intimate footing,
+before another man has left his pasteboard. So he’s way ahead of the
+pack when they open cry. Is that enough? No! At the critical moment he
+is called to the aid of his country. Gets lauded for his pluck. Gets
+blown up. Gets everything to make a young girl worship him. Pure luck!
+It doesn’t matter what Peter says or does. Miss Luck always arranges
+that it turn up the winning card.”
+
+“There is no luck in it,” cried Mr. Pierce. “It was all due to his
+foresight and shrewdness. He plans things beforehand, and merely
+presses the button. Why, look at his marriage alone? Does he fall in
+love early in life, and hamper himself with a Miss Nobody? Not he! He
+waits till he has achieved a position where he can pick from the best,
+and then he does exactly that, if you’ll pardon a doating grandfather’s
+saying it.”
+
+“Well,” said Watts, “we have all known Peter long enough to have found
+out 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,” said
+Dorothy. “It’s terrible. What do you think she had the face to say to
+me to-day?”
+
+“What?”
+
+“She was speaking of their plans after returning from the wedding
+journey, and she said: ‘I am going to have Peter keep up his bachelor
+quarters.’ ‘Does he say he’ll do it?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t spoken to
+him,’ she replied, ‘but of course he will.’ I said: ‘Leonore, all women
+think they rule their husbands, but they don’t in reality, and Peter
+will be less ruled than any man I know.’ Then what do you think she
+said?”
+
+“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 that
+I’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 women
+till this one appeared on the scene, develop into a regulation lover, I
+am quite prepared to believe that every one knows more than I do. At
+the same time, I can’t afford to risk my reputation for discrimination
+and insight over such a simple thing as Peter’s character. You’ve all
+tried to say what Peter is. Now I’ll tell you in two words and you’ll
+all find you 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, yet
+who 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 Peters
+wedding-day grasped his character? How clearly do we ever gain an
+insight into the feelings and motives which induce conduct even in
+those whom we best know and love? Each had found something in Peter
+that no other had discovered. We speak of rose-colored glasses, and
+Shakespeare wrote, “All things are yellow to a jaundiced eye.” When we
+take a bit of blue glass, and place it with yellow, it becomes green.
+When we put it with red, it becomes purple. Yet blue it is all the
+time. Is not each person responsible for the tint he seems to produce
+in others? Can we ever learn that the thing is blue, and that the green
+or purple aspect is only the tinge which we ourselves help to give? Can
+we ever learn that we love and are loved entirely as we give ourselves
+colors which may harmonize with those about us? That love, wins love;
+kindness, kindness; hate, hate. That just such elements as we give to
+the individual, the individual gives back to us? That the sides we show
+are the sides seen by the world. There were people who could truly
+believe that 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 a compromiser of many of his own strongest principles.
+Yet there were people who could, say other things of him.
+
+But more important than the opinion of Peter’s friends, and of the
+world, was the opinion of Peter’s wife. Was she right in her theory
+that she was the only one who understood him? Or had she, as he had
+once done, reared an ideal, and given that ideal the love which she
+supposed she was giving Peter? It is always a problem in love to say
+whether we love people most for the qualities they actually possess, or
+for those with which our own love endows them. Here was a young girl,
+inexperienced in world and men, joyfully sinking her own life in that
+of a man whom, but a few months before, had been only a matter of
+hearsay to her. Yet she had apparently taken him, as women will, for
+better, for worse, till death, as trustfully as if he and men generally
+were as knowable as A B C, instead of as unknown as the algebraic X.
+Only once had she faltered in her trust of him, and then but for a
+moment. How far had her love, and the sight of Peter’s misery, led her
+blindly to renew that trust? And would it hold? She had seen how little
+people thought of that scurrilous article, and how the decent papers
+had passed it over without a word. But she had also seen, the scandal
+harped upon by partisans and noted that Peter failed to vindicate
+himself publicly, or vouchsafe an explanation to her. Had she taken
+Peter with trust or doubt, knowledge or blindness?
+
+Perhaps a conversation between the two, a week later, will answer these
+questions. It occurred on the deck of a vessel. Yet this parting
+glimpse of Peter is very different from that which introduced him. The
+vessel is not drifting helplessly, but its great screw is whirling it
+towards the island of Martinique, as if itself anxious to reach that
+fairy land of fairy lands. Though the middle of November, the soft
+warmth of the tropics is in the air. Nor are the sea and sky now
+leaden. The first is turned into liquid gold by the phosphorescence,
+and the full moon silvers everything else. Neither is Peter pacing the
+deck with lines of pain and endurance on his face. He is up in the bow,
+where the vessel’s forefoot throws up the white foam in silver drops in
+the moonlight. And he does not look miserable. Anything but that. He is
+sitting on an anchor stock, with his back comfortably braced against
+the rail. Another person is not far distant. What that person sits upon
+and leans against is 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 his
+words.
+
+“Will you if I bite off the end?” asked Eve, Jr., placing temptation
+most temptingly.
+
+“I like the idea exceedingly,” said Peter. “But my right arm is so very
+pleasantly 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 to
+enjoy the sensation of that small hand rummaging in his waistcoat
+pockets. “You see, dear, that I am learning your ways,” Leonore
+continued, in a tone of voice which suggested that that was the chief
+end of woman. Perhaps it is. The Westminster catechism only tells us
+the chief 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 I
+want 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 three
+years, 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 love
+them. I don’t think I shall ever feel the same for any other place. It
+will be very convenient to have them whenever, we want to run down from
+Albany. 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 stay
+down there, with you uptown?”
+
+“Oh, no! Of course not. Peter! How absurd you are! But I shall go down
+very often. Sometimes we’ll give little dinners to real friends. And
+sometimes, when we want to get away from people, we’ll dine by
+ourselves and spend the night there. Then whenever you want to be at
+the saloons or primaries we’ll dine together there and I’ll wait for
+you. And then I think 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’ll amuse myself with your flowers, and books, till you
+are ready to go uptown. 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 politics
+entirely, 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. I
+shall 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 speech
+for 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!
+Every word of it, and to prove it to you I shall never speak of it
+again. But when I’ve shown you that I trust you entirely, some stormy
+evening, when we’ve had the nicest little dinner together at your
+rooms, and I’ve given you some coffee, and bitten your cigar for you, I
+shall put you down before the fire, and sit down in your lap, as I am
+doing now, and put my arms about your neck so, and put my cheek so. And
+then I want you, without my asking to tell me why you told mamma that
+lie, and all about 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
+of friends, 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 by
+myself I shall cry over it. Not because I doubt you, dear, but because
+you won’t give me your confidence.”
+
+“Do you know, Dear-heart, that I can’t bear the thought of your doing
+that!”
+
+“Of course not, dear. That’s the reason I tell you. I knew you couldn’t
+bear it.”
+
+“How did you know?”
+
+“Because I understand you, dear. I know just what you are. I’m the only
+person who does.”
+
+“Tell me what I am.”
+
+“I think, dear, that something once came into your life that made you
+very miserable, and took away all your hope and ambition. So, instead
+of trying to make a great position or fortune, you tried to do good to
+others. 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 you worked hard to get that. Then you found that you could help most
+by working in politics, so you did that. And you have tried to gain
+power so as to increase your power for good. I know you haven’t liked a
+great deal you have had to do. I know that you much prefer to sit
+before your study fire and read than sit in saloons. I know that you
+would rather keep away from tricky people than to ask or take their
+help. But you have sacrificed your own feelings and principles because
+you felt that they were not to be considered if you could help others.
+And, because people have laughed at you or misunderstood, you have
+become silent and unsocial, except as you have believed your mixing
+with the world to be necessary to accomplish good.”
+
+“What a little idealist we are!”
+
+“Well, dear, that isn’t all the little idealist has found out. She
+knows something else. She knows that all his life her ideal has been
+waiting and longing for some one who did understand him, so that he can
+tell her all his hopes and feelings, and that at last he has found her,
+and she will try to make up for all the misery and sacrifice he has
+endured She knows, 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 felt that you didn’t tell other people your real thoughts
+and feelings, and so, whenever you told me, it was really getting you
+to say that you loved me. You wanted me to know what you really are.
+And that was why I knew that you told me the truth that night. And that
+is the reason why I know that some day you will tell me about that
+lie.”
+
+Peter, whatever he might think, did not deny the correctness of
+Leonore’s theories concerning his motives in the past or his conduct in
+the 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 a
+fine subject it was always easy to make a fine speech. It’s true, too,
+of thoughts, dear.”
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING ***
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Honorable Peter Stirling, by Paul Leicester Ford</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
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+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Honorable Peter Stirling<br />
+  and What People Thought of Him</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Paul Leicester Ford</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 30, 2004 [eBook #14532]<br />
+[Most recently updated: January 28, 2022]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING ***</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:55%;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" />
+</div>
+
+<h1>THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING</h1>
+
+<h3><i>and<br/>
+WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM</i></h3>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">by<br/>
+PAUL LEICESTER FORD</h2>
+
+<h4>Stitt Publishing Company New York<br/>
+Henry Holt &amp; Co.</h4>
+
+<h4>1894</h4>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">CHAPTER XLIX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LI">CHAPTER LI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LII">CHAPTER LII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">CHAPTER LIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">CHAPTER LIV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LV">CHAPTER LV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">CHAPTER LVI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LVII">CHAPTER LVII</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII">CHAPTER LVIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LIX">CHAPTER LIX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LX">CHAPTER LX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_LXI">CHAPTER LXI.</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="center">
+To<br />
+<br />
+THOSE DEAR TO ME<br />
+AT<br />
+STONEY WOLDE,<br />
+TURNERS, NEW YORK;<br />
+PINEHURST;<br />
+NORWICH, CONNECTICUT;<br />
+BROOK FARM,<br />
+PROCTORSVILLE, VERMONT;<br />
+AND<br />
+DUNESIDE,<br />
+EASTHAMPTON, NEW YORK,<br />
+<br />
+THIS BOOK,<br />
+WRITTEN WHILE AMONG THEM,<br />
+IS DEDICATED.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>
+ROMANCE AND REALITY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Pierce was talking. Mr. Pierce was generally talking. From the day that his
+proud mamma had given him a sweetmeat for a very inarticulate &ldquo;goo&rdquo;
+which she translated into &ldquo;papa,&rdquo; Mr. Pierce had found speech
+profitable. He had been able to talk his nurse into granting him every
+indulgence. He had talked his way through school and college. He had talked his
+wife into marrying him. He had talked himself to the head of a large financial
+institution. He had talked his admission into society. Conversationally, Mr.
+Pierce was a success. He could discuss Schopenhauer or cotillion favors; St.
+Paul, the apostle, or St. Paul, the railroad. He had cultivated the art as
+painstakingly as a professional musician. He had countless anecdotes, which he
+introduced to his auditors by a &ldquo;that reminds me of.&rdquo; He had
+endless quotations, with the quotation marks omitted. Finally he had an idea on
+every subject, and generally a theory as well. Carlyle speaks somewhere of an
+&ldquo;inarticulate genius.&rdquo; He was not alluding to Mr. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Like most good talkers, Mr. Pierce was a tongue despot. Conversation must take
+his course, or he would none of it. Generally he controlled. If an upstart
+endeavored to turn the subject, Mr. Pierce waited till the intruder had done
+speaking, and then quietly, but firmly would remark: &ldquo;Relative to the
+subject we were discussing a moment ago&mdash;&rdquo; If any one ventured to
+speak, even <i>sotto voce</i>, before Mr. Pierce had finished all he had to
+say, he would at once cease his monologue, wait till the interloper had
+finished, and then resume his lecture just where he had been interrupted. Only
+once had Mr. Pierce found this method to fail in quelling even the sturdiest of
+rivals. The recollection of that day is still a mortification to him. It had
+happened on the deck of an ocean steamer. For thirty minutes he had fought his
+antagonist bravely. Then, humbled and vanquished, he had sought the
+smoking-room, to moisten his parched throat, and solace his wounded spirit,
+with a star cocktail. He had at last met his superior. He yielded the deck to
+the fog-horn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the present moment Mr. Pierce was having things very much his own way.
+Seated in the standing-room of a small yacht, were some eight people. With a
+leaden sky overhead, and a leaden sea about it, the boat gently rose and fell
+with the ground swell. Three miles away could be seen the flash-light marking
+the entrance to the harbor. But though slowly gathering clouds told that wind
+was coming, the yacht now lay becalmed, drifting with the ebb tide. The
+pleasure-seekers had been together all day, and were decidedly talked out. For
+the last hour they had been singing songs&mdash;always omitting Mr. Pierce, who
+never so trifled with his vocal organs. During this time he had been restless.
+At one point he had attempted to deliver his opinion on the relation of verse
+to music, but an unfeeling member of the party had struck up &ldquo;John
+Brown&rsquo;s Body,&rdquo; and his lecture had ended, in the usual serial
+style, at the most interesting point, without even the promise of a
+&ldquo;continuation in our next.&rdquo; Finally, however, the singers had sung
+themselves hoarse in the damp night air, the last &ldquo;Spanish
+Cavalier&rdquo; had been safely restored to his inevitable true-love, and the
+sound of voices and banjo floated away over the water. Mr. Pierce&rsquo;s
+moment had come.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some one, and it is unnecessary to mention the sex, had given a sigh, and
+regretted that nineteenth century life was so prosaic and unromantic. Clearing
+his throat, quite as much to pre-empt the pause as to articulate the better,
+Mr. Pierce spoke:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That modern times are less romantic and interesting than bygone
+centuries is a fallacy. From time immemorial, love and the battle between evil
+and good are the two things which have given the world romance and interest.
+Every story, whether we find it in the myths of the East, the folklore of
+Europe, the poems of the Troubadours, or in our newspaper of this morning, is
+based on one or the other of these factors, or on both combined. Now it is a
+truism that love never played so 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 partial divorce from worldly and parental influences. Moreover
+the great battle of society, to crush wrong and elevate right, was never before
+so bravely fought, on so many fields, by so many people as to-day. But because
+our lovers and heroes no longer brag to the world of their doings; no longer
+stand in the moonlight, and sing of their &lsquo;dering does,&rsquo; the world
+assumes that the days of tourneys and guitars were the only days of true love
+and noble deeds. Even our professed writers of romance join in the cry.
+&lsquo;Draw life as it is,&rsquo; they say. &lsquo;We find nothing in it but
+mediocrity, selfishness, and money-loving.&rsquo; By all means let us have
+truth in our novels, but there is truth and truth. Most of New York&rsquo;s
+firemen presumably sat down at noon to-day to a dinner of corned-beef and
+cabbage. But perhaps one of them at the same moment was fighting his way
+through smoke and flame, to save life at the risk of his own. Boiled dinner and
+burned firemen are equally true. Are they equally worthy of description? What
+would the age of chivalry be, if the chronicles had recorded only the
+brutality, filthiness and coarseness of their contemporaries? The wearing of
+underclothing unwashed till it fell to pieces; the utter lack of soap; the
+eating with fingers; the drunkenness and foul-mouthedness that drove women from
+the table at a certain point, and so inaugurated the custom, now continued
+merely as an excuse for a cigar? Some one said once that a man finds in a great
+city just the qualities he takes to it. That&rsquo;s true of romance as well.
+Modern novelists don&rsquo;t find beauty and nobility in life, because they
+don&rsquo;t look for them. They predicate from their inner souls that the world
+is &lsquo;cheap and nasty&rsquo; and that is what they find it to be. There is
+more true romance in a New York tenement than there ever was in a baron&rsquo;s
+tower&mdash;braver battles, truer love, nobler sacrifices. Romance is 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 go through life look for the fine
+things&mdash;not for the despicable. It won&rsquo;t make you any richer. It
+won&rsquo;t make you famous. It won&rsquo;t better you in a worldly way. But it
+will make your lives happier, for by the time you are my age, you&rsquo;ll love
+humanity, and look upon the world and call it good. And you will have found
+romance enough to satisfy all longings for medi&aelig;val times.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, dear, one cannot imagine some people ever finding anything romantic
+in life,&rdquo; said a voice, which, had it been translated into words would
+have said, &ldquo;I know you are right, of course, and you will convince me at
+once, but in my present state of unenlightenment it seems to me
+that&mdash;&rdquo; the voice, already low, became lower.
+&ldquo;Now&rdquo;&mdash;a moment&rsquo;s hesitation&mdash;&ldquo;there
+is&mdash;Peter Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce. &ldquo;That is a very case in point,
+and proves just what I&rsquo;ve been saying. Peter is like the novelists of
+whom I&rsquo;ve been talking. I don&rsquo;t suppose we ought to blame him for
+it. What can you expect of a son of a mill-foreman, who lives the first sixteen
+years of his life in a mill-village? If his hereditary tendencies gave him a
+chance, 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 is developed and
+stimulated by art, music, literature, and contact with clever people. But a
+mill-village is one vast expanse of mediocrity and prosaicness, and it would
+take a bigger nature than Peter&rsquo;s to recognize the beautiful in such a
+life. In truth, he is as limited, as exact, and as unimaginative as the
+machines of his own village. Peter has no romance in him; hence he will never
+find it, nor increase it in this world. This very case only proves my point;
+that to meet romance one must 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 dozen and never dream it. They would not interest him even if he did notice
+them. And I&rsquo;ll prove it to you.&rdquo; Mr. Pierce raised his voice.
+&ldquo;We are discussing romance, Peter. Won&rsquo;t you stop that unsocial
+tramp of yours long enough to give us your opinion on the subject?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment&rsquo;s silence followed, and then a singularly clear voice, coming
+from the forward part of the yacht, replied: &ldquo;I never read them, Mr.
+Pierce.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Pierce laughed quietly. &ldquo;See,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that fellow
+never dreams of there being romance outside of novels. He is so prosaic that he
+is unconscious of anything bigger than his own little sphere of life. Peter may
+obtain what he wants in this world, for his desires will be of the kind to be
+won by work and money. But he will never be controlled by a great idea, nor be
+the hero of a true romance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Steele once wrote that the only difference between the Catholic Church and the
+Church of England was, that the former was infallible and the latter never
+wrong. Mr. Pierce would hardly have claimed for himself either of these
+qualities. He was too accustomed in his business to writing, &ldquo;E. and
+O.E.&rdquo; above his initials, to put much faith in human dicta. But in the
+present instance he felt sure of what he said, and the little group clearly
+agreed. If they were right, this story is like that recounted in Mother Goose,
+which was ended before it was begun. But Mr. Pierce had said that romance is
+everywhere to those who have the spirit of it in them. Perhaps in this case the
+spirit was lacking in his judges&mdash;not in Peter Stirling.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>
+APPEARANCES.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The unconscious illustration of Mr. Pierce&rsquo;s theory was pacing backwards
+and forwards on the narrow space between the cuddy-roof and the gunwale, which
+custom dignifies with the name of deck. Six strides forward and turn. Six
+strides aft and turn. That was the extent of the beat. Yet had Peter been on
+sentry duty, he could not have continued it more regularly or persistently. If
+he were walking off his supper, as most of those seated aft would have
+suggested, the performance was not particularly interesting. The limit and
+rapidity of the walk resembled the tramp of a confined animal, exercising its
+last meal. But when one stands in front of the lion&rsquo;s cage, and sees that
+restless and tireless stride, one cannot but wonder how much of it is due to
+the last shin-bone, and how much to the wild and powerful nature under the
+tawny skin. The question occurs because the nature and antecedents of the lion
+are known. For this same reason the yachters were a unit in agreeing that
+Stirling&rsquo;s unceasing walk was merely a digestive promenade. The problem
+was whether they were right? Or whether, to apply Mr. Pierce&rsquo;s formula,
+they merely imposed their own frame of mind in place of Stirling&rsquo;s, and
+decided, since their sole reason for walking at the moment would be entirely
+hygienic, that he too must be striding from the same cause?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dr. Holmes tells us that when James and Thomas converse there are really six
+talkers. First, James as James thinks he is, and Thomas as Thomas thinks he is.
+Second James as Thomas thinks him, and Thomas as James thinks him. Finally,
+there are James and Thomas as they really are. Since this is neither an
+autobiography nor an inspired story, the world&rsquo;s view of Peter Stirling
+must be adopted without regard to its accuracy. And because this view was the
+sum of his past and personal, these elements must be computed before we can
+know on what the world based its conclusions concerning him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His story was as ordinary and prosaic as Mr. and Mrs. Pierce seemed to think
+his character. Neither riches nor poverty had put a shaping hand to it. The
+only child of his widowed mother, he had lived in one of the smaller
+manufacturing cities of New England a life such as falls to most lads.
+Unquestionably he had been rather more shielded from several forms of
+temptation than had most of his playmates, for his mother&rsquo;s isolation had
+made him not merely her son, but very largely her companion. In certain ways
+this had tended to make him more manly than the average fellow of his age, but
+in others it had retarded his development; and this backwardness had been
+further accentuated by a deliberate mind, which hardly kept pace with his
+physical growth. His school record was fair: &ldquo;Painstaking, but
+slow,&rdquo; was the report in studies. &ldquo;Exemplary,&rdquo; in conduct. He
+was not a leader among the boys, but he was very generally liked. A
+characteristic fact, for good or bad, was that he had no enemies. From the
+clergyman to the &ldquo;hired help,&rdquo; everybody had a kind word for him,
+but tinctured by no enthusiasm. All spoke of him as &ldquo;a good boy,&rdquo;
+and when this was said, they had nothing more to say.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One important exception to this statement is worthy of note. The girls of the
+High School never liked him. If they had been called upon for reasons, few
+could have given a tangible one. At their age, everything this world contains,
+be it the Falls of Niagara, or a stick of chewing gum, is positively or
+negatively &ldquo;nice.&rdquo; For some crime of commission or omission, Peter
+had been weighed and found wanting. &ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t nice,&rdquo; was the
+universal verdict of the scholars who daily filed through the door, which the
+town selectmen, with the fine contempt of the narrow man for his unpaid
+&ldquo;help,&rdquo; had labelled, &ldquo;For Females.&rdquo; If they had said
+that he was &ldquo;perfectly horrid,&rdquo; there might have been a chance for
+him. But the subject was begun and ended with these three words. Such terseness
+in the sex was remarkable and would have deserved a psychological investigation
+had it been based on any apparent data. But women&rsquo;s opinions are so
+largely a matter of instinct and feeling, and so little of judgment and
+induction, that an analysis of the mental processes of the hundred girls who
+had reached this one conclusion, would probably have revealed in each a
+different method of obtaining this product. The important point is to recognize
+this consensus of opinion, and to note its bearing on the development of the
+lad.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That Peter could remain ignorant of this feeling was not conceivable. It
+puzzled 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 worst way. Had he
+avoided the girls persistently and obviously, he might have interested them
+intensely, for nothing is more difficult for a woman to understand than a
+woman-hater; and from the days of mother Eve the unknown is rumored to have had
+for her sex a powerful fascination. But he tried to win their friendship by
+humbleness and kindness, and so only made himself the more cheap in their eyes.
+&ldquo;Fatty Peter,&rdquo; as they jokingly called him, epitomized in two words
+their contempt of him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nor did things mend when he went to Harvard. Neither his mother&rsquo;s
+abilities nor his choice were able to secure for him an <i>entr&eacute;e</i> to
+the society which Cambridge and Boston dole out stintedly to certain privileged
+collegians. Every Friday afternoon he went home, to return by an early train
+Monday morning. In his first year it is to be questioned if he exchanged ten
+words with women whose names were known to him, except during these
+home-visits. That this could long continue, was impossible. In his second year
+he was several times taken by his chum, Watts D&rsquo;Alloi, to call. But
+always with one result. Invariably Peter would be found talking to Mamma, or,
+better still, from his point of view, with Pater-familias, while Watts chatted
+with the presumptive attractions. Watts laughed at him always. Laughed still
+more when one of these calls resulted in a note, &ldquo;requesting the
+pleasure&rdquo; of Mr. Peter Stirling&rsquo;s company to dinner. It was Watts
+who dictated the acceptance, helped Peter put the finishing touches to his
+toilet, and eventually landed him safely in Mrs. Purdie&rsquo;s parlor. His
+description to the boys that night of what followed is worthy of quotation:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The old fellow shook hands with Mrs. P., O.K. Something was said about
+the weather, and then Mrs. P. said, &lsquo;I&rsquo;ll introduce you to the lady
+you are to take down, Mr. Stirling, but I shan&rsquo;t let you talk to her
+before dinner. Look about you and take your choice of whom you would like to
+meet?&rsquo; Chum gave one agonized look round the room. There wasn&rsquo;t a
+woman over 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&rsquo;t have done
+it better. Can&rsquo;t guess? Well, he said, &lsquo;I&rsquo;d like to talk to
+you, Mrs. Purdie.&rsquo; Fact! Of course she took it as a compliment, and was
+as pleased as could be. Well, I don&rsquo;t know how on earth he ever got
+through his introduction or how he ever reached the dining-room, for my
+inamorata 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 at chum, who was
+directly opposite, to see how he was getting on. Oh, you fellows would have
+died to see it! There he sat, looking straight out into vacancy, so plainly
+laboring for something to say that I nearly exploded. Twice he opened his lips
+to speak, and each time closed them again. The girl of course looked surprised,
+but she caught my eye, and entered into the joke, and we both waited for
+developments. Then she suddenly said to him, &lsquo;Now let&rsquo;s talk about
+something else.&rsquo; It was too much for me. I nearly choked. I don&rsquo;t
+know what followed. Miss Jevons turned and asked me something. But when I
+looked again, I could see the perspiration standing on Peter&rsquo;s forehead,
+while the conversation went by jerks and starts as if it was riding over a
+ploughed field. Miss Callender, whom he took in, told me afterwards that she
+had never had a harder evening&rsquo;s work in her life. Nothing but
+&lsquo;yeses&rsquo; and &lsquo;noes&rsquo; to be got from him. She
+wouldn&rsquo;t believe what I said of the old fellow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Three or four such experiences ended Peter&rsquo;s dining out. He was
+recognized as unavailable material. He received an occasional card to a
+reception or a dance, for anything in trousers passes muster for such
+functions. He always went when invited, and was most dutiful in the
+counter-calls. In fact, society was to him a duty which he discharged with the
+same plodding determination with which he did his day&rsquo;s studies. He never
+dreamed of taking his social moments frivolously. He did not recognize that
+society is very much like a bee colony&mdash;stinging those who approached it
+shyly and quietly, but to be mastered by a bold beating of tin pans. He neither
+danced nor talked, and so he was shunted by the really pleasant girls and
+clever women, and passed his time with wall-flowers and unbearables, who, in
+their normal sourness, regarded and, perhaps, unconsciously made him feel,
+hardly to his encouragement, that his companionship was a sort of penance. If
+he had been asked, at the end of his senior year, what he thought of young
+women and society, he would probably have stigmatized them, as he himself had
+been formerly: &ldquo;not nice.&rdquo; All of which, again to apply Mr.
+Pierce&rsquo;s theory, merely meant that the phases which his own
+characteristics had shown him, had re-acted on his own mind, and had led him to
+conclude that girls and society were equally unendurable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The condition was a dangerous one, and if psychology had its doctors they would
+have predicted a serious heart illness in store for him. How serious, would
+depend largely on whether the fever ran its natural course, or whether it was
+driven inwards by disappointment. If these doctors had ceased studying his
+mental condition and glanced at his physical appearance, they would have had
+double cause to shake their heads doubtingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was not good-looking. He was not even, in a sense, attractive. In spite
+of his taking work so hardly and life so seriously, he was entirely too stout.
+This gave a heaviness to his face that neutralized his really pleasant brown
+eyes and thick brown hair, which were his best features. Manly the face was,
+but, except when speaking in unconscious moments, dull and unstriking. A fellow
+three inches shorter, and two-thirds his weight would have been called tall.
+&ldquo;Big&rdquo; was the favorite adjective used in describing Peter, and big
+he was. Had he gone through college ten years later, he might have won
+unstinted fame and admiration as the full-back on the team, or stroke on the
+crew. In his time, athletics were but just obtaining, and were not yet approved
+of either by faculties or families. Shakespeare speaks of a tide in the affairs
+of men. Had Peter been born ten years later the probabilities are that his name
+would have been in all the papers, that he would have weighed fifty pounds
+less, have been cheered by thousands, have been the idol of his class, have
+been a hero, have married the first girl he loved (for heroes, curiously,
+either marry or die, but never remain bachelors) and would have&mdash;but as
+this is a tale of fact, we must not give rein to imagination. To come back to
+realism, Peter was a hero to nobody but his mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Such was the man, who, two weeks after graduation from Harvard, was pacing up
+and down the deck of Mr. Pierce&rsquo;s yacht, the &ldquo;Sunrise,&rdquo; as
+she drifted with the tide in Long Island Sound. Yet if his expression, as he
+walked, could for a moment have been revealed to those seated aft, the face
+that all thought dull and uninteresting would have riveted their attention, and
+set each one questioning whether there might not be something both heroic and
+romantic underneath. The set determination of his look can best be explained by
+telling what had given his face such rigid lines.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>
+A CRAB CHAPTER.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Pierce and those about him had clearly indicated by the conversation, or
+rather monologue, already recorded, that Peter was in a sense an odd number in
+the &ldquo;Sunrise&rsquo;s&rdquo; complement of pleasure-seekers. Whether or no
+Mr. Pierce&rsquo;s monologue also indicated that he was not a map who dealt in
+odd numbers, or showered hospitality on sons of mill-overseers, the fact was
+nevertheless true. &ldquo;For value received,&rdquo; or &ldquo;I hereby promise
+to pay,&rdquo; were favorite formulas of Mr. Pierce, and if not actually
+written in such invitations as he permitted his wife to write at his dictation
+to people whom he decided should be bidden to the Shrubberies, a longer or
+shorter time would develop the words, as if written in sympathetic ink. Yet
+Peter had had as pressing an invitation and as warm a welcome at Mr.
+Pierce&rsquo;s country place as had any of the house-party ingathered during
+the first week of July. Clearly something made him of value to the owner of the
+Shrubberies. That something was his chum, Watts D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter and Watts were such absolute contrasts that it seemed impossible that
+they could have an interest or sympathy, in common. Therefore they had become
+chums. A chance in their freshman year had brought them together. Watts, with
+the refined and delicate sense of humor abounding in collegians, had been
+concerned with sundry freshmen in an attempt to steal (or, in collegiate terms,
+&ldquo;rag&rdquo;) the chapel Bible, with a view to presenting it to some
+equally subtle humorists at Yale, expecting a similar courtesy in return from
+that college. Unfortunately for the joke, the college authorities had had the
+bad taste to guard against the annually attempted substitution. Two of the
+marauders were caught, while Watts 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 his flight, and borrowed the latter&rsquo;s coat, in which he reached
+his room without detection. Peter was caught by the pursuers, and summoned
+before the 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 it certain that
+he could not have been an offender. There was some talk of expelling him for
+aiding and abetting in the true culprit&rsquo;s escape, and for refusing to
+tell who it was. Respect for his motives, however, and his unimpeachable record
+saved him from everything but an admonition from the president, which changed
+into a discussion of cotton printing before that august official had delivered
+half of his intended rebuke. People might not enthuse over Peter, but no one
+ever quarrelled with him. So the interview, after travelling from cotton prints
+to spring radishes, ended with a warm handshake, and a courteous suggestion
+that he come again when there should be no charges nor admonitions to go
+through with. Watts told him that he was a &ldquo;devilish lucky&rdquo; fellow
+to have 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: &ldquo;but
+for your being on the corner at 11:10 that evening, old chap, you&rsquo;d never
+have known me.&rdquo; Truly on such small chances do the greatest events of our
+life turn. Perhaps, could Peter have looked into the future, he would have
+avoided that corner. Perhaps, could he have looked even further, he would have
+found that in that chance lay the greatest happiness of his life. Who can tell,
+when the bitter comes, and we later see how we could have avoided it, what we
+should have encountered in its place? Who can tell, when sweet comes, how far
+it is sweetened by the bitterness that went before? Dodging the future in this
+world is a success equal to that of the old woman who triumphantly announced
+that she had borrowed money enough to pay all her debts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a matter of course Watts was grateful for the timely assistance, and was not
+slow either to say or show it. He told his own set of fellows that he was
+&ldquo;going to take that Stirling up and make him one of us,&rdquo; and Watts
+had a remarkable way of doing what he chose. At first Peter did not respond to
+the overtures and insistance of the handsome, well-dressed, free-spending, New
+York swell. He was too conscious of the difference between himself and
+Watts&rsquo;s set, to wish or seek identification with them. But no one who
+ever came under Watts&rsquo;s influence could long stand out against his sunny
+face and frank manner, and so Peter eventually allowed himself to be
+&ldquo;taken up.&rdquo; Perhaps the resistance encountered only whetted
+Watts&rsquo;s intention. He was certainly aided by Peter&rsquo;s isolation.
+Whether the cause was single or multiple, Peter was soon in a set from which
+many a seemingly far more eligible fellow was debarred.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Strangely enough, it did not change him perceptibly. He still plodded on
+conscientiously at his studies, despite laughter and attempts to drag him away
+from them. He still lived absolutely within the comfortable allowance that his
+mother gave him. He still remained the quiet, serious looking fellow of yore.
+The &ldquo;gang,&rdquo; as they styled themselves, called him
+&ldquo;kill-joy,&rdquo; &ldquo;graveyard,&rdquo; or &ldquo;death&rsquo;s
+head,&rdquo; in their evening festivities, but Peter only puffed at his pipe
+good-naturedly, making no retort, and if the truth had really been spoken, not
+a man would have changed him a particle. His silence and seriousness added the
+dash of contrast needed to make the evening perfect. All joked him. The most
+popular verse in a class-song Watts wrote, was devoted to burlesquing his
+soberness, the gang never tiring of singing at all hours and places:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&ldquo;Goodness gracious! Who&rsquo;s that in the &lsquo;yard&rsquo; a yelling in the rain?</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">That&rsquo;s the boy who never gave his mother any pain,</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">But now his moral character is sadly on the wane,</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">&rsquo;Tis little Peter Stirling, bilin&rsquo; drunk again.</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Oh, the Sunday-school boy,</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">His mamma&rsquo;s only joy,</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Is shouting drunk as usual, and raising Cain!&rdquo;</span><br/>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet joke Peter as they would, in every lark, be it drive, sail, feed, drink, or
+smoke, whoever&rsquo;s else absence was commented upon, his never passed
+unnoticed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In Sophomore year, Watts, without quite knowing why, proposed that they should
+share rooms. Nor would he take Peter&rsquo;s refusal, and eventually succeeded
+in reversing it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t afford your style of living,&rdquo; Peter had said
+quietly, as his principal objection.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;ll foot the bills for the fixings, so it shan&rsquo;t cost
+you a cent more,&rdquo; said Watts, and when Peter had finally been won over to
+give his assent, 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 of
+the gang, who promptly christened them &ldquo;the hermitage,&rdquo; and Peter
+had paid his half of the expense. And though he rarely had visitors of his own
+asking at the chambers, all cost of wine and tobacco was equally borne by him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The three succeeding years welded very strong bands round these two. It was
+natural that they should modify each other strongly, but in truth, as in most
+cases, when markedly different characteristics are brought in contact, the only
+effect was to accentuate each in his peculiarities. Peter dug at his books all
+the harder, by reason of Watts&rsquo;s neglect of them. Watts became the more
+free-handed with his money because of Peter&rsquo;s prudence. Watts talked more
+because of Peter&rsquo;s silence, and Peter listened more because of
+Watts&rsquo;s talk. Watts, it is true, tried to drag Peter into society, yet in
+truth, Peter was really left more alone than if he had been rooming with a less
+social fellow. Each had in truth become the complement of the other, and seemed
+as mutually necessary as the positive and negative wires in electricity. Peter,
+who had been taking the law lectures in addition to the regular academic
+course, and had spent his last two summers reading law in an attorney&rsquo;s
+office, in his native town, taking the New York examination in the previous
+January, had striven to get Watts to do the same, with the ultimate intention
+of their hanging out a joint legal shingle in New York.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll see the clients, and work up the cases, Watts, and
+you&rsquo;ll make the speeches and do the social end,&rdquo; said Peter, making
+a rather long speech in the ardor of his wishes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts laughed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, old man. I rather fancy I
+shan&rsquo;t do anything. To do something requires that one shall make up
+one&rsquo;s mind what to do, and that&rsquo;s such devilish hard work.
+I&rsquo;ll wait till I&rsquo;ve graduated, and had a chin with my governor
+about it Perhaps he&rsquo;ll make up my mind for me, and so save my brain
+tissue. But anyway, you&rsquo;ll come to New York, and start in, for you must
+be within reach of me. Besides, New York&rsquo;s the only place in this country
+worth living in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Such were the relations between the two at graduation time. Watts, who had
+always prepared his lessons in a tenth part of the time it had taken Peter,
+buckled down in the last few weeks, and easily won an honorable mention. Peter
+had tried hard to win honors, but failed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You did too much outside work, old man,&rdquo; said Watts, who would
+cheerfully have given his own triumph to his friend. &ldquo;If you want success
+in anything, you&rsquo;ve got to sacrifice other things and concentrate on the
+object. The Mention&rsquo;s really not worth the ink it&rsquo;s written with,
+in my case, but I knew it would please mammy and pappy, so I put on steam, and
+got it. If I&rsquo;d hitched on a lot of freight cars loaded with stuff that
+wouldn&rsquo;t have told in Exams, I never could have been in on time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter shook his head rather sadly. &ldquo;You outclass me in brains, Watts, as
+much as you do in other things&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t one quarter of your
+head. But my ancestors&mdash;here&rsquo;s to the old coves&mdash;have been
+brain-culturing for three hundred years, while yours have been land-culturing;
+and of course my brain moves quicker and easier than yours. I take to a book,
+by hereditary 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&rsquo;ll beat me in the long run, as easily as the boat does the duck. And
+the Honor&rsquo;s nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Except, as you said, to one&rsquo;s&rdquo;&mdash;Peter hesitated for a
+moment, divided in mind by his wish to quote accurately, and his dislike of
+anything disrespectful, and then finished &ldquo;to one&rsquo;s mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the last person it&rsquo;s needed for, chum,&rdquo; replied
+Watts. &ldquo;If there&rsquo;s one person that doesn&rsquo;t need the
+world&rsquo;s or faculty&rsquo;s opinion to prove one&rsquo;s merit, it&rsquo;s
+one&rsquo;s dear, darling, doating, self-deluded and undisillusioned mamma.
+Heigh-ho. I&rsquo;ll be with mine two weeks from now, after we&rsquo;ve had our
+visit at the Pierces&rsquo;. I&rsquo;m jolly glad you are going, old man. It
+will be a sort of tapering-off time for the summer&rsquo;s separation. I
+don&rsquo;t see why you insist on starting in at once in New York? No one does
+any law business in the summertime. Why, I even think the courts are closed.
+Come, you&rsquo;d better go on to Grey-Court with me, and try it, at least. My
+mammy will kill the fatted calf for you in great style.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve settled that once,&rdquo; said Peter, who was evidently
+speaking journalistically, for he had done the settling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts said something in a half-articulate way, which certainly would have fired
+the blood of every dime museum-keeper in the country, had they been there to
+hear the conversation, for, as well as could be gathered from the mumbling, it
+related to a &ldquo;pig-headed donkey&rdquo; known of to the speaker. &ldquo;I
+suppose you&rsquo;ll be backing out of the Pierce affair yet,&rdquo; he added,
+discontentedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An invitation to Grey-Court is worth two of the Shrubberies. My mother
+knows only the right kind of people, while Mr. Pierce&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is to be our host,&rdquo; interrupted Peter, but with no shade of
+correction in his voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed Watts, &ldquo;and he is a host. He&rsquo;ll not let
+any one else get a word in edgewise. You are just the kind of talker
+he&rsquo;ll like. Mark my word, he&rsquo;ll be telling every one, before
+you&rsquo;ve been two hours in the house, that you are a remarkably brilliant
+conversationalist.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What will he say of you?&rdquo; said Peter, in a sentence which he broke
+up into reasonable lengths by a couple of pulls at his pipe in the middle of
+it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Pierce, chum,&rdquo; replied Watts, with a look in his eyes which
+Peter had learned to associate with mischief on Watts&rsquo;s part, &ldquo;has
+too great an affection for yours truly to object to anything I do. Do you
+suppose, if I hadn&rsquo;t been sure of my footing at the Shrubberies, that I
+should have dared to ask an invitation for&rdquo;&mdash;then Watts hesitated
+for a moment, seeing a half-surprised, half-anxious look come into
+Peter&rsquo;s face, &ldquo;for myself?&rdquo; he continued.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell truth and shame the devil,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts laughed. &ldquo;Confound you! That&rsquo;s what comes of letting even
+such a stupid old beggar as you learn to read one&rsquo;s thoughts. It&rsquo;s
+mighty ungrateful of you to use them against me. Yes. I did ask to have you
+included in the party. But you needn&rsquo;t put your back up, Mr. Unbendable,
+and think you were forced on them. Mr. Pierce gave me <i>carte blanche</i>, and
+if it hadn&rsquo;t been you, it would have been some other donkey.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Mrs. Pierce?&rdquo; queried Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; explained Watts, &ldquo;of course Mrs. Pierce wrote the
+letter. I couldn&rsquo;t do it in my name, and so Mr. Pierce told her to do it.
+They&rsquo;re very land of me, old man, because my governor is the largest
+stockholder, and a director in Mr. P.&rsquo;s bank, and I was told I could
+bring down some fellows next week for a few days&rsquo; jollity. I didn&rsquo;t
+care to do that, but of course I wouldn&rsquo;t have omitted you for any amount
+of ducats.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Which explanation solves the mystery of Peter&rsquo;s presence at the
+Shrubberies. To understand his face we must trace the period between his
+arrival and the moment this story begins.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>
+BEGINNINGS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+How far Watts was confining himself to facts in the foregoing dialogue is of no
+concern, for the only point of value was that Peter was invited, without regard
+to whether Watts first asked Mr. Pierce, or Mr. Pierce first asked Watts. A
+letter which the latter wrote to Miss Pierce, as soon as it was settled that
+Peter should go, is of more importance, and deserves quotation in full:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+JUNE 7TH.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+MY DEAR HELEN&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 &ldquo;if it kills every cow in the barn,&rdquo; which is merely
+another way of saying that in the bright lexicon of youth, there&rsquo;s no
+such word as fail.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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&rsquo;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&mdash;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 <i>pass&eacute;</i> (three last
+lines verge on poetry) being replaced by a new game called tennis, I probably
+say, &ldquo;No. Do you?&rdquo; In this way I make croquet good for a ten
+minutes&rsquo; chat, which in the end leads up to some other subject. Peter,
+however, doesn&rsquo;t. He says &ldquo;No,&rdquo; and so the girl can&rsquo;t
+go on with croquet, but must begin a new subject. It is safest to take the
+subject-headings from an encyclop&aelig;dia, 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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
+</p>
+
+<p>
+WATTS CLARKSON D&rsquo;ALLOI.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+When Watts and Peter saved the &ldquo;cows in the barn&rdquo; by stepping off
+the train on June 29th, the effect of this letter was manifest. Watts was
+promptly bestowed on the front seat of the trap with Mr. Pierce, while Peter
+was quickly sitting beside a girl on the back seat. Of course an introduction
+had been made, but Peter had acquired a habit of not looking at girls, and as a
+consequence had yet to discover how far Miss Pierce came up to the pleasant
+word-sketch Watts had drawn of her. Indeed, Peter had looked longingly at the
+seat beside Mr. Pierce, and had attempted, in a very obvious manner, though one
+which seemed to him the essence of tact and most un-apparent, to have it
+assigned to him. But two people, far his superior in natural finesse and
+experience, had decided beforehand that he was to sit with Helen, and he could
+not resist their skilful manoeuvres. So he climbed into place, hoping that she
+wouldn&rsquo;t talk, or if that was too much to expect, that at least Watts
+would half turn and help him through.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Neither of these fitted, however, with Miss Pierce&rsquo;s plans. She gave
+Peter a moment to fit comfortably into his seat, knowing that if she forced the
+running before he had done that, he would probably sit awry for the whole
+drive. Then: &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t tell you how pleased we all are over
+Watts&rsquo;s success. We knew, of course, he could do it if he cared to, but
+he seemed to think the attempt hardly worth the making, and so we did not know
+if he would try.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter breathed more easily. She had not asked a question, and the intonation of
+the last sentence was such as left him to infer that it was not his turn to say
+something; which, Peter had noticed, was the way in which girls generally ended
+their remarks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, look at that absurd looking cow,&rdquo; was her next remark, made
+before Peter had begun to worry over the pause.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at the cow and laughed. He would like to have laughed longer, for
+that would have used up time, but the moment he thought the laugh could be
+employed in place of conversation, the laugh failed. However, to be told to
+look at a cow required no rejoinder, so there was as yet no cause for anxiety.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are very proud of our roads about here,&rdquo; said Miss Pierce.
+&ldquo;When we first bought they were very bad, but papa took the matter in
+hand and got them to build with a rock foundation, as they do in Europe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Three subjects had been touched upon, and no answer or remark yet forced upon
+him. Peter thought of <i>rouge et noir</i>, and wondered what the odds were
+that he would be forced to say something by Miss Pierce&rsquo;s next speech.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like the New England roadside,&rdquo; continued Miss Pierce, with an
+apparent relativeness to the last subject that delighted Peter, who was used by
+this time to much disconnection of conversation, and found not a little
+difficulty in shifting quickly from one topic to another. &ldquo;There is a
+tangled finish about it that is very pleasant. And in August, when the
+golden-rod comes, I think it is glorious. It seems to me as if all the hot
+sunbeams of the summer had been gathered up in&mdash;excuse the
+expression&mdash;it&rsquo;s a word of Watts&rsquo;s&mdash;into
+&lsquo;gobs&rsquo; of sunshine, and scattered along the roads and
+fields.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter wondered if the request to be excused called for a response, but
+concluded that it didn&rsquo;t.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Papa told me the other day,&rdquo; continued Miss Pierce, &ldquo;that
+there were nineteen distinct varieties of golden-rod. I had never noticed that
+there were any differences.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter began to feel easy and comfortable. He made a mental note that Miss
+Pierce had a very sweet voice. It had never occurred to Peter before to notice
+if a girl had a pleasant voice. Now he distinctly remembered that several to
+whom he had talked&mdash;or rather who had talked to him&mdash;had not
+possessed that attraction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Last year,&rdquo; said Miss Pierce, &ldquo;when Watts was here, we had a
+golden-rod party. We had the whole house decked with it, and yellow lamps on
+the lawn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He told me about it,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He really was the soul of it,&rdquo; said Miss Pierce, &ldquo;He wove
+himself a belt and chaplet of it and wore it all through the evening. He was so
+good-looking!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter, quite unconscious that he had said anything, actually continued:
+&ldquo;He was voted the handsomest man of the class.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was he really? How nice!&rdquo; said Miss Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;And it was true.&rdquo; Peter failed to
+notice that a question had been asked, or that he had answered it. He began to
+think that he would like to look at Miss Pierce for a moment. Miss Pierce,
+during this interval, remarked to herself: &ldquo;Yes. That was the right way,
+Helen, my dear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We had quite a houseful for our party,&rdquo; Miss Pierce remarked,
+after this self-approval. &ldquo;And that reminds me that I must tell you about
+whom you meet to-day.&rdquo; Then the next ten minutes were consumed in naming
+and describing the two fashionable New York girls and their brother, who made
+the party then assembled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+During this time Peter&rsquo;s eyes strayed from Watts&rsquo;s shapely back,
+and took a furtive glance at Miss Pierce. He found that she was looking at him
+as she talked, but for some reason it did not alarm him, as such observation
+usually did. Before the guests were properly catalogued, Peter was looking into
+her eyes as she rambled on, and forgot that he was doing so.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 or thought. It responded
+quickly too, to outside influence. Many a girl of more real beauty was less
+popular. People liked to talk to Miss Pierce, and many could not escape from
+saying more than they wished, impelled thereto by her ready sympathy. Then her
+eyes were really beautiful, and she had the trimmest, dearest little figure in
+the world; &ldquo;squeezable&rdquo; was the word Watts used to describe it, and
+most men thought the same. Finally, she had a pleasant way of looking into
+people&rsquo;s eyes as she talked to them, and for some reason people felt very
+well satisfied when she did.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It had this effect upon Peter. As he looked down into the large gray eyes,
+really slate-color in their natural darkness, made the darker by the shadows of
+the long lashes, he entirely forgot place and circumstances; ceased to think
+whose turn it was to speak; even forgot to think whether he was enjoying the
+moment. In short he forgot himself and, what was equally important, forgot that
+he was talking to a girl. He felt and behaved as he did with men. &ldquo;Moly
+hoses!&rdquo; said Watts to himself on the front seat, &ldquo;the old
+fellow&rsquo;s getting loquacious. Garrulity must be contagious, and he&rsquo;s
+caught it from Mr. Pierce.&rdquo; Which, being reduced to actual facts, means
+that Peter had spoken eight times, and laughed twice, in the half hour that was
+passed between the station and the Shrubberies&rsquo; gate.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>
+MINES AND COUNTER-MINES.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The sight of the party on the veranda of the Shrubberies brought a return of
+self-consciousness to Peter, and he braced himself, as the trap slowed up, for
+the agony of formal greetings. If Miss Pierce had been a less sweet,
+sympathetic girl, she could hardly have kept from smiling at the way
+Peter&rsquo;s face and figure stiffened, as the group came in sight. But Miss
+Pierce had decided, before she met Peter, that she should like him, and,
+moreover, that he was a man who needed help. Let any woman reach these
+conclusions about a man, and for some reason quite beyond logic or philosophy,
+he ceases to be ridiculous. So instead of smiling, she bridged over the awful
+greetings with feminine engineering skill quite equal to some great strategic
+movement in war. Peter was made to shake hands with Mrs. Pierce, but was called
+off to help Miss Pierce out of the carriage, before speech was necessary. Then
+a bundle was missing in the bottom of the carriage, and Mr. Pawling, the New
+York swell, was summoned to help Peter find it, the incident being seized upon
+to name the two to each other. Finally, he was introduced to the two girls,
+but, almost instantly, Watts and Peter were sent to their rooms; and Miss
+Pierce, nodding her head in a way which denoted satisfaction, remarked as she
+went to her own room, &ldquo;Really, Helen, I don&rsquo;t think it will be so
+very hard, after all. He&rsquo;s very tractable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Peter came downstairs, before dinner, he speculated on whether he should be
+able to talk to Miss Pierce. He rather doubted from past experience, if such a
+result was attainable, seeing that there were two other men, who would of
+course endeavor to do the same. But strangely enough the two men were already
+seated by the New York girls, and a vacant chair was next that holding Miss
+Pierce. What was more, he was at once summoned to fill it, and in five minutes
+was again entirely unconscious of everything but the slate-colored eyes,
+looking so pleasantly into his. Then he took Miss Pierce in to dinner, and sat
+between her and her mother again becoming absorbed in the slate-colored eyes,
+which seemed quite willing to be absorbed. After dinner, too, when the women
+had succeeded the weed, Peter in someway found it very easy to settle 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, and thinking how well he had gone
+through the day. He had not made a single slip. Nothing to groan over.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m getting more experienced,&rdquo; 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 few hours, had been made easy
+for him by a woman&rsquo;s tact.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The following week was practically a continuation of this first day. In truth
+Peter was out of his element with the fashionables; Mr. Pierce did not choose
+to waste his power on him; and Mrs. Pierce, like the yielding, devoted wife she
+was, took her coloring from her husband. Watts had intended to look after him,
+but Watts played well on the piano, 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 aloud capitally, and, what was more, was ready at any or all times for any
+or all things. No man who can do half these had better intend seriously to do
+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 July temperature makes
+Long Island Sound. Instinctively, Peter turned to Miss Pierce at every
+opportunity. He should have asked himself if the girl was really enjoying his
+company more than she did that of the other young people. Had he been to the
+manner born he would have known better than to force himself on a hostess, or
+to make his monopoly of a young girl so marked. But he was entirely oblivious
+of whether he was doing as he ought, conscious only that, for causes which he
+made no attempt to analyze, he was very happy when with her. For reasons best
+known to Miss Pierce, she allowed herself to be monopolized. She was even
+almost as devoted 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 not
+talkative, and the little he did say was neither brilliant nor witty. With the
+jollity and &ldquo;high jinks&rdquo; (to use a word of Watts&rsquo;s) going on
+about her, it is hardly possible that Peter&rsquo;s society shone by contrast.
+Yet in drawing-room or carriage, on the veranda, lawn, or yacht&rsquo;s deck,
+she was ever ready to give him as much of her attention and help as he seemed
+to need, and he needed a good deal. Watts jokingly said that &ldquo;the moment
+Peter comes in sight, Helen puts out a sign &lsquo;vacant, to
+let,&rsquo;&rdquo; and this was only one of many jokes the house-party made
+over the dual devotion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was an experience full of danger to Peter. For the first time in his life he
+was seeing the really charming phases which a girl has at command. Attractive
+as these are to all men, they were trebly so to Peter, who had nothing to
+compare with them but the indifferent attitudes hitherto shown him by the
+maidens of his native town, and by the few Boston women who had been compelled
+to &ldquo;endure&rdquo; his society. If he had had more experience he would
+have merely thought Miss Pierce a girl with nice eyes, figure and manner. But
+as a single glass of wine is dangerous to the teetotaller, so this episode had
+an over-balancing influence on Peter, entirely out of proportion to its true
+value. Before the week was over he was seriously in love, and though his
+natural impassiveness and his entire lack of knowledge how to convey his
+feelings to Miss Pierce, prevented her from a suspicion of the fact, the more
+experienced father and mother were not so blind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, Charles,&rdquo; said Mrs. Pierce, in the privacy of their own
+room, &ldquo;I think it ought to be stopped.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly, my dear,&rdquo; replied her other half, with an apparent
+yielding to her views that amazed and rather frightened Mrs. Pierce, till he
+continued: &ldquo;Beyond question <i>it</i> should be stopped, since you say
+so. <i>It</i> is neuter, and as neutral things are highly objectionable, stop
+<i>it</i> by all means.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean Mr. Stirling&mdash;&rdquo; began Mrs. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; interrupted Mr. Pierce, in an encouraging, inquiring tone.
+&ldquo;Peter is certainly neuter. I think one might say negative, without gross
+exaggeration. Still, I should hardly stop him. He finds enough difficulty in
+getting out an occasional remark without putting a stopper in him. Perhaps,
+though, I mistake your meaning, and you want Peter merely to stop here a little
+longer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean, dear,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Pierce, with something like a tear in
+her voice, for she was sadly wanting in a sense of humor, and her
+husband&rsquo;s jokes always half frightened her, and invariably made her feel
+inferior to him, &ldquo;I mean his spending so much time with Helen. I&rsquo;m
+afraid he&rsquo;ll fall in love with her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce, &ldquo;you really should be a
+professional mind-reader. Your suggestion comes as an awful revelation to me.
+Just supposing he should&mdash;aye&mdash;just supposing he has, fallen in love
+with Helen!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I really think he has,&rdquo; said Mrs. Pierce, &ldquo;though he is so
+different from most men, that I am not sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then by all means we must stop him. By the way, how does one stop a
+man&rsquo;s falling in love?&rdquo; asked Mr. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Charles!&rdquo; said Mrs. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This remark of Mrs. Pierce&rsquo;s generally meant a resort to a handkerchief,
+and Mr. Pierce did not care for any increase of atmospheric humidity just then.
+He therefore concluded that since his wit was taken seriously, he would try a
+bit of seriousness, as an antidote.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think there is any occasion to interfere. Whatever Peter
+does can make no difference, for it is perfectly evident that Helen is nice to
+him as a sort of duty, and, I rather suspect, to please Watts. So anything she
+may do will be a favor to him, while the fact that she is attractive to Peter
+will not lessen her value to&mdash;others.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you don&rsquo;t think&mdash;?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Pierce, and paused
+there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t insult my intelligence,&rdquo; laughed Mr. Pierce. &ldquo;I
+do think. I think things can&rsquo;t be going better. I was a little afraid of
+Mr. Pawling, and should have preferred to have him and his sisters later, but
+since it is policy to invite them and they could not come at any other time, it
+was a godsend to have sensible, dull old Peter to keep her busy. If he had been
+in the least dangerous, I should not have interfered, but I should have made
+him very ridiculous. That&rsquo;s the way for parents to treat an ineligible
+man. Next week, when all are gone but Watts, he will have his time, and shine
+the more by contrast with what she has had this week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you think Helen and Watts care for each other?&rdquo; asked Mrs.
+Pierce, flushing with pleasure, to find her own opinion of such a delightful
+possibility supported by her husband&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce, &ldquo;that the less we parents concern
+ourselves with love the better. If I have made opportunities for Helen and
+Watts to see something of each other, I have only done what was to their mutual
+interests. Any courtesy I have shown him is well enough accounted for on the
+ground of his father&rsquo;s interest in my institution, without the assumption
+of any matrimonial intentions. However, I am not opposed to a marriage. Watts
+is the son of a very rich man of the best social position in New York, besides
+being a nice fellow in himself. Helen will make 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 <i>nunc dimittis</i>, but further than this, the
+deponent saith and doeth not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am sure they love each other,&rdquo; said Mrs. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce, &ldquo;I think if most parents would
+decide whom it was best for their child to marry, and see that the young people
+saw just enough of each other, before they saw too much of the world, they
+could accomplish their purpose, provided they otherwise kept their finger out
+of the pot of love. There is a certain period in a man&rsquo;s life when he
+must love something feminine, even if she&rsquo;s as old as his grandmother.
+There is a certain period in a girl&rsquo;s life when it is well-nigh
+impossible for her to say &lsquo;no&rsquo; to a lover. He really only loves the
+sex, and she really loves the love and not the lover; but it is just as well,
+for the delusion lasts quite as long as the more personal love that comes
+later. And, being young, they need less breaking for double harness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Pierce winced. Most women do wince when a man really verges on his true
+conclusions concerning love in the abstract, however satisfactory his love in
+the concrete may be to them. &ldquo;I am sure they love each other,&rdquo; she
+affirmed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I think they do,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pierce. &ldquo;But five years
+in the world before meeting would have possibly brought quite a different
+conclusion. And now, my dear, if we are not going to have the young people
+eloping in the yacht by themselves, we had better leave both the subject and
+the room, for we have kept them fifteen minutes as it is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>
+A MONOLOGUE AND A DIALOGUE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was at the end of this day&rsquo;s yachting that Peter was having his
+&ldquo;unsocial walk.&rdquo; Early on the morrow he would be taking the train
+for his native town, and the thought of this, in connection with other
+thoughts, drew stern lines on his face. His conclusions were something to this
+effect:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;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 so little of
+each other. How could he know her and not love her? But it&rsquo;s very
+fortunate for me, for I should stand no chance against him, even supposing I
+should try to win the girl he loved. She can&rsquo;t care for me! As Watts
+says, &lsquo;I&rsquo;m an old stupid naturally, and doubly so with
+girls.&rsquo; Still, I can&rsquo;t go to-morrow without telling her. I
+shan&rsquo;t see her again till next winter. I can&rsquo;t wait till then. Some
+one else&mdash;I can&rsquo;t wait.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he strode up and down half a dozen times repeating the last three words
+over and over again. His thoughts took a new turn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s simply folly, and you have no right to give in to it. You
+have your own way to make. You have no right to ask mother for more than the
+fifteen hundred she says you are to have as an allowance, for you know that if
+she gave you more, it would be only by scrimping herself. What is fifteen
+hundred a year to such a girl? Why, her father would think I was joking!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Peter looked out on the leaden waters and wished it was not cowardly to
+end the conflict by letting them close over him. The dark color made him think,
+however, of a pair of slate-colored eyes, so instead of jumping in, he repeated
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t wait&rdquo; a few times, and walked with redoubled energy.
+Having stimulated himself thereby, he went on thinking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She has been so kind to me that&mdash;no&mdash;she can&rsquo;t care for
+me. But if she&mdash;if by chance&mdash;if&mdash;supposing she does! Why, the
+money is nothing. We can wait.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter repeated this last remark several times, clearly showing that he made a
+great distinction between &ldquo;I can wait&rdquo; and &ldquo;We can
+wait.&rdquo; Probably the same nice distinction has been made before, and
+lovers have good authority for the distinction, for many an editor&rsquo;s
+public &ldquo;We think&rdquo; is the exact opposite of his private &ldquo;I
+think.&rdquo; Then Peter continued:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I shall have difficulty with Mr. Pierce. He&rsquo;s a worldly
+man. That&rsquo;s nothing, though, if she cares for me. If she cares for
+me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter repeated this last sentence a number of times and seemed to enjoy the
+prospect it conjured up. He saw Peter Stirling taking a fond farewell of a
+certain lady. He saw him entering the arena and struggling with the wild
+beasts, and of course conquering them. He saw the day when his successes would
+enable him to set up his own fireside. He saw that fireside made perfect by a
+pair of slate-colored eyes, which breakfast opposite him, follow him as he
+starts for his work, and greet him on his return. 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 such materials!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From all this the fact can be gathered that Peter was really, despite his calm,
+sober nature, no more sensible in love matters than are other boys verging on
+twenty-one. He could not see that success in this love would be his greatest
+misfortune. That he could not but be distracted from his work. That he would
+almost certainly marry before he could well afford it, and thus overweight
+himself in his battle for success. He forgot prudence and common-sense, and
+that being what a lover usually does, he can hardly be blamed for it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bump!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Down came the air-castle. Home, fireside, and the slate-colored eyes dissolved
+into a wooden wharf. The dream was over.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bear a hand here with these lunch-baskets, chum,&rdquo; called Watts.
+&ldquo;Make yourself useful as well as ornamental.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so Peter&rsquo;s solitary tramp ceased, and he was helping lunch-baskets
+and ladies to the wharf.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the tramp had brought results which were quickly to manifest themselves. 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&rsquo;s liking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on with the rest, Watts,&rdquo; said Peter quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Pierce and Watts both stopped short in surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; said the latter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You join the rest of the party on ahead,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand,&rdquo; said Watts, who could hardly have been
+more surprised if Peter had told him to drown himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to say something to Miss Pierce,&rdquo; explained Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts caught his breath. If Peter had not requested his absence and given his
+reason for wishing it, in Miss Pierce&rsquo;s hearing, Watts would have formed
+an instant conclusion as to what it meant, not far from the truth. But that a
+man should deliberately order another away, in the girl&rsquo;s hearing, so
+that he might propose to her, was too great an absurdity for Watts to entertain
+for more than a second. He laughed, and said, &ldquo;Go on yourself, if you
+don&rsquo;t like the company.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I want you to go on.&rdquo; Peter spoke
+quietly, but there was an inflexion in his singularly clear voice, which had
+more command in it than a much louder tone in others. Watts had learned to
+recognize it, and from past experience knew that Peter was not to be moved when
+he used it. But here the case was different. Hitherto he had been trying to
+make Peter do something. Now the boot was on the other leg, and Watts saw
+therein a chance for some fun. He therefore continued to stand still, 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 the incident.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; remarked Miss Pierce, &ldquo;that I will leave you two
+to settle it, and run on with the rest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; spoke Peter quickly. &ldquo;I have something to say
+to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts stopped his whistling. &ldquo;What the deuce is the old boy up to?&rdquo;
+he thought to himself. Miss Pierce hesitated. She wanted to go, but something
+in Peter&rsquo;s voice made it very difficult. &ldquo;I had no idea he could
+speak so decidedly. He&rsquo;s not so tractable as I thought. I think Watts
+ought to do what he asks. Though I don&rsquo;t see why Mr. Stirling wants to
+send him away,&rdquo; she said to herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;this is the last chance I shall really
+have to thank Miss Pierce, for I leave before breakfast to-morrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was nothing appealing in the way it was said. It seemed a mere statement
+of a fact. Yet something in the voice gave it the character of a command.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Nough said, chum,&rdquo; said Watts, feeling a little cheap at
+his smallness in having tried to rob Peter of his farewell. The next moment he
+was rapidly overtaking the advance-party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By all conventions there should have been an embarrassing pause after this
+extraordinary colloquy, but there was not. When Peter decided to do a thing, he
+never faltered in the doing. If making love or declaring it had been a matter
+of directness and plain-speaking, Peter would have been a successful lover. But
+few girls are won by lovers who carry business methods and habits of speech
+into their courtship.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Pierce,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I could not go without thanking
+you for your kindness to me. I shall never forget this week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am so glad you have enjoyed it,&rdquo; almost sang Miss Pierce, in her
+pleasure at this reward for her week of self-sacrifice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I couldn&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; said Peter, his clear voice suddenly
+husking, &ldquo;without telling you how I love you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Love me!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Pierce, and she brought the walk again to
+a halt, in her surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Peter simply, but the monosyllable meant more than
+the strongest protestations, as he said it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; almost cried his companion, &ldquo;I am so sorry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say that,&rdquo; said Peter; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want it to
+be a sorrow to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s so sudden,&rdquo; gasped Miss Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose it is,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but I love you and
+can&rsquo;t help telling it. Why shouldn&rsquo;t one tell one&rsquo;s love as
+soon as one feels it? It&rsquo;s the finest thing a man can tell a
+woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, please don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; begged Miss Pierce, her eyes full of
+tears in sympathy for him. &ldquo;You make it so hard for me to say
+that&mdash;that you mustn&rsquo;t&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I really didn&rsquo;t think you could care for me&mdash;as I cared for
+you,&rdquo; replied Peter, rather more to the voice than to the words of the
+last speech. &ldquo;Girls have never liked me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Pierce began to sob. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all a mistake. A dreadful
+mistake,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;and it is my fault.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say that,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s nothing but
+my blundering.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked on in silence to the Shrubberies, but as they came near to the
+glare of the lighted doorway, Peter halted a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;that it could ever be
+different?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Miss Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because, unless there is&mdash;is some one else,&rdquo; continued Peter,
+&ldquo;I shall not&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is,&rdquo; interrupted Miss Pierce, the determination in
+Peter&rsquo;s voice frightening her info disclosing her secret.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said to himself, &ldquo;It is Watts after all.&rdquo; He was tempted to
+say it aloud, and most men in the sting of the moment would have done so. But
+he thought it would not be the speech of a gentleman. Instead he said,
+&ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo; Then he braced himself, and added: &ldquo;Please
+don&rsquo;t let my love cause you any sorrow. It has been nothing but a joy to
+me. Good-night and good-bye.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not even offer to shake hands in parting. They went into the hallway
+together, and leaving the rest of the party, who were already raiding the
+larder for an impromptu supper, to their own devices, they passed upstairs,
+Miss Pierce to bathe her eyes and Peter to pack his belongings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where are Helen and Stirling?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Pierce when the time
+came to serve out the Welsh rarebit he was tending.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll be along presently,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;Helen forgot
+something, and they went back after it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They will be properly punished by the leathery condition of the rarebit,
+if they don&rsquo;t hurry. And as we are all agreed that Stirling is somewhat
+lacking in romance, he will not get a corresponding pleasure from the longer
+stroll to reward him for that. There, ladies and gentlemen, that is a rarebit
+that will melt in your mouth, and make the absent ones regret their
+foolishness. As the gourmand says in &lsquo;Richelieu,&rsquo;
+&lsquo;What&rsquo;s diplomacy compared to a delicious
+p&acirc;t&eacute;?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>
+FACING THE WORLD.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Army surgeons recognize three types of wounded. One type so nervous, that it
+drops the moment it is struck, whether the wound is disabling or not. Another
+so nerveless, that it fights on, unconscious that it has been hit. A third,
+who, feeling the wound, goes on fighting, sustained by its nerve. It is over
+the latter sort that the surgeons shake their heads and look anxious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did his packing quietly and quickly, not pausing for a moment in the
+task. Then he went downstairs, and joined the party, just finishing the supper.
+He refused, it is true, to eat anything, and was quiet, but this phase was so
+normal in him, that it occasioned no remark. Asked where Miss Pierce was, he
+explained briefly that he had left her in the hall, in order to do his packing
+and had not seen her since.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 better things than
+he had said in his whole visit, and quite surprising them all in the apparent
+ease with which he went through the duty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must come and see us when you have put your shingle out in New
+York,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce, not quite knowing why, having previously decided
+that they had had enough of Peter. &ldquo;We shall be in the city early in
+September, and ready to see our friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; replied Peter. He turned and went upstairs to his
+room. He ought to have spent the night pacing his floor, but he did not. He
+went to bed instead Whether Peter slept, we cannot say. He certainly lay very
+still, till the first ray of daylight brightened the sky. Then he rose and
+dressed. He went to the stables and explained to the groom that he would walk
+to the station, and merely asked that his trunk should be there in time to be
+checked. Then he returned to the house and told the cook that he would
+breakfast on the way. Finally he started for the station, diverging on the way,
+so as to take a roundabout road, that gave him a twelve-mile tramp in the time
+he had before the train left.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps the hardest thing Peter encountered was answering his mother&rsquo;s
+questions about the visit. Yet he never flinched nor dodged from a true reply,
+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. Stirling careful, and whatever
+she surmised she kept to herself, merely kissing him good-night with a
+tenderness that was unusual not merely in a New-Englander, but even in her.
+During the rest of his stay, the Pierces were quite as much kept out of sight,
+as if they had never been known. Mrs. Stirling was not what we should call a
+&ldquo;lady,&rdquo; yet few of those who rank as such, would have been as
+considerate or tender of Peter&rsquo;s trouble, if the power had been given
+them to lay it bare. Love, sympathy, unselfishness and forbearance are not bad
+equivalents for breeding and etiquette, and have the additional advantage of
+meeting new and unusual conditions which sometimes occur to even the most
+conventional.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One hope did come to her, &ldquo;Perhaps, now that&rdquo;&mdash;and Mrs.
+Stirling left &ldquo;that&rdquo; blank even in her thoughts; &ldquo;now my boy,
+my Peter, will not be so set on going to New York.&rdquo; In this, however, she
+was disappointed. On the second day of his stay, Peter spoke of his intention
+to start for New York the following week.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think you could do as well here?&rdquo; said Mrs.
+Stirling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Up to a certain point, better. But New York has a big beyond,&rdquo;
+said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try it there first, and if I don&rsquo;t make my
+way, I&rsquo;ll come back here&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Few mothers hope for a son&rsquo;s failure, yet Mrs. Stirling allowed herself a
+moment&rsquo;s happiness over this possibility. Then remembering that her Peter
+could not possibly fail, she became despondent. &ldquo;They say New
+York&rsquo;s full of temptations,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose it is, mother,&rdquo; replied Peter, &ldquo;to those who want
+to be tempted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I can trust you, Peter,&rdquo; said his mother, proudly,
+&ldquo;but I want you to promise me one thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That if you do yield, if you do what you oughtn&rsquo;t to, you&rsquo;ll
+write and tell me about it?&rdquo; Mrs. Stirling put her arms about
+Peter&rsquo;s neck, and looked wistfully into his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was not blind to what this world is. Perhaps, had his mother known it as
+he did, she might have seen how unfair her petition was. He did not like to say
+yes, and could not say no.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try to go straight, mother,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;but
+that&rsquo;s a good deal to promise.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all I&rsquo;m going to ask of you, Peter,&rdquo; urged Mrs.
+Stirling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have gone through four years of my life with nothing in it I
+couldn&rsquo;t tell her,&rdquo; thought Peter. &ldquo;If that&rsquo;s possible,
+I guess another four is.&rdquo; Then he said aloud, &ldquo;Well, mother, since
+you want it, I&rsquo;ll do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The reason of Peter&rsquo;s eagerness to get to New York, was chiefly to have
+something definite to do. He tried to obtain this distraction of occupation, at
+present, in a characteristic way, by taking excessively long walks, and by
+struggling with his mother&rsquo;s winter supply of wood. He thought that every
+long stride and every swing of the axe was working him free from the crushing
+lack of purpose that had settled upon him. He imagined it would be even easier
+when he reached New York. &ldquo;There&rsquo;ll be plenty to keep me busy
+there,&rdquo; was his mental hope.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All his ambitions and plans seemed in a sense to have become meaningless, made
+so by the something which but ten days before had been unknown to him. Like
+Moses he had seen the promised land. But Moses died. He had seen it, and must
+live on without it. He saw nothing in the future worth striving for, except a
+struggle to forget, if possible, the sweetest and dearest memory he had ever
+known. He thought of the epigram: &ldquo;Most men can die well, but few can
+live well.&rdquo; Three weeks before he had smiled over it and set it down as a
+bit of French cynicism. Now&mdash;on the verge of giving his mental assent to
+the theory, a pair of slate-colored eyes in some way came into his mind, and
+even French wit was discarded therefrom.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was taking his disappointment very seriously, if quietly. Had he only
+known other girls, he might have made a safe recovery, for love&rsquo;s remedy
+is truly the homeopathic &ldquo;similia similibus curantur,&rdquo; woman plural
+being the natural cure for woman singular. As the Russian in the &ldquo;Last
+Word&rdquo; says, &ldquo;A woman can do anything with a man&mdash;provided
+there is no other woman.&rdquo; In Peter&rsquo;s case there was no other woman.
+What was worse, there seemed little prospect of there being one in the future.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>
+SETTLING.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The middle of July found Peter in New York, eager to begin his grapple with the
+future. How many such stormers have dashed themselves against its high
+ramparts, from which float the flags of &ldquo;worldly success;&rdquo; how many
+have fallen at the first attack; how many have been borne away, stricken in the
+assault; how many have fought on bravely, till driven back by pressure,
+sickness or hunger; how few have reached the top, and won their colors!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As already hinted, Peter had chosen the law as his ladder to climb these
+ramparts. Like many another fellow he had but a dim comprehension of the
+struggle before him. His college mates had talked over professions, and agreed
+that law was a good one in New York. The attorney in his native town,
+&ldquo;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&rsquo;t see why it can&rsquo;t be done as well in New York as in Lawrence
+or Lowell. If New York is bigger, then there is more to be done.&rdquo; So
+Peter, whose New York acquaintances were limited to Watts and four other
+collegians, the Pierces and their fashionables, and a civil engineer originally
+from his native town, had decided that the way to go about it was to get an
+office, hang up a sign, and wait for clients.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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, &ldquo;so as to live
+in a decent part of the city,&rdquo; but after seeing and pricing a few rooms
+near the &ldquo;Avenue,&rdquo; about Thirtieth Street, Peter saw that Watts had
+been thinking of his own purse, rather than of his friend&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you tell me where the cheaper boarding-houses are?&rdquo; he asked
+the woman who had done the honors of the last house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it&rsquo;s cheapness you want, you&rsquo;d better go to Bleecker
+Street,&rdquo; said the woman with a certain contemptuousness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thanked her, and, walking away, accosted the first policeman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Blaker Strate, is it? Take the Sixth Avenue cars, there
+beyant,&rdquo; he was informed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it a respectable street?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be afther takin&rsquo; away a strate&rsquo;s
+character,&rdquo; said the policeman, grinning good-naturedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; explained Peter, &ldquo;do respectable people live
+there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure, it&rsquo;s mostly boarding-houses for young men,&rdquo; replied
+the unit of &ldquo;the finest.&rdquo; &ldquo;Ye know best what they&rsquo;re
+loike.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Reassured, Peter, sought and found board in Bleecker Street, not comprehending
+that he had gone to the opposite extreme. It was a dull season, and he had no
+difficulty in getting such a room as suited both his expectations and purse. By
+dinner-time he had settled his simple household goods to his satisfaction, and
+slightly moderated the dreariness of the third floor front, so far as the few
+pictures and other furnishings from his college rooms could modify the effect
+of well-worn carpet, cheap, painted furniture, and ugly wall-paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Descending to his dinner, in answer to a bell more suitable for a fire-alarm
+than for announcing such an ordinary occurrence as meals, he was introduced to
+the four young men who were all the boarders the summer season had left in the
+house. Two were retail dry-goods clerks, another filled some function in a
+butter and cheese store, and the fourth was the ticket-seller at one of the
+middle-grade theatres. They all looked at Peter&rsquo;s clothes before looking
+at his face, and though the greetings were civil enough, Peter&rsquo;s
+ready-made travelling suit, bought in his native town, and his quiet cravat, as
+well as his lack of jewelry, were proof positive to them that he did not merit
+any great consideration. It was very evident that the ticket-seller, not merely
+from his natural self-assertion but even more because of his enviable
+acquaintance with certain actresses and his occasional privileges in the way of
+free passes, was the acknowledged autocrat of the table. Under his guidance the
+conversation quickly turned to theatrical and &ldquo;show&rdquo; talk. Much of
+it was vulgar, and all of it was dull. It was made the worse by the fact that
+they all tried to show, off a little before the newcomer, to prove their
+superiority and extreme knowingness to him. To make Peter the more conscious of
+this, they asked him various questions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you like&mdash;?&rdquo; a popular soubrette of the day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What, never seen her? Where on earth have you been living?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh? Well, she&rsquo;s got too good legs to waste herself on such a
+little place.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They would like to have asked him questions about himself, but feared to seem
+to lower themselves from their fancied superiority, by showing interest in
+Peter. One indeed did ask him what business he was in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t got to work yet,&rdquo; answered Peter
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Looking for a place&rdquo; was the mental comment of all, for they could
+not conceive of any one entitled to practise law not airing his advantage. So
+they went on patronizing Peter, and glorifying themselves. When time had
+developed the facts that he was a lawyer, a college graduate, and a man who
+seemed to have plenty of money (from the standpoint of dry-goods clerks) their
+respect for him considerably increased. He could not, however, overcome his
+instinctive dislike to them. After the manly high-minded, cultivated Harvard
+classmates, every moment of their society was only endurable, and he neither
+went to their rooms nor asked them to his. Peter had nothing of the snob in
+him, but he found reading or writing, or a tramp about the city, much the
+pleasanter way of passing his evenings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The morning after this first day in New York, Peter called on his friend, the
+civil engineer, to consult him about an office; for Watts had been rather hazy
+in regard to where he might best locate that. Mr. Converse shook his head when
+Peter outlined his plan.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know any New York people,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;who will be
+likely to give you cases?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it&rsquo;s absolutely foolish of you to begin that way,&rdquo; said
+Mr. Converse. &ldquo;Get into a lawyer&rsquo;s office, and make friends first
+before you think of starting by yourself. You&rsquo;ll otherwise never get a
+client.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter shook his head. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve thought it out,&rdquo; he added, as if
+that settled it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Converse looked at him, and, really liking the fellow, was about to explain
+the real facts to him, when a client came in. So he only said, &ldquo;If
+that&rsquo;s so, go ahead. Locate on Broadway, anywhere between the Battery and
+Canal Street.&rdquo; Later in the day, when he had time, he shook his head, and
+said, &ldquo;Poor devil! Like all the rest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street represented a fairly large range
+of territory, but Peter went at the matter directly, and for the next three
+days passed his time climbing stairs, and inspecting rooms and 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 with a desk, two chairs (for Peter
+as yet dreamed only of single clients) and a shelf containing the few law books
+that were the monuments of his Harvard law course, and his summer reading. On
+the following Monday, when Peter faced his office door he felt a glow of
+satisfaction at seeing in very black letters on the very newly scrubbed glass
+the sign of:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+PETER STIRLING
+</p>
+
+<p>
+ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+He had come to his office early, not merely because at his boarding place they
+breakfasted betimes, but because he believed that early hours were one way of
+winning success. He was a little puzzled what to do with himself. He sat down
+at his desk and thrummed it for a minute. Then he rose, and spread his books
+more along the shelf, so as to leave little spaces between them, thinking that
+he could make them look more imposing thereby. After that he took down a
+book&mdash;somebody &ldquo;On Torts,&rdquo;&mdash;and dug into it. In the
+Harvard course, he had had two hours a week of this book, but Peter worked over
+it for nearly three hours. Then he took paper, and in a very clear, beautifully
+neat hand, made an abstract of what he had read. Then he compared his abstract
+with the book. Returning the book to the shelf, very much pleased with the
+accuracy of his memory, he looked at his watch. It was but half-past eleven.
+Peter sat down at his desk. &ldquo;Would all the days go like this?&rdquo; he
+asked himself. He had got through the first week by his room and office-seeking
+and furnishing. But now? He could not read law for more than four hours a day,
+and get anything from it. What was to be done with the rest of the time? What
+could he do to keep himself from thinking of&mdash;from thinking? He looked out
+of his one window, over the dreary stretch of roofs and the drearier light
+shafts spoken of flatteringly as yards. He compressed his lips, and resorted
+once more to his book. But he found his mind wandering, and realized that he
+had done all he was equal to on a hot July morning. Again he looked out over
+the roofs. Then he rose and stood in the middle at his room, thinking. He
+looked at his watch again, to make sure that he was right. Then he opened his
+door and glanced about the hall. It was one blank, except for the doors. He
+went down the two flights of stairs to the street. Even that had the deserted
+look of summer. He turned and went back to his room. Sitting down once more at
+his desk, and opening somebody &ldquo;On Torts&rdquo; again, he took up his pen
+and began to copy the pages literally. He wrote steadily for a time, then with
+pauses. Finally, the hand ceased to follow the lines, and became straggly. Then
+he ceased to write. The words blurred, the paper faded from view, and all Peter
+saw was a pair of slate-colored eyes. He laid his head down on the blotter, and
+the erect, firm figure relaxed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There is no more terrible ordeal of courage than passive waiting. Most of us
+can be brave with something to do, but to be brave for months, for years, with
+nothing to be done and without hope of the future! So it was in Peter&rsquo;s
+case. It was waiting&mdash;waiting&mdash;for what? If clients came, if fame
+came, if every form of success came,&mdash;for what?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There is nothing in loneliness to equal the loneliness of a big city. About
+him, so crowded and compressed together as to risk life and health, were a
+million people. Yet not a soul of that million knew that Peter sat at his desk,
+with his head on his blotter, immovable, from noon one day till daylight of the
+next.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>
+HAPPINESS BY PROXY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The window of Peter&rsquo;s office faced east, and the rays of the morning sun
+shining dazzlingly in his eyes forced him back to a consciousness of things
+mundane. He rose, and went downstairs, to find the night watch-man just opening
+the building. Fortunately he had already met the man, so that he was not
+suspected as an intruder; and giving him a pleasant &ldquo;good-morning,&rdquo;
+Peter passed into the street. It was a good morning indeed, with all that
+freshness and coolness which even a great city cannot take from a summer dawn.
+For some reason Peter felt more encouraged. Perhaps it was the consciousness of
+having beaten his loneliness and misery by mere physical endurance. Perhaps it
+was only the natural spring of twenty years. At all events, he felt dimly, that
+miserable and unhopeful as the future looked, he was not conquered yet; that he
+was going to fight on, come what might.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned to the river front, and after bargaining with a passing cart for a
+pint of what the poorer people of the city buy as milk, he turned north, and
+quickening his pace, walked till he had left the city proper and had reached
+the new avenue or &ldquo;drive,&rdquo; which, by the liberality of Mr. Tweed
+with other people&rsquo;s money, was then just approaching completion. After
+walking the length of it, he turned back to his boarding-place, and after a
+plunge, felt as if he could face and fight the future to any extent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a result of this he was for the first time late at breakfast The presider
+over the box-office had ascertained that Peter had spent the night out, and had
+concluded he would have a gird or two at him. He failed, however, to carry out
+his intention. It was not the first time that both he and his companions had
+decided to &ldquo;roast&rdquo; Peter, absent, but had done other wise with
+Peter, present. He had also decided to say to Peter, &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s your
+dandy letter-writer?&rdquo; But he also failed to do that. 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 an air about it. It was written on linen
+paper of a grade which, if now common enough, was not so common at that time.
+Then it was postmarked from one of the most, fashionable summer resorts of the
+country. Finally, it was sealed with wax, then very unusual, and the wax bore
+the impression of a crest. They were all rather disappointed when Peter put
+that letter in his pocket, without opening it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter read the letter at his office that morning. It was as follows:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+GREY-COURT, July 21st.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+DEAR. OLD MAN&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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&rsquo;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&mdash;to talk to Mr. Pierce, you
+understand!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+My governor has decided that a couple of years&rsquo; 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 <i>solitude &agrave; deux</i>, instead of solus. So we shall
+be married in September, at the Shrubberies, and sail for Europe almost
+immediately.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 &ldquo;best man&rdquo; as you have
+been my Best friend. &ldquo;Best man,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;t do much. Holding
+his principal&rsquo;s hat, I believe, is the most serious duty that falls to
+him, though perhaps not stepping on the bridal dresses is more difficult.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+My Mamma wants me to drive with her, so this must be continued in our next.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Aff.,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+W.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not read law that morning. But after sitting in his chair for a
+couple of hours, looking at the opposite wall, and seeing something quite
+different, he took his pen, and without pause, or change of face, wrote two
+letters, as follows:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+DEAR WATTS:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Faithfully yours,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+PETER.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+DEAR MISS PIERCE:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Please give my regards to Mr. and Mrs. Pierce, and believe me,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yours ever sincerely,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+PETER STIRLING.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+After these letters were written, Peter studied the wall again for a time.
+Studied it till long after the hour when he should have lunched. The wall had
+three cracks in it which approximated to an outline of Italy, but though Peter
+gazed at this particular wall a good many hours in the next few weeks, he did
+not discover this interesting fact till long after this time of wall-gazing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the early morning and after dinner, in spite of the summer heat, he took
+long walks. During the day he sat in his office doing nothing, with the
+exception of an occasional letter to his mother, and one or two to Watts in
+respect to the coming wedding. Two visits to the tailor&rsquo;s, and another to
+Tiffany&rsquo;s, which resulted in a pearl pin rather out of proportion to his
+purse, were almost the sole variations of this routine. It was really a relief
+to this terrible inactivity, when he found himself actually at the Shrubberies,
+the afternoon before the wedding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was rather surprised at the ease with which he went through the next
+twenty-four hours. It is true that the house was too full, and each person too
+busy, to trouble the silent groomsman with attention, so he might have done
+pretty much what he wished, without being noticed. He arrived late, thus having
+no chance for greetings till after a hurried dressing for dinner, when they
+were made in the presence of the whole party, who had waited his coming to go
+to the meal. He went through the ordeal well, even that with Miss Pierce,
+actually showing less embarrassment than she did. What was more astonishing, he
+calmly offered his arm to the bridesmaid who fell to his lot, and, after
+seating her, chatted without thinking that he was talking. Indeed, he hardly
+heeded what he did say, but spoke mechanically, as a kind of refuge from
+thought and feeling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t find him a bit so,&rdquo; the girl said to Miss Pierce,
+later in the evening, with an indefiniteness which, if not merely feminine,
+must presuppose a previous conversation. &ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t exactly
+talkative, but he is perfectly easy to get on with. I tried him on New York,
+and found he had gone into a good many odd places and can tell about them. He
+describes things very well, so that one sees them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It must be your tact, then, Miss Leroy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Pierce,
+&ldquo;for we could get nothing out of him before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No? I had nothing to do with it, and, between ourselves, I think he
+disapproved of me. If Helen hadn&rsquo;t told me about him, I should have been
+very cool to him, his manner was so objectionable. He clearly talked to me
+because he felt it a duty, and not a pleasure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s only that unfortunate manner of his,&rdquo; said Helen.
+&ldquo;I really think at heart he&rsquo;s dreadfully afraid of us. At least
+that&rsquo;s what Watts says. But he only behaves as if&mdash;as if&mdash;well,
+you know what I mean, Alice!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; said Alice. &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t describe it.
+He&rsquo;s so cool, and stolid, and silent, that you feel shoddy and cheap, and
+any simple little remark doesn&rsquo;t seem enough to say. You try to talk up
+to him, and yet feel small all the time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;You talk down to him, as if he
+were&mdash;were&mdash;your old grandfather, or some one else you admired, but
+thought very dull and old-fashioned.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But the worst is the way he looks at you. So gravely, even when you try
+to joke. Now I really think I&rsquo;m passably pretty, but Mr. Stirling said as
+plainly as could be: &lsquo;I look at you occasionally because that&rsquo;s the
+proper thing to do, when one talks, but I much prefer looking at that picture
+over your head.&rsquo; I don&rsquo;t believe he noticed how my hair was
+dressed, or the color of my eyes. Such men are absolutely maddening. When
+they&rsquo;ve finished their smoke, I&rsquo;m going to make him notice
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Miss Leroy failed in her plan, try as she would. Peter did not notice girls
+any more. After worrying in his school and college days, over what women
+thought of him and how they treated him, he had suddenly ceased to trouble
+himself about them. It was as if a man, after long striving for something, had
+suddenly discovered that he did not wish it&mdash;that to him women&rsquo;s
+opinions had become worthless. Perhaps in this case it was only the Fox and the
+Grapes over again. At all events, from this time on Peter cared little what
+women did. Courteous he tried to be, for he understood this to be a duty. But
+that was all. They might laugh at him, snub him, avoid him. He cared not. He
+had struck women out of his plan of life. And this disregard, as we have
+already suggested, was sure to produce a strange change, not merely in Peter,
+but in women&rsquo;s view and treatment of him. Peter trying to please them, by
+dull, ordinary platitudes, was one thing. Peter avoiding them and talking to
+them when needs must, with that distant, uninterested look and voice, was quite
+another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning, Peter, after finding what a fifth wheel in a coach all men
+are at weddings, finally stood up with his friend. He had not been asked to
+stay on for another night, as had most of the bridal party, so he slipped away
+as soon as his duty was done, and took a train that put him into New York that
+evening. A week later he said good-bye to the young couple, on the deck of a
+steamship.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forget us, Peter,&rdquo; shouted Watts, after the fasts were
+cast off and the steamer was slowly moving into mid-stream.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter waved his hat, and turning, walked off the pier.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Could he forget them?&rdquo; was the question he asked himself.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br/>
+WAITING.</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; said an old and experienced philosopher to a young
+man, who with all the fire and impatience of his years wished to conquer the
+world quickly, &ldquo;youth has many things to learn, but one of the most
+important is never to let another man beat you at waiting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went back to his desk, and waited. He gave up looking at the wall of his
+office, and took to somebody &ldquo;On Torts&rdquo; again. When that was
+finished he went through the other law books of his collection. Those done, he
+began to buy others, and studied them with great thoroughness and persistence.
+In one of his many walks, he stumbled upon the Apprentices&rsquo; Library.
+Going in, he inquired about its privileges, and became a regular borrower of
+books. Peter had always been a reader, but now he gave from three or four hours
+a day to books, aside from his law study. Although he was slow, the number of
+volumes, he not merely read, but really mastered was marvellous. Books which he
+liked, without much regard to their popular reputation, he at once bought; for
+his simple life left him the ability to indulge himself in most respects within
+moderation. He was particularly careful to read a classic occasionally to keep
+up his Greek and Latin, and for the same reason he read French and German books
+aloud to himself. Before the year was out, he was a recognized quantity in
+certain book-stores, and was privileged to browse at will both among old and
+new books without interference or suggestion from the &ldquo;stock&rdquo;
+clerks. &ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t any good trying to sell him anything,&rdquo;
+remarked one. &ldquo;He makes up his mind for himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His reading was broadened out from the classic and belles-lettres grooves that
+were still almost a cult with the college graduate, by another recreation now
+become habitual with him. In his long tramps about the city, to vary the
+monotony, he would sometimes stop and chat with people&mdash;with a policeman,
+a fruit-vender, a longshoreman or a truckster. It mattered little who it was.
+Then he often entered manufactories and &ldquo;yards&rdquo; and asked if he
+could go through them, studying the methods, and talking to the overseer or
+workers about the trade. When he occasionally encountered some one who told him
+&ldquo;your kind ain&rsquo;t got no business here&rdquo; he usually found the
+statement &ldquo;my father was a mill-overseer&rdquo; a way to break down the
+barrier. He had to use it seldom, for he dressed plainly and met the men in a
+way which seldom failed to make them feel that he was one of them. After such
+inspection and chat, he would get books from the library, and read up about the
+business or trade, finding that in this way he could enjoy works otherwise too
+technical, and really obtain a very good knowledge of many subjects. Just how
+interesting he found such books as &ldquo;Our Fire-Laddies,&rdquo; which he
+read from cover to cover, after an inspection of, and chat with, the men of the
+nearest fire-engine station; or Latham&rsquo;s &ldquo;The Sewage
+Difficulty,&rdquo; which the piping of uptown New York induced him to read; and
+others of diverse types is questionable. Probably it was really due to his
+isolation, but it was much healthier than gazing at blank walls.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the courts opened, Peter kept track of the calendars, and whenever a case
+or argument promised to be interesting, or to call out the great lights of the
+profession, he attended and listened to them. He tried to write out the
+arguments used, from notes, and finally this practice induced him to give two
+evenings a week during the winter mastering shorthand. It was really only a
+mental discipline, for any case of importance was obtainable in print almost as
+soon as argued, but Peter was trying to put a pair of slate-colored eyes out of
+his thoughts, and employed this as one of the means.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When winter came, and his long walks became less possible, he turned to other
+things. More from necessity than choice, he visited the art and other
+exhibitions as they occurred, he went to concerts, and to plays, all with due
+regard to his means, and for this reason the latter were the most seldom
+indulged in. Art and music did not come easy to him, but he read up on both,
+not merely in standard books, but in the reviews of the daily press, and just
+because there was so much in both that he failed to grasp, he studied the more
+carefully and patiently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One trait of his New England training remained to him. He had brought a letter
+from his own Congregational church in his native town, to one of the large
+churches of the same sect in New York, and when admitted, hired a sitting and
+became a regular attendant at both morning and evening service. In time this
+produced a call from his new pastor. It was the first new friend he had gained
+in New York. &ldquo;He seems a quiet, well-informed fellow,&rdquo; was the
+clergyman&rsquo;s comment; &ldquo;I shall make a point of seeing something of
+him.&rdquo; But he was pastor of a very large and rich congregation, and was a
+hard-worked and hard-entertained man, so his intention was not realized.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter spent Christmastide with his mother, who worried not a little over his
+loss of flesh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have been overworking,&rdquo; she said anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why mother, I haven&rsquo;t had a client yet,&rdquo; laughed Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you&rsquo;ve worried over not getting on,&rdquo; said his mother,
+knowing perfectly well that it was nothing of the sort. She had hoped that
+Peter would be satisfied with his six months&rsquo; trial, but did not mention
+her wish. She marvelled to herself that New York had not yet discovered his
+greatness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter returned to the city, he made a change in his living arrangements.
+His boarding-place had filled up with the approach of winter, but with the
+class of men he already knew too well. Even though he met them only at meals,
+their atmosphere was intolerable to him. When a room next his office fell
+vacant, and went begging at a very cheap price, he decided to use it as a
+bedroom. So he moved his few belongings on his return from his visit to his
+mother&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Although he had not been particularly friendly to the other boarders, nor made
+himself obtrusive in the least, not one of them failed to speak of his leaving.
+Two or three affected to be pleased, but &ldquo;Butter-and-cheese&rdquo; said
+he &ldquo;was a first-rate chap,&rdquo; and this seemed to gain the assent of
+the table generally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m dreadfully sorry to lose him,&rdquo; his landlady informed her
+other boarders, availing herself, perhaps, of the chance to deliver a side hit
+at some of them. &ldquo;He never has complained once, since he came here, and
+he kept his room as neat as if he had to take care of it himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the box-office oracle, &ldquo;I guess he&rsquo;s O.K.,
+if he is a bit stiff; and a fellow who&rsquo;s best man to a big New York
+swell, and gets his name in all the papers, doesn&rsquo;t belong in a
+seven-dollar, hash-seven-days-a-week, Bleecker Street boarding-house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter fitted his room up simply, the sole indulgence (if properly so called)
+being a bath, which is not a usual fitting of a New York business office,
+consciences not yet being tubbable. He had made his mother show him how to make
+coffee, and he adopted the Continental system of meals, having rolls and butter
+sent in, and making a French breakfast in his own rooms. Then he lunched
+regularly not far from his office, and dined wherever his afternoon walk, or
+evening plans carried him. He found that he saved no money by the change, but
+he saved his feelings, and was far freer to come and go as he chose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not hear from the honeymoon party. Watts had promised to write to him
+and send his address &ldquo;as soon as we decide whether we pass the winter in
+Italy or on the Nile.&rdquo; But no letter came. Peter called on the Pierces,
+only to find them out, and as no notice was taken of his pasteboard, he drew
+his own inference, and did not repeat the visit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Such was the first year of Peter&rsquo;s New York life. He studied, he read, he
+walked, and most of all, he waited. But no client came, and he seemed no nearer
+one than the day he had first seen his own name on his office door. &ldquo;How
+much longer will I have to wait? How long will my patience hold out?&rdquo;
+These were the questions he asked himself, when for a moment he allowed himself
+to lose courage. Then he would take to a bit of wall-gazing, while dreaming of
+a pair of slate-colored eyes.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/>
+NEW FRIENDS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Converse had evidently thought that the only way for Peter to get on was to
+make friends. But in this first year Peter did not made a single one that could
+be really called such. His second summer broadened his acquaintance materially,
+though in a direction which promised him little law practice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the warm weather again closed the courts and galleries, and brought an end
+to the concerts and theatres, Peter found time harder to kill, the more,
+because he had pretty well explored the city. Still he walked much to help pass
+the time, and to get outside of his rooms into the air. For the same reason he
+often carried his book, after the heat of the day was over, to one of the
+parks, and did his reading there. Not far from his office, eastwardly, where
+two streets met at an angle, was a small open space too limited to be called a
+square, even if its shape had not been a triangle. Here, under the shade of two
+very sickly trees, surrounded by tall warehouses, were a couple of benches.
+Peter sat here many evenings smoking his pipe. Though these few square feet
+made perhaps the largest &ldquo;open&rdquo; within half a mile of his office,
+the angle was confined and dreary. Hence it is obvious there must have been
+some attraction to Peter, since he was such a walker, to make him prefer
+spending his time there rather than in the parks not far distant The attraction
+was the children.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only a few hundred feet away was one of the most densely crowded tenement
+districts of New York. It had no right to be there, for the land was wanted for
+business purposes, but the hollow on which it was built had been a swamp in the
+old days, and the soft land, and perhaps the unhealthiness, had prevented the
+erection of great warehouses and stores, which almost surrounded it. So it had
+been left to the storage of human souls instead of merchandise, for valuable
+goods need careful housing, while any place serves to pack humanity. It was not
+a nice district to go through, for there was a sense of heat and dirt, and
+smell, and crowd, and toil and sorrow throughout. It was probably no nicer to
+live in, and nothing proved it better than the overflow of the children
+therefrom into the little, hot, paved, airless angle. Here they could be found
+from five in the morning till twelve at night. Here, with guards set, to give
+notice of the approach of the children&rsquo;s joy-destroying
+Siva&mdash;otherwise the policeman&mdash;they played ball. Here
+&ldquo;cat&rdquo; and &ldquo;one old cat&rdquo; render bearable many a wilting
+hour for the little urchins. Here &ldquo;Sally in our Alley&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;Skip-rope&rdquo; made the little girls forget that the temperature was
+far above blood-heat. Here of an evening, Peter smoked and watched them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At first he was an object of suspicion, and the sport visibly ceased when he
+put in an appearance. But he simply sat on one of the benches and 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 up between them. One evening
+Peter appeared with a stick of wood, and as he smoked, he whittled at it with a
+<i>real</i> jack-knife! He was scrutinized by the keen-eyed youngsters with
+interest at once, and before he had whittled long, he had fifty children
+sitting in the shape of a semicircle on the stone pavement, watching his doings
+with almost breathless Interest. When the result of his work actually developed
+into a &ldquo;cat&rdquo; of marvellous form and finish, a sigh of intense joy
+passed through the boy part of his audience. When the &ldquo;cat&rdquo; was
+passed over to their mercies, words could not be found to express their
+emotions. Another evening, the old clothes-line that served for a jump-rope,
+after having bravely rubbed against the pavement many thousand times in its
+endeavor to lighten the joyless life of the little pack, finally succumbed,
+worn through the centre and quite beyond hope of further knotting. Then Peter
+rose, and going to one of the little shops that supplied the district, soon
+returned with a <i>real</i> jump-rope, with <i>wooden handles!</i> So from time
+to time, <i>real</i> tops, <i>real</i> dolls, <i>real</i> marbles and various
+other <i>real</i>, if cheap, things, hitherto only enjoyed in dreams, or at
+most through home-made attempts, found their way into the angle, and were
+distributed among the little imps. They could not resist such subtle bribery,
+and soon Peter was on as familiar and 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 all their troubles. They were a dirty, noisy, lawless, and
+godless little community, but they were interesting to watch, and the lonely
+fellow grew to like them much, for with all their premature sharpness, they
+were really natural, and responded warmly to his friendly overtures.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a time, Peter tried to help them a little more than by mere small gifts.
+A cheap box of carpenter&rsquo;s tools was bought, and under his
+superintendence, evenings were spent in the angle, in making various articles.
+A small wheel barrow, a knife-and-fork basket, a clock-bracket and other easy
+things were made, one at a time. All boys, and indeed some 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 to that line; the next would bore the
+holes in it; the next would screw it into 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 and watched. When the article was completed, lots were drawn for
+it, and happy was the fortunate one who drew the magnificent prize in
+life&rsquo;s lottery!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Occasionally too, Peter brought a book with him, and read it aloud to them. He
+was rather surprised to find that they did not take to Sunday-school stories or
+fairy tales. Wild adventures in foreign lands were the most effective; and
+together they explored the heart of Africa, climbed the Swiss mountains, fought
+the Western Indians, and attempted to discover the North Pole. They had a
+curious liking for torture, blood-letting, and death. Nor were they without
+discrimination.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I guess that fellow is only working his jaw,&rdquo; was one little
+chap&rsquo;s criticism at a certain point of the narrative of a well-known
+African explorer, rather famous for his success in advertising himself. Again,
+&ldquo;that&rsquo;s bully,&rdquo; was the comment uttered by another, when
+Peter, rather than refuse their request to read aloud, had been compelled to
+choose something in Macaulay&rsquo;s Essays, and had read the description of
+the Black Hole of Calcutta, &ldquo;Say, mister,&rdquo; said another, &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t believe that fellow wasn&rsquo;t there, for he never could a told
+it like that, if he wasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As soon as his influence was secure, Peter began to affect them in other ways.
+Every fight, every squabble, was investigated, and the blame put where it
+belonged. Then a mandate went forth that profanity was to cease: and, though
+contrary to every instinct and habit, cease it did after a time, except for an
+occasional unconscious slip. &ldquo;Sporadic swearing,&rdquo; Peter called it,
+and explained what it meant to the children, and why he forgave that, while
+punishing the intentional swearer with exclusion from his favor. So, too, the
+girls were told that to &ldquo;poke&rdquo; tongues at each other, and make
+faces, was but another way of swearing; &ldquo;for they all mean that there is
+hate in your hearts, and it is that which is wrong, and not the mere words or
+faces.&rdquo; He ran the risk of being laughed at, but they didn&rsquo;t laugh,
+for something in his way of talking to them, even when verging on what they
+called &ldquo;goody-goody,&rdquo; inspired them with respect.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before many weeks of this intercourse, Peter could not stroll east from his
+office without being greeted with yells of recognition. The elders, too, gave
+him &ldquo;good-evening&rdquo; pleasantly and smiled genially. The children had
+naturally told their parents about him of his wonderful presents, and great
+skill with knife and string.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He can whittle anything you ask!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He knows how to make things you want!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He can tie a knot sixteen different kinds!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He can fold a newspaper into soldiers&rsquo; and firemen&rsquo;s
+caps!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s friends with the policeman!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Such laudations, and a hundred more, the children sang of him to their elders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; cried one little four-year-old girl, voicing the unanimous
+feeling of the children, &ldquo;Mister Peter is just shplendid.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So the elders nodded and smiled when they met him, and he was pretty well known
+to several hundred people whom he knew not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But another year passed, and still no client came.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/>
+HIS FIRST CLIENT.</h2>
+
+<p>
+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 a visit to her,
+which had left him rather discouraged, because, for the first time, she had
+pleaded with him to abandon his attempt and return to his native town. He had
+only replied that he was not yet prepared to acknowledge himself beaten; but
+the request and his mother&rsquo;s disappointment had worried him. While he
+wrote came a knock at the door, and, in response to his &ldquo;come in,&rdquo;
+a plain-looking laborer entered and stood awkwardly before him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What can I do for you?&rdquo; asked Peter, seeing that he must assist
+the man to state his business.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you please, sir,&rdquo; said the man, humbly, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s
+Missy. And I hope you&rsquo;ll pardon me for troubling you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;What about Missy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s&mdash;the doctor says she&rsquo;s dying,&rdquo; said the
+man, adding, with a slight suggestion of importance, blended with the evident
+grief he felt: &ldquo;Sally, and Bridget Milligan are dead already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what can I do?&rdquo; said Peter, sympathetically, if very much at
+sea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Missy wants to see you before she goes. It&rsquo;s only a child&rsquo;s
+wish, sir, and you needn&rsquo;t trouble about it. But I had to promise her
+I&rsquo;d come and ask you. I hope it&rsquo;s no offence?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo; Peter rose, and, passing to the next room, took his hat, and
+the two went into the street together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the trouble?&rdquo; asked Peter, as they walked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t know, sir. They were all took yesterday, and two are dead
+already.&rdquo; The man wiped the tears from his eyes with his shirtsleeve,
+smearing the red brick dust with which it was powdered, over his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve had a doctor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till this morning. We didn&rsquo;t think it was bad at first.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Blackett, sir&mdash;Jim Blackett.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter began to see daylight. He remembered both a Sally and Matilda
+Blackett.&mdash;That was probably &ldquo;Missy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A walk of six blocks transferred them to the centre of the tenement district.
+Two flights of stairs brought them to the Blackett&rsquo;s rooms. On the table
+of the first, which was evidently used both as a kitchen and sitting-room,
+already lay a coffin containing a seven-year-old girl. Candles burned at the
+four corners, adding to the bad air and heat. In the room beyond, in bed, with
+a tired-looking woman tending her, lay a child of five. Wan and pale as well
+could be, with perspiration standing in great drops on the poor little hot
+forehead, the hand of death, as it so often does, had put something into the
+face never there before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Mister Peter,&rdquo; the child said, on catching sight of him,
+&ldquo;I said you&rsquo;d come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took his handkerchief and wiped the little head. Then he took a
+newspaper, lying on a chair, twisted it into a rude fan, and began fanning the
+child as he sat on the bed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you want me for?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you tell me the story you read from the book? The one about
+the little girl who went to the country, and was given a live dove and real
+flowers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter began telling the story as well as he could remember it, but it was never
+finished. For while he talked another little girl went to the country, a far
+country, from which there is no return&mdash;and a very ordinary little story
+ended abruptly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The father and mother took the death very calmly. Peter asked them a few
+questions, and found that there were three other children, the eldest of whom
+was an errand boy, and therefore away. The others, twin babies, had been cared
+for by a woman on the next floor. He asked about money, and found that they had
+not enough to pay the whole expenses of the double funeral.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But the undertaker says he&rsquo;ll do it handsome, and will let the
+part I haven&rsquo;t money for, run, me paying it off in weekly
+payments,&rdquo; the man explained, when Peter expressed some surprise at the
+evident needless expense they were entailing on themselves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While he talked, the doctor came in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew there was no chance,&rdquo; he said, when told of the death.
+&ldquo;And you remember I said so,&rdquo; he added, appealing to the parents.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s what he said,&rdquo; responded the father.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the doctor, speaking in a brisk, lively way peculiar
+to him, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve found what the matter was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No?&rdquo; said the mother, becoming interested at once.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was the milk,&rdquo; the doctor continued. &ldquo;I thought there was
+something wrong with it, the moment I smelt it, but I took some home to make
+sure.&rdquo; He pulled a paper out of his pocket. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the test,
+and Dr. Plumb, who has two cases next door, found it was just the same
+there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Blacketts gazed at the written analysis, with wonder, not understanding a
+word of it. Peter looked too, when they had satisfied their 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 &ldquo;Sunrise.&rdquo; It could hardly be
+called a change of expression, but rather a strengthening and deepening of his
+ordinary look.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was in the milk drunk by the children?&rdquo; he asked, placing his
+finger on a particular line.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the doctor. &ldquo;The milk was bad to start with,
+and was drugged to conceal the fact. These carbonates sometimes work very
+unevenly, and I presume this particular can of milk got more than its share of
+the doctoring.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are almost no glycerides,&rdquo; remarked Peter, wishing to hold
+the doctor till he should have had time to think.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;It was skim milk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will report it to the Health Board?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I&rsquo;m up there,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;Not that it will
+do any good. But the law requires it&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t they investigate?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll investigate too much. The trouble with them is, they
+investigate, but don&rsquo;t prosecute.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. He shook hands with the parents, and went
+upstairs to the fourth floor. The crape on a door guided him to where Bridget
+Milligan lay. Here preparations had gone farther. Not merely were 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. Peter asked a few questions. There was
+only an elder brother and sister. Patrick worked as a porter. Ellen rolled
+cigars. They had a little money laid up. Enough to pay for the funeral.
+&ldquo;Mr. Moriarty gave us the whisky and beer at half price,&rdquo; the girl
+explained incidentally. &ldquo;Thank you, sir. We don&rsquo;t need
+anything.&rdquo; Peter rose to go. &ldquo;Bridget was often speaking of you to
+us. And I thank you for what you did for her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went down, and called next door, to see Dr. Plumb&rsquo;s patients. These
+were in a fair way for recovery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They didn&rsquo;t get any of the milk till last night,&rdquo; the
+gray-haired, rather sad-looking doctor told him, &ldquo;and I got at them early
+this morning. Then I suspected the milk at once, and treated them accordingly.
+I&rsquo;ve been forty years doing this sort of thing, and it&rsquo;s generally
+the milk. Dr. Sawyer, next door, is a new man, and doesn&rsquo;t get hold quite
+as quick. But he knows more of the science of the thing, and can make a good
+analysis.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think they have a chance?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If this heat will let up a bit&rdquo; said the doctor, mopping his
+forehead. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s ninety-eight in here; that&rsquo;s enough to kill a
+sound child.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Could they be moved?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-morrow, perhaps.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mrs. Dooley, could you take your children away to the country to-morrow,
+if I find a place for you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very little money I have, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It won&rsquo;t cost you anything. Can you leave your family?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only Moike. And he&rsquo;ll do very well by
+himself,&rdquo; he was told.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then if the children can go, be ready at 10:15 to-morrow, and you shall
+all go up for a couple of weeks to my mother&rsquo;s in Massachusetts.
+They&rsquo;ll have plenty of good food there,&rdquo; he explained to the
+doctor, &ldquo;grass and flowers close to the house and woods not far
+away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That will fix them,&rdquo; said the doctor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About this milk. Won&rsquo;t the Health Board punish the sellers?&rdquo;
+Peter asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably not,&rdquo; he was told &ldquo;It&rsquo;s difficult to get them
+to do anything, and at this season so many of them are on vacations, it is
+doubly hard to make them stir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 his wall. But he was
+not thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. He was thinking of his first
+case. He had found a client.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/>
+THE CASE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter went to work the next morning at an hour which most of us, if we are
+indiscreet enough to wake, prefer to use as the preface to a further two to
+four hours&rsquo; nap. He had spent his evening in a freshening of his
+knowledge in certain municipal laws, and other details which he thought he
+might need, and as early as five o clock he was at work in the tenement
+district, asking questions and taking notes. The inquiry took little skill The
+milk had come from the cart of a certain company, which passed daily through
+the locality, not to supply orders, but to peddle milk to whoever cared to buy.
+Peter had the cart pointed out that morning, but, beyond making a note of the
+exact name of the company, he paid no attention to it. He was aiming at bigger
+game than a milk cart or its driver.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His work was interrupted only by his taking Mrs. Dooley and the two children to
+the train. That done, Peter walked northwardly and westwardly, till he had
+nearly reached the river front. It took some little inquiry, but after a while
+he stumbled on a small shanty which had a sign:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+NATIONAL MILK COMPANY.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+OFFICE.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The place, however, was closed and no one around seemed connected with it,
+though a number of milk carts were standing about. Close to these was a long
+line of sheds, which in turn backed up against a great brewery. A couple of men
+lounged at the door of the sheds. Peter walked up to them, and asked if they
+could tell him where he could find any one connected with the milk company.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The boss is off for lunch,&rdquo; said one. &ldquo;I can take an order,
+if that&rsquo;s what you want.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said it was not an order, and began chatting with the men. Before he had
+started to question them, a third man, from inside the sheds, joined the group
+at the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That cow&rsquo;s dead,&rdquo; he remarked as he came up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it?&rdquo; said the one called Bill. Both rose, and went into the
+shed. Peter started to go with them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t come in,&rdquo; said the new-comer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Peter passed in, without paying the least attention to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come back,&rdquo; called the man, following Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned to him: &ldquo;You are one of the employees of the National Milk
+Company?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the man, &ldquo;and we have orders&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter usually let a little pause occur after a remark to him, but in this case
+he spoke before the man completed his speech. He spoke, too, with an air of
+decision and command that quieted the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go back to your work,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and don&rsquo;t order me
+round. I know what I&rsquo;m about.&rdquo; Then he walked after the other two
+men as rapidly as the dimness permitted. The employee scratched his head, and
+then followed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dim as the light was, Peter could discern that he was passing between two rows
+of cows, with not more than space enough for men to pass each other between the
+rows. It was filthy, and very warm, and there was a peculiar smell in the air
+which Peter did not associate with a cow stable. It was a kind of vapor which
+brought some suggestion to his mind, 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 the ground. That it was dead was plain. But what most interested
+Peter, although he felt a shudder of horror at the sight, were the rotted tail
+and two great sores on the flank that lay uppermost.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a bad-looking cow,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; replied the one with the lantern. &ldquo;But you
+can&rsquo;t help their havin&rsquo; them, if you feed them on mash.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold your tongue, Bill,&rdquo; said the man who had followed Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take some of your own advice,&rdquo; said Peter, turning quickly, and
+speaking in a voice that made the man step back. A terrible feeling was welling
+up in Peter&rsquo;s heart. He thought of the poor little fever-stricken
+children. He saw the poor fever-stricken cow. He would like to&mdash;to&mdash;.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He dropped the arm he had unconsciously raised. &ldquo;Give me that
+lantern,&rdquo; he demanded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man hesitated and looked at the others.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me that lantern,&rdquo; said Peter, speaking low, but his voice
+ringing very clear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lantern was passed to him, and taking it, he walked along the line of cows.
+He saw several with sores more or less developed. One or two he saw in the
+advanced stages of the disease, where the tail had begun to rot away. The other
+men followed him on his tour of inspection, and whispered together nervously.
+It did not take Peter long to examine all he wanted to see. Handing back the
+lantern at the door, he said: &ldquo;Give me your names.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The men looked nonplussed, and shifted their weights uneasily from leg to leg.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You,&rdquo; said Peter, looking at the man who had interfered with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wot do yer want with it?&rdquo; he was asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s my business. What&rsquo;s your name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;John Tingley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where do you live?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;310 West 61st Street.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter obtained and wrote down the names and addresses of the trio. He then went
+to the &ldquo;office&rdquo; of the company, which was now opened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this an incorporated company?&rdquo; he asked of the man tilted back
+in a chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the man, adding two chair legs to terra firma, and
+looking at Peter suspiciously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who owns it?&rdquo; Peter queried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m the boss.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That isn&rsquo;t what I asked.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I answered.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And your name is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;James Coldman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you intend to answer my question?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till I know your business.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m here to find out against whom to get warrants for a criminal
+prosecution.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The warrant will say.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man squirmed in his chair. &ldquo;Will you give me till to-morrow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. The warrant is to be issued to-day. Decide at once, whether you or
+your principal, shall be the man to whom it shall be served.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I guess you&rsquo;d better make it against me,&rdquo; said the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Of course you know your employer
+will be run down, and as I&rsquo;m not after the rest of you, you will only get
+him a few days safety at the price of a term in prison.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ve got to risk it,&rdquo; said the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned and walked away. He went down town to the Blacketts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want you to carry the matter to the courts,&rdquo; he told the father.
+&ldquo;These men deserve punishment, and if you&rsquo;ll let me go on with it,
+it shan&rsquo;t cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well,
+you&rsquo;ll probably get some money out of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Blackett gave his assent. So too did Patrick Milligan, and &ldquo;Moike&rdquo;
+Dooley. They had won fame already by the deaths and wakes, but a &ldquo;coort
+case&rdquo; promised to give them prestige far beyond what even these
+distinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter, and
+warrants were sworn to and issued against the &ldquo;boss&rdquo; as principal,
+and the driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on the
+following morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night, nothing else
+was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in the neighborhood. Even
+Mrs. Blackett and Ellen Milligan forgot their grief, and held a joint
+<i>soir&eacute;e</i> on their front stoop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure, it&rsquo;s mighty hard for Mrs. Dooley, that she&rsquo;s
+away!&rdquo; said one. &ldquo;She&rsquo;ll be feeling bad when she knows what
+she&rsquo;s missed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning, Peter, the two doctors, the Blacketts, the Milligans, Dooley,
+the milk quintet, and as many inhabitants of the &ldquo;district&rdquo; as
+could crush their way in, were in court by nine o&rsquo;clock. The plaintiffs
+and their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of the proceedings.
+The examinations were purely formal except in one instance, when Peter asked
+for the &ldquo;name or names of the owner or owners&rdquo; of the National Milk
+Company. Here the defendant&rsquo;s attorney, a shrewd criminal lawyer,
+interfered, and there was a sharp passage at arms, in which an attempt was made
+to anger Peter. But he kept his head, and in the end carried his point. The
+owner turned out to be the proprietor of the brewery, as Peter had surmised,
+who thus utilized the mash from his vats in feeding cattle. But on
+Peter&rsquo;s asking for an additional warrant against him, the
+defendant&rsquo;s lawyer succeeded in proving, if the statement of the overseer
+proved it, that the brewer was quite ignorant that the milk sold in the
+&ldquo;district&rdquo; was what had been unsalable the day before to better
+customers, and that the skimming and doctoring of it was unknown to him. So an
+attempt to punish the rich man as a criminal was futile. He could afford to pay
+for straw men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Arrah!&rdquo; said Dooley to Peter as they passed out of the court,
+&ldquo;Oi think ye moight have given them a bit av yer moind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait till the trial,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;We mustn&rsquo;t use up
+our powder on the skirmish line.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So the word was passed through the district that &ldquo;theer&rsquo;d be fun at
+the rale trial,&rdquo; and it was awaited with intense interest by five
+thousand people.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/>
+NEW YORK JUSTICE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter saw the District Attorney the next morning for a few moments, and handed
+over to him certain memoranda of details that had not appeared in the
+committing court&rsquo;s record.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It shall go before the grand jury day after to-morrow,&rdquo; that
+official told him, without much apparent interest in the matter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How soon can it be tried, if they find a true bill? asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t say,&rdquo; replied the official.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I merely wished to know,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;because three of the
+witnesses are away, and I want to have them back in time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably a couple of weeks,&rdquo; yawned the man, and Peter, taking the
+hint, departed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The rest of the morning was spent in drawing up the papers in three civil suits
+against the rich brewer. Peter filed them as soon as completed, and took the
+necessary steps for their prompt service.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+These produced an almost immediate result, in the shape of a call the next
+morning from the same lawyer who had defended the milkmen in the preliminary
+examination. Peter, as he returned from his midday meal, met the lawyer on the
+stairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning,&rdquo; said the man, whose name was
+Dummer. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve just left your office, finding it closed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lawyer glanced around the plain room, and a quiet look of satisfaction came
+over his face. The two sat down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About those cases, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For reasons you can easily understand, we don&rsquo;t wish them to come
+to trial.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And we take it for granted that your clients will be quite willing to
+settle them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We will talk about that, after the criminal trial is over&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because we hope to make Coldman speak the truth in the trial, and thus
+be able to reach Bohlmann.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re wasting your time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if there&rsquo;s the smallest chance of sending the brewer to
+prison.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t. Coldman will stick to what he said if the thing is
+ever tried, which it won&rsquo;t be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter eyed Dummer without changing a muscle. &ldquo;The District Attorney told
+me that it ought to be in the courts in a couple of weeks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dummer smiled blandly, and slowly closed one eye. &ldquo;The District Attorney
+tries to tell the truth,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I have no doubt he thought
+that was what he was telling you. Now, name your figure?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The civil suits will not be compromised till the criminal one is
+finished.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I tell you the criminal one is dead. Squashed. Bohlmann and I have
+seen the right people, and they&rsquo;ve seen the District Attorney. That case
+won&rsquo;t even go to the grand jury. So now, drop it, and say what
+you&rsquo;ll settle the civil suits for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;James Coldman shall go to prison for killing those children,&rdquo; said
+Peter, &ldquo;and till he does, it is waste time to talk of dropping or
+settling anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Humph,&rdquo; half laughed the lawyer, though with obvious disgust at
+the mulishness in Peter&rsquo;s face and voice. &ldquo;You think you know it
+all. But you don&rsquo;t. You can work for ten years, and that case will be no
+nearer trial than it is to-day. I tell you, young man, you don&rsquo;t know New
+York.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know New York,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; interrupted Dummer. &ldquo;And I do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably,&rdquo; replied Peter quietly, &ldquo;You may know New York,
+Mr. Dummer, but you don&rsquo;t know me. That case shall be tried.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; laughed Dummer, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;ll agree not to press
+the civil suits, till that&rsquo;s out of the way, we shall have no need to
+compromise. Good-day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning Peter went to the District Attorney&rsquo;s office, and
+inquired for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s gone to Bar Harbor for a couple of weeks&rsquo;
+vacation,&rdquo; he was told.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whom must I see in his stead?&rdquo; And after some time Peter was
+brought face to face with the acting official.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Nelson told me he should present the Coldman case to the grand jury
+to-day, and finding he has left the city, I wish to know who has it in
+charge?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He left all the presentments with me,&rdquo; the deputy replied,
+&ldquo;but there was no such case as that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Could he have left it with some one else to attend to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went back to his office, took down the Code and went over certain
+sections. 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 the eyes were sad,
+the heavy jaw had a rigidness and setness which gave no indication of weakness
+or yielding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For two weeks Peter waited, and then once more invaded officialdom.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The District Attorney&rsquo;s engaged, and can&rsquo;t see you,&rdquo;
+he was told. Peter came 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 see man after man
+ushered into the private office, and finally to be told that the District
+Attorney had gone to lunch, and would not return that day. The man who told him
+this grinned, and evidently considered it a good joke, nor had Peter been
+unconscious that all the morning the clerks 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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked up the private address of the officer in the directory, and went to
+see him that evening. He was wise enough not to send in his name, and Mr.
+Nelson actually came into the hall to see him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moment he saw Peter, however, he said: &ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s you. Well, I
+never talk business except in business hours.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have tried to see you&mdash;&rdquo; began Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try some more,&rdquo; interrupted the man, smiling, and going toward the
+parlor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter followed him, calmly. &ldquo;Mr. Nelson,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do you
+intend to push that case?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; smiled Nelson. &ldquo;After I&rsquo;ve finished four
+hundred indictments that precede it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Nelson, can&rsquo;t you overlook politics for a moment, and think
+of&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who said anything of politics?&rdquo; interrupted Nelson, &ldquo;I
+merely tell you there are indictments which have been in my office for five
+years and are yet to be tried, and that your case is going to take its
+turn.&rdquo; Nelson passed into the back room, leaving his caller alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter left the room, and passed out of the front door, just as a man was about
+to ring the bell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is Mr. Nelson in?&rdquo; asked the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have just left him, Mr. Dummer,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! Good-evening, Mr. Stirling. I think I can guess your business. Well.
+How do you come on?&rdquo; Dummer was obviously laughing internally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter started down the steps without answering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I can help you?&rdquo; said Dummer. &ldquo;I know Mr. Nelson
+very well in politics, and so does Mr. Bohlmann. If you&rsquo;ll tell me what
+you are after, I&rsquo;ll try to say a good word for you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t need your help, thank you,&rdquo; said Peter calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said Dummer. &ldquo;You think a briefless lawyer of thirty
+can go it alone, do you, even against the whole city government?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I have not influence enough to get that case pushed, Mr. Dummer,
+but the law is on my side, and I&rsquo;m not going to give up yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what are you going to do about it?&rdquo; said Dummer, sneeringly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fight,&rdquo; said Peter, walking away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He went back to his office, and sitting at his desk, wrote a formal letter to
+the District Attorney, calling his attention to the case, and asking
+information as to when it would be brought to trial. Then he copied this, and
+mailed the original. Then he read the Code again. After that he went over the
+New York reports, making notes. For a second time the morning sun found Peter
+still at his desk. But this time his head was not bowed upon his blotter, as if
+he were beaten or dead. His whole figure was stiff with purpose, and his jaw
+was as rigid as a mastiff&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/>
+THE FIGHT.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The only reply which Peter received to his letter to the District-Attorney, was
+a mere formal reiteration of that officer&rsquo;s verbal statement, that the
+case would be taken up in its due order, after those which preceded it had been
+dealt with. Peter knew enough of the numberless cases which never reach trial
+to understand that this meant in truth, the laying aside of the case, till it
+was killed by the statute of limitations.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On receiving this reply, Peter made another move, by going to three newspapers,
+and trying to see their managing editors. One declined to see him. A second
+merely told Peter, after his statement, which the editor only allowed him
+partly to explain, that he was very busy and could not take time to look into
+it, but that Peter might come again in about a month. The third let Peter tell
+his story, and then shook his head:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no doubt you are right, but it isn&rsquo;t in shape for us to
+use. Such a case rarely goes to trial for six months or a year, and so, if we
+begin an attack now, it will simply fall flat. If you can get us a written
+statement from the District Attorney that he doesn&rsquo;t intend to push the
+case, we can do something, but I suppose he&rsquo;s far too shrewd to commit
+himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then there&rsquo;s no use in beginning an attack, for you really have no
+powder. Come in again a year from now, and then we may be able to say
+something, if he hasn&rsquo;t acted in the meantime.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter left the office, knowing that that chance of pressure was gone. If the
+papers of the Republican party would not use it, it was idle spending time in
+seeing or trying to see the editors of the Democratic papers. He wasted
+therefore no more efforts on newspapers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 train for Albany. He
+was going to play his last card, with the odds of a thousand to one against his
+winning. But that very fact only nerved him the more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Promptly at ten o&rsquo;clock, the morning after his arrival at the state
+capital, he sent in his card to the Governor. Fortunately for him, the middle
+of August is not a busy time with that official, and after a slight delay, he
+was ushered into the executive chamber.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had been planning this interview for hours, and without explanation or
+preamble, he commenced his statement. He knew that he must interest the
+Governor promptly, or there would be a good chance of his 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 both rapidly, not taking three minutes to do it,
+but had he been pleading for his own life, he could not have spoken more
+earnestly nor feelingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Governor first looked surprised at Peter&rsquo;s abruptness; then weary;
+then interested; and finally turned his revolving chair so as to put his back
+to Peter. And after Peter had ended his account, he remained so for a moment.
+That back was very expressive to Peter. For the first time he felt vanquished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But suddenly the Governor turned, and Peter saw tears on his cheek. And he
+said, after a big swallow, &ldquo;What do you want of me?&rdquo; in a voice
+that meant everything to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you listen to me for five minutes?&rdquo; asked Peter, eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Than Peter read aloud a statement of the legal proceedings, and of his
+interviews with the District Attorney and with Dummer, in the clearest and most
+compact sentences he had been able to frame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You want me to interfere?&rdquo; asked the Governor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid it&rsquo;s not possible. I can of course remove the
+District Attorney, but it must be for cause, and I do not see that you can
+absolutely prove his non intention to prosecute those scoundrels.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is true. After study, I did not see that you could remove him. But
+there&rsquo;s another remedy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Through the State Attorney you can appoint a special counsel for this
+case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter laid one of the papers in his hands before the Governor. After reading
+it, the Governor rang a bell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Send for Mr. Miller,&rdquo; he said to the boy. Then he turned, and with
+Peter went over the court papers, till Mr. Miller put in an appearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;State the matter to Mr. Miller,&rdquo; said the Governor, and Peter read
+his paper again and told what he wished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The power unquestionably exists,&rdquo; said the Attorney-General.
+&ldquo;But it has not been used in many years. Perhaps I had better look into
+it a bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go with Mr. Miller, Mr. Stirling, and work over your papers with
+him,&rdquo; said the Governor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter simply, but his hand and face and voice
+said far more, as he shook hands. He went out with the first look of hope his
+face had worn for two years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The ground which the Attorney-General and his subordinates had to traverse was
+that over which Peter had so well travelled already, that he felt very much at
+home, while his notes indeed aided the study, and were doubly welcomed, because
+the summer season had drained the office of its underlings. Half as assistant,
+and half as principal, he worked till three o&rsquo;clock, with pleasure that
+grew, as he saw that the opinion of the Attorney-General seemed to agree more
+and more with his own. Then they returned to the Governor, to whom the
+Attorney-General gave his opinion that his present conclusion was that the
+Governor could empower him, or some appointee, to prosecute the case.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the Governor, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad you think so. But
+if we find that it isn&rsquo;t possible, Mr. Stirling, I&rsquo;ll have a letter
+written to the District Attorney that may scare him into proceeding with the
+case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thanked him, and rose to go.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to New York at once?&rdquo; asked the Governor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Unless I can be of use here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose you dine with me, and take a late train?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will be a great pleasure,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. Six sharp.&rdquo; Then after Peter had left the room, the
+Governor asked, &ldquo;How is he on law?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very good. Clear-headed and balanced.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He knows how to talk,&rdquo; said the Governor. &ldquo;He brought my
+heart up in my mouth as no one has done in years. Now, I must get word to some
+of the people in New York to find out who he is, and if this case has any
+concealed boomerang in it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The dinner was a very quiet one with only the Governor and his wife. The former
+must have told his better-half something about Peter, for she studied him with
+a very kind look in her face, and prosaic and silent as Peter was, she did not
+seem bored. After the dinner was eaten, and some one called to talk politics
+with the Governor, she took Peter off to another room, and made him tell her
+about the whole case, and how he came to take it up, and why he had come to the
+Governor for help. She cried over it, and after Peter had gone, she went
+upstairs and looked at her own two sleeping boys, quite large enough to fight
+the world on their own account, but still little children to the mother&rsquo;s
+heart, and had another cry over them. She went downstairs later to the
+Governor&rsquo;s study, and interrupting him in the work to which he had
+settled down, put her arms about his neck, and kissed him. &ldquo;You must help
+him, William,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do everything you can to have those
+scoundrels punished, and let him do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Governor only laughed; but he pushed back his work, and his wife sat down,
+and told of her admiration and sympathy for Peter&rsquo;s fight. There was a
+bad time ahead for the criminal and his backers. They might have political
+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 &ldquo;pull&rdquo; this world as yet contains is the under-current of a
+woman&rsquo;s influence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 on the part of the
+State, and dreaming of nothing better. But better came, for only five days
+after his return his mail brought him a large envelope, and inside that
+envelope was a special commission, which made Peter a deputy of the
+Attorney-General, to prosecute in the Court of Sessions, the case of &ldquo;The
+People of the State of New York <i>versus</i> James Goldman.&rdquo; If any one
+could have seen Peter&rsquo;s face, as he read the purely formal instrument, he
+would not have called it dull or heavy. For Peter knew that he had won; that in
+place of justice blocking and hindering him, every barrier was crushed down;
+that this prosecution rested with no officials, but was for him to push; that
+that little piece of parchment bound every court to support him; that if
+necessary fifty thousand troops would enforce the power which granted it.
+Within three hours, the first formal steps to place the case in the courts had
+been taken, and Peter was working at the evidence and law in the matter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+These steps produced a prompt call from Dummer, who showed considerably less
+assurance than hitherto, even though he tried to take Peter&rsquo;s success
+jauntily. He wanted Peter to drop the whole thing, and hinted at large sums of
+money, but Peter at first did not notice his hints, and finally told him that
+the case should be tried. Then Dummer pleaded for delay. Peter was equally
+obdurate. Later they had a contest in the court over this. But Peter argued in
+a quiet way, which nevertheless caught the attention of the judge, who ended
+the dispute by refusing to postpone. The judge hadn&rsquo;t intended to act in
+this way, and was rather surprised at his own conduct. The defendant&rsquo;s
+lawyer was furious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 the Governor
+himself&mdash;pressure which required backbone to resist. But he stood by his
+act: perhaps because he belonged to a different party than that in control of
+the city government; perhaps because of Peter&rsquo;s account, and the
+truthfulness in his face as he told it; perhaps because the Attorney-General
+had found it legal; perhaps because of his wife; perhaps it was a blending of
+all these. Certain it is, that all attempts to block failed, and in the last
+week in August it came before the court.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had kept his clients informed as to his struggles, and they were
+tremendously proud of the big battle and ultimate success, as indeed were the
+residents of the whole district, who felt that it was really their own case.
+Then the politicians were furious and excited over it, while the almost
+unexampled act of the Governor had created a good deal of public interest in
+the case. So the court was packed and the press had reporters in attendance.
+Since the trial was fully reported, it is needless to go over the testimony
+here. What Peter could bring out, is already known. The defence, by
+&ldquo;experts,&rdquo; endeavored to prove that the cowsheds were not in a
+really unhygienic condition; that feeding cows on &ldquo;mash&rdquo; did not
+affect their milk, nor did mere &ldquo;skin sores;&rdquo; that the milk had
+been sold by mistake, in ignorance that it was thirty-six hours old, and
+skimmed; and that the proof of this particular milk being the cause of the
+deaths was extremely inadequate and doubtful. The only dramatic incident in the
+testimony was the putting the two little Dooleys (who had returned in fat and
+rosy condition, the day before) on the stand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you find country milk different from what you have here?&rdquo;
+Peter asked the youngest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Here it comes from a cart, but in the
+country it squirts from a cow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Order,&rdquo; said the judge to the gallery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does it taste differently?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. It&rsquo;s sweet, as if they put sugar in it. It&rsquo;s lovely I
+like cow milk better than cart milk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Damn those children!&rdquo; said Dummer, to the man next him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The event of the trial came, however, when Peter summed up. He spoke quietly,
+in the simplest language, using few adjectives and no invective. But as the
+girl at the Pierces&rsquo; dinner had said, &ldquo;he describes things so that
+one sees them.&rdquo; He told of the fever-stricken cows, and he told of the
+little fever-stricken children in such a way that the audience sobbed; his
+clients almost had to be ordered out of court; the man next Dummer mopped his
+eyes with his handkerchief; the judge and jury thoughtfully covered their eyes
+(so as to think the better); the reporters found difficulty (owing to the glary
+light), in writing the words despite their determination not to miss one; and
+even the prisoner wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Peter was unconscious that he
+was making a great speech; great in its simplicity, and great in its pathos. He
+afterwards said he had not given it a moment&rsquo;s thought and had merely
+said what he felt. Perhaps his conclusion indicated why he was able to speak
+with the feeling he did. For he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is not merely the case of the State <i>versus</i> James Goldman. It
+is the case of the tenement-house children, against the inhumanity of
+man&rsquo;s greed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dummer whispered to the man next him, &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no good. He&rsquo;s
+done for us.&rdquo; Then he rose, and made a clever defence. He knew it was
+wasting his time. The judge charged against him, and the jury gave the full
+verdict: &ldquo;Man-slaughter in the first degree.&rdquo; Except for the desire
+for it, the sentence created little stir. Every one was still feeling and
+thinking of Peter&rsquo;s speech.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And to this day that speech is talked of in &ldquo;the district.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/>
+THE CONSEQUENCES.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Nor was it the district alone which talked of the speech. Perhaps the residents
+of it made their feelings most manifest, for they organized a torchlight
+procession that night, and went round and made Peter an address of thanks. Mr.
+Dennis Moriarty being the spokesman. The judge shook hands with him after the
+trial, and said that he had handled his case well. The defendant&rsquo;s lawyer
+told him he &ldquo;knew his business.&rdquo; A number of the reporters sought a
+few words with him, and blended praise with questions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The reporters did far more than this, however. It was the dull newspaper
+season, and the case had turned out to be a thoroughly
+&ldquo;journalistic&rdquo; one. So they questioned and interviewed every one
+concerned, and after cleverly winnowing the chaff, which in this case meant the
+dull, from the gleanings, most of them gave several columns the next morning to
+the story. Peter&rsquo;s speech was printed in full, and proved to read almost
+as well as it had sounded. The reporters were told, and repeated the tales
+without much attempt at verification, that Peter had taken the matter up
+without hope of profit; had paid the costs out of his own pocket; had refused
+to settle &ldquo;though offered nine thousand dollars:&rdquo; had &ldquo;saved
+the Dooley children&rsquo;s lives by sending them into the country;&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;had paid for the burials of the little victims.&rdquo; So all gave him a
+puff, and two of the better sort wrote really fine editorials about him. At
+election time, or any other than a dull season, the case would have had small
+attention, but August is the month, to reverse an old adage, when &ldquo;any
+news is good news.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The press began, too, a crusade against the swill-milk dealers, and the men who
+had allowed all this to be possible. &ldquo;What is the Health Board about,
+that poison for children can be sold in the public streets?&rdquo; &ldquo;Where
+is the District Attorney, that prosecutions for the public good have to be
+brought by public-spirited citizens?&rdquo; they demanded. Lynx-eyed reporters
+tracked the milk-supplies of the city, and though the alarm had been given, and
+many cows had been hastily sent to the country, they were able to show up
+certain companies, and print details which were quite lurid enough, when
+sufficiently &ldquo;colored&rdquo; by their skilful pens. Most residents of New
+York can remember the &ldquo;swill-milk&rdquo; or &ldquo;stump-tail milk&rdquo;
+exposures and prosecutions of that summer, and of the reformation brought about
+thereby in the Board of Health. As the details are not pleasant reading, any
+one who does not remember is referred to the daily press, and, if they want
+horrible pictures, to Frank Leslie&rsquo;s Illustrated Weekly. Except for the
+papers, it is to be questioned if Peter&rsquo;s case would have resulted in
+much more than the punishment of the man actually convicted; but by the press
+taking the matter up, the moment&rsquo;s indignation was deepened and
+intensified to a degree which well-nigh swept every cow-stable off the island,
+and drove the proper officials into an activity leading to great reforms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No one was more surprised than Peter, at the sudden notoriety, or at the
+far-reaching results. He collected the articles, and sent them to his mother.
+He wrote:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;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!&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+His mother was not surprised. She had always known her Peter was a hero, and
+needed no &ldquo;York papers&rdquo; to teach her the fact. Still she read every
+line of the case, and of the subsequent crusade. She read Peter&rsquo;s speech
+again and again, stopping to sob at intervals, and hugging the clipping to her
+bosom from time to time, as the best equivalent for Peter, while sobbing:
+&ldquo;My boy, my darling boy.&rdquo; Every one in the mill-town knew of it,
+and the clippings were passed round among Peter&rsquo;s friends, beginning with
+the clergyman and ending with his school-boy companions. They all wondered why
+Peter had spoken so briefly. &ldquo;If I could talk like that,&rdquo; said a
+lawyer to the proud mother, &ldquo;I&rsquo;d have spoken for a couple of
+hours.&rdquo; Mrs. Stirling herself wished it had been longer. Four columns of
+evidence, and only a little over a half column of speech! It couldn&rsquo;t
+have taken him twenty minutes at the most. &ldquo;Even the other lawyer, who
+had nothing to say but lies, took over a column to his speech. And his was
+printed close together, while that of Peter&rsquo;s was spread out (<i>e.g.</i>
+solid and leaded) making the difference in length all the greater.&rdquo; Mrs.
+Stirling wondered if there could be a conspiracy against her Peter, on the part
+of the Metropolitan press. She had promptly subscribed for a year to the New
+York paper which glorified Peter the most, supposing that from this time on his
+name would appear on the front page. When she found it did not and that it was
+not mentioned in the press and Health Board crusade against the other
+&ldquo;swill-milk&rdquo; dealers, she became convinced that there was some
+definite attempt to rob Peter of his due fame. &ldquo;Why, Peter began it
+all,&rdquo; she explained, &ldquo;and now the papers and Health Board pretend
+it&rsquo;s all their doings.&rdquo; She wrote a letter to the editor of the
+paper&mdash;a letter which was passed round the office, and laughed over not a
+little by the staff. She never received an answer, nor did the paper give Peter
+the more attention because of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two days after the trial, Peter had another call from Dummer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You handled that case in great style, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he told
+Peter. &ldquo;You know the ropes as well as far older men. You got just the
+right evidence out of your witnesses, and not a bit of superfluous rubbish.
+That&rsquo;s the mistake most young men make. They bury their testimony in
+unessential details, I tell you, those two children were worth all the rest put
+together. Did you send them to the country on purpose to get that kind of
+evidence?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, every man in that jury was probably a father, and that
+child&rsquo;s talk took right hold of them. Not but that your speech would have
+done the business. You were mighty clever in just telling what you saw, and not
+going into the testimony. You could safely trust the judge to do that. It was a
+great speech.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s not to be taffied,&rdquo; thought the lawyer. &ldquo;Plain
+talking&rsquo;s the way to deal with him.&rdquo; He ended his allusions to the
+trial, and said: &ldquo;Now, Mr. Stirling, Mr. Bohlmann doesn&rsquo;t want to
+have these civil suits go any further. Mr. Bohlmann&rsquo;s a man of
+respectability, with a nice wife and some daughters. The newspapers are giving
+him quite enough music without your dragging him into court.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the only way I can reach him,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you mustn&rsquo;t want to reach him. He&rsquo;s really a
+well-meaning man, and if you ask your clergyman&mdash;for I believe you go to
+Dr. Purple&rsquo;s church?&mdash;you&rsquo;ll find he&rsquo;s very charitable
+and generous with his money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled curiously. &ldquo;Distributing money made that way is not much of
+a charity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said the lawyer. Then catching a look which
+came into Peter&rsquo;s face, he instantly added, &ldquo;at least, he had no
+idea it was that bad. He tells me that he hadn&rsquo;t been inside those
+cow-sheds for four years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come and see me to-morrow,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After Dummer had gone, Peter walked uptown, and saw his clergyman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he was told, &ldquo;Mr. Bohlmann has always stood high in
+the church, and has been liberal and sensible with his money. I can&rsquo;t
+tell you how this whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling. It
+must be terrible for his wife. His daughters, too, are such nice sweet girls.
+You&rsquo;ve probably noticed them in church?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Peter had not noticed them. He did not add that he did not
+notice young girls&mdash;that for some reason they had not interested him
+since&mdash;since&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where does he live?&rdquo; inquired Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not ten blocks from here,&rdquo; replied Dr. Purple, and named the
+street and number.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 and carried his name to
+the brewer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 one of the
+&ldquo;nice&rdquo; daughters. His arrival checked the flow of conversation
+somewhat, but they went on comparing their summer experiences. When the butler
+came back and said aloud, &ldquo;Mr. Bohlmann will see you in the library, Mr.
+Stirling,&rdquo; Peter noticed that both girls turned impulsively to look at
+him, and that the daughter flushed red.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He found Mr. Bohlmann standing uneasily on the rug by the fireplace, and a
+stout woman gazing out of the window, with her back to the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had a call from your lawyer this morning, Mr. Bohlmann,&rdquo; said
+Peter, &ldquo;and I have taken the liberty of coming to see you about the
+cases.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sid down, sid down,&rdquo; said his host, nervously, though not sitting
+himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter sat down. &ldquo;I want to do what is best about the matter,&rdquo; he
+said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The woman turned quickly to look at him, and Peter saw that there were tears in
+her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Vell,&rdquo; said the brewer, &ldquo;what is dat?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;and that&rsquo;s why
+I&rsquo;ve come to see you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Bohlmann&rsquo;s face worked for a moment. Then suddenly he burst into
+tears. &ldquo;I give you my word, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that I
+didn&rsquo;t know it was so. I haven&rsquo;t had a happy moment since you spoke
+that day in court.&rdquo; 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 face in his arms. His wife, who was also weeping, crossed to him, and tried
+to comfort him by patting him on the back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;we had best drop the suits.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Bohlmann looked up. &ldquo;It is not the money, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he
+said, still speaking in German. &ldquo;See.&rdquo; He drew from a drawer in his
+desk a check-book, and filling up a check, handed it to Peter. It was dated and
+signed, but the amount was left blank. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I
+leave it to you what is right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think Mr. Dummer will feel we have not treated him fairly,&rdquo; said
+Peter, &ldquo;if we settle it in this way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do not think of him. I will see that he has no cause for
+complaint,&rdquo; the brewer said. &ldquo;Only let me know it is ended, so that
+my wife and my daughters&mdash;&rdquo; he choked, and ended the sentence thus.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll drop the suits.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The husband and wife embraced each other in true German fashion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose and came to the table. &ldquo;Three of the cases were for five
+thousand each, and the other two were for two thousand each,&rdquo; he said,
+and then hesitated. He wished to be fair to both sides. &ldquo;I will ask you
+to fill in the check for eight thousand dollars. That will be two each for
+three, and one each for two.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Bohlmann disengaged himself from his wife, and took his pen. &ldquo;You do
+not add your fee,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I forgot it,&rdquo; laughed Peter, and the couple laughed with him in
+their happiness. &ldquo;Make it for eight thousand, two hundred and
+fifty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Och,&rdquo; said the brewer once more resuming his English. &ldquo;Dat
+is too leedle for vive cases.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;It was what I had decided to charge in
+case I got any damages.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So the check was filled in, and Peter, after a warm handshake from both, went
+back to his office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dat iss a fine yoong mahn,&rdquo; said the brewer.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/>
+A NEW FRIEND.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The day after this episode, Peter had the very unusual experience of a note by
+his morning&rsquo;s mail. Except for his mother&rsquo;s weekly letter, it was
+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 came into his face at
+the mere thought that he would have news of&mdash;of&mdash;Watts. But a
+moment&rsquo;s glance at the writing showed him he was wrong, and he tore the
+envelope with little interest in his face. Indeed after he had opened it, he
+looked at his wall for a moment before he fixed his mind on it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It contained a brief note, to this effect:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;A recent trial indicates that Mr. Stirling needs neither praise not
+reward as incentives for the doing of noble deeds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;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 &lsquo;the case of the tenement children of New
+York against the inhumanity of men&rsquo;s greed.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;September third.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at the enclosure, and found it was a check for five hundred
+dollars. He laid it on his desk, and read the note over again. It was beyond
+question written by a lady. Every earmark showed that, from the delicate scent
+of the paper, to the fine, even handwriting. Peter wanted to know who she was.
+He looked at the check to see by whom it was signed; to find that it was drawn
+by the cashier of the bank at which it was payable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Half an hour later, a rapid walk had brought him to the bank the name of which
+was on the check. It was an uptown one, which made a specialty of family and
+women&rsquo;s accounts. Peter asked for the cashier.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve called about this check,&rdquo; he said, when that official
+materialized, handing the slip of paper to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the cashier kindly, though with a touch of the resigned
+sorrow in his voice which cashiers of &ldquo;family&rsquo;s&rdquo; and
+women&rsquo;s banks acquire. &ldquo;You must sign your name on the back, on the
+left-hand end, and present it to the paying-teller, over at that window.
+You&rsquo;ll have to be identified if the paying-teller doesn&rsquo;t know
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want the money,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I want to know
+who sent the check to me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The cashier looked at it more carefully. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; he said. Then he
+looked up quickly at Peter? with considerable interest, &ldquo;Are you Mr.
+Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I filled this up by order of the president, and you&rsquo;ll have
+to see him about it, if you want more than the money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can I see him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come this way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went into a small office at the end of the bank.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Dyer,&rdquo; said the cashier, &ldquo;this is Mr. Stirling, and
+he&rsquo;s come to see about that check.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Glad to see you, Mr. Stirling. Sit down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish to learn who sent the check.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very sorry we can&rsquo;t oblige you. We had positive instructions from
+the person for whom we drew it, that no name was to be given.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you receive a letter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was forbidden too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A message?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing was said about that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then will you do me the favor to say to the lady that the check will not
+be cashed till Mr. Stirling has been able to explain something to her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly. She can&rsquo;t object to that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all.&rdquo; The president rose and escorted him to the door.
+&ldquo;That was a splendid speech of yours, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he added.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a bit ashamed to say that it put salt water in my old
+eyes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;it was the deaths of the poor little
+children, more than anything I said, that made people feel it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning&rsquo;s mail brought Peter a second note, in the same
+handwriting as that of the day before. It read:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss De Voe has received Mr. Stirling&rsquo;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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss De Voe regrets the necessity of giving Mr. Stirling such brief
+notice, but she leaves New York on Thursday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+As Peter walked up town that morning, he was a little surprised that he was so
+cool over his intended call. In a few minutes he would be in the presence of a
+lady, the firmness of whose handwriting indicated that she was not yet
+decrepit. Three years ago such a prospect would have been replete with terror
+to him. Down to that&mdash;that week at the Pierce&rsquo;s, he had never gone
+to a place where he expected to &ldquo;encounter&rdquo; (for that was the word
+he formerly used) women without dread. Since that week&mdash;except for the
+twenty-four hours of the wedding, he had not &ldquo;encountered&rdquo; a lady.
+Yet here he was, going to meet an entire stranger without any conscious
+embarrassment or suffering. He was even in a sense curious. Peter was not given
+to self-analysis, but the change was too marked a one for him to be unconscious
+of it. Was it merely the poise of added years? Was it that he had ceased to
+care what women thought of him? Or was it that his discovery that a girl was
+lovable had made the sex less terrible 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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was shown into a large drawing-room, the fittings of which were still
+shrouded in summer coverings, preventing Peter from inferring much, even if 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 an inference, the rustle
+of a woman&rsquo;s draperies was heard. Rising, Peter found himself facing a
+tall, rather slender woman of between thirty-five and forty. It did not need a
+second glance from even Peter&rsquo;s untrained eye, to realize the suggestion
+of breeding in the whole atmosphere about her. The gown was of the simplest
+summer material, but its very simplicity, and a certain lack of &ldquo;latest
+fashion&rdquo; rather than &ldquo;old-fashionedness&rdquo; gave it a quality of
+respectability. Every line of the face, the set of the head, and even more the
+carriage of the figure, conveyed the &ldquo;look of race.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must thank you, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; she said, speaking deliberately,
+in a low, mellow voice, by no means so common then as our women&rsquo;s
+imitation of the English tone and inflexion has since made it, &ldquo;for
+suiting your time to mine on such short notice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were very kind,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;to comply with my request.
+Any time was convenient to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am glad it suited you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had expected to be asked to sit down, but, nothing being said, began his
+explanation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am very grateful, Miss De Voe, for your note, and for the check. I
+thank you for both. But I think you probably sent me the latter through a
+mistake, and so I did not feel justified in accepting it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A mistake?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. The papers made many errors in their statements. I&rsquo;m not a
+&lsquo;poor young lawyer&rsquo; as they said. My mother is comfortably off, and
+gives me an ample allowance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what is more,&rdquo; continued Peter, &ldquo;while they were right
+in saying that I paid some of the expenses of the case, yet I was more than
+repaid by my fees in some civil suits I brought for the relatives of the
+children, which we settled very advantageously.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you sit down, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo; said Miss De Voe.
+&ldquo;I should like to hear about the cases.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter began a very simple narrative of the matter. But Miss De Voe interjected
+questions or suppositions here and there, which led to other explanations, and
+before Peter had finished, he had told not merely the history of the cases, but
+much else. His mention of the two Dooley children had brought out the fact of
+their visit to his mother, and this had explained incidentally her position in
+the world. The settlement of the cases involved the story of the visit to the
+brewer&rsquo;s home, and Peter, to justify his action, added his interview with
+his pastor, Peter&rsquo;s connection with the case compelled him to speak of
+his evenings in the &ldquo;angle,&rdquo; and the solitary life that had sent
+him there. Afterwards, Peter was rather surprised at how much he had told. He
+did not realize that a woman with tact and experience can, without making it
+evident, lead a man to tell nearly anything and everything he knows, if she is
+so minded. If women ever really take to the bar seriously, may Providence
+protect the average being in trousers, when on the witness stand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Peter talked, a clock struck. Stopping short, he rose. &ldquo;I must ask
+your pardon,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I had no idea I had taken so much of your
+time.&rdquo; Then putting his hand in his pocket, he produced the check.
+&ldquo;You see that I have made a very good thing out of the whole matter and
+do not need this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One moment, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said the lady, still sitting.
+&ldquo;Can you spare the time to lunch with me? We will sit down at once, and
+you shall be free to go whenever you wish.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter hesitated. He knew that he had the time, and it did not seem easy to
+refuse without giving an excuse, which he did not have. Yet he did not feel
+that he had the right to accept an invitation which he had perhaps necessitated
+by his long call.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said his hostess, before he had been able to frame an
+answer. &ldquo;May I trouble you to pull that bell?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter pulled the bell, and coming back, tendered the check rather awkwardly to
+Miss De Voe. She, however, was looking towards a doorway, which the next moment
+was darkened by the butler.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Morden,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you may serve luncheon at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Luncheon is served, madam,&rdquo; said Morden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe rose. &ldquo;Mr. Stirling, I do not think your explanation has
+really affected the circumstances which led me to send that check. You
+acknowledge yourself that you are the poorer for that prosecution, and received
+no fees for trying it. As I wrote you, I merely was giving a retaining fee in
+that case, and as none other has been given, I still wish to do it. I cannot do
+such things myself, but I am weal&mdash;I&mdash;I can well afford to aid others
+to do them, and I hope you will let me have the happiness of feeling that I
+have done my little in this matter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I was quite willing to take the
+money, but I was afraid you might have sent it under a misconception.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe smiled at Peter with a very nice look in her face. &ldquo;I am the
+one to say &lsquo;thank you,&rsquo; and I am most grateful. But we will
+consider that as ended, and discuss luncheon in its place.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter, despite his usual unconsciousness could not but notice the beauty of the
+table service. The meal itself was the simplest of summer luncheons, but the
+silver and china and glass were such as he had never seen before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What wine will you have with your luncheon, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo; he was
+asked by his hostess.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t&mdash;none for me,&rdquo; replied Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t approve of wine?&rdquo; asked his hostess.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Personally I have no feeling about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But?&rdquo; And there was a very big question mark in Miss De
+Voe&rsquo;s voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My mother is strongly prejudiced against it, so I do not take it. It is
+really no deprivation to me, while it would mean great anxiety to her if I
+drank.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This started the conversation on Peter&rsquo;s mother and his early years, and
+before it had ended, his hostess had succeeded in learning much more about his
+origin and his New York life. The clock finally cut him short again, 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&rsquo;clock struck,
+Peter, without the least simulating any other cause for going, rose hastily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have used up your whole afternoon,&rdquo; he said, apologetically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; smiled Miss De Voe, &ldquo;that we are equal culprits in
+that. I leave town to-morrow, Mr. Stirling, but return to the city late in
+October, and if your work and inclination favor it, I hope you will come to see
+me again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at the silver and the china. Then he looked at Miss De Voe, so
+obviously an aristocrat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be happy to,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if, when you return, you
+will send me word that you wish to see me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe had slightly caught her breath while Peter hesitated. &ldquo;I
+believe he is going to refuse!&rdquo; she thought to herself, a sort of stunned
+amazement seizing her. She was scarcely less surprised at his reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never ask a man twice to call on me, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; she said,
+with a slight hauteur in her voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry for that,&rdquo; said Peter quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe caught her breath again. &ldquo;Good-afternoon,&rdquo; she said,
+holding out her hand. &ldquo;I shall hope to see you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; said Peter, and the next moment was walking towards his
+office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe stood for a moment thinking. &ldquo;That was curious,&rdquo; she
+thought, &ldquo;I wonder if he intends to come?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next evening she was dining with relatives in one of the fashionable
+summering places, and was telling them about her call &ldquo;from Mr. Stirling,
+the lawyer who made that splendid speech.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;when I received the message, that I
+was going to be buried under a bathos of thanks, or else have my gift declined
+with the expectation that I would gush over the disinterestedness of the
+refusal. Since I couldn&rsquo;t well avoid seeing him, I was quite prepared to
+snub him, or to take back the money without a word. But he wasn&rsquo;t a bit
+that kind of creature. He isn&rsquo;t self-assured nor tonguey&mdash;rather the
+reverse. I liked him so, that I forced him to stay to luncheon, and made him
+tell me a good deal about himself, without his knowing I was doing so. He leads
+a very unusual life, without seeming conscious that he does, and he tells about
+it very well. Uses just the right word every time, so that you know exactly
+what he means, without taxing your own brain to fill up blanks. He has such a
+nice voice too. One that makes you certain of the absolute truth underneath.
+No. He isn&rsquo;t good looking, though he has fine eyes, and hair. His face
+and figure are both too heavy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is he a gentleman, cousin Anneke?&rdquo; asked one of the party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is a little awkward, and over-blunt at moments, but nothing to which
+one would give a second thought. I was so pleased with him that I asked him to
+call on me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems to me,&rdquo; said another, &ldquo;that you are over-paying
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was the most curious part,&rdquo; replied Miss De Voe.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not at all sure that he means to come. It was really
+refreshing not to be truckled to, but it is rather startling to meet the first
+man who does not want to win his way to my visiting list. I don&rsquo;t think
+he even knows who Miss De Voe is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He will find out quick enough,&rdquo; laughed a girl, &ldquo;and then he
+will do what they all do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;I suspect it will make no
+difference. He isn&rsquo;t that kind, I think. I really am curious to see if I
+have to ask him a second time. It will be the only case I can remember.
+I&rsquo;m afraid, my dears, your cousin is getting to be an old woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter, had in truth, met, and spent over four hours in the company of a woman
+whom every one wished to know. A woman equally famous for her lineage, her
+social position, her wealth and her philanthropy. It would not have made any
+difference, probably, had he known it, though it might have increased his
+awkwardness a little. That he was not quite as unconscious as Miss De Voe
+seemed to think, is shown by a passage in a letter he wrote to his mother:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;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.&rdquo;&mdash;[Then Peter
+carefully inked out &ldquo;such as this class feel for the moment,&rdquo; and
+reproved himself that his bitterness at&mdash;at&mdash;at one experience,
+should make him condemn a whole class]&mdash;&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Later on in the letter he wrote:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>
+ANOTHER CLIENT.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter had seen his clients on the morning following the settlement of the
+cases, and told them of their good fortune. They each had a look at
+Bohlmann&rsquo;s check, and then were asked how they would like their shares.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; said Dooley, &ldquo;Oi shan&rsquo;t know what to do wid
+that much money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that your two thousand really belongs
+to the children.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That it does,&rdquo; said Mrs. Dooley, quite willing to deprive her
+husband of it, for the benefit of her children.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what shall Oi do wid it?&rdquo; asked Mr. Dooley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d like Mr. Stirling to take charge of mine,&rdquo; said
+Blackett.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the idea,&rdquo; said Dooley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so it was settled by all. Peter said the best thing would be to put it in
+the savings bank. &ldquo;Perhaps later we&rsquo;ll find something
+better.&rdquo; They all went around to a well-known institution on the Bowery,
+and Peter interviewed the cashier. It proved feasible to endorse over the check
+to the bank, and credit the proper share to each.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall have to ask you to give me the odd two hundred and fifty,&rdquo;
+Peter said, &ldquo;as that is my legal fee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You had better let me put that in your name, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo; said
+the president, who had been called into the consultation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I shall want some of it before
+long, but the rest will be very well off here.&rdquo; So a book was handed him,
+and the president shook him by the hand with all the warmth that eight thousand
+two hundred and fifty dollars of increased assets and four new depositors
+implied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not need to draw any of the two hundred and fifty dollars, however.
+In November he had another knock at his door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It proved to be Mr. Dennis Moriarty, of whom we have incidentally spoken in
+connection with the half-price drinks for the Milligan wake, and as spokesman
+of the torchlight procession.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-mornin&rsquo; to yez, sir,&rdquo; said the visitor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a peculiarity of Peter&rsquo;s that he never forgot faces. He did not
+know Mr. Moriarty&rsquo;s name, never having had it given him, but he placed
+him instantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter, holding out his hand. Peter did not
+usually shake hands in meeting people, but he liked the man&rsquo;s face. It
+would never take a prize for beauty. The hair verged on a fiery red, the nose
+was a real sky-scraper and the upper lip was almost proboscidian in its length.
+But every one liked the face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s proud Oi&rsquo;m bein&rsquo; shakin&rsquo; the hand av
+Misther Stirling,&rdquo; said the Irishman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit down,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My name&rsquo;s Moriarty, sir, Dinnis Moriarty, an&rsquo; Oi keeps a
+saloon near Centre Street, beyant.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were round here in the procession.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oi was, sir. Shure, Oi&rsquo;m not much at a speech, compared to the
+likes av yez, but the b&rsquo;ys would have me do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said something appropriate, and then there was a pause.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Stirling,&rdquo; finally said Moriarty, &ldquo;Oi was up before
+Justice Gallagher yesterday, an&rsquo; he fined me bad. Oi want yez to go to
+him, an&rsquo; get him to be easier wid me. It&rsquo;s yezself can do
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What were you fined for?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For bein&rsquo; open on Sunday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you ought to be fined.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say that till Oi tell yez. Oi don&rsquo;t want to keep my
+place open, but it&rsquo;s in my lease, an&rsquo; so Oi have to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In your lease?&rdquo; enquired Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; And the paper was handed over to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter ran over the three documents. &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you
+are only the caretaker really, the brewer having an assignment of the lease and
+a chattel mortgage on your fixtures and stock.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it,&rdquo; said Dennis. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s mighty quick yez
+got at it. It&rsquo;s caretaker Oi am, an&rsquo; a divil of a care it is.
+Shure, who wants to work seven days a week, if he can do wid six?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You should have declined to agree to that condition?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then Oi&rsquo;d have been turned out. Begobs, it&rsquo;s such poor beer
+that it&rsquo;s little enough Oi sell even in seven days.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you get your beer elsewhere then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, it&rsquo;s Edelhein put me in there to sell his stuff, an&rsquo;
+he&rsquo;d never let me sell anythin&rsquo; else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then Edelhein is really the principal, and you are only put in to keep
+him out of sight?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you have put no money in yourself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Divil a cent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why doesn&rsquo;t he pay the fine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He says Oi have no business to be afther bein&rsquo; fined. As if any
+one sellin&rsquo; his beer could help bein&rsquo; fined!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How is that?&rdquo; said Peter, inferring that selling poor beer was a
+finable offence, yet ignorant of the statute.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why yez see, sir, the b&rsquo;ys don&rsquo;t like that
+beer&mdash;an&rsquo; sensible they are&mdash;so they go to other places,
+an&rsquo; don&rsquo;t come to my place.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But that doesn&rsquo;t explain your fines.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Av course it does. Shure, if the boys don&rsquo;t come to my place,
+it&rsquo;s little Oi can do at the primary, an&rsquo; so it&rsquo;s no pull Oi
+have in politics, to get the perlice an&rsquo; the joodges to be easy wid me,
+like they are to the rest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter studied his blank wall a bit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure, if it&rsquo;s good beer Oi had,&rdquo; continued Moriarty,
+&ldquo;Oi&rsquo;d be afther beatin&rsquo; them all, for Oi was always popular
+wid the b&rsquo;ys, on account of my usin&rsquo; my fists so fine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled. &ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you go into something else?&rdquo; he
+asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;s mother and the three childers to be supported,
+an&rsquo; then Oi&rsquo;d lose my influence at the primary.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What kind of beer does Mr. Bohlmann make?&rdquo; asked Peter, somewhat
+irrelevantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said Moriarty, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s the fine honest beer!
+There&rsquo;s never anythin&rsquo; wrong wid his. An&rsquo; he treats his
+keepers fair. Lets them do as they want about keepin&rsquo; open Sundays,
+an&rsquo; never squeezes a man when he&rsquo;s down on his luck.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at his wall again. Peter was learning something.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Supposing,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;I was able to get your fine remitted,
+and that clause struck out of the lease. Would you open on Sunday?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Divil a bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When must you pay the fine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oi&rsquo;m out on bail till to-morrow, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then leave these papers with me, and come in about this time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter studied his wall for a bit after his new client was gone. He did not like
+either saloon-keepers or law-breakers, but this case seemed to him to
+have&mdash;to have&mdash;extenuating circumstances. His cogitations finally
+resulted in his going to Justice Gallagher&rsquo;s court. He found the judge
+rather curt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s been up here three times in as many months, and I intend to
+make an example of him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why is only he arrested, when every saloon keeper in the
+neighborhood does the same thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, sir,&rdquo; said the judge, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t waste any more of my
+time. What&rsquo;s the next case?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A look we have mentioned once or twice came into Peter&rsquo;s face. He started
+to leave the court, but encountered at the door one of the policemen whom he
+was &ldquo;friends with,&rdquo; according to the children, which meant that
+they had chatted sometimes in the &ldquo;angle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What sort of a man is Dennis Moriarty?&rdquo; he asked of him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A fine young fellow, supporting his mother and his younger
+brothers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why is Justice Gallagher so down on him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The policeman looked about a moment. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s politics, sir, and
+he&rsquo;s had orders.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;From whom?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s more than we know. There was a row last spring in the
+primary, and we&rsquo;ve had orders since then to lay for him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stood and thought for a moment. &ldquo;What saloon-keeper round here has
+the biggest pull?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all of them, mostly, but Blunkers is a big man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. He stood in the street thinking a little.
+Then he walked a couple of blocks and went into Blunkers&rsquo;s great gin
+palace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to see the proprietor,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dat&rsquo;s me,&rdquo; said a man who was reading a paper behind the
+bar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know Justice Gallagher?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do I? Well, I guess,&rdquo; said the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you do me the favor to go with me to his court, and get him to
+remit Dennis Moriarty&rsquo;s fine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will I? No. I will not. Der&rsquo;s too many saloons, and one less will
+be bully.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In that case,&rdquo; said Peter quietly, &ldquo;I suppose you
+won&rsquo;t mind my closing yours up?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wot der yer mean?&rdquo; angrily inquired the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it comes to closing saloons, two can play at that game.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is yer, anyway?&rdquo; The man came out from behind the bar,
+squaring his shoulders in an ugly manner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My name&rsquo;s Stirling. Peter Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man looked at him with interest. &ldquo;How&rsquo;ll yer close my
+place?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Get evidence against you, and prosecute you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dat ain&rsquo;t de way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will be my way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wot yer got against me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing. But I intend to see Moriarty have fair play. You want to fight
+on the square too. You&rsquo;re not a man to hit a fellow in the dark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was not flattering the man. He had measured him and was telling him the
+result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made the other man
+realize the opinion behind the words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; said Blunkers, good-naturedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went over to the court, and a whispered colloquy took place between the
+justice and the bartender.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; presently said the judge.
+&ldquo;Clerk, strike Dennis Moriarty&rsquo;s fine off the list.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter to the saloon-keeper. &ldquo;If I can ever
+do a turn for you, let me know it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dat&rsquo;s hunky,&rdquo; said the man, and they parted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 told him the
+story, asking his advice at the end.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dondt you vool von minute mit dod Edelheim. I dells you vot I do. I harf
+choost a blace vacant down in Zender Streed, and your frient he shall it
+haf.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they chatted till all the details had been arranged. Dennis was to go in as
+caretaker, bound to use only Bohlmann&rsquo;s beer, with a percentage on that,
+and the profits on all else. He was to pay the rent, receiving a sub-lease from
+Bohlmann, who was only a lesee himself, and to give a chattel mortgage on the
+stock supplied him. Finally he was to have the right of redemption of stock,
+lease, and good-will at any time within five years, on making certain payments.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You draw up der babers, Misder Stirling, and send der bill to me. Ve
+vill give der yoonger a chance,&rdquo; the brewer said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Dennis called the next day, he was &ldquo;spacheless&rdquo; at the new
+developments. He wrung Peter&rsquo;s hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Arrah, what can Oi say to yez?&rdquo; he exclaimed finally. Then having
+found something, he quickly continued: &ldquo;Now, Patsy Blunkers, lookout for
+yezself. It&rsquo;s the divil Oi&rsquo;ll give yez in the primary this
+year.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He begged Peter to come down the opening night, and help to &ldquo;celebrate
+the event.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but I don&rsquo;t think I
+will.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; said Dennis, &ldquo;yez needn&rsquo;t be afraid it
+won&rsquo;t be orderly. It&rsquo;s myself can do the hittin&rsquo;, an&rsquo;
+the b&rsquo;ys know it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My mother brought me up,&rdquo; Peter explained, &ldquo;not to go into
+saloons, and when I came to New York I promised her, if I ever did anything she
+had taught me not to, that I would write her about it. She would hardly
+understand this visit, and it might make her very unhappy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter earned fifty dollars by drawing the papers, and at the end of the first
+month Dennis brought him fifty more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Trade&rsquo;s been fine, sir, an&rsquo; Oi want to pay something for
+what yez did.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter left his two hundred and fifty dollars in the bank, having recouped
+the expenses of the first case out of his new client.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He wrote all about it to his mother:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am afraid you won&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Little did Peter know how useful his last client would be to him.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/>
+THE PRIMARY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+After this rush of work, Peter&rsquo;s life became as routine as of yore. The
+winter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadily growing
+acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July a new phase was
+injected into it by a call from Dennis Moriarty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-mornin&rsquo; to yez, sir, an&rsquo; a fine day it is,&rdquo; said
+the latter, with his usually breezy way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Stirling. An&rsquo; is it engaged yez are for this night?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo; Peter had nothing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Dennis, &ldquo;maybe ye&rsquo;ll be afther goin&rsquo;
+wid me to the primary?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What primary?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For the election of delegates to the convention, shure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. What party?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What party is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Stirling, do yez know my name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dennis Moriarty, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. An&rsquo; what&rsquo;s my business?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You keep a saloon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. An&rsquo; what ward do Oi live in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The sixth, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Dennis, his upper lip twisting into a smile of
+enormous proportions, &ldquo;Oi suppose yez afther thinkin&rsquo; Oi&rsquo;m a
+dirty black Republican.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter laughed, as few could help doing, when Dennis led the way. &ldquo;Look
+here, Dennis,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t you run down that party. My
+father was a Democrat, but he voted for Lincoln, and fought for the blacks when
+the time came, and though I&rsquo;m a Democrat like him, the Republicans are
+only black in their sympathies, and not in their acts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; what do yez say to the whisky frauds, an&rsquo; black Friday,
+an&rsquo; credit mobilier?&rdquo; asked Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I don&rsquo;t like them,&rdquo; said Peter; &ldquo;but
+that&rsquo;s the politicians, not the party.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; said Dennis, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s the party but the men
+that run it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve seen something of Mr. Bohlmann lately, Dennis?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he was the man who put Goldman in charge of that cow stable. Yet
+he&rsquo;s an honest man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dennis scratched his head. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a convincin&rsquo; way yez have
+wid yez,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s scoundrels the Republicans are,
+all the same. Look at them in the district; there&rsquo;s not one a decent man
+would invite to drink wid him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think, Dennis,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that when all the decent men
+get into one party, there&rsquo;ll be only one worth talking about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Av course,&rdquo; replied Dennis. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the reason
+there&rsquo;s only the Democratic party in New York City.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me about this primary,&rdquo; said Peter, concluding that abstract
+political philosophy was not the way to liberalize Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s most important, it is,&rdquo; he was told, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s
+on top Patsy Blunkers an&rsquo; his gang av dirty spalpeens (Dennis seemed to
+forget that he had just expressed the opinion that all the &ldquo;decent&rdquo;
+men were Democrats) have been this two years, but we&rsquo;ve got orders for a
+new enrollment at last, an&rsquo; if we don&rsquo;t knock them this time, my
+name isn&rsquo;t Dinnis Moriarty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the question before the meeting?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Afther the enrollment, it&rsquo;s to vote for delegates.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! Then it&rsquo;s just a struggle over who shall be elected?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it. But a fine, big fight it will be. The whole
+district&rsquo;s so excited, sir, that it&rsquo;s twice Oi&rsquo;ve had to
+pound the b&rsquo;ys a bit in my saloon to keep the peace.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you want of me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure, every vote counts on a night like this. An&rsquo; ye&rsquo;d be
+afther helpin&rsquo; us big, for the district likes yez.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Dennis, I can&rsquo;t vote without knowing something about the way
+things are. I shouldn&rsquo;t know whether I was voting rightly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, a man votes right when he votes for his friends!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; a man votes right when he votes for his convictions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Convictions, is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. That is, he votes as he thinks is best for the country.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That, maybe, is the way yez do it where yez come from,&rdquo; said
+Dennis, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s no good it would be here. Convictions, whatever
+they be, are never nominated here. It&rsquo;s real things we&rsquo;re afther
+votin&rsquo; for in New York.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter laughed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to take you in hand, Dennis, and
+you&rsquo;ve got to take me in hand. I think we both need each other&rsquo;s
+help. Yes, I&rsquo;ll come to the primary. Will they let me vote?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The dirty spalpeens will never dare to stop yez! Thank yez, sir.
+Oi&rsquo;ll be along for yez about eight.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Remember, though, Dennis&mdash;I don&rsquo;t say how I&rsquo;ll
+vote.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yez just listen, an I&rsquo;m not afraid av what ye&rsquo;ll do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That evening, Peter was ushered into a large hot room, pretty well packed with
+men, and the interstices already filled in with dense tobacco smoke. He looked
+about him curiously, and was surprised to find how many of the faces he knew.
+Blackett, Dooley, and Milligan were there, and shook hands with him warmly.
+Judge Gallagher and Blunkers were in evidence. In plain clothes were two
+policemen, and three of the &ldquo;fire-laddies,&rdquo; who formed part of the
+&ldquo;crew&rdquo; of the nearest engine, with all of whom he had often
+chatted. Mr. Dummer, his rival lawyer in the case, and one of the jurymen in
+it, likewise were visible. Also many faces which were familiar to Peter by a
+former occasional friendly word or nod exchanged in passing. Intense excitement
+evidently reigned, and every one was whispering in a sort of breathless way,
+which showed how deeply interested they were.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At Dennis&rsquo;s suggestion, made in walking to the room, Peter presented
+himself without guidance, at the desk. Some one behind him asked if he lived in
+the ward, and for how long, but this was the only apparent opposition made to
+the prompt entering of his name. Then Peter strolled round and talked to those
+whom he knew, and tried to find out, without much success, just what was the
+division. Every one knew that a fight was on, but in just what it consisted
+they seemed neither to know nor care.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He noticed that hot words were constantly exchanged at the enrolling desk, over
+would-be members, but not understanding the exact nature of the qualifications
+needed, he could not follow the disputes. Finally these ceased, for want of
+applicants.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Stirling,&rdquo; said Dennis, coming up to him hurriedly.
+&ldquo;Will yez be afther bein&rsquo; chairman for us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I don&rsquo;t know anything about the proceedings.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It don&rsquo;t take any,&rdquo; said Dennis. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s only fair
+play we&rsquo;re afther.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was gone again before Peter could say anything. The next instant, the
+enrolling officer rose and spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are there any more to be enrolled?&rdquo; he called. No one came
+forward, so after a moment he said: &ldquo;Will the meeting choose a presiding
+officer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; rang two voices so quickly that they in truth cut
+the presiding officer off in his suggestion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Muldoon,&rdquo; said that officer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oi spoke first,&rdquo; shouted Dennis, and Peter felt that he had, and
+that he was not having fair play.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instantly a wave of protest, denials, charges, and counter-charges swept
+through the room, Peter thought there was going to be a fight, but the position
+was too critical to waste a moment on what Dennis styled &ldquo;a
+diversion.&rdquo; It was business, not pleasure, just then.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Muldoon,&rdquo; said the officer again, not heeding the tempest in
+the least.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; shouted Muldoon, &ldquo;I am proud to nominate
+Justice Gallagher, the pride of the bar, for chairman of this distinguished
+meeting, and I move to make his election unanimous.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Chairman,&rdquo; shouted Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Moriarty,&rdquo; said the officer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Chairman, Oi have the honor to nominate for chairman av this
+meetin&rsquo; the people&rsquo;s an&rsquo; the children&rsquo;s friend, Misther
+Peter Stirling, an&rsquo; Oi don&rsquo;t have to move to make it unanimous, for
+such is the intelligince an&rsquo; manhood av this meetin&rsquo; that it will
+be that way for shure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter saw a hurried consultation going on between Gallagher, Muldoon, and two
+others, during the latter part of this speech, and barely had Dennis finished
+his remarks, when Justice Gallagher spoke up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Chairman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Honorable Justice Gallagher,&rdquo; said that gentleman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I take pride in withdrawing in favor of Mr. Stirling, who so justly
+merits the honor of presiding on this important occasion. From recent events
+too well known to need mention, I am sure we can all look to him for justice
+and fairness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bad cess to him!&rdquo; groaned Dennis. &ldquo;Oi hoped they&rsquo;d be
+just fools enough to oppose yez, an&rsquo; then we&rsquo;d have won the first
+blood.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was chosen without dissent, and was escorted to the seat behind the desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the first business before the meeting?&rdquo; he asked of
+Gallagher, aside, as he was taking his seat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Election of delegates to the State convention. That&rsquo;s all
+to-night,&rdquo; he was told.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had presided at college in debates, and was not flurried. &ldquo;Will you
+stay here so as to give me the names of those I don&rsquo;t know?&rdquo; he
+said to the enrolling officer. &ldquo;The meeting will please come to
+order,&rdquo; he continued aloud. &ldquo;The nomination of delegates to the
+State convention is the business to be acted upon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Chairman,&rdquo; yelled Dennis, evidently expecting to find
+another rival as before. But no one spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Moriarty,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Chairman. It&rsquo;s my delight to nominate as delegates to the
+State convention, the Honorable Misther Schlurger, our distinguished
+representative in the Assembly, the Honorable Misther Kennedy, our noble
+Police-commissioner, an&rsquo; Misther Caggs, whom it would be insult for me to
+praise in this company.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Second the motion,&rdquo; said some one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; shouted a man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s Caggs,&rdquo; said the enrolling officer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Caggs,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; said Caggs. &ldquo;I must decline the honor offered
+me from such a source.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; shrieked Dennis, amazement and rage contesting for first
+place in voice and expression.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; said Dummer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Dummer,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have the honor to nominate the Honorable Justice Gallagher, Mr. Peter
+Sweeney, and Mr. Caggs, to whom Mr. Moriarty has just paid so glowing a
+tribute, as delegates to the State convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Second the&mdash;&rdquo; shouted some one, but the rest was drowned by
+another storm which swept through the room. Even above the tumult, Peter could
+hear Dennis challenging and beseeching Mr. Caggs to come &ldquo;outside
+an&rsquo; settle it like gentlemen.&rdquo; Caggs, from a secure retreat behind
+Blunkers&rsquo;s right arm, declined to let the siren&rsquo;s song tempt him
+forth. Finally Peter&rsquo;s pounding brought a degree of quiet again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Chairman,&rdquo; said Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Moriarty,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Chairman. Oi&rsquo;ll not take the valuable time av this
+meetin&rsquo; to speak av dirty, cowardly, black-hearted, treacherous snakes,
+wid souls blacker than the divil&rsquo;s own&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Order!&rdquo; said Peter to the crowd.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; continued Dennis, in answer to the audible remarks of the
+opposition. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s no names Oi&rsquo;m callin&rsquo;. If yez know
+such a beast, such a snake, fit it to him. Oi&rsquo;m mentionin&rsquo; no
+names. As Oi was sayin&rsquo;, Misther Chairman, Oi&rsquo;ll not waste the time
+av this meetin&rsquo; wid discribin&rsquo; the conduct av a beast so vile that
+he must be the contempt av every honest man. Who would have been driven out by
+St. Patrick, wid the rest av the reptiles, if he&rsquo;d lived at that time. Oi
+only rise to widdraw the name av Caggs from the list Oi nominated for delegates
+to the state convention, an&rsquo; to put in place av it that av a man who is
+as noble an&rsquo; true, as some are false an&rsquo; divilish. That of Misther
+Peter Stirling, God bless him!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once more chaos came. Peter pounded in vain. Both sides were at fever heat.
+Finally Peter rose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he shouted, in a voice that rang through the hall
+above even the tumult, &ldquo;if this meeting does not come to order, I shall
+declare it adjourned.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instant quiet fell, for all had paused a moment to hear his words, and they
+concluded that he was in earnest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was the last motion seconded?&rdquo; asked the chairman calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I seconded it,&rdquo; shouted Blackett and Milligan together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have heard the nominations, gentlemen. Has any one any remarks to
+make?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A man next Justice Gallagher said, &ldquo;Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; and being duly
+recognized, proceeded to talk for ten minutes in a very useless way. But during
+this time, Peter noticed first a good deal of whispering among Blunkers&rsquo;s
+friends, and then an interview between Gallagher and Dennis. The latter was
+apparently not reconcilable, and shook his head in a way that 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 orator was &ldquo;called down&rdquo; and it was
+voted to proceed to an election. Peter named one of the firemen, Dooley, and
+Blunkers, tellers, who, after a ballot, announced that Dennis had carried his
+nominations, Peter heading the list with two hundred and twelve votes, and the
+others getting one hundred and seventy-two, and one hundred and fifty-eight
+respectively. The &ldquo;snake&rdquo; got but fifty-seven votes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; said Dennis, later, &ldquo;maybe we don&rsquo;t vote for
+convictions here, but we don&rsquo;t vote for the likes av him!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you are voting for convictions,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s yezself is the convictions then,&rdquo; said Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps he was right.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/>
+A POLITICAL DEBUT.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter declared the meeting adjourned as soon as the results of the election had
+been read, and slipped away in the turmoil that immediately followed, without a
+word to any one. He was in truth not bewildered&mdash;because he had too much
+natural poise and phlegm&mdash;but he was surprised by the suddenness of it
+all, and wanted to think before talking with others. So he took advantage of
+the mutual bickerings and recriminations which seemed the order of the day, to
+get back to his office, and there he sat, studying his wall for a time. Then he
+went to bed, and slept as quickly and as calmly as if he had spent his evening
+in reading the &ldquo;Modern Cottage Architecture&rdquo; or &ldquo;Questions de
+Sociologie,&rdquo; which were on his table instead of presiding at a red-hot
+primary, and being elected a delegate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning Dennis came to see him as early as well could be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Misther Stirling,&rdquo; he said, his face expanding into the broadest
+of grins, &ldquo;let me salute the delegate to the State convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, Dennis,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;you know you had no
+business to spring that on me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, sir! Shure, when that dirty little spalpeen av a Caggs went back on
+us so, what could Oi do? Oi know it&rsquo;s speak to yez Oi ought, but wid de
+room yellin&rsquo; like that it&rsquo;s divilish tryin&rsquo; to do the right
+thing quick, barrin&rsquo; it&rsquo;s not hittin&rsquo; some one&rsquo;s head,
+which always comes natural.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;of course I&rsquo;m very much pleased to
+have been chosen, but I wish it could have been done with less hard
+feeling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hard feelin,&rsquo; is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure, the b&rsquo;ys are as pleased and kindly this mornin&rsquo; as
+can be. It&rsquo;s a fight like that makes them yieldin&rsquo; an&rsquo;
+friendly. Nothin&rsquo; but a little head-punchin&rsquo; could make them in a
+sweeter mood, an&rsquo; we&rsquo;d a given them that if little Caggs had had
+any sense in him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean Gallagher and Blunkers and the rest of them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Av course. That little time last night didn&rsquo;t mean much. No one
+feels bad over that. Shure, it&rsquo;s Gallagher was in my place later last
+night, an&rsquo; we had a most friendly time, he treatin&rsquo; the whole crowd
+twice. We&rsquo;ve got to fight in the primary to keep the b&rsquo;ys
+interested, but it&rsquo;s seldom that they&rsquo;re not just as friendly the
+next day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at his wall. He had not liked Gallagher at either time he had met
+him. &ldquo;Still,&rdquo; he thought to himself, &ldquo;I have no right to
+prevent him and Dennis being friends, from the little I&rsquo;ve seen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, sir, about the convention?&rdquo; said Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose Porter is the best man talked of for the nomination,&rdquo;
+remarked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Begobs, sir, that he&rsquo;s not,&rdquo; said Dennis. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s
+Justice Gallagher was tellin&rsquo; me himself that he was a poor kind av
+creature, wid a strong objection to saloons.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s eye lost its last suggestion of doubt. &ldquo;Oh, Justice
+Gallagher told you that?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;When?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Last night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After the primary?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Av course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whom does he favor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Catlin.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Dennis, you&rsquo;ve made me a delegate, but I&rsquo;ve got to
+vote my own way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure, sir, Oi&rsquo;d not have yez do any thin&rsquo; else. It&rsquo;s
+yezself knows better than me. Oi was only tellin&rsquo; yez what the
+Justice&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A knock at the door interrupted him. It proved to be Gallagher, who greeted
+them both in a hearty, friendly way. Peter brought another chair from his
+bedroom.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Mr. Stirling, that was a fine contest we had last night,&rdquo;
+said his honor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seemed to be earnest,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s just as well our friend here sprang your nomination on us as
+a surprise, for if we had known, we should not have put up an opposition
+candidate. You are just the sort of a man we want to represent us in the
+convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have never met my colleagues,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;What kind of
+men are they?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he got Gallagher&rsquo;s opinion, and Dennis&rsquo;s opinion. Then he wanted
+to know about the candidates, asking questions about them at considerable
+length. The intentions of the other city delegates were next introduced.
+Finally the probable planks of the platform were brought up. While they were
+still under discussion Gallagher said the sitting of his court compelled him to
+leave.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come in some time when I have more to spare.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Gallagher went to his court, and found a man waiting for him there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s either very simple or very deep,&rdquo; said Gallagher.
+&ldquo;He did nothing but ask questions; and try my best I could not get him to
+show his hand, nor commit himself. It will be bad if there&rsquo;s a split in a
+solid delegation!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope it will be a lesson to you to have things better arranged.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Blunkers would have it that way, and he&rsquo;s not the kind of man to
+offend. We all thought he would win.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, let them have their fights,&rdquo; said the man crossly; &ldquo;but
+it&rsquo;s your business to see that the right men are put up, so that it
+doesn&rsquo;t make any difference which side wins.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Gallagher, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve done all I could to put
+things straight. I&rsquo;ve made peace, and got Moriarty on our side, and
+I&rsquo;ve talked to this Stirling, and made out a strong case for Catlin,
+without seeming to care which man gets the nomination.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there any way of putting pressure on him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that I can find out. He&rsquo;s a young lawyer, who has no
+business.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he&rsquo;s a man we don&rsquo;t need to conciliate, if he
+won&rsquo;t behave?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I can&rsquo;t say that. He&rsquo;s made himself very popular round
+here by that case and by being friendly to people. I don&rsquo;t think, if
+he&rsquo;s going into politics, that it will do to fight him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s such a green hand that we ought to be able to down
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s new, but he&rsquo;s a pretty cool, knowing chap, I think. I
+had one experience with him, which showed me that any man who picked him up for
+a fool would drop him quick.&rdquo; Then he told how Dennis&rsquo;s fine had
+been remitted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the next few weeks Peter met a good many men who wanted to talk politics
+with him. Gallagher brought some; Dennis others; his fellow-ward delegates,
+more. But Peter could not be induced to commit himself. He would talk
+candidates and principles endlessly, but without expressing his own mind. Twice
+he was asked point blank, &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s your man?&rdquo; but he promptly
+answered that he had not yet decided. He had always read a Democratic paper,
+but now he read two, and a Republican organ as well. His other reading lessened
+markedly, and the time gained was spent in talking with men in the
+&ldquo;district.&rdquo; He even went into the saloons and listened to the
+discussions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t drink,&rdquo; he had to explain several times,
+&ldquo;because my mother doesn&rsquo;t like it.&rdquo; For some reason this
+explanation seemed to be perfectly satisfactory. One man alone sneered at him.
+&ldquo;Does she feed yer still on milk, sonny?&rdquo; he asked.
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but everything I have comes from her, and
+that&rsquo;s the kind of a mother a fellow wants to please; don&rsquo;t you
+think so?&rdquo; The sneerer hesitated, and finally said he &ldquo;guessed it
+was.&rdquo; So Peter was made one of them, and smoked and listened. 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 had argued over something, they often
+looked at Peter, rather than at their opponents, to see if he seemed to approve
+of their opinions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a fine way he has wid the b&rsquo;ys,&rdquo; Dennis told his
+mother. &ldquo;He makes them feel that he&rsquo;s just the likes av them,
+an&rsquo; that he wants their minds an&rsquo; opinions to help him. Shure,
+they&rsquo;d rather smoke one pipe av his tobaccy than drink ten times at
+Gallagher&rsquo;s expense.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After Peter had listened carefully and lengthily, he wrote to &ldquo;The
+Honorable Lemuel Porter, Hudson, N.Y.,&rdquo; asking him if he could give him
+an hour&rsquo;s talk some day. The reply was prompt, and told Peter that Porter
+would be glad to see him any time that should suit his convenience. So Peter
+took a day off and ran up to Hudson.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am trying to find out for whom I should vote,&rdquo; he explained to
+Porter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a new man at this sort of thing, and, not having met
+any of the men talked of, I preferred to see them before going to the
+convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Porter found that Peter had taken the trouble to go over a back file of papers,
+and read some of his speeches.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; Peter explained, &ldquo;I want, as far as possible, to
+know what you think of questions likely to be matters for legislation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The difficulty in doing that, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he was told,
+&ldquo;is that every nominee is bound to surrender his opinions in a certain
+degree to the party platform, while other opinions have to be modified to new
+conditions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can see that,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I do not for a moment expect
+that what you say to-day is in any sense a pledge. If a man&rsquo;s honest, the
+poorest thing we can do to him is to tie him fast to one course of action, when
+the conditions are constantly changing. But, of course, you have opinions for
+the present state of things?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Something in Peter&rsquo;s explanation or face pleased Mr. Porter. He demurred
+no more, and, for an hour before lunch, and during that meal, he talked with
+the utmost freedom.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not easily fooled on men,&rdquo; he told his secretary
+afterwards, &ldquo;and you can say what you wish to that Stirling without
+danger of its being used unfairly or to injure one. And he&rsquo;s the kind of
+man to be won by square dealing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had spoken of his own district &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;that some good can be done in the way of non-partisan legislation.
+I&rsquo;ve been studying the food supplies of the city, and, if I can, I shall
+try to get a bill introduced this winter to have official inspections
+systematized.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That will receive my approval if it is properly drawn. But you&rsquo;ll
+probably find the Health Board fighting you. It&rsquo;s a nest of
+politicians.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If they won&rsquo;t yield, I shall have to antagonize them, but I have
+had some talks with the men there, in connection with the
+&lsquo;swill-milk&rsquo; 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 the drafting, for they can make it much better through their
+practical experience.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you do that, the opposition ought not to be troublesome. What else do
+you want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking of a general Tenement-house bill, but I
+don&rsquo;t think I shall try for that this winter. It&rsquo;s a big subject,
+which needs very careful study, in which a lot of harm may be done by
+ignorance. There&rsquo;s no doubt that anything which hurts the landlord, hurts
+the tenant, and if you make the former spend money, the tenant pays for it in
+the long run. Yet health must be protected. I shall try to find out what can be
+done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish you would get into the legislature yourself, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall not try for office. I want to go on with my profession. But I
+shall hope to work in politics in the future.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took another day off, and spent a few minutes of it with the other most
+promising candidate. He did not see very much of him, for they were interrupted
+by another caller, and Peter had to leave before he could have a chance to
+continue the interview.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had a call to-day from that fellow Stirling, who&rsquo;s a delegate
+from the sixth ward,&rdquo; the candidate told a &ldquo;visiting
+statesman&rdquo; later. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid he&rsquo;ll give us trouble. He
+asks too many questions. Fortunately Dewilliger came to see me, and though I
+shouldn&rsquo;t have seen him ordinarily, I found his call very opportune as a
+means of putting an end to Stirling&rsquo;s cross-examination.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s the one doubtful man on the city&rsquo;s delegation,&rdquo;
+said the statesman. &ldquo;It happened through a mistake. It will be very
+unfortunate if we can&rsquo;t cast a solid city vote.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter talked more in the next few days. He gave the &ldquo;b&rsquo;ys&rdquo;
+his impressions of the two candidates, in a way which made them trust his
+conclusions. He saw his two fellow delegates, and argued long and earnestly
+with them. He went to every saloon-keeper in the district, and discussed the
+change in the liquor law which was likely to be a prominent issue in the
+campaign, telling them what he had been able to draw from both candidates about
+the subject.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Catlin seems to promise you the most,&rdquo; he told them, &ldquo;and I
+don&rsquo;t want to say he isn&rsquo;t trying to help you. But if you get the
+law passed which he promises to sign, you won&rsquo;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 it will tempt people to go into the business, so that it will cut your
+profits that way. Then, you may stir up a big public sentiment against you in
+the next election, and so lay yourselves open to unfriendly legislation. It is
+success, or trying to get too much, which has beaten every party, sooner or
+later, in this country. Look at slavery. If the Southerners had left things as
+they were under the Missouri Compromise, they never would have stirred up the
+popular outbreak that destroyed slavery. Now, Porter is said to be unfriendly
+to you, because he wants a bill to limit the number of licenses, and to
+increase the fee to new saloons. Don&rsquo;t you see that is all in your favor,
+though apparently against you? In the first place, you are established, and the
+law will be drawn so as to give the old dealer precedence over a new one in
+granting fresh licenses. This limit will really give the established saloon
+more trade in the future, by reducing competition. While the increase in fee to
+new saloons will do the same.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By &mdash;&mdash;, yer right,&rdquo; said Blunkers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s too good a name to use that way,&rdquo; said Peter, but
+more as if he were stating a fact than reproving.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Blunkers laughed good-naturedly. &ldquo;Yer&rsquo;ll be gittin&rsquo; usen to
+close up yet, Mister Stirling. Yer too good for us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at him. &ldquo;Blunkers,&rdquo; he said warmly, &ldquo;no man is
+too good not to tell the truth to any one whom he thinks it will help.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shake,&rdquo; said Blunkers. Then he turned to the men at the tables.
+&ldquo;Step up, boys,&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;I sets it up dis time to drink
+der health of der feller dat don&rsquo;t drink.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boys drank
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/>
+A POLITICAL DINNER.</h2>
+
+<p>
+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, became current.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s this I hear?&rdquo; said Gallagher&rsquo;s former
+interviewer to that gentleman. &ldquo;They say Schlurger says he intends to
+vote for Porter, and Kennedy&rsquo;s getting cold?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you&rsquo;ll go through the sixth you&rsquo;ll hear more than
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was a torchlight last night, of nearly every voter in the ward,
+and nothing but Stirling prevented them from making the three delegates pledge
+themselves to vote for Porter. He said they must go unbound.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The interviewer&rsquo;s next remark is best represented by several &ldquo;blank
+its,&rdquo; no allusion however being intended to bed-coverings. Then he cited
+the lower regions to know what it all meant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It means that that chap Stirling has got to be fixed, and fixed big. I
+thought I knew how to wire pull, and manage men, but he&rsquo;s taken hold and
+just runs it as he wants. It&rsquo;s he makes all the trouble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The interviewer left the court, and five minutes later was in Stirling&rsquo;s
+office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My name&rsquo;s Green,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a delegate to
+the convention, and one of the committee who has the arranging of the special
+train and accommodations at Saratoga.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad you came in,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I bought my ticket
+yesterday, and the man at headquarters said he&rsquo;d see that I was assigned
+a room at the United States.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;ll be no trouble about the arrangements. What I want to see
+you for, is to ask if you won&rsquo;t dine with me this evening? There&rsquo;s
+to be several of the delegates and some big men there, to talk over the
+situation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man pulled out a card, and handed it to Peter. &ldquo;Six o&rsquo;clock
+sharp,&rdquo; he said. Then he went to headquarters, and told the result of his
+two interviews. &ldquo;Now who had better be there?&rdquo; he asked. After
+consultation, a dinner of six was arranged.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The meal proved to be an interesting one to Peter. First, he found that all the
+guests were well-known party men, whose names and opinions were matters of
+daily notice in the papers. What was more, they talked convention affairs, and
+Peter learned in the two hours&rsquo; general conversation more of true
+&ldquo;interests&rdquo; and &ldquo;influences&rdquo; and &ldquo;pulls&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;advantages&rdquo; than all his reading and talking had hitherto
+gained him. He learned that in New York the great division of interest was
+between the city and country members, and that this divided interest played a
+part in nearly every measure. &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said one of the best known men
+at the table, &ldquo;the men who represent the city, must look out for the
+city. Porter&rsquo;s a fine man, but he has no great backing, and no matter how
+well he intends by us, he can&rsquo;t do more than agree to such bills as we
+can get passed. But Catlin has the Monroe members of the legislature under his
+thumb, and his brother-in-law runs Onandaga. He promises they shall vote for
+all we want. With that aid, we can carry what New York City needs, in spite of
+the country members.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would the country members refuse to vote for really good and needed city
+legislation?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every time, unless we agree to dicker with them on some country job. The
+country members hold the interest of the biggest city in this country in their
+hands, and threaten or throttle those interests every time anything is
+wanted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when it comes to taxation,&rdquo; added another, &ldquo;the country
+members are always giving the cities the big end to carry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had a talk with Catlin,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;It seemed to me that
+he wasn&rsquo;t the right kind of man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Catlin&rsquo;s a timid man, who never likes to commit himself.
+That&rsquo;s because he always wants to do what his backers tell him. Of course
+when a man does that, he hasn&rsquo;t decided views of his own, and naturally
+doesn&rsquo;t wish to express what he may want to take back an hour
+later.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like straw men,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man who takes other people&rsquo;s opinions is not a bad governor, Mr.
+Stirling. It all depends on whose opinion he takes. If we could find a man who
+was able to do what the majority wants every time, we could re-elect him for
+the next fifty years. You must remember that in this country we elect a man to
+do what we want&mdash;not to do what he wants himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But who is to say what the majority
+wants?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t we&mdash;the party leaders&mdash;who are meeting daily the
+ward leaders, and the big men in the different districts, better able to know
+what the people want than the man who sits in the governor&rsquo;s room, with a
+doorkeeper to prevent the people from seeing him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may not choose to do what the people want.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course. I&rsquo;ve helped push things that I knew were unpopular. But
+this is very unusual, because it&rsquo;s risky. Remember, we can only do things
+when our party is in power, so it is our interest to do what will please the
+people, if we are to command majorities and remain in office. Individually we
+have got to do what the majority of our party wants done, or we are thrown out,
+and new men take our places. And it&rsquo;s just the same way with the
+parties.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I understand the condition better, and
+can see what I could not fathom before, why the city delegates want Catlin. But
+my own ward has come out strong for Porter. We&rsquo;ve come to the conclusion
+that his views on the license question are those which are best for us, and
+besides, he&rsquo;s said that he will stand by us in some food and tenement
+legislation we want.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know about that change, and want to say, Mr. Stirling, that few men of
+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 not have yet
+considered. Any proposed restriction on the license will not merely scare a lot
+of saloon-keepers, who will only understand that it sounds unfriendly, but it
+will alienate every brewer and distiller, for their interest is to see saloons
+multiplied. Then food and tenement legislation always stirs up bad feeling in
+the dealers and owners. If the opposite party would play fair, we could afford
+to laugh at it, but you see the party out of power can oppose about anything,
+knowing that a minority is never held responsible, and so by winning over the
+malcontents which every piece of legislation is sure to make, before long it
+goes to the polls with a majority, though it has really been opposing the best
+interests of the whole state. We can&rsquo;t sit still, and do nothing, yet
+everything we do will alienate some interest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s as bad as the doctrine of fore-ordination,&rdquo; laughed
+another of the party:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t if you will,<br/>
+You can if you won&rsquo;t,<br/>
+You&rsquo;ll be damned if you do,<br/>
+You&rsquo;ll be damned if you don&rsquo;t.&rdquo;<br/>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You just said,&rdquo; stated Peter, &ldquo;that the man who could do
+what the majority wants done every time, would be re-elected. Doesn&rsquo;t it
+hold true as to a party?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. A party is seldom retained in power for such reasons. If it has a
+long tenure of office it is generally due to popular distrust of the other
+party. The natural tendency otherwise is to make office-holding a sort of
+see-saw. Let alone change of opinion in older men, there are enough new voters
+every four years to reverse majorities in almost every state. Of course these
+young men care little for what either party has done in the past, and being
+young and ardent, they want to change things. The minority&rsquo;s ready to
+please them, naturally. Reform they call it, but it&rsquo;s quite as often
+&lsquo;Deform&rsquo; when they&rsquo;ve done it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled and said, &ldquo;Then you think my views on license, and
+food-inspection, and tenement-house regulation are
+&lsquo;Deformities&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We won&rsquo;t say that, but a good many older and shrewder heads have
+worked over those questions, and while I don&rsquo;t know what you hope to do,
+you&rsquo;ll not be the first to want to try a change, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope to do good. I may fail, but it&rsquo;s not right as it is, and I
+must try to better it.&rdquo; Peter spoke seriously, and his voice was very
+clear. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to have had this talk, before the convention
+meets. You are all experienced men, and I value your opinions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t intend to act on them,&rdquo; said his host
+good-naturedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I&rsquo;m not ready to say that. I&rsquo;ve got to think them
+over.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you do that, Mr. Stirling, you&rsquo;ll find we are right. We have
+not been twenty and thirty years in this business for nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you know how to run a party&mdash;but poisoned milk was peddled
+in my ward. I went to law to punish the men who sold it. Now I&rsquo;m going
+into politics to try and get laws and administration which will prevent such
+evils. I&rsquo;ve told my district what I want. I think it will support me. I
+know 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&rsquo;t disagree on results.&rdquo;
+Peter stopped, rather amazed himself at the length of his speech.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you want us to do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You say that you want to remain in control. You say you can only do so
+by majorities. I want you to give this city such a government that you&rsquo;ll
+poll every honest vote on our side,&rdquo; said Peter warmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s only the generalization of a very young man,&rdquo; said
+the leader.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter liked him all the better for the snub. &ldquo;I generalized, because it
+would make clear the object of my particular endeavors. I want to have the
+Health Board help me to draft a food-inspection bill, and I want the
+legislature to pass it, without letting it be torn to pieces for the benefit of
+special interests. I don&rsquo;t mind fair amendments, but they must be honest
+ones.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if the Health Board helps you, and the bill is made a law?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked Mr. Costell in the face, and spoke quietly: &ldquo;I shall tell my
+ward that you have done them a great service.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two of the men moved uneasily in their seats, as if not comfortable, and a
+third scowled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if we can give you some tenement-house legislation?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall tell my ward that you have done them a great service.&rdquo;
+Peter spoke in the same tone of voice, and still looked Mr. Costell in the
+face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if we don&rsquo;t do either?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What I shall do then will depend on whether you refuse for a good reason
+or for none. In either case I shall tell them the facts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is damned&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began one of the dinner-party, but
+the lifting of Mr. Costell&rsquo;s hand stopped the speech there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said Mr. Costell, rising as he spoke, &ldquo;I hope
+when you come to think it over, that you will vote with us for Catlin. But
+whether you do or not, we want you to work with us. We can help you, and you
+can help us. When you are ready to begin on your bills, come and see me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;That is just what I want.&rdquo; He
+said good-night to the company, and left the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That fellow is going to be troublesome,&rdquo; said Green.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no good trying to get anything out of him. Better split
+with him at once,&rdquo; said the guest who had used the expletive.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t have any very big hold,&rdquo; said a third.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only that trial which has given him a temporary
+popularity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait and see if he goes back on Catlin, and if he does, lay for
+him,&rdquo; remarked Green.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A pause came, and they all looked at Costell, who was smiling a certain deep
+smile that was almost habitual with him, and which no one had ever yet been
+able to read. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said slowly. &ldquo;You might beat him, but
+he isn&rsquo;t the kind that stays beat. I&rsquo;ll agree to outwit any man in
+politics, except the man who knows how to fight and to tell the people the
+truth. I&rsquo;ve never yet seen a man beaten in the long run who can do both
+those, unless he chose to think himself beaten. Gentlemen, that Stirling is a
+fighter and a truth-teller, and you can&rsquo;t beat him in his ward.
+There&rsquo;s no use having him against us, so it&rsquo;s our business to see
+that we have him with us. We may not be able to get him into line this time,
+but we must do it in the long run. For he&rsquo;s not the kind that lets go.
+He&rsquo;s beaten Nelson, and he&rsquo;s beaten Gallagher, both of whom are old
+hands. Mark my words, in five years he&rsquo;ll run the sixth ward. Drop all
+talk of fighting him. He is in politics to stay, and we must make it worth his
+while to stay with us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br/>
+POLITICS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+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 he had gone
+through his papers, and drunk his coffee the next morning, he went back to
+wall-gazing again. He was working over two conundrums not very easy to answer,
+which were somewhat to this effect:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Does the best man always make the best official?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Is the honest judgment of a fellow verging on twenty-four better than the
+experienced opinion of many far older men?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter began to think life had not such clear and direct &ldquo;right&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;wrong&rdquo; roads as he had thought. He had said to himself long ago
+that it was easy to take the right one, but he had not then discovered that it
+is often difficult to know which is the right, in order to follow it. He had
+started in to punish Bohlmann, and had compromised. He had disapproved of
+Dennis breaking the law, and had compromised his disapproval. He had said he
+should not go into saloons, and had ended by going. Now he was confronted with
+the problem whether the interests of his ward would be better served by the
+nomination of a man of good record, whom Peter personally liked, or by that of
+a colorless man, who would be ruled by the city&rsquo;s leaders. In the one
+case Peter feared no support for his measures from his own party. In the other
+case he saw aid that was tantamount to success. Finally he shook himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe Dennis is right,&rdquo; he said aloud. &ldquo;There are more
+&lsquo;real&rsquo; things than &lsquo;convictions&rsquo; in New York politics,
+and a &lsquo;real&rsquo; thing is much harder to decide about in voting than a
+&lsquo;conviction.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He went to his bedroom, packed his bag, and took his way to the station. There
+he found a dense crowd of delegates and &ldquo;well-wishers,&rdquo; both
+surrounding and filling the special train which was to carry New York&rsquo;s
+contribution to the collected party wisdom, about to concentrate at Saratoga.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter felt like a stranger in the crowd, but on mingling in it he quickly found
+himself a marked man. He was seized upon by one of the diners of the evening
+before, and soon found himself forming part of a group, which constantly
+changed its components, but continued to talk convention affairs steadily. Nor
+did the starting of the train, with cheers, brass bands, flags, and other
+enthusing elements, make more than a temporary break. From the time the special
+started, till it rolled into Saratoga, six hours later, there was one long
+series of political debates and confabs. Peter listened much, and learned much,
+for the talk was very straight and plain. He had chats with Costell and Green.
+His two fellow-delegates from &ldquo;de sixt&rdquo; sought him and discussed
+intentions. He liked Schlurger, a simple, guileless German, who wanted only to
+do what 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&rsquo;s talk
+about the &ldquo;best man,&rdquo; and about &ldquo;helping the ward,&rdquo; and
+had only found that Peter&rsquo;s ideas had value after he had been visited by
+various of the saloon-keepers, seen the vast torchlight meeting, and heard the
+cheers at Peter&rsquo;s arguments. Still, Peter was by no means sure that
+Kennedy was not a square man, and concluded he was right in not condemning him,
+when, passing through one of the cars, he overheard the following:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What kind of man is that Stirling, who&rsquo;s raised such
+&mdash;&mdash; in the sixth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know him, but Kennedy told me, before he&rsquo;d swung
+round, that he was a darned good sort of a cuss.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was flattery, Peter understood, however questionable the form might seem,
+and he was pleased. Very few of us do not enjoy a real compliment. What makes a
+compliment uncomfortable is either a suspicion that the maker doesn&rsquo;t
+mean it, or a knowledge that it is not merited.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went at once to his room on reaching the hotel in Saratoga, intending to
+make up the sleep of which his long &ldquo;think&rdquo; the night before had
+robbed him. But scarcely had the colored gentleman bowed himself out, after the
+usual &ldquo;can I git de gentleman a pitcher of ice water&rdquo; (which
+translated means: &ldquo;has de gentleman any superfluous change?&rdquo;) when
+a knock came at the door. Peter opened it, to find a man outside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this Mr. Stirling&rsquo;s room?&rdquo; inquired the individual.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can I see him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in.&rdquo; Peter moved his bag off one of his chairs, and his hat
+and overcoat off the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said the stranger as he sat down, &ldquo;I am
+Senator Maguire, and am, as perhaps you know, one of Porter&rsquo;s
+managers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We understand that you are friendly to us. Now, I needn&rsquo;t say that
+New York is otherwise a unit in opposing us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;My fellow-delegates from the sixth,
+Schlurger and Kennedy, stand as I do!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The change must have been very sudden. They were elected as Catlin men,
+we were told.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But there&rsquo;s quite a different feeling in the ward now, and
+they have yielded to it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s good news.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We all three come here prepared to do what seems best.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Senator&rsquo;s expression lost some of the satisfaction Peter&rsquo;s news
+had put into it. He gave a quick look at Peter&rsquo;s face, as if to try and
+find from it what lay behind the words. He hesitated, as if divided in mind
+over two courses of action. Finally he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I needn&rsquo;t tell you that this opposition of practically the whole
+of the New York City delegation, is the most serious set-back to Porter&rsquo;s
+chance. Now, we have talked it over, and it seemed to us that it would be a
+great card for him if he could be nominated by a city delegate. Will you do
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know him well enough, do I? Doesn&rsquo;t the nominating
+delegate have to make a speech in his favor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But I can give you the material to-night. Or if you prefer,
+we&rsquo;ll give it to you all written for delivery?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t make other men&rsquo;s speeches, Mr. Maguire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suit yourself about that. It shall be just as you please.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The difficulty is that I have not decided myself, yet, how I shall vote,
+and of course such an act is binding.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Maguire&rsquo;s countenance changed again. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry to hear
+that. I hoped you were for Porter. He&rsquo;s far away the best man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Senator leaned back in his chair, and tucked his thumbs into the armholes
+of his waistcoat. He thought he had fathomed Peter, and felt that the rest was
+plain sailing. &ldquo;This is not a chap to be tolled. I&rsquo;ll give him the
+gaff at once,&rdquo; was his mental conclusion. Then he asked aloud:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a question susceptible of many different constructions, but as Mr.
+Maguire asked it, it seemed to him to have but one, and that not very honest.
+Peter hesitated. The temptation was strong to lead the Senator on, but he did
+not like to do it. It seemed to savor of traps, and Peter had never liked
+traps. Still&mdash;he did want to know if the managers on Porter&rsquo;s side
+would stoop to buy his support by some bargain. As Peter hesitated, weighing
+the pros and cons, Maguire spoke again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does the other side offer you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter spoke quickly. &ldquo;They haven&rsquo;t offered me anything, but advice.
+That is, Costell said he&rsquo;d try and help me on some legislation I
+want&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Special?&rdquo; interrupted Maguire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, General. I&rsquo;ve talked about it with Porter as well&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! Indeed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m really anxious to get that. Otherwise I want nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whew,&rdquo; said the Senator to himself. &ldquo;That was a narrow
+squeak. If he hadn&rsquo;t spoken so quickly, I should have shown my hand
+before the call. I wonder if he got any inkling?&rdquo; He never dreamed that
+Peter had spoken quickly to save that very disclosure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I needn&rsquo;t say, Mr. Stirling, that if you can see your way to
+nominate Porter, we shall not forget it. Nor will he. He isn&rsquo;t the kind
+of man who forgets his friends. Many a man in to-morrow&rsquo;s convention
+would give anything for the privilege we offer you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I realize the honor offered me, but I
+don&rsquo;t see my way to take it. It will please me better to see him
+nominated by some one who has really stood close to him, than to gain his favor
+by doing it myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Think twice, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you would rather, I will not give you my answer till to-morrow
+morning?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I would,&rdquo; said Maguire rising, &ldquo;Try and make it favorable.
+It&rsquo;s a great chance to do good for yourself and for your side.
+Good-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter closed his door, and looked about for a bit of blank wall. But on second
+thought he sat down on his window-sill, and, filling his pipe, tried to draw
+conclusions as well as smoke from it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he pondered to himself, &ldquo;how much of that was
+Maguire, and how much Porter? Ought I, for the sake of doing my best for my
+ward, to have let him go on? Has an agent any right to refuse what will help is
+client, even if it comes by setting pitfalls?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Rap, rap, rap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; called Peter, forgetting he had turned down his light.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The door opened and Mr. Costell came in. &ldquo;Having a quiet smoke?&rdquo; he
+asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I haven&rsquo;t a cigar to offer you. Can you join me in a
+pipe?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t come to that yet. Suppose you try one of my
+cigars.&rdquo; Costell sat down on the window-ledge by Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I like a cigar, but it must be a
+good one, and that kind I can&rsquo;t afford.&rdquo; He lit the cigar, and
+leaned back to luxuriate in it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll like that, I&rsquo;m sure. Pretty sight, isn&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo; Costell pointed to the broad veranda, three stories below them, gay
+with brilliant dresses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. It&rsquo;s my first visit here, so it&rsquo;s new to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It won&rsquo;t be your last. You&rsquo;ll be attending other conventions
+than this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One of my scouts tells me you&rsquo;ve had a call from Maguire?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Peter hesitated a moment. &ldquo;He wants me to nominate
+Porter,&rdquo; he continued, as soon as he had decided that plain speaking was
+fair to Maguire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall be very sorry to see you do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I shall. They only want me because it would give the
+impression that Porter has a city backing, and to try to give that amounts to a
+deception.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can they get Schlurger or Kennedy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Schlurger is safe. I don&rsquo;t know about Kennedy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you find out for us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. When would you like to know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you see him now? I&rsquo;ll wait here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose, looking at his cigar with a suggestion of regret. But he rubbed out
+the light, and left the room. At the office, he learned the number of
+Kennedy&rsquo;s room, and went to it. On knocking, the door was opened only a
+narrow crack.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! it&rsquo;s you,&rdquo; said Kennedy. &ldquo;Come in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Kennedy,&rdquo; said Peter without seating himself, &ldquo;there is
+an attempt being made to get a city delegate to nominate Porter. It seems to me
+that is his particular friends&rsquo; business.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Maguire spoke so quickly that Kennedy had no chance to reply:
+&ldquo;Kennedy&rsquo;s promised to nominate him, Mr. Stirling, if you
+won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you feel that you are bound to do it?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Kennedy moved uneasily in his chair. &ldquo;Yes, I suppose I have
+promised.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you release Mr. Kennedy from his promise if he asks it?&rdquo;
+Peter queried to Maguire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Mr. Stirling, I don&rsquo;t think either he or you ought to ask
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was not my question.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the Senator&rsquo;s turn to squirm. He did not want to say no, for fear
+of angering Peter, yet he did not like to surrender the advantage. Finally he
+said: &ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ll release him, but Mr. Kennedy isn&rsquo;t the kind
+of a man that cries off from a promise. That&rsquo;s women&rsquo;s work.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Kennedy stiffening suddenly in backbone, as he saw the
+outlet opened by Maguire, between antagonizing Peter, and retracting his
+consent. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t play baby. Not me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stood thinking for a longer time than the others found comfortable.
+Maguire whistled to prove that he was quite at ease, but he would not have
+whistled if he had been.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think, Mr. Kennedy, that I&rsquo;ll save you from the difficulty by
+nominating Mr. Porter myself,&rdquo; said Peter finally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good!&rdquo; said Maguire; and Kennedy, reaching down into his hip
+pocket, produced a version of the holy text not yet included in any
+bibliography. Evidently the atmosphere was easier. &ldquo;About your speech,
+Mr. Stirling?&rdquo; continued the Senator.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall say what I think right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Something in Peter&rsquo;s voice made Maguire say: &ldquo;It will be of the
+usual kind, of course?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I shall tell the
+facts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What sort of facts?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall tell how it is that a delegate of the sixth ward nominates
+Porter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;why I need say it. You know
+it as well as I do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know of many reasons why you should do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one, and that has been
+created in the last ten minutes. Mr. Maguire, if you insist on the sixth ward
+nominating Mr. Porter, the sixth ward is going to tell why it does so.
+I&rsquo;m sorry, for I like Porter, but the sixth ward shan&rsquo;t lend itself
+to a fraud, if I can help it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Kennedy had been combining things spiritual and aqueous at his wash-stand. But
+his interest in the blending seemed suddenly to cease. Maguire, too, took his
+thumbs from their havens of rest, and looked dissatisfied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s much simpler
+to leave it to Kennedy. You think you&rsquo;re doing what&rsquo;s right, but
+you&rsquo;ll only do harm to us, and to yourself. If you nominate Porter, the
+city gang won&rsquo;t forgive you, and unless you can say what we want said, we
+shall be down on you. So you&rsquo;ll break with both sides.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think that is so. That is why I want some real friend of
+Porter&rsquo;s to do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Maguire laughed rather a forced laugh. &ldquo;I suppose we&rsquo;ve got to
+satisfy you. We&rsquo;ll have Porter nominated by one of our own crowd.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think that&rsquo;s best. Good-evening.&rdquo; Peter went to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; called Kennedy. &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you stay and
+take some whisky and water with us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Mr. Costell&rsquo;s in my room and
+he must be tired of waiting.&rdquo; He closed the door, and walked away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The couple looked at each other blankly for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The &mdash;&mdash; cuss is playing a double game,&rdquo; Maguire gasped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what it means!&rdquo; said Kennedy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mean?&rdquo; cried Maguire. &ldquo;It can mean only one thing.
+He&rsquo;s acting under Costell&rsquo;s orders.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why should he give it away to us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How the &mdash;&mdash; should I know? Look here, Kennedy, you must do
+it, after all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tut, tut, man, you must.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But my ward?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come. We&rsquo;ll make it quarantine, as you want. That&rsquo;s six
+years, and you can &mdash;&mdash; your ward.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the talk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They sat and discussed plans and whisky for nearly an hour. Then Maguire said
+good-night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You shall have the speech the first thing in the morning,&rdquo; he said
+at parting. Then as he walked down the long corridor, he muttered, &ldquo;Now
+then, Stirling, look out for the hind heel of the mule.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter found Costell still waiting for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It took me longer than I thought, for Maguire was there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Costell, making room for Peter on the window-ledge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter re-lit his cigar, &ldquo;Maguire promises me that Porter shall be
+nominated by one of his friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He had been trying Kennedy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t ask.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Costell smiled. &ldquo;I had no business to ask you that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Peter said frankly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Both puffed their cigars for a time in silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Costell began talking about Saratoga. He told Peter where the
+&ldquo;Congress&rdquo; spring was, and what was worth seeing. Finally he rose
+to go. He held out his hand, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling, you&rsquo;ve been as true as steel with us, and with the
+other men. I don&rsquo;t want you to suppose we are not conscious of it. I
+think you&rsquo;ve done us a great service to-night, although it might have
+been very profitable to you if you had done otherwise. I don&rsquo;t think that
+you&rsquo;ll lose by it in the long run, but I&rsquo;m going to thank you now,
+for myself. Good-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had a good night. Perhaps it was only because he was sleepy, but a
+pleasant speech is not a bad night-cap. At least it is better than a mental
+question-mark as to whether one has done wrong. Peter did not know how it was
+coming out, but he thought he had done right, and need not spend time on a
+blank wall that evening.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br/>
+THE CONVENTION.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Though Peter had not gone to bed so early as he hoped, he was up the next
+morning, and had tramped his eight miles through and around Saratoga, before
+the place gave many evidences of life. He ended his tramp at the Congress
+spring, and tasted the famous water, with exceeding disgust at the result. As
+he set down his half-finished tumbler, and turned to leave, he found Miss De
+Voe at his elbow, about to take her morning glass.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is a very pleasant surprise,&rdquo; she said, holding out her hand.
+&ldquo;When did you arrive?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only came last night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And how long shall you be here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot say. I am attending the convention, and my stay will depend on
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Surely you are not a Democrat?&rdquo; said Miss De Voe, a shade of
+horror showing itself in her face, in spite of her good breeding. In those days
+it was not, to put it mildly, a guarantee of respectability to belong to that
+party, and Miss De Voe had the strong prejudices of her social station, all the
+more because she was absolutely ignorant of political events.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said he was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can you be? When a man can ally himself with the best, why should he
+choose the worst?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Peter quietly, &ldquo;that a Pharisee said the same
+thing, in different words, many hundred years ago.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe caught her breath and flushed. She also became suddenly conscious
+of the two girls who had come to the spring with her. They had been forgotten
+in the surprise over Peter, but now Miss De Voe wondered if they had heard his
+reply, and if they had enough Bible lore to enable them to understand the
+reproof.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am sure you don&rsquo;t mean that,&rdquo; she said, in the sting of
+the moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am very sorry,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;if I made an unkind speech.
+What I meant was that no one has a right to pick out the best for himself. I am
+sure, from your letter to me, that you think a man should help those not as
+well off as himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but that is very different. Of course we should be charitable to
+those who need our help, but we need not mix in their low politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If good laws, and good administration can give the poor good food, and
+good lodgings, don&rsquo;t you think the best charity is to &lsquo;mix&rsquo;
+in politics, and try to obtain such results?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want you to know my two cousins,&rdquo; Miss De Voe replied.
+&ldquo;Dorothy, I wish to present Mr. Stirling. My cousin, Miss Ogden, and Miss
+Minna Ogden.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter saw two very pretty girls, and made a bow to them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which way are you walking?&rdquo; asked Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have been tramping merely for exercise,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;and
+stopped here to try the spring, on my way to the United States.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is hardly worth while, but if you will get into our carriage, we will
+drop you there. Or if you can spare the time, we will drive to our cottage, and
+then send you back to the hotel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but I shall only crowd you, I
+fear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. There is plenty of room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will the convention be interesting to watch, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo; asked
+one of the girls, as soon as they were seated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Peter told her. &ldquo;It is my first
+experience at it. There is pretty strong feeling, and that of course makes it
+interesting to the delegates, but I am not sure that it would be so to
+others.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will there be speeches, and cheers, and all that sort of thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cousin Anneke, won&rsquo;t you take us? It will be such fun!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are spectators admitted, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe so. I heard something about tickets last night. If you care to
+go, I&rsquo;ll see if I can get you some?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, please,&rdquo; cried both girls.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you can do so, Mr. Stirling, we should like to see the interesting
+part,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Send word back by Oliver.&rdquo; The carriage had drawn up at the
+cottage, and farewells were made.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As soon as Peter reached the hotel, he went to the New York City delegation
+room, and saw Costell. He easily secured admissions, and pencilling on a card,
+&ldquo;At headquarters they tell me that the nominations will begin at the
+afternoon session, about two o&rsquo;clock,&rdquo; he sent them back by the
+carriage. Then bearding the terrors of the colored &ldquo;monarch of all he
+surveys,&rdquo; who guards the dining-room of every well-ordered Saratoga
+hotel, he satisfied as large an appetite as he remembered in a long time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The morning proceedings in the convention were purely formal. The election of
+the chairman, the roll-call, the naming of the committees, and other routine
+matter was gotten through with, but the real interest centred in the undertone
+of political talk, going on with little regard to the business in hand. After
+the committees were named, an unknown man came up to Peter, and introduced
+himself by a name which Peter at once recognized as that of one of the
+committee on the platform.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Costell thinks you might like to see this, and can perhaps suggest a
+change,&rdquo; explained Mr. Talcott, laying several sheets of manuscript on
+Peter&rsquo;s desk and indicating with his finger a certain paragraph.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter read it twice before saying anything. &ldquo;I think I can better
+it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;If you can give me time I&rsquo;m very slow about
+such things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right. Get it in shape as quickly as possible, and send it to the
+committee-room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 and wrote a paragraph for
+the platform. It pledged the party to investigate the food and tenement
+questions, and to pass such remedial legislation as should seem best. It
+pledged the party to do this, with as little disturbance and interference with
+present conditions as possible, &ldquo;but fully recognizing the danger of
+State interference, we place human life above money profits, and human health
+above annual incomes, and shall use the law to its utmost to protect
+both.&rdquo; When it appeared in the platform, there was an addition that
+charged the failure to obtain legislation &ldquo;which should have rendered
+impossible the recent terrible lesson in New York City&rdquo; to &ldquo;the
+obstruction in the last legislature in the interest of the moneyed classes and
+landlords, by the Republican party.&rdquo; That had not been in Peter&rsquo;s
+draft and he was sorry to see it. Still, the paragraph had a real ring of
+honesty and feeling in it. That was what others thought too. &ldquo;Gad, that
+Stirling knows how to sling English,&rdquo; said one of the committee, when the
+paragraph was read aloud. &ldquo;He makes it take right hold.&rdquo; Many an
+orator in that fall&rsquo;s campaign read the nineteenth section of the
+Democratic platform aloud, feeling that it was ammunition of the right kind. It
+is in all the New York papers of September 24th, of that year.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Immediately after the morning adjournment, Green came up to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve had a count, and can&rsquo;t carry Catlin. So we
+shan&rsquo;t even put him up. What do you think of Milton?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know him personally, but he has a very good record, I
+believe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t what we want, but that&rsquo;s not the question. We must
+take what we can get.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you think Porter has a chance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if we take Milton.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Between the two I have no choice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An hour later, the convention was called to order by the chairman. A few
+moments sufficed to complete the unfinished business, and then the
+chairman&rsquo;s gavel fell, and every one knew without his announcement that
+the crucial moment had been reached.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Much to Peter&rsquo;s surprise, Kennedy was one of the members who was
+instantly on his feet, and was the one selected for recognition by the
+chairman. He was still more surprised when Kennedy launched at once into a
+glowing eulogium of Porter. Peter was sitting next Kennedy, and though he 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 deceiving of others.
+Most of all he grieved to think that a delegate of his ward, largely through
+his own interference, was acting discreditably. Peter wanted others to do
+right, and he felt that that was not what Kennedy was doing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moment Kennedy finished, Peter rose, as did Maguire. The convention was
+cheering for Porter, and it took some time to quiet it to a condition when it
+was worth while recognizing any one. During this time the chairman leaned
+forward and talked with Green, who sat right below him, for a moment. Green in
+turn spoke to Costell, and a little slip of paper was presently handed up to
+the chairman, who from that moment became absolutely oblivious of the fact that
+Maguire was on his feet. When silence finally came, in spite of
+Maguire&rsquo;s, &ldquo;Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; that individual said, &ldquo;Mr.
+Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter began in a low voice, &ldquo;In rising, Mr. Chairman, to second the
+nomination of Mr. Porter, I feel that it would be idle in me to praise one so
+well known to all of us, even if he had not just been the subject of so
+appreciative a speech from my colleague&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here cries of &ldquo;louder&rdquo; interrupted Peter, during which interruption
+Green said to Costell, &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been tricked.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not so sure,&rdquo; replied Costell, &ldquo;Maguire&rsquo;s on
+his feet yet, and doesn&rsquo;t look happy. Something&rsquo;s happening which
+has not been slated.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter resumed, there were no more cries of &ldquo;louder.&rdquo; His
+introduction had been a matter of trouble and doubt to him, for he liked
+Porter, and feared he might not show it. But now he merely had something to
+tell his audience, and that was easy work. So, his voice ringing very clear and
+distinct, he told them of the original election of the delegates; of the
+feeling of his ward; of the attempts to obtain a city nomination of Porter; of
+Maguire&rsquo;s promise. &ldquo;Gad, he hits from the shoulder,&rdquo; said
+Green. As soon as the trend of his remarks was realized, Porter&rsquo;s
+supporters began to hiss and hoot. Peter at once stopped, but the moment
+silence came he began again, and after a repetition of this a few times, they
+saw they could neither embarrass nor anger him, so they let him have his say.
+He brought his speech to an end by saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have already expressed my admiration of Mr. Porter, and as soon as I
+had made up my mind to vote for him, I made no secret of that intention. But he
+should not have been nominated by a city delegate, for he is not the choice of
+New York City, and any attempt to show that he is, or that he has any true
+backing there, is only an attempt to deceive. In seconding his nomination
+therefore, I wish it to be distinctly understood that both his nomination and
+seconding are personal acts, and in no sense the act of the delegates of the
+city of New York.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a mingling of hoots and cheers as Peter sat down, though neither was
+very strong. In truth, the larger part of the delegates were very much in the
+dark as to the tendency of Peter&rsquo;s speech. &ldquo;Was it friendly or
+unfriendly to Porter?&rdquo; they wondered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Maguire,&rdquo; said the chairman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Chairman, the gentleman who has just sat down is to be complimented
+on his speech. In my whole life I have never heard so deceptive and blinding a
+narration. We know of Brutus stabbing his friend. But what shall we say of a
+pretended Brutus who caresses while he stabs?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here the Porter adherents became absolutely sure of the character of
+Peter&rsquo;s speech, and hissed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor is it Imperial Caesar alone,&rdquo; continued Maguire,
+&ldquo;against whom he turns his poniard. Not content with one foul murder, he
+turns against Caesar&rsquo;s friends. By devilish innuendo, he charges the
+honorable Mr. Kennedy and myself with bargaining to deceive the American
+people. I call on him for proof or retraction.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The convention laughed. Peter rose and said: &ldquo;Mr. Chairman, I gave a
+truthful account of what actually took place last evening in the United States
+hotel. I made no charges.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you left the impression that Mr. Kennedy and I had made a
+deal,&rdquo; shrieked Maguire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If the gentleman draws that conclusion from what passed, it is not my
+fault.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The convention laughed. &ldquo;Do you mean to charge such a bargain?&rdquo;
+angrily shouted Maguire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you deny it?&rdquo; asked Peter calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you do charge it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here the convention laughed for the third time. Green shouted &ldquo;deny
+it,&rdquo; and the cry was taken up by many of the delegates.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; screamed Maguire. &ldquo;I do deny it&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned to Kennedy. &ldquo;Do you too, deny it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; shouted Kennedy, loudly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again the convention laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;if I had charged you with a bargain, I
+should now find it necessary to apologize.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The convention roared. Maguire screamed something, but it could not be heard.
+The tenor of his remarks was indicated by his red face and clinched fist.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Costell smiled his deep smile. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m very glad,&rdquo; he said to
+the man next him, &ldquo;that we didn&rsquo;t pick Stirling up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Milton was nominated and seconded, as were also Catlin, and four minor
+stars. That done, a ballot was taken and the vote stood:
+</p>
+
+<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;">
+
+<tr> <td>Porter</td><td>206</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Milton</td><td>197</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Catlin</td><td>52</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Scattering</td><td>29</td> </tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<p>
+A second ballot showed:
+</p>
+
+<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;">
+
+<tr> <td>Porter</td><td>206</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Milton</td><td>202</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Catlin</td><td>54</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Scattering</td><td>22</td> </tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<p>
+A third ballot gave:
+</p>
+
+<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;">
+
+<tr> <td>Porter</td><td>206</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Milton</td><td>210</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Catlin</td><td>52</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Scattering</td><td>16</td> </tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Porter&rsquo;s done for on the next,&rdquo; was whispered round the
+hall, though where it started, no one knew. Evidently his adherents thought so,
+for one made a motion to adjourn. It was voted down, and once more the roll
+call started.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall vote for Milton,&rdquo; Peter told Schlurger, and the changes in
+the delegations as the call proceeded, proved that many changes were being made
+the same way. Yet the fourth ballot showed:
+</p>
+
+<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;">
+
+<tr> <td>Porter</td><td>125</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Milton</td><td>128</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Catlin</td><td>208</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Scattering</td><td>14</td> </tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<p>
+The wildest excitement broke out in the Porter delegates. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve
+beaten us,&rdquo; screamed Kennedy, as much to himself as to those about.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve used Milton to break our ranks, meaning Catlin all the
+time.&rdquo; So in truth, it was. Milton had been put up to draw off
+Porter&rsquo;s delegates, but the moment they had begun to turn to Milton,
+enough New York City delegates had been transferred to Catlin to prevent Milton
+being chosen. Amid protests and angry words on all sides another ballot was
+taken:
+</p>
+
+<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;">
+
+<tr> <td>Catlin</td><td>256</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Porter</td><td>118</td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td>Milton</td><td>110</td> </tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<p>
+Before the result was announced. Green was at Peter&rsquo;s elbow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you move to make it unanimous?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; And Peter made the formal motion, which was carried by
+acclamation. Half an hour served to choose the Lieutenant-Governor and the rest
+of the ticket, for the bulk of it had already been slated. The platform was
+adopted, and the convention dissolved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Kennedy angrily to Peter, &ldquo;I guess you&rsquo;ve
+messed it this time. A man can&rsquo;t please both sides, but he needn&rsquo;t
+get cussed by both.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went out and walked to his hotel. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I did mess
+it,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;yet I don&rsquo;t see what else I could have
+done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br/>
+MISUNDERSTANDINGS AND UNDERSTANDINGS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you understand what it all meant, Cousin Anneke?&rdquo; asked
+Dorothy, as they were coming downstairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. The man who got so angry seemed to think Mr. Stirling
+had&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stopped short. A group of men on the sidewalk were talking, and she paused
+to hear one say:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To see that young chap Stirling handling Maguire was an
+eye-opener.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Another man laughed, rather a deep, quiet laugh. &ldquo;Maguire understands
+everything but honesty,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You can always beat him with
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe would have like to stay and listen, but there were too many men. So
+the ladies entered the carriage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At least we know that he said he was trying to tell the truth,&rdquo;
+she went on, &ldquo;and you just heard what that man said. I don&rsquo;t know
+why they all laughed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t seem to mind a bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Hasn&rsquo;t he a funny half-embarrassed, half-cool manner?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He wasn&rsquo;t embarrassed after he was fairly speaking. You know he
+was really fine-looking, when he spoke.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Dorothy. &ldquo;You said he had a dull, heavy
+face.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was the first time I saw him, Dorothy. It&rsquo;s a face which
+varies very much. Oliver, drive to the United States. We will take him home to
+dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, good,&rdquo; cried the youngest. &ldquo;Then he will tell us why
+they laughed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they drove up to the hotel, Peter had just reached the steps. He turned to
+the carriage, the moment he saw that they wanted him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We wish to carry you off to a simple country dinner,&rdquo; Miss De Voe
+told him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am going to take the special to New York, and that leaves in half an
+hour.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take a later train.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My ticket wouldn&rsquo;t be good on it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Most men Miss De Voe would have snubbed on the spot, but to Peter she said:
+&ldquo;Then get another ticket.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care to do that,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, please, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said Minna. &ldquo;I want to ask you a
+lot of questions about the convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hush, Minna,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. She was nettled that Peter should
+refuse, and that her niece could stoop to beg of &ldquo;a criminal lawyer and
+ward politician,&rdquo; as she put it mentally. But she was determined not to
+show it &ldquo;We are sorry. Good-evening. Home, Oliver.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they did not learn from Peter why the convention laughed. The subject was
+brought up at dinner, and Dorothy asked the opinion of the voters of the
+family.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably he had made a fluke of some kind,&rdquo; one said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;More probably he had out-sharped the other side,&rdquo; suggested a
+second.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will be in the papers to-morrow,&rdquo; said the first suggestor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The three women looked in the next day&rsquo;s papers, but the reporters were
+as much at sea in regard to the Stirling-sixth-ward incident, as had been the
+rank-and-file in the convention. Three took their views from Maguire, and
+called it &ldquo;shameful treason,&rdquo; and the like. Two called it
+&ldquo;unprincipled and contradictory conduct.&rdquo; One alone said that
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling seemed to be acting conscientiously, if erratically.&rdquo;
+Just what effect it had had on the candidates none of the papers agreed in. One
+said it had killed Porter. Another, that &ldquo;it was a purely personal matter
+without influence on the main question.&rdquo; The other papers shaded between
+these, though two called it &ldquo;a laughable incident.&rdquo; The opposition
+press naturally saw in it an entire discrediting of both factions of the
+Democratic party, and absolute proof that the nominee finally selected was
+unfit for office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Unable to sift out the truth, the ladies again appealed to the voters of the
+family.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said one, &ldquo;Stirling did something tricky and was caught
+in it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe that,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor I,&rdquo; said Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you want to make your political heeler an angel, I have no
+objection,&rdquo; laughed the enfranchised being.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think a man who made that speech about the children can be
+a scoundrel,&rdquo; said Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t either,&rdquo; said Minna.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the way you women reason,&rdquo; responded he of the
+masculine intellect. &ldquo;Because a man looks out for some sick kittens,
+ergo, he is a political saint. If you must take up with politicians, do take
+Republicans, for then, at least, you have a small percentage of chance in your
+favor that they are gentlemen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be a Pharisee, Lispenard,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe, utilizing
+Peter&rsquo;s rebuke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then don&rsquo;t trouble me with political questions. Politics are so
+vulgar in this country that no gentleman keeps up with them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe and the two girls dropped the &ldquo;vulgar&rdquo; subject, but
+Miss De Voe said later:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to know what they laughed at?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do ask him&mdash;if he comes to call on you, this winter, Cousin
+Anneke.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I asked him once and he did not come.&rdquo; Miss De Voe paused a
+moment. &ldquo;I shall not ask him again,&rdquo; she added.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think he intends to be rude,&rdquo; said Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; responded Miss De Voe. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think he knows
+what he is doing. He is absolutely without our standards, and it is just as
+well for both that he shouldn&rsquo;t call.&rdquo; Woman-like, Miss De Voe
+forgot that she had said Peter was a gentleman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If Peter had found himself a marked man in the trip up, he was doubly so on the
+return train. He sat most of the time by himself, pondering on what had
+happened, but he could not be unconscious of the number of people to whom he
+was pointed out. He was conscious too, that his course had not been understood,
+and that many of those who looked at him with interest, did so without
+approbation. He was not buoyed up either, by a sense that he had succeeded in
+doing the best. He had certainly hurt Porter, and had made enemies of Maguire
+and Kennedy. Except for the fact that he had tried to do right, he could see no
+compensating balance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Naturally the newspapers the next morning did not cheer him, though perhaps 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 time a long letter, telling
+her how and why he had taken this course. He wrote also a long letter to
+Porter, explaining his conduct. Porter had already been told that Peter was
+largely responsible for his defeat, but after reading Peter&rsquo;s letter, he
+wrote him a very kind reply, thanking him for his support and for his letter.
+&ldquo;It is not always easy to do what one wants in politics,&rdquo; he wrote,
+&ldquo;but if one tries with high motives, for high things, even defeat loses
+its bitterness. I shall not be 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 time you think my aid worth the asking, do not hesitate to call on me
+for it. 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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter found his constituents torn with dissensions over his and Kennedy&rsquo;s
+course in the convention. He did not answer in kind the blame and criticism
+industriously sowed by Kennedy; but he dropped into a half-a-dozen saloons in
+the next few days, and told &ldquo;the b&rsquo;ys&rdquo; a pretty full history
+of the &ldquo;behind-the-scenes&rdquo; part.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I made mistakes,&rdquo; he frankly acknowledged,
+&ldquo;yet even now I don&rsquo;t see how I could have done differently. I
+certainly thought I was doing right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; so yez were,&rdquo; shouted Dennis. &ldquo;An&rsquo; if that
+dirty beast Kennedy shows his dirty face inside these doors, it&rsquo;s a
+washin&rsquo; it will get wid the drainin&rsquo; av the beer-glasses. We wants
+none av his dirty bargains here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know that he had made any bargain,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But we do,&rdquo; shouted one of the men. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a bargain
+he&rsquo;s always makin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Dennis. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s Kennedy looks out for
+himself, an&rsquo; we&rsquo;ll let him do it next time all by himself.&rdquo;
+It could not be traced to its origin, but in less than a week the consensus of
+opinion in the ward was that: &ldquo;Kennedy voted for himself, but Stirling
+for us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The ward, too, was rather proud of the celebrity it had achieved. The papers
+had not merely paragraphed Peter, and the peculiar position of the
+&ldquo;district&rdquo; in the convention, but they had begun now asking
+questions as to how the ward would behave. &ldquo;Would it support
+Catlin?&rdquo; &ldquo;Was it true that the ward machine had split, and intended
+to nominate rival tickets?&rdquo; &ldquo;Had one faction made a deal with the
+Republicans?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Begobs,&rdquo; said Dennis, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s the leaders an&rsquo; the
+papers are just afther discoverin&rsquo; there is a sixth ward, an&rsquo;
+it&rsquo;s Misther Stirling&rsquo;s made them do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The chief party leaders had stayed over at Saratoga, but Peter had a call from
+Costell before the week was out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The papers gave it to you rather rough,&rdquo; Costell said kindly,
+&ldquo;but they didn&rsquo;t understand it. We thought you behaved very
+square.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They tell me I did Porter harm.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. It was Maguire did the harm. You simply told about it. Of course you
+get the blame.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My constituents stand by me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do they like Catlin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think they are entirely satisfied. I&rsquo;m afraid they never cared
+much who got it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m told Kennedy is growling, and running amuck?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s down on Catlin and me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you think best, we&rsquo;ll placate him? But Gallagher seemed
+to think he couldn&rsquo;t do much?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think he has much of a following. Even Moriarty, who was
+his strong card, has gone back on him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you make a couple of speeches for us in this ward?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you&rsquo;ll let me say what I want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can support us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we&rsquo;ll leave it to you. Only beware of making too many
+statements. You&rsquo;ll get dates and places from the committee as soon as
+they are settled. We pay twenty-five dollars a night. If you hit the right key,
+we may want you in some of the other wards, too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be glad to talk. It&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;ve been doing to small
+crowds in the saloons.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I&rsquo;m told. You&rsquo;ll never get a better place. Men listen
+there, as they never will at a mass-meeting.&rdquo; Costell rose. &ldquo;If you
+are free next Sunday, come up into Westchester and take a two o&rsquo;clock
+dinner with me. We won&rsquo;t talk politics, but you shall see a nice little
+woman, who&rsquo;s good enough to make my life happier, and after we&rsquo;ve
+looked over my stables, I&rsquo;ll bring you back to the city behind a gray
+mare that will pass about anything there is on the road.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter had a half day in the country and enjoyed it very much. He looked over
+Mrs. Costell&rsquo;s flower-garden, in which she spent almost her whole 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 to Peter that the atmosphere
+had a gentle, homely tone that was very pleasing. As he got into the light
+buggy, he said to Mrs. Costell:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll get the seed of that mottled gillyflower from my mother as
+soon as possible. Perhaps you&rsquo;ll let me bring it up myself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Come again, whether you get the seed or
+not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After they had started, Mr. Costell said: &ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad you asked that.
+Mrs. Costell doesn&rsquo;t take kindly to many of the men who are in politics
+with me, but she liked you, I could see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter spoke twice in the next week in small halls in his ward. He had good
+audiences, and he spoke well, if simply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There ain&rsquo;t no fireworks in his stuff,&rdquo; said the ward
+satirist. &ldquo;He don&rsquo;t unfurl the American flag, nor talk about
+liberty and the constitution. He don&rsquo;t even speak of us as noble freemen.
+He talks just as if he thought we was in a saloon. A feller that made that
+speech about the babies ought to treat us to something moving.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was what many of the ward thought. Still they went because they wanted to
+see if he wouldn&rsquo;t burst out suddenly. They felt that Peter had unlimited
+potentialities in the way of eloquence (for eloquence to them meant the ability
+to move the emotions) and merely saved his powers. Without quite knowing it
+they found what he had to say interesting. He brought the questions at issue
+straight back to elementary forms. He showed just how each paragraph in the
+platform would directly affect, not the state, but the &ldquo;district.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s thoroughly good,&rdquo; the party leaders were told.
+&ldquo;If he would abuse the other side a little more, and stick in a little
+tinsel and calcium light he would be great.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he was called upon to speak elsewhere in the city. He worked at one of the
+polls on election day, and was pleased to find that he was able to prevent a
+little of the &ldquo;trading&rdquo; for which Kennedy had arranged. His ward
+went Democratic, as was a foregone conclusion, but by an unusually large
+majority, and Peter found that he and Dennis were given the credit for it, both
+in the ward, and at headquarters. Catlin was elected, and the Assembly had been
+won. So Peter felt that his three months&rsquo; work had not been an entire
+failure. The proceeds of his speeches had added also two hundred and fifty
+dollars to his savings bank account, and one hundred more to the account of
+&ldquo;Peter Stirling, Trustee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br/>
+VARIOUS KINDS OF SOCIETY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter spent Christmas with his mother, and found her very much worried over his
+&ldquo;salooning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s first steps, Peter, that do the mischief,&rdquo; she told
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, mother, I only go to talk with the men. Not to drink.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll come to that later. The devil&rsquo;s paths always start
+straight, my boy, but they end in wickedness. Promise me you won&rsquo;t go any
+more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do that, mother. I am trying to help the men, and you
+ought not ask me to stop doing what may aid others.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my boy, my boy!&rdquo; sobbed the mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you could only understand it, mother, as I have come to, you
+wouldn&rsquo;t mind. Here, the saloon is chiefly a loafing place for the lazy
+and shiftless, but in New York, it&rsquo;s very different. It&rsquo;s the poor
+man&rsquo;s club. If you could see the dark, cold, foul-aired tenements where
+they live, and then the bright, warm, cheerful saloons, that are open to all,
+you would see that it isn&rsquo;t the drink that draws the men. I even wish the
+women could come. The bulk of the men are temperate, and only take a glass or
+two of beer or whisky, to pay for their welcome. They really go for the social
+part, and sit and talk, or read the papers. Of course a man gets drunk,
+sometimes, but usually it is not a regular customer, and even such cases would
+be fewer, it we didn&rsquo;t tax whisky so outrageously that the dishonest
+barkeepers are tempted to doctor their whisky with drugs which drive men
+frantic if they drink. But most of the men are too sensible, and too poor, to
+drink so as really to harm themselves.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, Peter! To think that three years in New York should bring you to
+talk so! I knew New York was a sink-hole of iniquity, but I thought you were
+too good a boy to be misled.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mother, New York has less evil in it than most places. Here, after the
+mills shut down, there&rsquo;s no recreation for the men, and so they amuse
+themselves with viciousness. But in a great place like New York, there are a
+thousand amusements specially planned for the evening hours. Exhibitions,
+theatres, concerts, libraries, lectures&mdash;everything to tempt one away from
+wrong-doing to fine things. And there wickedness is kept 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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter! Here, where there&rsquo;s room in church of a Sabbath for all
+the folks, while they say that in New York there isn&rsquo;t enough seats in
+churches for mor&rsquo;n a quarter of the people. A missionary was saying only
+last week that we ought to help raise money to build churches in New York. Just
+think of there being mor&rsquo;n ten saloons for every church! And that my son
+should speak for them and spend nights in them!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry it troubles you so. If I felt I had any right to stop,
+I&rsquo;d do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t drunk in them yet, Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll promise to write me if you do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll promise you I won&rsquo;t drink in them, mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Peter.&rdquo; Still his mother was terrified at the mere
+thought, and at her request, her clergyman spoke also to Peter. He was easier
+to deal with, and after a chat with Peter, he told Mrs. Stirling:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he is doing no harm, and may do much good. Let him do what he
+thinks best.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s dreadful though, to have your son&rsquo;s first refusal be
+about going to saloons,&rdquo; sighed the mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;From the way he spoke I think his refusal was as hard to him as to you.
+He&rsquo;s a good boy, and you had better let him judge of what&rsquo;s
+right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On Peter&rsquo;s return to the city, he found an invitation from Mrs. Bohlmann
+to come to a holiday festivity of which the Germans are so fond. He was too
+late to go, but he called promptly, to explain why he had not responded. He was
+very much surprised, on getting out his dress-suit, now donned for the first
+time in three years, to find how badly it fitted him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mother is right,&rdquo; he had to acknowledge. &ldquo;I have grown much
+thinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+However, the ill-fit did not spoil his evening. He was taken into the family
+room, and passed a very pleasant hour with the jolly brewer, his friendly wife,
+and the two &ldquo;nice girls.&rdquo; They were all delighted with
+Catlin&rsquo;s election, and Peter had to tell them about his part in it. They
+did 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 for him from the
+Christmas tree, was given him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will come again, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo; said Mrs. Bohlmann, warmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I shall be very glad to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yah,&rdquo; said Mr. Bohlmann. &ldquo;You coom choost as ofden as you
+blease.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took his dress-suit to a tailor the next day, and ordered it to be taken
+in. That individual protested loudly on the ground that the coat was so
+old-fashioned that it would be better to make a new suit. Peter told him that
+he wore evening dress too rarely to make a new suit worth the having, and the
+tailor yielded rather than lose the job. Scarcely had it been put in order,
+when Peter was asked to dine at his clergyman&rsquo;s, and the next day came
+another invitation, to dine with Justice Gallagher. Peter began to wonder if he
+had decided wisely in vamping the old suit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had one of the pleasantest evenings of his life at Dr. Purple&rsquo;s. It
+was a dinner of ten, and Peter was conscious that a real compliment had been
+paid him in being included, for the rest of the men were not merely older than
+himself, but they were the &ldquo;strong&rdquo; men of the church. Two were
+trustees. All were prominent in the business world. And it pleased Peter to
+find that he was not treated as the youngster of the party, but had his
+opinions asked. At one point of the meal the talk drifted to a Bethel church
+then under consideration, and this in turn brought up the tenement-house
+question. Peter had been studying this, both practically and in books, for the
+last three months. Before long, the whole table was listening to what he had to
+say. When the ladies had withdrawn, there was political talk, in which Peter
+was much more a listener, but it was from preference rather than ignorance. One
+of the men, a wholesale dealer in provisions, spoke of the new governor&rsquo;s
+recommendation for food legislation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The leaders tell me that the legislature will do something about
+it,&rdquo; Peter said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll probably make it worse,&rdquo; said Mr. Avery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think it can be bettered?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not by politicians.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m studying the subject,&rdquo; Peter said. &ldquo;Will you let
+me come down some day, and talk with you about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, by all means. You&rsquo;d better call about lunch hour, when
+I&rsquo;m free, and we can talk without interruption.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter would much have preferred to go on discussing with the men, when they all
+joined the ladies, but Mrs. Purple took him off, and placed him between two
+women. They wanted to hear about &ldquo;the case,&rdquo; so Peter patiently
+went over that well-worn subject. Perhaps he had his pay by being asked to call
+upon both. More probably the requests were due to what Mrs. Purple had said of
+him during the smoking time:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He seems such a nice, solid, sensible fellow. I wish some of you would
+ask him to call on you. He has no friends, apparently.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The dinner at Justice Gallagher&rsquo;s was a horse of a very different color.
+The men did not impress him very highly, and the women not at all. There was
+more to eat and drink, and the talk was fast and lively. Peter was very silent.
+So quiet, that Mrs. Gallagher told her &ldquo;take in&rdquo; that she
+&ldquo;guessed that young Stirling wasn&rsquo;t used to real fashionable
+dinners,&rdquo; and Peter&rsquo;s partner quite disregarded him for the
+rattling, breezy talker on her other side. After the dinner Peter had a
+pleasant chat with the Justice&rsquo;s seventeen-year-old daughter, who was
+just from a Catholic convent, and the two tried to talk in French. It is
+wonderful what rubbish is tolerable if only talked in a foreign tongue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see what you wanted to have that Stirling for?&rdquo; said
+Honorable Mrs. Justice Gallagher, to him who conferred that proud title upon
+her, after the guests had departed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are clever, arn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; said Gallagher, bitingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s living with you,&rdquo; retorted the H.M.J., who was not
+easily put down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you see that you treat Stirling as if he was somebody. He&rsquo;s
+getting to be a power in the ward, and if you want to remain Mrs. Justice
+Gallagher and spend eight thousand&mdash;and pickings&mdash;a year, you see
+that you keep him friendly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;ll be friendly, but he&rsquo;s awful dull.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, mamma,&rdquo; said Monica. &ldquo;He really isn&rsquo;t.
+He&rsquo;s read a great many more French books than I have.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter lunched with the wholesale provision-dealer as planned. The lunch hour
+proving insufficient for the discussion, a family dinner, a few days later,
+served to continue it. The dealer&rsquo;s family were not very enthusiastic
+about Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He knows nothing but grub talk,&rdquo; grumbled the heir apparent, who
+from the proud altitude of a broker&rsquo;s office, had come to scorn the
+family trade.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t know any fashionable people,&rdquo; said one of the
+girls, who having unfulfilled ambitions concerning that class, was doubly
+interested and influenced by its standards and idols.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He certainly is not brilliant,&rdquo; remarked the mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Humph,&rdquo; growled the pater-familias, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s the way
+all you women go on. Brilliant! Fashionable! I don&rsquo;t wonder marriage is a
+failure when I see what you like in men. That Stirling is worth all your
+dancing men, but just because he holds his tongue when he hasn&rsquo;t a
+sensible thing to say, you think he&rsquo;s no good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still he is &lsquo;a nobody.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s the fellow who made that big speech in the stump-tail milk
+case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that man?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly. But of course he isn&rsquo;t &lsquo;brilliant.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never should have dreamed it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; said the heir, &ldquo;he keeps his eloquence for cows, and
+not for dinners.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He talked very well at Dr. Purple&rsquo;s,&rdquo; said the mamma, whose
+opinion of Peter had undergone a change.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he was invited to call by Mrs. Dupont and Mrs. Sizer, which is more
+than you&rsquo;ve ever been,&rdquo; said Avery senior to Avery junior.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s because of the prog,&rdquo; growled the son, seeing his
+opportunity to square accounts quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Coming out of church the next Sunday, Peter was laid hold of by the Bohlmanns
+and carried off to a mid-day dinner, at which were a lot of pleasant Germans,
+who made it very jolly with their kindly humor. He did not contribute much to
+the laughter, but every one seemed to think him an addition to the big table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus it came to pass that late in January Peter dedicated a week of evenings to
+&ldquo;Society,&rdquo; and nightly donning his dress suit, called dutifully on
+Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Sizer, Mrs. Purple, Mrs. Avery, Mrs. Costell, Mrs. Gallagher
+and Mrs. Bohlmann. Peter was becoming very frivolous.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br/>
+AN EVENING CALL.</h2>
+
+<p>
+But Peter&rsquo;s social gadding did not end with these bread-and-butter calls.
+One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famous picture-dealer, to
+look over an exhibition then advertised, and had nearly finished his patient
+examination of each picture, which always involved quite as much mental
+gymnastics as aesthetic pleasure to Peter, when he heard a pleasant:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you do, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Turning, he found Miss De Voe and a well-dressed man at his elbow.
+Peter&rsquo;s face lighted up in a way which made the lady say to herself:
+&ldquo;I wonder why he wouldn&rsquo;t buy another ticket?&rdquo; Aloud she
+said, &ldquo;I want you to know another of my cousins. Mr. Ogden, Mr.
+Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Charmed,&rdquo; said Mr. Ogden genially. Any expression which Peter had
+thought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this passive participle,
+that he merely bowed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did not know you cared for pictures,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see most of the public exhibitions,&rdquo; Peter told her. &ldquo;I
+try to like them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe looked puzzled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Mr. Ogden. &ldquo;I tried once, when I first
+began. But it&rsquo;s much easier to notice what women say, and answer
+&lsquo;yes&rsquo; and &lsquo;no&rsquo; at the right points.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked puzzled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense, Lispenard,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s really
+one of the best connoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Lispenard. &ldquo;You see. Only agree with people,
+and they think you know everything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you have seen the pictures, and so won&rsquo;t care to go
+round with us?&rdquo; inquired Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve looked at them, but I should like to go over again with
+you,&rdquo; said Peter. Then he added, &ldquo;if I shan&rsquo;t be in the
+way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a bit,&rdquo; said Lispenard heartily. &ldquo;My cousin always wants
+a listener. It will be a charity to her tongue and my ears.&rdquo; Miss De Voe
+merely gave him a very pleasant smile. &ldquo;I wonder why he wouldn&rsquo;t
+buy a ticket?&rdquo; she thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was rather astonished at the way they looked at the pictures. They would
+pass by a dozen without giving them a second glance, and then stop at one, and
+chat about it for ten minutes. He found that Miss De Voe had not exaggerated
+her cousin&rsquo;s art knowledge. He talked familiarly and brilliantly, though
+making constant fun of his own opinions, and often jeering at the faults of the
+picture. Miss De Voe also talked well, so Peter really did supply the ears for
+the party. He was very much pleased when they both praised a certain picture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I liked that,&rdquo; he told them, making the first remark (not a
+question) which he had yet made. &ldquo;It seemed to me the best here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unquestionably,&rdquo; said Lispenard. &ldquo;There is poetry and
+feeling in it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe said: &ldquo;That is not the one I should have thought of your
+liking.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s womanly,&rdquo; said Lispenard, &ldquo;they are always
+deciding what a man should like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; denied Miss De Voe. &ldquo;But I should think with your
+liking for children, that you would have preferred that piece of Brown&rsquo;s,
+rather than this sad, desolate sand-dune.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot say why I like it, except, that I feel as if it had something
+to do with my own mood at times.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you very lonely?&rdquo; asked Miss De Voe, in a voice too low for
+Lispenard to hear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sometimes,&rdquo; said Peter, simply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe, still speaking low, &ldquo;that the
+next time you feel so you would come and see me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they parted at the door, Peter thanked Lispenard: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve really
+learned a good deal, thanks to Miss De Voe and you. I&rsquo;ve seen the
+pictures with eyes that know much more about them than mine do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll have to have another turn some day. We&rsquo;re always
+in search of listeners.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you come and see me, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe,
+&ldquo;you shall see my pictures. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that is your Democratic heeler?&rdquo; said Lispenard, eyeing
+Peter&rsquo;s retreating figure through the carriage window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t call him that, Lispenard,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe, wincing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard laughed, and leaned back into a comfortable attitude. &ldquo;Then
+that&rsquo;s your protector of sick kittens?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe made no reply. She was thinking of that dreary wintry stretch of
+sand and dune.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus it came to pass that a week later, when a north-easter had met a
+south-wester overhead and both in combination had turned New York streets into
+a series of funnels, in and through which wind, sleet and snow fought for
+possession, to the almost absolute dispossession of humanity and horses, that
+Peter ended a long stare at his blank wall by putting on his dress-suit, and
+plunging into the streets. He had, very foolishly, decided to omit dinner, a
+couple of hours before, rather than face the storm, and a north-east wind and
+an empty stomach are enough to set any man staring at nothing, if that
+dangerous inclination is at all habitual. Peter realized this, for the opium
+eater is always keenly alive to the dangers of the drug. Usually he fought the
+tendency bravely, but this night he felt too tired to fight himself, and
+preferred to battle with a little thing like a New York storm. So he struggled
+through the deserted streets until he had reached his objective point in the
+broad Second Avenue house. Miss De Voe was at home, but was &ldquo;still at
+dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter vacillated, wondering what the correct thing was under the circumstances.
+The footman, remembering him of old, and servants in those simple days being
+still open to impressions, suggested that he wait. Peter gladly accepted the
+idea. But he did not wait, for hardly had the footman left him than that
+functionary returned, to tell Peter that Miss De Voe would see him in the
+dining-room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked you to come in here, because I&rsquo;m sure, after venturing out
+such a night, you would like an extra cup of coffee,&rdquo; Miss De Voe
+explained. &ldquo;You need not sit at the table. Morden, put a chair by the
+fire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter found himself sitting in front of a big wood-fire, drinking a cup of
+coffee decidedly better in quality than his home-brew. Blank walls ceased to
+have any particular value for the time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a moment Miss De Voe joined him at the fire. A small table was moved up, and
+a plate of fruit, and a cup of coffee placed upon it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is all, Morden,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It is so nice of you to
+have come this evening. I was promising myself a very solitary time, and was
+dawdling over my dinner to kill some of it. Isn&rsquo;t it a dreadful
+night?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s blowing hard. Two or three times I thought I should have to
+give it up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t walk?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I could have taken a solitary-car that passed, but the horses were
+so done up that I thought I was better able to walk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe touched the bell. &ldquo;Another cup of coffee, Morden, and bring
+the cognac,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am not going to let you please your
+mother to-night,&rdquo; she told Peter. &ldquo;I am going to make you do what I
+wish.&rdquo; So she poured a liberal portion of the eau-de-vie into
+Peter&rsquo;s second cup, and he most dutifully drank it. &ldquo;How funny that
+he should be so obstinate sometimes, and so obedient at others,&rdquo; thought
+Miss De Voe. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t generally let men smoke, but I&rsquo;m going
+to make an exception to-night in your case,&rdquo; she continued.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a sore temptation to Peter, but he answered quickly, &ldquo;Thank you
+for the thought, but I won&rsquo;t this evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have smoked after dinner already?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I tried to keep my pipe lighted in the street, but it blew and
+sleeted too hard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you had better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, no.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe thought her former thought again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where do you generally dine?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no regular place. Just where I happen to be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And to-night?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was not good at dodging. He was silent for a moment. Then he said,
+&ldquo;I saw rather a curious thing, as I was walking up. Would you like to
+hear about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe looked at him curiously, but she did not seem particularly
+interested in what Peter had to tell her, in response to her &ldquo;yes.&rdquo;
+It concerned an arrest on the streets for drunkenness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think the fellow was half as drunk as frozen,&rdquo;
+Peter concluded, &ldquo;and I told the policeman it was a case for an ambulance
+rather than a station-house. He didn&rsquo;t agree, so I had to go with them
+both to the precinct and speak to the superintendent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was before your dinner?&rdquo; asked Miss De Voe, calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a very easily answered question, apparently, but Peter was silent again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was coming up here,&rdquo; he said finally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is he trying to keep back?&rdquo; asked Miss De Voe mentally.
+&ldquo;I suppose some of the down-town places are not quite&mdash;but he
+wouldn&rsquo;t&mdash;&rdquo; then she said out loud: &ldquo;I wonder if you men
+do as women do, when they dine alone? Just live on slops. Now, what did you
+order to-night? Were you an ascetic or a sybarite?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Usually,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I eat a very simple dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And to-night?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you want to know about to-day?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I wish to learn where you dined, and thought I could form some
+conclusion from your menu.&rdquo; Miss De Voe laughed, so as to make it appear
+a joke, but she knew very well that she was misbehaving.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t reply to your question,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;because
+I would have preferred not. But if you really wish to know, I&rsquo;ll answer
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I should like to know.&rdquo; Miss De Voe still smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t dined.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling! You are joking?&rdquo; Miss De Voe&rsquo;s smile had
+ended, and she was sitting up very straight in her chair. Women will do without
+eating for an indefinite period, and think nothing of it, but the thought of a
+hungry man fills them with horror&mdash;unless they have the wherewithal to
+mitigate the consequent appetite. Hunger with woman, as regards herself, is
+&ldquo;a theory.&rdquo; As regards a man it is &ldquo;a condition.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe touched the bell again, but quickly as Morden answered it, Peter
+was already speaking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not to trouble yourself on my account, Miss De Voe. I wish for
+nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must have&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was rude enough to interrupt with the word &ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I shall not have a moment&rsquo;s pleasure in your call if I think
+of you as&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter interrupted again. &ldquo;If that is so,&rdquo; he said, rising, &ldquo;I
+had better go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried Miss De Voe. &ldquo;Oh, won&rsquo;t you please?
+It&rsquo;s no trouble. I&rsquo;ll not order much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing, thank you,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just a chop or&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter held out his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no. Sit down. Of course you are to do as you please. But I should be
+so happy if&mdash;?&rdquo; and Miss De Voe looked at Peter appealingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Thank you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing, Morden.&rdquo; They sat down again. &ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you
+dine?&rdquo; asked Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t care to face the storm.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet you came out?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I got blue, and thought it foolish to stay indoors by
+myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very glad you came here. It&rsquo;s a great compliment to find
+an evening with me put above dinner. You know I had the feeling that you
+didn&rsquo;t like me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry for that. It&rsquo;s not so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If not, why did you insist on my twice asking you to call on me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did not want to call on you without being sure that you really wished
+to have me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why wouldn&rsquo;t you stay and dine at Saratoga?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because my ticket wouldn&rsquo;t have been good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But a new ticket would only cost seven dollars.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In my neighborhood, we don&rsquo;t say &lsquo;only seven
+dollars.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you don&rsquo;t need to think of seven dollars.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do. I never have spent seven dollars on a dinner in my life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you should have, this time, after making seven hundred and fifty
+dollars in one month. I know men who would give that amount to dine with
+me.&rdquo; It was a foolish brag, but Miss De Voe felt that her usual means of
+inspiring respect were not working,&mdash;not even realized.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very likely. But I can&rsquo;t afford such luxuries. I had spent more
+than usual and had to be careful.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it was economy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had no idea my dinner invitations would ever be held in so little
+respect that a man would decline one to save seven dollars.&rdquo; Miss De Voe
+was hurt. &ldquo;I had given him five hundred dollars,&rdquo; she told herself,
+&ldquo;and he ought to have been willing to spend such a small amount of it to
+please me.&rdquo; Then she said; &ldquo;A great many people economize in
+foolish ways.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry if I
+disappointed you. I really didn&rsquo;t think I ought to spend the
+money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;Were you pleased with the
+nomination and election of Catlin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was pleased at the election, but I should have preferred
+Porter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you tried to prevent Porter&rsquo;s nomination?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what the papers said, but they didn&rsquo;t
+understand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t thinking of the papers. You know I heard your speech in
+the convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A great many people seem to have misunderstood me. I tried to make it
+clear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you intend that the convention should laugh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. That surprised and grieved me very much!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe gathered from this and from what the papers had said that it must
+be a mortifying subject to Peter, and knew that she ought to discontinue it.
+But she could not help saying, &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s difficult to explain, I&rsquo;m afraid. I had a feeling that
+a man was trying to do wrong, but I hoped that I was mistaken. It seemed to me
+that circumstances compelled me to tell the convention all about it, but I was
+very careful not to hint at my suspicion. Yet the moment I told them they
+laughed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because they felt sure that the man had done wrong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; It was a small exclamation, but the expression Miss De Voe
+put into it gave it a big meaning. &ldquo;Then they were laughing at
+Maguire?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At the time they were. Really, though, they were laughing at human
+weakness. Most people seem to find that amusing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that is why you were grieved?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why did the papers treat you so badly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Costell tells me that I told too much truth for people to
+understand. I ought to have said nothing, or charged a bargain right out, for
+then they would have understood. A friend of&mdash;a fellow I used to know,
+said I was the best chap for bungling he ever knew, and I&rsquo;m afraid
+it&rsquo;s true.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know Costell? I thought he was such a dishonest
+politician?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know Mr. Costell. I haven&rsquo;t met the dishonest politician
+yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He hasn&rsquo;t shown me the side the papers talk about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when he does?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be very sorry, for I like him, and I like his wife.&rdquo; Then
+Peter told about the little woman who hated politics and loved flowers, and
+about the cool, able manager of men, who could not restrain himself from
+putting his arms about the necks of his favorite horses, and who had told about
+the death of one of his mares with tears in his eyes. &ldquo;He had his cheek
+cut open by a kick from one of his horses once, and he speaks of it just as we
+would speak of some unintentional fault of a child.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has he a great scar on his cheek?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Have you seen him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Once. Just as we were coming out of the convention. He said something
+about you to a group of men which called my attention to him.&rdquo; Miss De
+Voe thought Peter would ask her what it was. &ldquo;Would you like to know what
+he said?&rdquo; she asked, when Peter failed to do so.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he would have said it to me, if he wished me to hear it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe&rsquo;s mind reverted to her criticism of Peter. &ldquo;He is so
+absolutely without our standards.&rdquo; Her chair suddenly ceased to be
+comfortable. She rose, saying, &ldquo;Let us go to the library. I shall not
+show you my pictures now. The gallery is too big to be pleasant such a night.
+You must come again for that. Won&rsquo;t you tell me about some of the other
+men you are meeting in politics?&rdquo; she asked when they had sat down before
+another open fire. &ldquo;It seems as if all the people I know are just
+alike&mdash;I suppose it&rsquo;s because we are all so conventional&mdash;and I
+am very much interested in hearing about other kinds.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter told about Dennis and Blunkers, and the &ldquo;b&rsquo;ys&rdquo; in
+the saloons; about Green and his fellow delegates; about the Honorable Mr.,
+Mrs., and Miss Gallagher, and their dinner companions. He did not satirize in
+the least. He merely told various incidents and conversations, in a sober,
+serious way; but Miss De Voe was quietly amused by much of the narrative and
+said to herself, &ldquo;I think he has humor, but is too serious-minded to
+yield to it.&rdquo; She must have enjoyed his talk for she would not let Peter
+go early, and he was still too ignorant of social usages to know how to get
+away, whether a woman wished or no. Finally he insisted that he must leave when
+the clock pointed dangerously near eleven.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe, in a doubtful,
+&ldquo;won&rsquo;t-you-please&rdquo; voice, such as few men had ever heard from
+her, &ldquo;I want you to let me send you home? It will only take a moment to
+have the carriage here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t take a horse out in such weather,&rdquo; said Peter, in
+a very settling kind of voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s obstinate,&rdquo; thought Miss De Voe. &ldquo;And he makes
+his obstinacy so dreadfully&mdash;dreadfully pronounced!&rdquo; Aloud she said:
+&ldquo;You will come again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you will let me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do. I am very much alone too, as perhaps you know?&rdquo; Miss De Voe
+did not choose to say that her rooms could be filled nightly and that
+everywhere she was welcome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I really know nothing about you, except what you have told me, and
+what I have seen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe laughed merrily at Peter&rsquo;s frankness. &ldquo;I feel as if I
+knew all about you,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you have asked questions,&rdquo; replied Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe caught her breath again. Try as she would, she could not get
+accustomed to Peter. All her social experience failed to bridge the chasm
+opened by his speech. &ldquo;What did he mean by that plain statement, spoken
+in such a matter-of-fact voice?&rdquo; she asked herself. Of course the pause
+could not continue indefinitely, and she finally said: &ldquo;I have lived
+alone ever since my father&rsquo;s death. I have relatives, but prefer to stay
+here. I am so much more independent. I suppose I shall have to move some day.
+This part of the city is beginning to change so.&rdquo; Miss De Voe was merely
+talking against time, and was not sorry when Peter shook hands, and left her
+alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s very different from most men,&rdquo; she said to the blazing
+logs. &ldquo;He is so uncomplimentary and outspoken! How can he succeed in
+politics? Still, after the conventional society man he is&mdash;he
+is&mdash;very refreshing. I think I must help him a little socially.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.<br/>
+A DINNER.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The last remark made by Miss De Voe to her fire resulted, after a few days, in
+Peter&rsquo;s receiving a formal dinner invitation, which he accepted with a
+promptness not to be surpassed by the best-bred diner-out. He regretted now his
+vamping of the old suit. Peter understood that he was in for quite another
+affair than the Avery, the Gallagher, or even the Purple dinner. He did not
+worry, however, and if in the dressing-room he looked furtively at the coats of
+the other men, he entirely forgot the subject the moment he started downstairs,
+and thought no further of it till he came to take off the suit in his own room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter entered the drawing-room, he found it well filled with young people,
+and for a moment a little of the bewildered feeling of four years before came
+over him. But he found himself chatting with Miss De Voe, and the feeling left
+him as quickly as it had come. In a moment he was introduced to a &ldquo;Miss
+Lenox,&rdquo; who began talking in an easy way which gave Peter just as much or
+as little to say as he chose. Peter wondered if many girls were as easy to talk
+to as&mdash;as&mdash;Miss Lenox.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took Miss De Voe in, and found Dorothy Ogden sitting on his other side. He
+had barely exchanged greetings with her, when he heard his name spoken from
+across the table, and looking up, he found Miss Leroy sitting opposite.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you haven&rsquo;t entirely forgotten me,&rdquo; that girl said,
+the moment his attention was caught.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor my dress,&rdquo; laughed Miss Leroy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I remember the style, material, and train.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Especially the train I am sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do explain these mysterious remarks,&rdquo; said Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling and I officiated at a wedding, and I was in such mortal
+terror lest some usher should step on my gown, that it became a joke.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whose wedding was that?&rdquo; asked Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Pierce&rsquo;s and Watts D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s,&rdquo; said the
+bridesmaid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know Watts D&rsquo;Alloi?&rdquo; exclaimed Miss De Voe to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed! When?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At college.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you a Harvard man?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s chum, weren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; said
+Miss Leroy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts D&rsquo;Alloi?&rdquo; again exclaimed Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he&rsquo;s a mere boy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s two years my senior.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you were over thirty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most people do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe said to herself, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as much about him as I
+thought I did. He may be very frank, but he doesn&rsquo;t tell all one thinks.
+Now I know where he gets his nice manner. I ought to have recognized the
+Harvard finish.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When did you last hear from the D&rsquo;Allois?&rdquo; asked Miss Leroy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not since they sailed,&rdquo; said Peter, wincing internally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not really?&rdquo; said the bridesmaid. &ldquo;Surely you&rsquo;ve heard
+of the baby?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo; Lines were coming into Peter&rsquo;s face which Miss De Voe
+had never before seen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How strange. The letters must have gone astray. But you have written
+him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did not know his address.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you really haven&rsquo;t heard of the little baby&mdash;why, it was
+born two&mdash;no, three years ago&mdash;and of Helen&rsquo;s long ill-health,
+and of their taking a villa on the Riviera, and of how they hope to come home
+this spring?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. They will sail in June if Helen is well enough. I&rsquo;m to be
+god-mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you were Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s chum, you must have known Ray
+Rivington,&rdquo; said Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But I&rsquo;ve not seen him since we graduated. He went out
+West.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has just returned. Ranching is not to his taste.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you, if you see him, say that I&rsquo;m in New York and should like
+to run across him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will. He and Laurence&mdash;my second brother&mdash;are old cronies,
+and he often drops in on us. I want you to know my brothers. They are both here
+this evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have met the elder one, I suppose.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. That was a cousin, Lispenard Ogden. He spoke of meeting you. You
+would be amused to hear his comment about you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling doesn&rsquo;t like to have speeches repeated to him,
+Dorothy,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; asked Dorothy, looking from one to the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He snubbed me the other evening when I tried to tell him what we heard,
+coming out of the convention last autumn,&rdquo; explained Miss De Voe, smiling
+slightly at the thought of treating Peter with a dose of his own medicine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at Miss De Voe. &ldquo;I hope you don&rsquo;t mean that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How else could I take it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You asked me if I wished something, and I merely declined, I
+think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no. You reproved me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very sorry if I did. I&rsquo;m always blundering.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell us what Lispenard said, Dorothy. I&rsquo;m curious myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I, Mr. Stirling?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I would rather not,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Dorothy did not tell him, but in the drawing-room she told Miss De Voe:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He said that except his professor of archaeology at Heidelberg, Mr.
+Stirling was the nicest old dullard he&rsquo;d ever met, and that he must be a
+very good chap to smoke with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He said that, Dorothy?&rdquo; exclaimed Miss De Voe, contemptuously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How ridiculous,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;Lispenard&rsquo;s always
+trying to hit things off in epigrams, and sometimes he&rsquo;s very
+foolish.&rdquo; Then she turned to Miss Leroy. &ldquo;It was very nice, your
+knowing Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only met him that once. But he&rsquo;s the kind of man somehow that
+you remember. It&rsquo;s curious I&rsquo;ve never heard of him since
+then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know he&rsquo;s the man who made that splendid speech when the poor
+children were poisoned summer before last.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t believe it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s so. That is the way I came to know him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Leroy laughed. &ldquo;And Helen said he was a man who needed help in
+talking!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi a great friend of his?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. She told me that Watts had brought him to see them only once. I
+don&rsquo;t think Mr. Pierce liked him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He evidently was very much hurt at Watts&rsquo;s not writing him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I was really sorry I spoke, when I saw how he took it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts is a nice boy, but he always was thoughtless.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In passing out of the dining-room, Dorothy had spoken to a man for a moment,
+and he at once joined Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know my sister, Miss Ogden, who&rsquo;s the best representative of
+us,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Now I&rsquo;ll show you the worst. I don&rsquo;t
+know whether she exploited her brother Ogden to you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. She talked about you and your brother this evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Trust her to stand by her family. There&rsquo;s more loyalty in her than
+there was in the army of the Potomac. My cousin Lispenard says it&rsquo;s
+wrecking his nervous system to live up to the reputation she makes for
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never had a sister, but it must be rather a good thing to live up
+to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And to live with. Especially other fellows&rsquo; sisters.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you ready to part with yours for that purpose?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. That&rsquo;s asking too much. By the way, I think we are in the same
+work. I&rsquo;m in the office of Jarvis, Redburn and Saltus.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m trying it by myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been very lucky.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ve succeeded much better than I hoped for. But I&rsquo;ve
+had very few clients.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fortunately it doesn&rsquo;t take many. Two or three rich steady clients
+will keep a fellow running. I know a man who&rsquo;s only got one, but he runs
+him for all he&rsquo;s worth, and gets a pretty good living out of him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My clients haven&rsquo;t been of that sort.&rdquo; Peter smiled a little
+at the thought of making a steady living out of the Blacketts, Dooleys or
+Milligans.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all a matter of friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had a different theory, but he did not say so. Just at that point they
+were joined by Laurence Ogden, who was duly introduced, and in a moment the
+conversation at their end of the table became general. Peter listened, enjoying
+his Havana.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they joined the ladies, they found Lispenard Ogden there, and he
+intercepted Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;A friend of mine has just come back
+from Europe, with a lot of prints. He&rsquo;s a fellow who thinks he has
+discrimination, and he wants me to come up and look them over to-morrow
+evening. He hopes to have his own taste approved and flattered. I&rsquo;m not a
+bit good at that, with men. Won&rsquo;t you go with me, and help me lie?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I should like to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right. Dine with me at six at the Union Club.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to let you talk to each other,&rdquo; said Miss De
+Voe. &ldquo;Lispenard, go and talk with Miss McDougal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See how quickly lying brings its own punishment,&rdquo; laughed
+Lispenard, walking away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does he mean?&rdquo; asked Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The opposite of what he says, I think,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is a very good description of Lispenard. Almost good enough to have
+been said by himself. If you don&rsquo;t mind, I&rsquo;ll tell him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do tell me, Mr. Stirling, how you and Watts D&rsquo;Alloi came to room
+together?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He asked me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But what ever made him do that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve often wondered myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can easily understand his asking you, but what first threw you
+together?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A college scrape.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were you in a college scrape?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I was up before the faculty twice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do tell me what you had done?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was charged with stealing the chapel Bible, and with painting a front
+door of one of the professors.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And had you done these things?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The guests began to say good-night, so the dialogue was interrupted. When it
+came Peter&rsquo;s turn to go, Miss De Voe said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you will not again refuse my dinner invitations.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have had a very pleasant evening,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But I had
+a pleasanter one, the other night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-evening,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe mechanically. She was really
+thinking &ldquo;What a very nice speech. He couldn&rsquo;t have meant anything
+by his remark about the questions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter dined the next evening with Lispenard, who in the course of the meal
+turned the conversation to Miss De Voe. Lispenard was curious to learn just
+what Peter knew of her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s a great swell, of course,&rdquo; he said incidentally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so. I really know nothing about her, but the moment I saw her
+I felt that she was different from any other woman I had ever met.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you&rsquo;ve found out about her since?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I was tempted to question Dr. Purple, but I didn&rsquo;t like to ask
+about a friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard laughed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got a pretty bad case of conscience,
+I&rsquo;m afraid. It&rsquo;s a poor thing to have in New York, too. Well, my
+cousin is one of the richest, best born women in this country, though I say it.
+You can&rsquo;t do better than cultivate her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that what you do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. You have me there. She doesn&rsquo;t approve of me at all. You see,
+women in this country expect a man to be serious and work. I can&rsquo;t do
+either. I suppose its my foreign education. She likes my company, and finds my
+escortage very convenient. But while she thinks I&rsquo;m a pretty good
+companion, she is sure I&rsquo;m a poor sort of a man. If she takes a shine to
+you, make the most of it. She can give you anything she pleases
+socially.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you have anything you please socially?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pretty much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And would you advise me to spend time to get it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Um. I wouldn&rsquo;t give the toss of a copper for it&mdash;but I can
+have it. It&rsquo;s not being able to have it that&rsquo;s the bad
+thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I have found,&rdquo; said Peter gravely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard laughed heartily, as he sipped his &ldquo;Court France.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;I wish,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;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&rsquo;t spell Society with a capital, do you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Possibly,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;if I had more capital, I should use
+some on society.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said Lispenard. &ldquo;Heavens,&rdquo; he said to himself,
+&ldquo;he&rsquo;s made a joke! Cousin Anneke will never believe it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He told her the next day, and his statement proved correct.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know you made the joke,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He
+didn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why shouldn&rsquo;t he joke as well as I?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t suit him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Parlor tricks are all right in a lap-dog, but they only belittle a
+mastiff.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard laughed good-naturedly. He was used to his cousin&rsquo;s hits at his
+do-nothingness, and rather enjoyed them. &ldquo;He is a big beast, isn&rsquo;t
+he? But he&rsquo;s a nice fellow. We had such a good time over Le Grand&rsquo;s
+etchings last night. Didn&rsquo;t get away till after one. It&rsquo;s really a
+pleasure to find a man who can smoke and keep quiet, and yet enjoy things
+strongly. Le Grand was taken with him too. We just fitted each other.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad you took him. I&rsquo;m going to give him some
+society.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you ever hear the story of Dr. Brown?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A certain widow announced to her son that she was to marry Dr. Brown.
+&lsquo;Bully for you, Ma,&rsquo; said the son, &lsquo;Does Dr. Brown know
+it?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard laughed. &ldquo;Does Stirling know it? Because I advise you to tell
+him before you decide to do anything with him. He&rsquo;s not easy to
+drive.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course he&rsquo;ll be glad to meet nice people.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean that Peter Stirling won&rsquo;t give a raparee for all the
+society you can give him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know what you are talking about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Lispenard was right. Peter had enjoyed the dinner at Miss De Voe&rsquo;s
+and the evening at Mr. Le Grand&rsquo;s. Yet each night on reaching his rooms,
+he had sat long hours in his straight office chair, in the dark. He was
+thinking of what Miss Leroy had told him of&mdash;of&mdash;He was not thinking
+of &ldquo;Society.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/>
+COMMISSIONS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter made his dinner call at Miss De Voe&rsquo;s, but did not find her at
+home. He received a very pleasant letter expressing her regret at missing him,
+and a request to lunch with her two days later, and to go with some friends to
+an afternoon piano recital, &ldquo;if you care for music. If not, merely lunch
+with us.&rdquo; Peter replied that he was very sorry, but business called him
+to Albany on that day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I really regret it,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe to Dorothy. &ldquo;It is
+getting so late in the season, that unless he makes his call quickly, I shall
+hardly be able to give him more than one other chance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s business in Albany had been sprung on him suddenly. It was
+neither more nor less than a request sent verbally through Costell from
+Governor Catlin, to come up and see him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s about the food and tenement commission bills,&rdquo; Costell
+told him. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll be passed by the Senate to-day or to-morrow, and
+be in Catlin&rsquo;s hands.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope he&rsquo;ll make good appointments,&rdquo; said Peter, anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he will,&rdquo; said Costell, smiling quietly. &ldquo;But I
+don&rsquo;t believe they will be able to do much. Commissions are commonly a
+way of staving off legislation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went up to Albany and saw Catlin. Much to his surprise he found the
+Governor asking his advice about the bills and the personnel of the
+commissions. But after a few minutes he found that this seeking for aid and
+support in all matters was chronic, and meant nothing special in his own case.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Schlurger tells me, though he introduced the bills, that you drafted
+both. Do you think I had better sign them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Costell told me to take your advice. You really think I had
+better?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Governor evidently found something solacing in the firm voice in which
+Peter spoke his &ldquo;yes.&rdquo; He drew two papers towards him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You really think I had better?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Governor dipped his pen in the ink, but hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The amendments haven&rsquo;t hurt them?&rdquo; he queried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But they have been hurt?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They have been made better in some ways.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still the Governor hesitated, but finally began a big G. Having committed
+himself, he wrote the rest rapidly. He paused for a moment over the second
+bill, and fingered it nervously. Then he signed it quickly. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+done.&rdquo; He shoved them both away much as if they were dangerous.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; thought Peter, &ldquo;if he enjoys politics?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s been a great deal of trouble about the
+commissioners,&rdquo; said the Governor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even now, I can&rsquo;t decide. The leaders all want different
+men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The decision rests with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the trouble,&rdquo; sighed the Governor. &ldquo;If only
+they&rsquo;d agree.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You should make your own choice. You will be held responsible if the
+appointments are bad.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I shall. Just look over those lists, and see if you think
+they&rsquo;ll do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took the slips of paper and read them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I needn&rsquo;t say I&rsquo;m pleased to see my name,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I had no idea you would think of me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was done by Costell,&rdquo; said the Governor, hastening to shift
+the responsibility.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t know any of the rest well enough to express an
+opinion. Personally, I should like to see some scientific men on each
+commission.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Scientific! But we have none in politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No? But this isn&rsquo;t politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hoped you&rsquo;d think these lists right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think they are good. And the bills give us the power to take evidence;
+perhaps we can get the scientific part that way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did his best to brace Catlin up; and his talk or other pressure seemed to
+have partially galvanized the backbone of that limp individual, for a week
+later the papers announced the naming of the two commissions. The lists had
+been changed, however. That on food consisted of Green, a wholesale grocer, and
+a member of the Health Board. Peter&rsquo;s name had been dropped. That on
+tenements, of five members, was made up of Peter; a very large property-owner
+in New York, who was a member as well of the Assembly; a professional labor
+agitator; a well-known politician of the better type, and a public contractor.
+Peter, who had been studying some reports of a British Royal Commission on the
+same subject, looked grave, thinking that what the trained men in England had
+failed in doing, he could hardly hope to accomplish with such ill-assorted
+instruments. The papers were rather down on the lists. &ldquo;The appointments
+have destroyed any chance of possible benefit,&rdquo; was their general
+conclusion, and Peter feared they were right.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Costell laughed when Peter spoke of the commissions. &ldquo;If you want Catlin
+to do anything well, you&rsquo;ve got to stand over him till it&rsquo;s done. I
+wanted you on both commissions, so that you could see how useless they all are,
+and not blame us politicians for failing in our duty. Green promises to get you
+appointed Secretary of the Food Commission, which is the next best thing, and
+will give you a good salary for a time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Tenement Commission met with little delay, and Peter had a chance to
+examine its motley members. The big landlord was a great swell, who had
+political ambitions, but was too exclusive, and too much of a dilettante to be
+a real force. Peter took a prejudice against him before meeting him, for he
+knew just how his election to the Assembly had been obtained&mdash;even the
+size of the check&mdash;and Peter thought buying an election was not a very
+creditable business. He did not like what he knew of the labor agitator, for
+such of the latter&rsquo;s utterances and opinions 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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Commission organized by electing the politician as chairman. Then the
+naming of a secretary was discussed, each member but Peter having a candidate.
+Much to Peter&rsquo;s surprise, the landlord, Mr. Pell, named Ray Rivington.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought he was studying law?&rdquo; Peter said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is,&rdquo; said Pell. &ldquo;But he can easily arrange to get off for
+the few hours we shall meet a week, and the five dollars a day will be a very
+nice addition to his income. Do you know him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were in college together. I thought he was rich.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. He&rsquo;s of good family, but the Rivingtons are growing poorer
+every year. They try to live on their traditions, and traditions don&rsquo;t
+pay grocers. I hope you&rsquo;ll help him. He&rsquo;s a very decent
+fellow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall vote for him,&rdquo; replied Peter, marvelling that he should be
+able to give a lift to the man who, in the Harvard days, had seemed so
+thoroughly the mate of Watts and the other rich fellows of the
+&ldquo;gang.&rdquo; Rivington being the only candidate who had two votes, he
+was promptly selected.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thirty arduous minutes were spent in waiting for the arrival of the fifth
+member of the Commission, and in the election of chairman and secretary. A
+motion was then made to adjourn, on the ground that the Commission could not
+proceed without the secretary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter promptly objected. He had been named secretary for this particular
+meeting, and offered to act until Rivington could be notified. &ldquo;I
+think,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that we ought to lay out our programme.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The labor agitator agreed with him, and, rising, delivered an extempore speech,
+declaring that &ldquo;we must not delay. The leeches (here he looked at Mr.
+Pell) are sucking the life-blood of the people,&rdquo; etc.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The chairman started to call him to order, but Peter put his hand on the
+chairman&rsquo;s arm. &ldquo;If you stop him,&rdquo; he said in a low voice,
+&ldquo;he&rsquo;ll think we are against him, and he&rsquo;ll say so
+outside.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s such foolishness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so harmless! While he&rsquo;s talking, look over this.&rdquo; Peter
+produced an outline of action which he had drawn up, and having written it in
+duplicate, he passed one draft over to Mr. Pell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They all let the speech go on, Peter, Mr. Pell and the chairman chatting over
+the plan, while the contractor went to sleep. The agitator tried to continue,
+but as the inattention became more and more evident, his speech became tamer
+and tamer. Finally he said, &ldquo;That is my opinion,&rdquo; and sat down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The cessation of the oration waked up the contractor, and Peter&rsquo;s outline
+was read aloud.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t move its adoption,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I merely
+submit it as a basis.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Not one of the members had come prepared with knowledge of how to go to work,
+except the chairman, who had served on other commissions. He said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think Mr. Stirling&rsquo;s scheme shows very careful thought and is
+admirable. We cannot do better than adopt it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is chiefly copied from the German committee of three years
+ago,&rdquo; Peter told them. &ldquo;But I have tried to modify it to suit the
+different conditions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Pell objected to the proposed frequent sittings. Thereupon the agitator
+praised that feature. The hour of meeting caused discussion. But finally the
+scheme was adopted, and the date of the first session fixed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went downstairs with Mr. Pell, and the latter offered to drop him at his
+office. So they drove off together, and talked about the Commission.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That Kurfeldt is going to be a nuisance,&rdquo; said Pell
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t say yet. He evidently has no idea of what our aim is.
+Perhaps, though, when we really get to work, he&rsquo;ll prove useful.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 the preliminary work,
+drafted the &ldquo;Inquiries&rdquo; and other printed papers necessary to be
+sent out before the first meeting, and told him about the procedure at the
+meetings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I shall get into all kinds of pickles,&rdquo; said Ray. &ldquo;I
+write such a bad hand that often I can&rsquo;t read it myself. How the deuce am
+I to take down evidence?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall make notes for my own use, and you will be welcome to them, if
+they will help you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks, Peter. That&rsquo;s like you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Commission began its inquiry, on the date fixed, and met three times a week
+from that time on. Peter did not try to push himself forward, but he was by far
+the best prepared on the subject, and was able to suggest the best sources of
+information. He asked good questions, too, of the various witnesses summoned.
+Finally he was the one regular attendant, and therefore was the one appealed to
+for information elicited at previous meetings. He found the politician his best
+helper. Pell was useful when he attended, which was not very often, and even
+this intermittent attendance ceased in June. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to
+Newport,&rdquo; he explained, and did not appear again till late in the fall.
+The contractor really took no part in the proceedings beyond a fairly frequent
+attendance, and an occasional fit of attention whenever the inquiry 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 in reading over the minutes of
+previous meetings. But he was in earnest, and proved to be perfectly reasonable
+as soon as he found that the commissioners&rsquo; duties were to inquire and
+not to make speeches. Peter walked home with him several times, and they spent
+evenings together in Peter&rsquo;s rooms, talking over the evidence, and the
+possibilities.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 went to see these persons
+after they had been before the Commission, and talked with them, finding that
+they were quite willing to give facts in private which they did not care to
+have put on record.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had been appointed the Secretary of the Food Commission, and spent much time
+on that work. He was glad to find that he had considerable influence, and that
+Green not merely acted on his suggestions, but encouraged him to make them. The
+two inquiries were so germane that they helped him reciprocally. No reports
+were needed till the next meeting of the Legislature, in the following January,
+and so the two commissions took enough evidence to swamp them. Poor Ray was
+reduced almost to despair over the mass of &ldquo;rubbish&rdquo; as he called
+it, which he would subsequently have to put in order.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Between the two tasks, Peter&rsquo;s time was well-nigh used up. It was
+especially drawn upon when the taking of evidence ceased and the drafting of
+the reports began. Ray&rsquo;s notes proved hopeless, so Peter copied out his
+neatly, and let Ray have them, rather glad that irrelevant and useless evidence
+was thus omitted. It was left to Peter to draw the report, and when his draft
+was submitted, it was accompanied by a proposed General Tenement-house Bill.
+Both report and bill were slightly amended, but not in a way that Peter minded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter drew the Food-Commission report as well, although it went before the
+Commission as Green&rsquo;s. To this, too, a proposed bill was attached, which
+had undergone the scrutiny of the Health Board, and had been conformed to their
+suggestions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In November Peter carried both reports to Albany, and had a long talk with
+Catlin over them. That official would have preferred no reports, but since they
+were made, there was nothing to do but to submit them to the Legislature. Peter
+did not get much encouragement from him about the chances for the bills. But
+Costell told him that they could be &ldquo;whipped through. The only danger is
+of their being amended, so as to spoil them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I hope they will be passed. I&rsquo;ve
+done my best, whatever happens.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A very satisfactory thing to be able to say of yourself, if you believe in your
+own truthfulness.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.<br/>
+IN THE MEANTIME.</h2>
+
+<p>
+In spite of nine months&rsquo; hard work on the two Commissions, it is not to
+be supposed that Peter&rsquo;s time was thus entirely monopolized. If one
+spends but seven hours of the twenty-four in sleep, and but two more on meals,
+there is considerable remaining time, and even so slow a worker as Peter found
+spare hours not merely for society and saloons, but for what else he chose to
+undertake.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Socially he had an evening with Miss De Voe, just before she left the city for
+the summer; a dinner with Mr. Pell, who seemed to have taken a liking to Peter;
+a call on Lispenard; another on Le Grand; and a family meal at the Rivingtons,
+where he was made much of in return for his aid to Ray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the saloons he worked hard over the coming primary, and spent evenings as
+well on doorsteps in the district, talking over objects and candidates. 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&rsquo;s politics. He had become a
+recognized quantity in the control of the district, and the various ward
+factions tried hard to gain his support. When the primary met, the proceedings,
+if exciting, were never for a moment doubtful, for Gallagher, Peter, Moriarty
+and Blunkers had been able to agree on both programme and candidates. An
+attempt had been made to &ldquo;turn down&rdquo; Schlurger, but Peter had
+opposed it, and had carried his point, to the great gratitude of the silent,
+honest German. What was more important to him, this had all been done without
+exciting hard feelings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stirling&rsquo;s a reasonable fellow,&rdquo; Gallagher told Costell, not
+knowing how much Peter was seeing of the big leader, &ldquo;and he isn&rsquo;t
+dead set on carrying his own schemes. We&rsquo;ve never had so little talk of
+mutiny and sulking as we have had this paring. Moriarty and Blunkers swear by
+him. It&rsquo;s queer. They&rsquo;ve always been on opposite sides till
+now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the weather became pleasant, Peter took up his &ldquo;angle&rdquo;
+visitings again, though not with quite the former regularity. Yet he rarely let
+a week pass without having spent a couple of evenings there. The spontaneous
+welcome accorded him was payment enough for the time, let alone the pleasure
+and enjoyment he derived from the imps. There was little that could raise Peter
+in their estimation, but they understood very well that he had become a man of
+vast importance, as it seemed to them. They had sharp little minds and ears,
+and had caught what the &ldquo;district&rdquo; said and thought of Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cheese it, the cop, Tim,&rdquo; cried an urchin one evening to another,
+who was about to &ldquo;play ball.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cheese it yerself. He won&rsquo;t dare tech me,&rdquo; shouted Tim,
+&ldquo;so long as Mister Peter&rsquo;s here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That speech alone showed the magnitude of his position in their eyes. He was
+now not merely, &ldquo;friends wid de perlice;&rdquo; he was held in fear by
+that awesome body!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I was as big as him,&rdquo; said one, &ldquo;I&rsquo;d fire all the
+peelers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t that be dandy!&rdquo; cried another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He won their hearts still further by something he did in midsummer. Blunkers
+had asked him to attend what brilliant posters throughout that part of the city
+announced as:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+HO FOR THE SEA-SHORE!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+SIXTH ANNUAL
+</p>
+
+<p>
+CLAM BAKE
+</p>
+
+<p>
+OF THE
+</p>
+
+<p>
+PATRICK N. BLUNKERS&rsquo;S ASSOCIATION.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+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, with music, clams,
+bathing and dancing included in the price of the ticket, and unlimited beer for
+those who could afford that beverage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The beer just pays for it,&rdquo; Blunkers explained. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t give um whisky cause some &mdash;&mdash; cusses don&rsquo;t drink
+like as dey orter.&rdquo; Then catching a look in Peter&rsquo;s face, he
+laughed rather shamefacedly. &ldquo;I forgits,&rdquo; he explained. &ldquo;Yer
+see I&rsquo;m so da&mdash;&rdquo; he checked himself&mdash;&ldquo;I swears
+widout knowin&rsquo; it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be very glad to go,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dat&rsquo;s bully,&rdquo; said Blunkers. Then he added anxiously:
+&ldquo;Dere&rsquo;s somethin&rsquo; else, too, since yer goin&rsquo;. Ginerally
+some feller makes a speech. Yer wouldn&rsquo;t want to do it dis time, would
+yer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do they talk about?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just what dey&mdash;&rdquo; Blunkers swallowed a word, nearly choking in
+so doing, and ended &ldquo;please.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I shall be glad to talk, if you don&rsquo;t mind my taking a dull
+subject?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yer just talk what yer want. We&rsquo;ll listen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After Peter had thought it over for a day, he went to Blunkers&rsquo;s gin
+palace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Would it be possible to hire one more
+barge, and take the children free? I&rsquo;ll pay for the boat, and for the
+extra food, if they won&rsquo;t be in the way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m damned if yer do,&rdquo; shouted Blunkers. &ldquo;Yer
+don&rsquo;t pay for nothinks, but der childers shall go, or my name ain&rsquo;t
+Blunkers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And go they did, Blunkers making no secret of the fact that it was
+Peter&rsquo;s idea. So every child who went, nearly wild with delight, felt
+that the sail, the sand, the sea, and the big feed, was all owed to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was rather an amusing experience to Peter. He found many of his party
+friends in the district, not excluding such men as Gallagher, Kennedy and
+others of the more prominent rank. He made himself very pleasant to those whom
+he knew, chatting with them on the trip down. He went into the water with the
+men and boys, and though there were many good swimmers, Peter&rsquo;s country
+and river training made it possible for him to give even the &ldquo;wharf
+rats,&rdquo; a point or two in the way of water feats. Then came the regulation
+clam-bake, after which Peter talked about the tenement-house question for
+twenty minutes. The speech was very different from what they expected, and
+rather disappointed them all. However, he won back their good opinions in
+closing, for he ended with a very pleasant &ldquo;thank you,&rdquo; to
+Blunkers, so neatly worded, and containing such a thoroughly apt local joke,
+that it put all in a good humor, and gave them something to tell their
+neighbors, on their return home. The advantage of seldom joking is that people
+remember the joke, and it gets repeated. Peter almost got the reputation of a
+wit on that one joke, merely because it came after a serious harangue, and
+happened to be quotable. Blunkers was so pleased with the end of the speech
+that he got Peter to write it out, and to this day the &ldquo;thank you&rdquo;
+part of the address, in Peter&rsquo;s neat handwriting, handsomely framed, is
+to be seen in Blunkers&rsquo;s saloon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter also did a little writing this summer. He had gone to see three or four
+of the reporters, whom he had met in &ldquo;the case,&rdquo; to get them to
+write up the Food and Tenement subjects, wishing thereby to stir up public
+feeling. He was successful to a certain degree, and they not merely wrote
+articles themselves, but printed three or four which Peter wrote. In two cases,
+he was introduced to &ldquo;staff&rdquo; writers, and even wrote an editorial,
+for which he was paid fifteen dollars. This money was all he received for the
+time spent, but he was not working for shekels. All the men told him to let
+them know when he had more &ldquo;stories&rdquo; for them, and promised him
+assistance when the reports should go in to the legislature.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter visited his mother as usual during August. Before going, he called on Dr.
+Plumb, and after an evening with him, went to two tenements in the district. As
+the result of these calls, he carried three children with him when he went
+home. Rather pale, thin little waifs. It is a serious matter to charge any one
+with so grave a crime as changling, but Peter laid himself open to it, for when
+he came back, after two weeks, he returned very different children to the
+parents. The fact that they did not prosecute for the substitution only proves
+how little the really poor care for their offspring.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But this was not his only summering. He spent four days with the Costells, as
+well as two afternoons later, thoroughly enjoying, not merely the long, silent
+drives over the country behind the fast horses, but the pottering round the
+flower-garden with Mrs. Costell. He had been reading up a little on flowers and
+gardening, and he was glad to swap his theoretical for her practical knowledge.
+Candor compels the statement that he enjoyed the long hours stretched on the
+turf, or sitting idly on the veranda, puffing Mr. Costell&rsquo;s good Havanas.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Twice Mr. Bohlmann stopped at Peter&rsquo;s office of a Saturday and took him
+out to stay over Sunday at his villa in one of the Oranges. The family all
+liked Peter and did not hesitate to show it. Mr. Bohlmann told him:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I sbend about dree dousand a year on law und law-babers. Misder Dummer
+id does for me, but ven he does nod any longer it do, I gifts id you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the second visit Mrs. Bohlmann said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell my good man that with all the law-business he has, he must get a
+lawyer for a son-in-law.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had not heard Mrs. Bohlmann say to her husband the evening before, as
+they were prinking for dinner:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you told Mr. Stirling about your law business?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nor Mr. Bohlmann&rsquo;s prompt:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yah. I dells him der last dime.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet Peter wondered if there were any connection between the two statements. He
+liked the two girls. They were nice-looking, sweet, sincere women. He knew that
+Mr. Bohlmann was ranked as a millionaire already, and was growing richer fast.
+Yet&mdash;Peter needed no blank walls.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+During this summer, Peter had a little more law practice. A small grocer in one
+of the tenements came to him about a row with his landlord. Peter heard him
+through, and then said: &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see that you have any case; but if
+you will leave it to me to do as I think best, I&rsquo;ll try if I can do
+something,&rdquo; and the man agreeing, Peter went to see the landlord, a
+retail tobacconist up-town.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think my client has any legal grounds,&rdquo; he told the
+landlord, &ldquo;but he thinks that he has, and the case does seem a little
+hard. Such material repairs could not have been foreseen when the lease was
+made.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The tobacconist was rather obstinate at first. Finally he said,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what I&rsquo;ll do. I&rsquo;ll contribute one
+hundred dollars towards the repairs, if you&rsquo;ll make a tenant named Podds
+in the same building pay his rent; or dispossess him if he doesn&rsquo;t, so
+that it shan&rsquo;t cost me anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter agreed, and went to see the tenant in arrears. He found that the man had
+a bad rheumatism and consequently was unable to work. The wife was doing what
+she could, and even the children had been sent on the streets to sell papers,
+or by other means, to earn what they could. They also owed a doctor and the
+above-mentioned grocer. Peter went back to the landlord and told him the story.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s a hard case, I know, but, Mr.
+Stirling, I owe a mortgage on the place, and the interest falls due in
+September. I&rsquo;m out four months&rsquo; rent, and really can&rsquo;t afford
+any more.&rdquo; So Peter took thirty-two dollars from his
+&ldquo;Trustee&rdquo; fund, and sent it to the tobacconist. &ldquo;I have
+deducted eight dollars for collection,&rdquo; he wrote. Then he saw his first
+client, and told him of his landlord&rsquo;s concession.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How much do I owe you?&rdquo; inquired the grocer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Podds tell me they owe you sixteen dollars.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I shan&rsquo;t get it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My fee is twenty-five. Mark off their bill and give me the
+balance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The grocer smiled cheerfully. He had charged the Podds roundly for their
+credit, taking his chance of pay, and now got it paid in an equivalent of cash.
+He gave the nine dollars with alacrity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took it upstairs and gave it to Mrs. Podds. &ldquo;If things look up with
+you later,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you can pay it back. If not, don&rsquo;t
+trouble about it. Ill look in in a couple of weeks to see how things are
+going.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When this somewhat complicated matter was ended, he wrote about it to his
+mother:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.<br/>
+A &ldquo;COMEDY.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+<p>
+When the season began again, Miss De Voe seriously undertook her self-imposed
+work of introducing Peter. He was twice invited to dinner and was twice taken
+with opera parties to sit in her box, besides receiving a number of less
+important attentions. Peter accepted dutifully all that she offered him. Even
+ordered a new dress-suit of a tailor recommended by Lispenard. He was asked by
+some of the people he met to call, probably on Miss De Voe&rsquo;s suggestion,
+and he dutifully called. Yet at the end of three months Miss De Voe shook her
+head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is absolutely a gentleman, and people seem to like him. Yet
+somehow&mdash;I don&rsquo;t understand it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; laughed Lispenard. &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t make a silk
+purse out of a sow&rsquo;s ear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lispenard,&rdquo; angrily said Miss De Voe, &ldquo;Mr. Stirling is as
+much better than&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it,&rdquo; said Lispenard. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t think
+I&rsquo;m depreciating Peter. The trouble is that he is much too good a chap to
+make into a society or a lady&rsquo;s man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe you are right. I don&rsquo;t think he cares for it at
+all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Lispenard. &ldquo;Barkis is not willin&rsquo;. I think
+he likes you, and simply goes to please you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you really think that&rsquo;s it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard laughed at the earnestness with which the question was asked.
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I was joking. Peter cultivates you,
+because he wants to know your swell friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Either this conversation or Miss De Voe&rsquo;s own thoughts, led to a change
+in her course. Invitations to formal dinners and to the opera suddenly ceased,
+and instead, little family dinners, afternoons in galleries, and evenings at
+concerts took their place. Sometimes Lispenard went with them, sometimes one of
+the Ogden girls, sometimes they went alone. It was an unusual week when
+Peter&rsquo;s mail did not now bring at least one little note giving him a
+chance to see Miss De Voe if he chose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In February came a request for him to call. &ldquo;I want to talk with you
+about something,&rdquo; it said. That same evening he was shown into her
+drawing-rooms. She thanked him with warmth for coming so quickly, and Peter saw
+that only the other visitors prevented her from showing some strong feeling. He
+had stumbled in on her evening&mdash;for at that time people still had
+evenings&mdash;but knowing her wishes, he stayed till they were left alone
+together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come into the library,&rdquo; she said. As they passed across the hall
+she told Morden, &ldquo;I shall not receive any more to-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moment they were in the smaller and cosier room, without waiting to sit
+even, she began: &ldquo;Mr. Stirling, I dined at the Manfreys yesterday.&rdquo;
+She spoke in a voice evidently endeavoring not to break. Peter looked puzzled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Lapham, the bank president, was there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter still looked puzzled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he told the table about a young lawyer who had very little money,
+yet who put five hundred dollars&mdash;his first fee&mdash;into his bank, and
+had used it to help&mdash;&rdquo; Miss De Voe broke down, and, leaning against
+the mantel, buried her face in her handkerchief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s curious you should have heard of it,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&mdash;he didn&rsquo;t mention names, b-bu-but I knew, of
+course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t like to speak of it because&mdash;well&mdash;I&rsquo;ve
+wanted to tell you the good it&rsquo;s done. Suppose you sit down.&rdquo; Peter
+brought a chair, and Miss De Voe took it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must think I&rsquo;m very foolish,&rdquo; she said, wiping her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s nothing to cry about.&rdquo; And Peter began telling her of
+some of the things which he had been able to do:&mdash;of the surgical brace it
+had bought; of the lessons in wood-engraving it had given; of the
+sewing-machine it had helped to pay for; of the arrears in rent it had settled.
+&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;these people are too
+self-respecting to go to the big charities, or to rich people. But their
+troubles are talked over in the saloons and on the doorsteps, so I hear of
+them, and can learn whether they really deserve help. They&rsquo;ll take it
+from me, because they feel that I&rsquo;m one of them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe was too much shaken by her tears to talk that evening. Miss De
+Voe&rsquo;s life and surroundings were not exactly weepy ones, and when tears
+came they meant much. She said little, till Peter rose to go, and then only:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall want to talk with you, to see what I can do to help you in your
+work. Please come again soon. I ought not to have brought you here this
+evening, only to see me cry like a baby. But&mdash;I had done you such
+injustice in my mind about that seven dollars, and then to find
+that&mdash;Oh!&rdquo; Miss De Voe showed signs of a recurring break-down, but
+mastered herself. &ldquo;Good-evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter gone, Miss De Voe had another &ldquo;good&rdquo; cry&mdash;which is a
+feminine phrase, quite incomprehensible to men&mdash;and, going to her room,
+bathed her eyes. Then she sat before her boudoir fire, thinking. Finally she
+rose. In leaving the fire, she remarked aloud to it:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. He shall have Dorothy, if I can do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Dorothy became a pretty regular addition to the informal meals, exhibitions
+and concerts. Peter was once more taken to the opera, but Dorothy and Miss De
+Voe formed with him the party in the box on such nights. Miss De Voe took him
+to call on Mrs. Odgen, and sang his praises to both parents. She even went so
+far as to say frankly to them what was in her mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Ogden said, &ldquo;Those who know him speak very well of him. I heard
+&lsquo;Van&rsquo; Pell praise him highly at Newport last summer. Said all the
+politicians thought of him as a rising man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He seems a nice steady fellow,&rdquo; said the mamma. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t suppose he has much practice?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t think of the money,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;What
+is that compared to getting a really fine man whom one can truly love?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, money is an essential,&rdquo; said the papa.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But you both know what I intend to do for Dorothy and Minna. They
+need not think of money. If he and Dorothy only will care for each
+other!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter and Dorothy did like each other. Dorothy was very pretty, and had all the
+qualities which make a girl a strong magnet to men. Peter could not help liking
+her. As for Dorothy, she was like other women. She enjoyed the talking, joking,
+&ldquo;good-time&rdquo; men in society, and chatted and danced with them with
+relish. But like other women, when she thought of marriage, she did not find
+these gingerbread ornamentations so attractive. The average woman loves a man,
+aside from his love for her, for his physical strength, and his stiff
+truth-telling. The first is attractive to her because she has it not. Far be it
+from man to say why the second attracts. So Dorothy liked Peter. She admired
+many qualities in him which she would not have tolerated in other men. It is
+true that she laughed at him, too, for many things, but it was the laughter of
+that peculiar nature which implies admiration and approval, rather than the
+lower feelings. When the spring separation came, Miss De Voe was really quite
+hopeful.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think things have gone very well. Now, Mr. Stirling has promised to
+spend a week with me at Newport. I shall have Dorothy there at the same
+time,&rdquo; she told Mrs. Ogden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard, who was present, laughed as usual. &ldquo;So you are tired of your
+new plaything already?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Arn&rsquo;t you marrying him so as to get rid of his calls and his
+escortage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not. We shall go on just the same.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bully for you, Ma. Does Dr. Brown know it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe flushed angrily, and put an end to her call.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a foolish fellow Lispenard is!&rdquo; she remarked unconsciously to
+Wellington at the carriage door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Beg pardon, mum?&rdquo; said Wellington, blank wonderment filling his
+face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Home, Wellington,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe crossly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took his week at Newport on his way back from his regular August visit to
+his mother. Miss De Voe had told him casually that Dorothy would be there, and
+Dorothy was there. Yet he saw wonderfully little of her. It is true that he
+could have seen more if he had tried, but Peter was not used to practice
+finesse to win minutes and hours with a girl, and did not feel called upon,
+bluntly, to take such opportunities. His stay was not so pleasant as he had
+expected. He had thought a week in the same house with Miss De Voe, Dorothy and
+Lispenard, without much regard 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 when she went home:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t imagine what is the matter with Cousin Anneke. All last
+spring she was nicer to me than she has ever been before, but from the moment I
+arrived at Newport, and before I could possibly have said or done anything to
+offend her, she treated me in the snippiest way. After two days I asked her
+what the matter was, but she insisted there was nothing, and really lost her
+temper at my suggesting the idea. There was something, I know, for when I said
+I was coming home sooner than I had at first intended, she didn&rsquo;t try to
+make me stay.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Mrs. Ogden, &ldquo;she was disappointed in
+something, and so vented her feeling on you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But she wasn&rsquo;t cross&mdash;except when I asked her what the matter
+was. She was just&mdash;just snippy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was Mr. Stirling there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And a lot of other people. I don&rsquo;t think anybody had a good
+time, unless it was Cousin Lispenard. And he wasn&rsquo;t a bit nice. He had
+some joke to himself, and kept making remarks that nobody could understand, and
+chuckling over them. I told him once that he was rude, but he said that
+&lsquo;when people went to a play they should laugh at the right points.&rsquo;
+That&rsquo;s the nice thing about Mr. Stirling. You know that what he says is
+the real truth.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lispenard&rsquo;s always trying to be clever.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. What do you suppose he said to me as I came away!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He shook my hand, laughing, and said, &lsquo;Exit villain. It is to be a
+comedy, not a tragedy.&rsquo; What could he mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard stayed on to see the &ldquo;comedy,&rdquo; and seemed to enjoy it, if
+the amused expression on his face when he occasionally gave himself up to
+meditation was any criterion. Peter had been pressed to stay beyond the
+original 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 gone before, although
+Dorothy had departed and Peter liked Dorothy. But he saw much more of Miss De
+Voe, and Miss De Voe was in a much pleasanter mood. They took long drives and
+walks together, and had long hours of talk in and about the pleasant house and
+grounds. Miss De Voe had cut down her social duties for the ten days Peter was
+there, giving far more time for them to kill than usually fell to Newporters
+even in those comparitively simple days.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In one of these talks, Miss De Voe spoke of Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is such a nice, sweet girl,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We all hope
+she&rsquo;ll marry Lispenard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think cousins ought to marry?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe had looked at Peter when she made her remark. Peter had replied
+quietly, but his question, as Miss De Voe understood it, was purely scientific,
+not personal. Miss De Voe replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose it is not right, but it is so much better than what may
+happen, that it really seems best. It is so hard for a girl in Dorothy&rsquo;s
+position to marry as we should altogether wish.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Peter, who did not see that a girl with prospective
+wealth, fine social position, and personal charm, was not necessarily well
+situated to get the right kind of a husband.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is hard to make it clear&mdash;but&mdash;I&rsquo;ll tell you my own
+story, so that you can understand. Since you don&rsquo;t ask questions, I will
+take the initiative. That is, unless your not asking them means you are not
+interested?&rdquo; Miss De Voe laughed in the last part of this speech.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to hear it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+People, no matter what Peter stated, never said &ldquo;Really?&rdquo;
+&ldquo;You are in earnest?&rdquo; or &ldquo;You really mean it?&rdquo; So Miss
+De Voe took him at his word.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Both my father and mother were rich before they married, and the rise in
+New York real estate made them in time, much richer. They both belonged to old
+families. I was the only child&mdash;Lispenard says old families are so proud
+of themselves that they don&rsquo;t dare to have large families for fear of
+making the name common. Of course they lavished all their thought, devotion and
+anxiety on me. I was not spoiled; but I was watched and tended as if I were the
+most precious thing the world contained. When I grew up, and went into society,
+I question if I ever was a half-hour out of the sight of one or the other of my
+parents. I had plenty of society, of course, but it was restricted entirely to
+our set. None other was good enough for me! My father never had any business,
+so brought no new element into our household. It was old families, year in and
+year out! From the moment I entered society I was sought for. I had many
+suitors. I had been brought up to fear fortune-hunting, and suspected the
+motives of many men. Others did not seem my equals&mdash;for I had been taught
+pride in my birth. Those who were fit as regarded family were, many of them,
+unfit in brains or morals&mdash;qualities not conspicuous in old families.
+Perhaps I might have found one to love&mdash;if it had not been for the others.
+I was surrounded wherever I went and if by chance I found a pleasant man to
+talk to, <i>t&eacute;te-&agrave;-t&eacute;te,</i> we were interrupted by other
+men coming up. Only a few even of the men whom I met could gain an
+<i>entr&eacute;e</i> to our house.&mdash;They weren&rsquo;t thought good
+enough. If a working, serious man had ever been able to see enough of me to
+love me, he probably would have had very little opportunity to press his suit.
+But the few men I might have cared for were frightened off by my money, or
+discouraged by my popularity and exclusiveness. They did not even try. Of
+course I did not understand it then. 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 slightest inducement to marry&mdash;especially among the men I saw the
+most. I led this life for six years. Then my mother&rsquo;s death put me in
+mourning. When I went back into society, an almost entirely new set of men had
+appeared. Those whom I had known were many of them married&mdash;others were
+gone. Society had lost its first charm to me. So my father and I travelled
+three years. We had barely returned when he died. I did not take up my social
+duties again till I was thirty-two. Then it was as the spinster aunt, as you
+have known me. Now do you understand how hard it is for such a girl as Dorothy
+to marry rightly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Unless the man is in love. Let a man care enough for a woman, and
+money or position will not frighten him off.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such men are rare. Or perhaps it is because I did not attract them. I
+did not understand men as well then as I do now. Of some whom I thought
+unlovable or dull at that time, I have learned to think better. A woman does
+not marry to be entertained&mdash;or should not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that one marries for love and
+sympathy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And if they are given, it does not matter about the rest. Even now,
+thirty-seven though I am, if I could find a true man who could love me as I
+wish to be loved, I could love him with my whole heart. It would be my
+happiness not merely to give him social position and wealth, but to make his
+every hope and wish mine also.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All this had been said in the same natural manner in which they both usually
+spoke. Miss De Voe had talked without apparent emotion. But when she began the
+last remark, she had stopped looking at Peter, and had gazed off through the
+window at the green lawn, merely showing him her profile. 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 see this look pass and his face, and especially
+his mouth, settle into a rigid determination, even while the eyes remained sad.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe ended the pause by beginning, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
+you&rdquo;&mdash;but Peter interrupted her there, by saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a very sad story to me&mdash;because I&mdash;I once craved love
+and sympathy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe turned and looked at him quickly. She saw the look of suffering on
+his face, but read it amiss. &ldquo;You mean?&rdquo; she questioned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was a girl I loved,&rdquo; said Peter softly, &ldquo;who did not
+love me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you love her still?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no right to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is married?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you tell me about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I would rather not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss De Voe sat quietly for a moment, and then rose. &ldquo;Dear friend,&rdquo;
+she said, laying her hand on Peter&rsquo;s shoulder, &ldquo;we have both missed
+the great prize in life. Your lot is harder than the one I have told you about.
+It is very,&rdquo;&mdash;Miss De Voe paused a moment,&mdash;&ldquo;it is very
+sad to love&mdash;without being loved.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so ended Lispenard&rsquo;s comedy.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.<br/>
+CONFLICTS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard went back with Peter to the city. He gave his reason on the train:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see I go back to the city occasionally in the summer, so as to make
+the country bearable, and then I go back to the country, so as to make the city
+endurable. I shall be in Newport again in a week. When will you come
+back?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My summering&rsquo;s over.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed. I thought my cousin would want you again!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She did not say so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The deuce she didn&rsquo;t. It must be the only thing she didn&rsquo;t
+say, then, in your long confabs?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter made no reply, though Lispenard looked as well as asked a question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; continued Lispenard, &ldquo;she talked too much, and so
+did not remember to ask you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still Peter said nothing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you sure she didn&rsquo;t give you a chance to have more of her
+society?&rdquo; Lispenard was smiling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ogden,&rdquo; said Peter gently, &ldquo;you are behaving contemptibly
+and you know it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The color blazed up into Lispenard&rsquo;s face and he rose, saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did I understand you aright?&rdquo; The manner and attitude were both
+threatening though repressed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you tell me that I misunderstood you, I will apologize. If you think
+the statement insulting, I will withdraw it. I did not speak to insult you; but
+because I wished you to know how your questions impressed me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When a man tells another he is contemptible, he cannot expect to escape
+results. This is no place to have a scene. You may send me your apology when we
+reach New York&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter interrupted. &ldquo;I shall, if you will tell me I wronged you in
+supposing your questions to be malicious.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lispenard paid no attention to the interjection. &ldquo;Otherwise,&rdquo; he
+finished, &ldquo;we will consider our relations ended.&rdquo; He walked away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter wrote Lispenard that evening a long letter. He did not apologize in it,
+but it ended:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+He did not receive a reply. Meeting Ogden Ogden a few days later, he was told
+that Lispenard had gone west for a hunting trip, quite unexpectedly. &ldquo;He
+said not to expect him back till he came. He seemed out of sorts at
+something.&rdquo; In September Peter had a letter from Miss De Voe. Merely a
+few lines saying that she had decided to spend the winter abroad, and was on
+the point of sailing. &ldquo;I am too hurried to see my friends, but did not
+like to go without some good-byes, so I write them.&rdquo; On the whole, as in
+the case of most comedies, there was little amusement for the actual
+performers. A great essayist has defined laughter as a &ldquo;feeling of
+superiority in the laugher over the object laughed at.&rdquo; If this is
+correct, it makes all humor despicable. Certainly much coarseness, meanness and
+cruelty are every day tolerated, because of the comic covering with which it is
+draped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is not to be supposed that this comedy nor its winter prologue had diverted
+Peter from other things. In spite of Miss De Voe&rsquo;s demands on his time he
+had enough left to spend many days in Albany when the legislature took up the
+reports of the Commissions. He found strong lobbies against both bills, and had
+a long struggle with them. He had the help of the newspapers, and he had the
+help of Costell, yet even with this powerful backing, the bills were first
+badly mangled, and finally 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
+be entirely bad. Second only to Pell, was his whilom enemy, the former
+District-Attorney, now a state senator, who battled himself into Peter&rsquo;s
+reluctant admiration and friendship by his devotion and loyalty to the bills.
+Peter concluded that he had not entirely done the man justice in the past.
+Curiously enough, his chief antagonist was Maguire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not give up the fight with this defeat. His work for the bills had
+revealed to him the real under-currents in the legislative body, and when it
+adjourned, making further work in Albany only a waste of time, he availed
+himself of the secret knowledge that had come to him, to single out the real
+forces which stood behind and paid the lobby, and to interview them. He saw the
+actual principals in the opposition, and spoke with utmost frankness. He told
+them that the fight would be renewed, on his part, at every session of the
+legislature till the bills were passed; that he was willing to consider
+proposed amendments, and would accept any that were honest. He made the fact
+very clear to them that they would have to pay yearly to keep the bills off the
+statute book. Some laughed at him, others quarrelled. But a few, after
+listening to him, stated their true objections to the bills, and Peter tried to
+meet them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the fall elections came, Peter endeavored to further his cause in another
+way. Three of the city&rsquo;s assemblymen and one of her senators had voted
+against the bills. Peter now invaded their districts, and talked against them
+in saloons and elsewhere. It very quickly stirred up hard feeling, which
+resulted in attempts to down him. But Peter&rsquo;s blood warmed up as the
+fight thickened, and hisses, eggs, or actual attempts to injure him physically
+did not deter him. The big leaders were appealed to to call him off, but
+Costell declined to interfere.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He wouldn&rsquo;t stop anyway,&rdquo; he told Green, &ldquo;so we should
+do no good. Let them fight it out by themselves.&rdquo; Both of which sentences
+showed that Mr. Costell understood his business.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had challenged his opponents to a joint debate, and when that was
+declined by them, he hired halls for evenings and spoke on the subject. He
+argued well, with much more feeling than he had shown since his speech in
+&ldquo;the case.&rdquo; After the first attempt of this kind, he had no
+difficulty in filling his halls. The rumor came back to his own district that
+he was &ldquo;talkin&rsquo; foin,&rdquo; and many of his friends there turned
+out to hear him. The same news went through other wards of the city and drew
+men from them. People were actually excluded, for want of room, and therefore
+every one became anxious to hear his speeches. Finally, by subscription of a
+number of people who had become interested, headed by Mr. Pell, the Cooper
+Union was hired, and Peter made a really great speech to nearly three thousand
+people.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The papers came to his help too, and stood by him manfully. By their aid, it
+was made very clear that this was a fight against a selfish lobby. By their
+aid, it became one of the real questions of the local campaign, and was carried
+beyond the borders of the city, so as to play a part in the county elections.
+Peter met many of the editors, and between his expert knowledge, acquired on
+the Commissions, and his practical knowledge, learned at Albany, proved a
+valuable man to them. They repaid his help by kind words and praise in their
+columns, and brought him forward as the chief man in the movement. Mrs.
+Stirling concluded that the conspiracy to keep Peter in the background had been
+abandoned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Those York papers couldn&rsquo;t help my Peter&rsquo;s getting
+on,&rdquo; was the way she put it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The results of this fight were even better than he had hoped. One Assemblyman
+gave in and agreed no longer to oppose the bills. Another was defeated. The
+Senator had his majority so cut down that he retired from the opposition. The
+questions too had become so much more discussed and watched, and the blame so
+fastened upon the lobby that many members from the country no longer dared to
+oppose legislation on the subject. Hence it was that the bills, newly drawn by
+Peter, to reduce opposition as far as possible, when introduced by Schlurger
+soon after the opening of the legislature, went through with a rush, not even
+ayes and nays being taken. Aided by Mr. Costell, Peter secured their prompt
+signing by Catlin, his long fight had ended in victory.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The &ldquo;sixt&rdquo; was wild with joy over the triumph. Whether it was
+because it was 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 voters got
+up a display of fireworks on the night when the news of the signing of the
+bills reached New York. When Peter returned to the city, he was called down to
+a hall one evening, to witness a torchlight procession and receive resolutions
+&ldquo;engrossed and framed&rdquo; from his admiring friends. Blunkers was
+chairman and made a plain speech which set the boys cheering by its combination
+of strong feeling and lack of grammar. Then Justice Gallagher made a
+fine-sounding, big-worded presentation. In the enthusiasm of the moment, Dennis
+broke the programme by rising and giving vent to a wild burst of feeling,
+telling his audience all that they owed to Peter, and though they knew already
+what he told them, they cheered and cheered the strong, natural eloquence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yer was out a order,&rdquo; said Blunkers, at the end of the speech.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yez loi!&rdquo; said Dennis, jumping on his feet again.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s never out av order to praise Misther Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The crowd applauded his sentiment.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.<br/>
+THE END OF THE CONFLICT.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter had had some rough experiences two or three times in his fall campaign,
+and Dennis, who had insisted on escorting him, took him to task about his
+&ldquo;physical culture.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s thirty pounds yez are too heavy, sir,&rdquo; he told Peter.
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; it&rsquo;s too little intirely yez afther knowin&rsquo; av
+hittin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter asked his advice, bought Indian clubs, dumb-bells, and boxing-gloves, and
+under Dennis&rsquo;s tutelage began to learn the art of self-defence. He was
+rather surprised, at the end of two months, to find how much flesh he had taken
+off, how much more easily he moved, how much more he was eating, and how much
+more he was able to do, both mentally and physically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems as if somebody had oiled my body and brain,&rdquo; he told
+Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dennis let him into another thing, by persuading him to join the militia
+regiment most patronized by the &ldquo;sixth,&rdquo; and in which Dennis was
+already a sergeant. Peter received a warm welcome from the regiment, for
+Dennis, who was extremely popular, had heralded his fame, and Peter&rsquo;s
+physical strength and friendly way did the rest. Ogden Ogden laughed at him for
+joining a &ldquo;Mick&rdquo; regiment, and wanted to put Peter into the
+Seventh. Peter only said that he thought his place was where he was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Society did not see much of Peter this winter. He called on his friends
+dutifully, but his long visits to Albany, his evenings with Dennis, and his
+drill nights, interfered badly with his acceptance of the invitations sent him.
+He had, too, made many friends in his commission work and politics, so that he
+had relatively less time to give to his older ones. The absence of Miss De Voe
+and Lispenard somewhat reduced his social obligations it is true, but the
+demands on his time were multiplying fast.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One of these demands was actual law work. The first real case to come to him
+was from the contractor who had served on the tenement-commission. He was also
+employed by the Health Board as special counsel in a number of prosecutions, to
+enforce clauses of his Food Bill. The papers said it was because of his
+familiarity with the subject, but Peter knew it was the influence of Green, who
+had become a member of that Board. Then he began to get cases from the
+&ldquo;district,&rdquo; and though there was not much money in each case,
+before long the number of them made a very respectable total.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The growth of his practice was well proven by a suggestion from Dummer that
+they should join forces. &ldquo;Mr. Bohlmann wants to give you some of his
+work, and it&rsquo;s easier to go into partnership than to divide his
+practice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter knew that Dummer had a very lucrative business of a certain kind, but he
+declined the offer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have decided never to take a case which has not right on its
+side.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A lawyer is just as much bound to try a case as a physician is bound to
+take a patient.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is what lawyers say outside, but they know better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, have your scruples. We&rsquo;ll make the firm cases only such as
+you choose. I&rsquo;ll manage the others.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m very grateful for
+the offer&mdash;but we could hardly do that successfully. If the firm was good
+for anything, we should be known as belonging to it, and the public could not
+well discriminate.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So that chance of success was passed. But every now and then Bohlmann sent him
+something to do, and Dummer helped him to a joint case occasionally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So, though friends grew steadily in numbers, society saw less and less of
+Peter. Those who cared to study his tastes came to recognize that to force
+formal entertaining on him was no kindness, and left it to Peter to drop in
+when he chose, making him welcome when he came.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was pleased to get a letter from Lispenard during the winter, from Japan. It
+was long, but only the first paragraph need be quoted, for the rest related
+merely to his travels:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;The breezes of the Pacific have blown away all my bad temper,&rdquo; he
+wrote, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Peter wrote a reply, which led to a regular correspondence. He sent Miss De
+Voe, also, a line of Christmas greetings, and received a long letter from her
+at Nice, which told him something of Watts and Helen:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Peter replied, sending his &ldquo;remembrance to Mr. and Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi in
+case you again meet them.&rdquo; From that time on Miss De Voe and he
+corresponded, she telling him of her Italian, Greek and Egyptian wanderings,
+and he writing of his doings, especially in regard to a certain savings bank
+fund standing in the name of &ldquo;Peter Stirling, trustee&rdquo; to which
+Miss De Voe had, the winter before, arranged to contribute a thousand dollars
+yearly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As his practice increased he began to indulge himself a little. Through the
+instrumentality of Mr. Pell, he was put first into one and later into a second
+of the New York clubs, and his dinners became far less simple in consequence.
+He used these comforters of men, indeed, almost wholly 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 he asked Mr. Costell to pick him up a
+saddle-horse, whereupon that friend promptly presented him with one. He went
+regularly now to a good tailor, which conduct ought to have ruined him with the
+&ldquo;b&rsquo;ys,&rdquo; but it didn&rsquo;t. He still smoked a pipe
+occasionally in the saloons or on the doorsteps of the district, yet candor
+compels us to add that he now had in his room a box of cigars labelled
+&ldquo;Habana.&rdquo; These were creature pleasures, however, which he only
+allowed himself on rare occasions. And most of these luxuries did not appear
+till his practice had broadened beyond the point already noted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Broaden it did. In time many city cases were thrown in his way. As he became
+more and more a factor in politics, the judges began to send him very
+profitable referee cases. Presently a great local corporation, with many damage
+suits, asked him to accept its work on a yearly salary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course we shall want you to look out for us at Albany,&rdquo; it was
+added.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;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 I
+think the right is with the plaintiff.&rdquo; This caused demur at first, but
+eventually he was employed, and it was found that money was saved in the long
+run, for Peter was very successful in getting people to settle out of court.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then the savings bank, for which Peter had done his best (not merely as
+recorded, but at other times), turned over its law business to him, giving him
+many real estate transactions to look into, besides papers to draw. &ldquo;He
+brings us a good many depositors,&rdquo; Mr. Lapham told his trustees,
+&ldquo;and is getting to be a large depositor himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter began to find help necessary, and took a partner. He did this at the
+suggestion of Ogden Ogden, who had concluded his clerkship, and who said to
+Peter:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a lot of friends who promise me their work. I don&rsquo;t know
+how much it will be, but I should like to try it with you. Of course, yours is
+the bigger practice, but we can arrange that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So after considerable discussion, the sign on Peter&rsquo;s door became
+&ldquo;Stirling and Ogden,&rdquo; and the firm blossomed out with an office
+boy&mdash;one of Peter&rsquo;s original &ldquo;angle&rdquo; friends, now six
+years older than when Peter and he had first met.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ogden&rsquo;s friends did materialize, and brought good paying cases. As the
+city, referee, corporation and bank work increased, their joint practice needed
+more help, and Ray Rivington was, on Ogden&rsquo;s request, taken in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t get on with his law studies, though he pretends to work
+over them hard. In fact he&rsquo;ll never be a good lawyer. He hasn&rsquo;t a
+legal mind. But he&rsquo;ll bring cases, for he&rsquo;s very popular in
+society, and he&rsquo;ll do all the palavering and running round very well.
+He&rsquo;s just the fellow to please people.&rdquo; This was what Ogden urged,
+adding, &ldquo;I might as well tell you that I&rsquo;m interested for another
+reason, too. He and Dorothy will marry, if he can ever get to the marrying
+point. This, of course, is to be between us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be very glad to have him, both for his own sake, and for what
+you&rsquo;ve just told me,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus it was that the firm again changed its name, becoming &ldquo;Stirling,
+Ogden and Rivington,&rdquo; and actually spread into two other rooms,
+Peter&rsquo;s original little &ldquo;ten by twelve&rdquo; being left to the
+possession of the office boy. That functionary gazed long hours at the map of
+Italy on the blank wall, but it did not trouble him. He only whistled and sang
+street songs at it. As for Peter, he was too busy to need blank walls. He had
+fought two great opponents. The world and himself. He had conquered them both.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br/>
+A RENEWAL.</h2>
+
+<p>
+If the American people had anglicized themselves as thoroughly into liking
+three-volume stories, as they have in other things, it would be a pleasure to
+trace the next ten years of Peter&rsquo;s life; for his growing reputation
+makes this period a far easier matter to chronicle than the more obscure
+beginnings already recorded. If his own life did not supply enough material we
+could multiply our characters, as did Dickens, or journey sideways, into little
+essays, as did Thackeray. His life and his biographer&rsquo;s pen might fail to
+give interest to such devices, but the plea is now for &ldquo;realism,&rdquo;
+which most writers take to mean microscopical examination of minutia. If the
+physical and psychical emotions of a heroine as she drinks a glass of water can
+properly be elaborated so as to fill two printed pages, Peter&rsquo;s life
+could be extended endlessly. There were big cases, political fights, globe
+trottings, and new friends, all of which have unlimited potentialities for
+numerous chapters. But Americans are peculiar people, and do not buy a pound of
+sugar any the quicker because its bulk has been raised by a skilful admixture
+of moisture and sand. So it seems best partly to take the advice of the
+Bellman, in the &ldquo;Hunting of the Snark,&rdquo; to skip sundry years. 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 contents of which are as
+follows:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+MARCH 22.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+DEAR OLD CHUM&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here is the wretched old sixpence, just as bad as ever&mdash;if not
+worse&mdash;come back after all these years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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. &ldquo;Changeless as the
+pyramids&rdquo; ought to be your motto.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Helen and our dear little girl will be delighted to see you, as will
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yours affectionately,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+WATTS.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Peter opened a drawer and put the letter into it. Then he examined his diary
+calendar. After this he went to a door, and, opening it, said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am going uptown for the afternoon. If Mr. Murtha comes, Mr. Ogden will
+see him.&rdquo;.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went down and took a cab, giving the driver a number in Grammercy Park.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The footman hesitated on Peter&rsquo;s inquiry. &ldquo;Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi is in,
+sir, but is having his afternoon nap, and we have orders he&rsquo;s not to be
+disturbed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take him my card. He will see me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The footman showed Peter into the drawing-room, and disappeared. Peter heard
+low voices for a moment, then the curtains of the back room were quickly
+parted, and with hands extended to meet him, Helen appeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is nice of you&mdash;and so unexpected!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took the hand, but said nothing. They sat down, and Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi
+continued:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s very nice. I don&rsquo;t want you to be formal with us. Do
+say that you can stay to dinner?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I would, if I were not already engaged.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we&rsquo;ll merely postpone it. It&rsquo;s very good of you to come
+to see us. I&rsquo;ve tried to get Watts to look you up, but he is so lazy!
+It&rsquo;s just as well since you&rsquo;ve found us out. Only you should have
+asked for both of us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I came on business,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi laughed. &ldquo;Watts is the poorest man in the world for
+that, but he&rsquo;ll do anything he can to help you, I know. He has the
+warmest feeling for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter gathered from this that Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi did not know of the
+&ldquo;scrape,&rdquo; whatever it was, and with a lawyer&rsquo;s caution, he
+did not attempt to disabuse her of the impression that he had called about his
+own affairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How you have changed!&rdquo; Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi continued. &ldquo;If I
+had not known who it was from the card, I am not sure that I should have
+recognized you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was just what Peter had been saying to himself of Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi. Was it
+her long ill-health, or was it the mere lapse of years, which had wrought such
+changes in her? Except for the eyes, everything had altered. The cheeks had
+lost their roundness and color; the hair had thinned noticeably; lines of years
+and pain had taken away the sweet expression that formerly had counted for so
+much; the pretty roundness of the figure was gone, and what charm it now had
+was due to the modiste&rsquo;s skill. Peter felt puzzled. Was this the woman
+for whom he had so suffered? Was it this memory that had kept him, at
+thirty-eight, still a bachelor? Like many another man, he found that he had
+been loving an ideal&mdash;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 been
+loving it for many years, to the exclusion of all other womankind. Now he 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 many pretty girls, and many
+sweet ones since that week at the Pierces. He had gained a very different point
+of view of women from that callow time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was not blunderer enough to tell Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi that he too, saw a
+change. His years had brought tact, if they had not made him less
+straightforward. So he merely said, &ldquo;You think so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ever so much. You&rsquo;ve really grown slender, in spite of your broad
+shoulders&mdash;and your face is so&mdash;so different.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 great change. As the
+roundness had left it, the eyes and the forehead had both become more prominent
+features, and both were good. The square, firm jaw still remained, but the
+heaviness of the cheek and nose had melted into lines which gave only strength
+and character, and destroyed the dulness which people used to comment upon. The
+face would never be called handsome, in the sense that regular features are
+supposed to give beauty, but it was strong and speaking, with lines of thought
+and feeling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know,&rdquo; laughed Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, &ldquo;you have actually
+become good-looking, and I never dreamed that was possible!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How long have you been here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A month. We are staying with papa, till the house in Fifty-seventh
+Street can be put in order. It has been closed since Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s
+death. But don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s talk houses. Tell me about yourself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is little to tell. I have worked at my profession, with
+success.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I see your name in politics. And I&rsquo;ve met many people in
+Europe who have said you were getting very famous.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I spend a good deal of time in politics. I cannot say whether I have
+made myself famous, or infamous. It seems to depend on which paper I
+read.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I saw a paper on the steamer, that&mdash;&rdquo; Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi
+hesitated, remembering that it had charged Peter with about every known sin of
+which man is capable. Then she continued, &ldquo;But I knew it was
+wrong.&rdquo; Yet there was quite as much of question as of assertion in her
+remark. In truth, Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi was by no means sure that Peter was all
+that was desirable, for any charge made against a politician in this country
+has a peculiar vitality and persistence. She had been told that Peter was an
+open supporter of saloons, and that New York politics battened on all forms of
+vice. So a favorite son could hardly have retained the purity that women take
+as a standard of measurement. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you find ward politics very
+hard?&rdquo; she asked, dropping an experimental plummet, to see what depths of
+iniquity there might be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But that kind of politics must be very disagreeable to gentlemen. The
+men must have such dirty hands!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not the dirty hands which make American politics
+disagreeable. It&rsquo;s the dirty consciences.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are&mdash;are politics so corrupt and immoral?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Politics are what the people make them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose your life has not been of a kind to make you very familiar
+with it all. Tell me what these long years have brought you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perfect happiness! Oh, Mr. Stirling&mdash;may I call you
+Peter?&mdash;thank you. Peter, I have the finest, noblest husband that ever
+lived! He is everything that is good and kind!&rdquo; Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s face lighted up with happiness and tenderness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And your children?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have only one. The sweetest, loveliest child you can imagine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fie, fie, Rosebud,&rdquo; cried a voice from the doorway. &ldquo;You
+shouldn&rsquo;t speak of yourself so, even if it is the truth. Leave that to
+me. How are you, Peter, old fellow? I&rsquo;d apologize for keeping you
+waiting, but if you&rsquo;ve had Helen, there&rsquo;s no occasion. Isn&rsquo;t
+it Boileau who said that: &lsquo;The best thing about many a man is his
+wife&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi beamed, but said, &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t so, Peter.
+He&rsquo;s much better than I.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts laughed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to excuse this, old man. Will happen
+sometimes, even in the properest of families, if one marries an angel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, you see,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi. &ldquo;He just spoils
+me, Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And she thrives on it, doesn&rsquo;t she, Peter?&rdquo; said Watts.
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t she prettier even than she was in the old days?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi colored with pleasure, even while saying: &ldquo;Now, Watts
+dear, I won&rsquo;t swallow such palpable flattery. There&rsquo;s one kiss for
+it&mdash;Peter won&rsquo;t mind&mdash;and now I know you two want to talk old
+times, so I&rsquo;ll leave you together. Good-bye, Peter&mdash;or rather <i>au
+revoir</i>&mdash;for you must be a regular visitor now. Watts, arrange with
+Peter to dine with us some day this week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi disappeared through the doorway. Peter&rsquo;s pulse did not
+change a beat.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br/>
+HELP.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The moment she was gone, Watts held out his hand, saying: &ldquo;Here, old man,
+let us shake hands again. It&rsquo;s almost like going back to college days to
+see my old chum. Come to the snuggery, where we shan&rsquo;t be
+interrupted.&rdquo; They went through two rooms, to one fitted up as a
+smoking-room and office. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s papa-in-law&rsquo;s workshop. He
+can&rsquo;t drop his work at the bank, so he brings it home and goes on here.
+Sit down. Here, take a cigar. Now, are you comfortable?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Maintenant</i>, I suppose you want to know why I wrote you to come so
+quickly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, the truth of it is, I&rsquo;m in an awful mess. Yesterday I was so
+desperate I thought I should blow my brains out. I went round to the club to
+see if I couldn&rsquo;t forget or drown my trouble, just as sick as a man could
+be. Fellows talking. First thing I heard was your name. &lsquo;Just won a great
+case.&rsquo; &lsquo;One of the best lawyers in New York.&rsquo; Thinks I to
+myself, &lsquo;That&rsquo;s a special providence.&rsquo; Peter always was the
+fellow to pull me through my college scrapes. I&rsquo;ll write him.&rsquo; Did
+it, and played billiards for the rest of the evening, secure in the belief that
+you would come to my help, just as you used to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me what it is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even that isn&rsquo;t easy, chum. It&rsquo;s a devilish hard thing to
+tell even to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it money trou&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; Watts interrupted. &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t that. The truth
+is I&rsquo;ve a great deal more money than is good for me, and apparently
+always shall have. I wish it were only that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can I help you?&rdquo; began Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew you would,&rdquo; cried Watts, joyfully. &ldquo;Just the same old
+reliable you always were. Here. Draw up nearer. That&rsquo;s it. Now then, here
+goes. I shan&rsquo;t mind if you are shocked at first. Be as hard on me as you
+like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, to make a long story short, I&rsquo;m entangled with a woman, and
+there&rsquo;s the devil to pay. Now you&rsquo;ll pull me through, old man,
+won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say that, Peter! You must help me. You&rsquo;re my only
+hope.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not care to mix myself in such a business,&rdquo; said Peter, very
+quietly. &ldquo;I would rather know nothing about it.&rdquo; Peter rose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t desert me,&rdquo; cried Watts, springing to his feet, and
+putting his hand on Peter&rsquo;s shoulder, so as to prevent his progress to
+the door. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t. She&rsquo;s going to expose me. Think of the
+disgrace! My God, Peter, think&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take your hand off my shoulder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Peter, think&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The time to think was before&mdash;not now, Watts. I will not concern
+myself in this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, old man. I can&rsquo;t face it. It will kill Helen!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had already thrown aside the arm, and had taken a step towards the
+doorway. He stopped and turned. &ldquo;She does not know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believe
+it. She worships me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore&mdash;if you won&rsquo;t
+save me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can they be saved?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I want to know. Here&mdash;sit down, please!
+I&rsquo;ll tell you all about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It began in Paris twelve years ago. Such affairs have a way of beginning
+in Paris, old man. It&rsquo;s in the atmosphere. She&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop. I will ask questions. There&rsquo;s no good going over the whole
+story.&rdquo; Peter tried to speak calmly, and to keep his voice and face from
+showing what he felt. He paused a moment, and then said: &ldquo;She threatens
+to expose you. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, after three years I tired of it and tried to end it. Then she used
+it to blackmail me for ten years, till, in desperation, I came to America, to
+see if I couldn&rsquo;t escape her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And she followed you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. She was always tracking me in Europe, and making my life a hell on
+earth, and now she&rsquo;s followed me here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it&rsquo;s merely a question of money, I don&rsquo;t see what you
+want of me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She says she doesn&rsquo;t want money now&mdash;but revenge. She&rsquo;s
+perfectly furious over my coming off without telling her&mdash;always had an
+awful temper&mdash;and&mdash;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
+of fleas than one woman, eh, chum?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So she threatens to tell your wife?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. She says she&rsquo;s going to summon me into court.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On what grounds?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the worst part of it. You see, chum, there&rsquo;s a child,
+and she says she&rsquo;s going to apply for a proper support for it. Proper
+support! Heavens! The money I&rsquo;ve paid her would support ten children.
+It&rsquo;s only temper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said, &ldquo;Watts, Watts,&rdquo; in a sad voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pretty bad, isn&rsquo;t it? If it wasn&rsquo;t for the child I
+could&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter interrupted. &ldquo;Has she any proofs of paternity
+besides&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts interrupted in turn. &ldquo;Yes. Confound it! I was fool enough to write
+letters during my infatuation. Talleyrand was right when he said only fools and
+women wrote letters.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How could you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;ve asked myself a hundred times. Oh, I&rsquo;m
+sorry enough. I&rsquo;ve sworn never to put pen to paper again.
+<i>Jamais!</i>&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did not mean the letters. But your vow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My vow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your marriage vow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes. I know. But you know, chum, before you promise to love one
+woman for all time you should have seen them all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that display ten minutes ago was all mockery?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no! Really, Peter, I&rsquo;m awfully fond of the little woman.
+Really I am. And you know Daudet says a man can love two women at the same
+time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if so, how about his honor?&rdquo; Peter was trying to repress his
+emotion, but it would jerk out questions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I know. I&rsquo;ve said that to myself over and over again. Why,
+look here.&rdquo; Watts pulled a small revolver from his hip pocket.
+&ldquo;This will show you how close to the desperation point I have come.
+I&rsquo;ve carried that for two days, so that if worse comes to
+worse&mdash;well. Phut!&mdash;<i>Voila tout</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose, speaking in a voice ringing with scorn. &ldquo;You would escape
+your sin, to leave it with added disgrace for your wife and daughter to bear!
+Put up your pistol, Watts D&rsquo;Alloi. If I am to help you, I want to help a
+man&mdash;not a skulker. What do you want me to do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I wish to know. What can I do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have offered her money?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I told her that&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind details,&rdquo; interrupted Peter, &ldquo;Was it enough to
+put further offers out of the question?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. She won&rsquo;t hear of money. She wants revenge.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me her name and address.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Celestine&mdash;&rdquo; The rest was interrupted by a knock at the door.
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The door was opened, and a footman entered. &ldquo;If you please, Mr.
+D&rsquo;Alloi, there&rsquo;s a Frenchwoman at the door who wants to see you.
+She won&rsquo;t give me her name, but says you&rsquo;ll know who it is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say I won&rsquo;t see her. That I&rsquo;m busy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She told me to say that if you were engaged, she&rsquo;d see Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; said Watts, under his breath.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ask the woman to come in here,&rdquo; said Peter, quietly, but in a way
+which made the man leave the room without waiting to see if Watts demurred.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A complete silence followed. Then came the rustle of skirts, and a woman
+entered the room. Peter, who stood aside, motioned to the footman to go, and
+closed the door himself, turning the key.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The woman came to the middle of the room. &ldquo;So, Monsieur
+D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; she said in French, speaking very low and distinctly,
+&ldquo;you thought it best not to order your groom to turn me out, as you did
+that last day in Paris, when you supposed your flight to America left you free
+to do as you pleased? But you did not escape me. Here I am.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts sat down in an easy-chair, and striking a match, lighted a cigarette.
+&ldquo;That, Celestine,&rdquo; he said in French, &ldquo;is what in English we
+call a self-evident proposition.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Celestine&rsquo;s foot began to tap the floor, &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t pretend
+you expected I would follow you. You thought you could drop me, like an old
+slipper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts blew a whiff of tobacco from his mouth. &ldquo;It was a remark of
+Ricard&rsquo;s, I believe, &lsquo;that in woman, one should always expect the
+unexpected.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Mon Dieu</i>!&rdquo; shrieked Celestine. &ldquo;If I&mdash;if I could
+kill you&mdash;you&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was interrupted by Peter&rsquo;s bringing a chair to her and saying in
+French, &ldquo;Will you not sit down, please?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned in surprise, for she had been too wrought up to notice that Peter
+was in the room. She stared at him and then sat down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;Take it easy. No occasion
+to get excited.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; screamed Celestine, springing to her feet, &ldquo;your name
+shall be in all the papers. You shall&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter again interrupted. &ldquo;Madame, will you allow me to say
+something?&rdquo; He spoke gently and deferentially.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Celestine looked at him again, saying rapidly: &ldquo;Why should I listen to
+you? What are you to me? I don&rsquo;t even know you. My mind&rsquo;s made up.
+I tell you&mdash;&rdquo; The woman was lashing herself into a fury, and Peter
+interrupted her again:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pardon me. We are strangers. If I ask anything of you for myself, I
+should expect a refusal. But I ask it for humanity, to which we all owe help.
+Only hear what I have to say. I do not claim it as a right, but as a
+favor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Celestine sat down. &ldquo;I listen,&rdquo; she said. She turned her chair from
+Watts and faced Peter, as he stood at the study table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter paused a moment, and then said: &ldquo;After what I have seen, I feel
+sure you wish only to revenge yourself on Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now let me show you what you will do. For the last two days Mr.
+D&rsquo;Alloi has carried a pistol in his pocket, and if you disgrace him he
+will probably shoot himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bon!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But where is your revenge? He will be beyond your reach, and you will
+only have a human life upon your conscience ever after.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall not grieve!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor is that all. In revenging yourself on him, you do one of the
+cruelest acts possible. A wife, who trusts and believes in him, will have her
+faith and love shattered. His daughter&mdash;a young girl, with all her life
+before her&mdash;must ever after despise her father and blush at her name. Do
+not punish the weak and innocent for the sin of the guilty!&rdquo; Peter spoke
+with an earnestness almost terrible. Tears came into his eyes as he made his
+appeal, and his two auditors both rose to their 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 failed to hear the door from the dining-room move, or
+notice the entrance of Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi as Peter ended his plea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment&rsquo;s silence followed Peter&rsquo;s outburst of feeling. Then the
+Frenchwoman cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Truly, truly. But what will you do for me and my child? Haven&rsquo;t we
+been ill-treated? Don&rsquo;t you owe us help, too? Justice? Don&rsquo;t we
+deserve tenderness and protection?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But you wish revenge. Ask for justice,
+ask for help, and I will do what is within my power to aid you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts,&rdquo; cried Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, coming forward, &ldquo;of what
+child are you talking? Whose child? Who is this woman?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts jumped as if he had been shot. Celestine even retreated before the
+terrible voice and face with which Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi asked her questions. A
+sad, weary look came into Peter&rsquo;s eyes. No one answered Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Answer me,&rdquo; she cried
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear little woman. Don&rsquo;t get excited. It&rsquo;s all
+right.&rdquo; Watts managed to say this much. But he did not look his last
+remark.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Answer me, I say. Who is this woman? Speak!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right, really, it&rsquo;s all right. Here. Peter will
+tell you it&rsquo;s all right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; cried Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi. &ldquo;Of whose child were you
+speaking?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was still standing by the desk. He looked sad and broken, as he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is the mother, Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes? Yes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter raised his eyes to Helen&rsquo;s and looked at her. Then he said quietly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Watts&mdash;will tell you that&mdash;I am its father.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.<br/>
+RUNNING AWAY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The dramatic pause which followed Peter&rsquo;s statement was first broken by
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, who threw her arms about Watt&rsquo;s neck, and cried:
+&ldquo;Oh! my husband. Forgive me, forgive me for the suspicion!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned to Celestine. &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We are not
+wanted here.&rdquo; He unlocked the door into the hall, and stood aside while
+she passed out, which she did quietly. Another moment found the two on the
+sidewalk. &ldquo;I will walk with you to your hotel, if you will permit
+me?&rdquo; Peter said to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; Celestine replied. Nothing more was said in the walk
+of ten blocks. When they reached the hotel entrance, Peter asked: &ldquo;Can
+you see me for a few moments?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Come to my private parlor.&rdquo; They took the elevator, and were
+but a moment in reaching that apartment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter spoke the moment the door was closed. &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;you saw that scene. Spare his wife and child? He is not worth your
+anger.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, Ciel!&rdquo; cried Celestine, emotionally. &ldquo;Do you think so
+lowly of me, that you can imagine I would destroy your sacrifice? Your
+romantic, your dramatic, <i>mon Dieu!</i> your noble sacrifice? Non, non.
+Celestine Lacour could never do so. She will suffer cruelty, penury, insults,
+before she behaves so shamefully, so perfidiously.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not entirely sympathize with the Frenchwoman&rsquo;s admiration for
+the dramatic element, but he was too good a lawyer not to accept an admission,
+no matter upon what grounds. He held out his hand promptly.
+&ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;accept my thanks and admiration for your
+generous conduct.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Celestine took it and shook it warmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi owes you an ample
+income.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; cried Celestine, shrugging her shoulders. &ldquo;Do not talk
+of him&mdash;I leave it to you to make him do what is right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you will return to France?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes. If you say so?&rdquo; Celestine looked at Peter in a manner
+known only to the Latin races. Just then a side door was thrown open, and a boy
+of about twelve years of age dashed into the room, followed by a French poodle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Little villain!&rdquo; cried Celestine. &ldquo;How dare you approach
+without knocking? Go. Go. Quickly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pardon, Madame,&rdquo; said the child. &ldquo;I thought you still
+absent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that the child?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Celestine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does he know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing. I do not tell him even that I am his mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you are not prepared to give him a mother&rsquo;s care and
+tenderness?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never. I love him not. He is too like his father. And I cannot have it
+known that I am the mother of a child of twelve. It would not be believed,
+even.&rdquo; Celestine took a look at herself in the tall mirror.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I suppose you would like some arrangement about him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stayed for nearly an hour with the woman. He stayed so long, that for 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 did not have an
+expression of pleasure on his face as he rode down-town, nor was he very good
+company at the dinner which he attended that evening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next day did not find him in any better mood. He went down-town, and called
+on an insurance company and talked for a while with the president. Then he
+called at a steamship office. After that he spent twenty minutes with the head
+of one of the large schools for boys in the city. Then he returned to his
+office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi is waiting for you in your private office,
+sir,&rdquo; he was told. &ldquo;He said that he was an old friend and insisted
+on going in there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter passed into his office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts cried: &ldquo;My dear boy, how can I ever&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was holding out his hand, but Peter failed to take it, and interrupted him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have arranged it all with Madame Lacour,&rdquo; Peter said coldly.
+&ldquo;She sails on La Bretagne on Thursday. You are to buy an annuity for
+three thousand dollars a year. In addition, you are to buy an annuity for the
+boy till he is twenty-five, of one thousand dollars a year, payable to me as
+his guardian. This will cost you between forty and fifty thousand dollars. I
+will notify you of the amount when the insurance company sends it to me. In
+return for your check, I shall send you the letters and 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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I say, chum. Don&rsquo;t take it this way,&rdquo; cried Watts.
+&ldquo;Do you think&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I end it as suits me,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Good-day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, at least you must let me pay you a fee for your work?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned on Watts quickly, but checked the movement and the words on his
+tongue. He only reiterated. &ldquo;Good-day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you will have it so.&rdquo; Watts went to the door, but
+hesitated. &ldquo;Just as you please. If, later, you change your mind, send me
+word. I shan&rsquo;t cherish any feeling for this. I want to be friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-day,&rdquo; said Peter. Watts passed out, closing the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter sat down at his desk, doing nothing, for nearly an hour. How long he
+would have sat will never be known, if his brown study had not been ended by
+Rivington&rsquo;s entrance. &ldquo;The Appeals have just handed down their
+decision in the Henley case. We win.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought we should,&rdquo; said Peter mechanically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Peter! What&rsquo;s the matter with you? You look as seedy
+as&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As I feel,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to stop work and
+take a ride, to see if I can&rsquo;t knock some of my dulness out of me.&rdquo;
+Within an hour he was at the Riding Club.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello,&rdquo; said the stable man. &ldquo;Twice in one day! You&rsquo;re
+not often here at this hour, sir. Which horse will you have?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me whichever has the most life in him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Mutineer has the devil in him always, sir. Though it&rsquo;s
+not yourself need fear any horse. Only look out for the ice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rode into the Park in ten minutes. He met Lispenard at the first turn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello! It&rsquo;s not often you are here at this hour.&rdquo; Lispenard
+reined his horse up alongside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been through a very
+revolt&mdash;a very disagreeable experience, and I&rsquo;ve come up here to get
+some fresh air. I don&rsquo;t want to be sociable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. Truthful as ever. But one word before we separate.
+Keppel has just received two proofs of Haden&rsquo;s last job. He asks awful
+prices for them, but you ought to see them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks.&rdquo; And the two friends separated as only true friends can
+separate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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. He shook himself
+presently, and set Mutineer at a sharp canter round the larger circle of the
+bridle path. But before they had half swung the circle, he was deep in thought
+again, and Mutineer was taking his own pace. Peter deserved to get a stumble
+and a broken neck or leg, but he didn&rsquo;t. He was saved from it by an
+incident which never won any credit for its good results to Peter, however much
+credit it gained him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not hear the
+clutter of a horse&rsquo;s feet behind him, just as he struck the long stretch
+of the comparatively straight path along the Reservoir. But Mutineer did, and
+pricked up his ears. Mutineer could not talk articulately, but all true lovers
+of horses understand their language. Mutineer&rsquo;s cogitations, transmuted
+into human speech, were something to this effect:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello! What&rsquo;s that horse trying to do? He can&rsquo;t for a moment
+expect to pass me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the next moment a roan mare actually did pass him, going at a swift gallop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mutineer laid his ears back, &ldquo;The impudence!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Does
+that little whiffet of a roan mare think she&rsquo;s going to show me her
+heels? I&rsquo;ll teach her!&rdquo; It is a curious fact that both the men and
+horses who are most seldom passed by their kind, object to it most when it
+happens.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter suddenly came back to affairs earthly to find Mutineer just settling into
+a gait not permitted by Park regulations. He drew rein, and Mutineer, knowing
+that the fun was up, danced round the path in his bad temper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really,&rdquo; he said to himself, &ldquo;if I wasn&rsquo;t so fond of
+you, I&rsquo;d give you and that mare, an awful lesson. Hello! not another?
+This is too much!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The last remarks had relation to more clattering of hoofs. In a moment a groom
+was in view, going also at a gallop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hout of the way,&rdquo; cried the groom, to Peter, for Mutineer was
+waltzing round the path in a way that suggested &ldquo;no thoroughfare.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Hi&rsquo;m after that runaway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked after the first horse, already a hundred feet away. He said
+nothing to groom nor horse, but Mutineer understood the sudden change in the
+reins, even before he felt that maddening prick of the spurs. There was a
+moment&rsquo;s wild grinding of horse&rsquo;s feet on the slippery road and
+then Mutineer had settled to his long, tremendous stride.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, I&rsquo;ll show you,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;but if only he
+wouldn&rsquo;t hold me so damned tight.&rdquo; We must forgive Mutineer for
+swearing. He lived so much with the stablemen, that, gentleman though he was,
+evil communications could not be entirely resisted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was riding &ldquo;cool.&rdquo; He knew he could run the mare down, but he
+noticed that the woman, who formed the mount, was sitting straight, and he
+could tell from the position of her elbows that she was still pulling on her
+reins, if ineffectually. He thought it best therefore to let the mare wind
+herself before he forced himself up, lest he should only make the runaway horse
+the wilder. So after a hundred yards&rsquo; run, he drew Mutineer down to the
+mare&rsquo;s pace, about thirty feet behind her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They ran thus for another hundred yards. Then suddenly Peter saw the woman drop
+her reins, and catch at the saddle. His quick eye told him in a moment what had
+happened. The saddle-girth had broken, or the saddle was turning. He dug his
+spurs into Mutineer, so that the horse, who had never had such treatment,
+thought that he had been touched by two branding irons. He gave a furious shake
+of his ears, and really showed the blood of his racing Kentucky forebears. In
+fifteen seconds the horse was running even with the mare.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had intended merely to catch the reins of the runaway, trusting to his
+strength to do what a woman&rsquo;s could not. But when he came up alongside,
+he saw that the saddle had turned so far that the rider could not keep her seat
+ten seconds longer. So he dropped his reins, bent over, and putting his arms
+about the woman lifted her off the precarious seat, and put her in front of
+him. He held her there with one arm, and reached for his reins. But Mutineer
+had tossed them over his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mutineer!&rdquo; said Peter, with an inflection of voice decidedly
+commanding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I covered a hundred yards to your seventy,&rdquo; Mutineer told the roan
+mare. &ldquo;On a mile track I could go round you twice, without getting out of
+breath. I could beat you now, even with double mount easily. But my Peter has
+dropped the reins and that puts me on my honor. Good-bye.&rdquo; Mutineer
+checked his great racing stride, broke to a canter; dropped to a trot; altered
+that to a walk, and stopped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had been rather astonished at the weight he had lifted. Peter had never
+lifted a woman before. His chief experience in the weight of human-kind had
+been in wrestling matches at the armory, and only the largest and most muscular
+men in the regiment cared to try a bout with him. 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 the cross-buttock with two hundred pounds of bone and
+brawn, he marvelled much at the ease with which he transferred the rider.
+&ldquo;She can&rsquo;t weigh over eighty pounds,&rdquo; he thought. Which was
+foolish, for the woman actually weighed one hundred and eighteen, as Peter
+afterwards learned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The woman also surprised Peter in another way. Scarcely had she been placed in
+front of him, than she put her arms about his neck and buried her face in his
+shoulder. She was not crying, but she was drawing her breath in great gasps in
+a manner which scared Peter terribly. Peter had never had a woman cling to him
+in that way, and frightened as he was, he made three very interesting
+discoveries:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+1. That a man&rsquo;s shoulder seems planned by nature as a resting place for a
+woman&rsquo;s head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+2. That a man&rsquo;s arm about a woman&rsquo;s waist is a very pleasant
+position for the arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+3. That a pair of woman&rsquo;s arms round a man&rsquo;s neck, with the clasped
+hands, even if gloved, just resting on the back of his neck, is very
+satisfying.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter could not see much of the woman. His arm told him that she was decidedly
+slender, and he could just catch sight of a small ear and a cheek, whose
+roundness proved the youth of the person. Otherwise he could only see a head of
+very pretty brown hair, the smooth dressing of which could not entirely conceal
+its longing to curl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Mutineer stopped, Peter did not quite know what to do. Of course it was
+his duty to hold the woman till she recovered herself. That was a plain
+duty&mdash;and pleasant. Peter said to himself that he really was sorry for
+her, and thought his sensations were merely the satisfaction of a father in
+aiding his daughter. We must forgive his foolishness, for Peter had never been
+a father, and so did not know the parental feeling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It had taken Mutineer twenty seconds to come to a stand, and for ten seconds
+after, no change in the condition occurred. Then suddenly the woman stopped her
+gasps. Peter, who was looking down at her, saw the pale cheek redden. The next
+moment, the arms were taken from his neck and the woman was sitting up straight
+in front of him. He got a downward look at the face, and he thought it was the
+most charming he had ever seen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl kept her eyes lowered, while she said firmly, though with traces of
+breathlessness and tremulo in her voice, &ldquo;Please help me down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was out of his saddle in a moment, and lifted the girl down. She
+staggered slightly on reaching the ground, so that Peter said: &ldquo;You had
+better lean on me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the girl, still looking down, &ldquo;I will lean against
+the horse.&rdquo; She rested against Mutineer, who looked around to see who was
+taking this insulting liberty with a Kentucky gentleman. Having looked at her
+he said: &ldquo;You&rsquo;re quite welcome, you pretty dear!&rdquo; Peter
+thought he would like to be a horse, but then it occurred to him that equines
+could not have had what he had just had, so he became reconciled to his lot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl went on flushing, even after she was safely leaning against Mutineer.
+There was another ten seconds&rsquo; pause, and then she said, still with
+downcast eyes, &ldquo;I was so frightened, that I did not know what I was
+doing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You behaved very well,&rdquo; said Peter, in the most comforting voice
+he could command. &ldquo;You held your horse splendidly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t a bit frightened, till the saddle began to turn.&rdquo;
+The girl still kept her eyes on the ground, and still blushed. She was
+undergoing almost the keenest mortification possible for a woman. She had for a
+moment been horrified by the thought that she had behaved in this way to a
+groom. But a stranger&mdash;a gentleman&mdash;was worse! She had not looked at
+Peter&rsquo;s face, but his irreproachable riding-rig had been noticed.
+&ldquo;If it had only been a policeman,&rdquo; she thought. &ldquo;What can I
+say to him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 her something else
+to think about.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As soon as you feel able to walk, you had better take my arm. We can get
+a cab at the 72d Street entrance, probably. If you don&rsquo;t feel able to
+walk, sit down on that stone, and I&rsquo;ll bring a cab. It oughtn&rsquo;t to
+take me ten minutes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are very good,&rdquo; said the girl, raising her eyes, and taking a
+look at Peter&rsquo;s face for the first time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A thrill went through Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl had slate-colored eyes!!
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br/>
+A DREAM.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Something in Peter&rsquo;s face seemed to reassure the girl, for though she
+looked down after the glance, she ceased leaning against the horse, and said,
+&ldquo;I behaved very foolishly, of course. Now I will do whatever you think
+best.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before Peter had recovered enough from his thrill to put what he thought into
+speech, a policeman came riding towards them, leading the roan mare. &ldquo;Any
+harm done?&rdquo; he called.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;None, fortunately. Where can we get a cab? Or can you bring one
+here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid there&rsquo;ll be none nearer than Fifty-ninth Street.
+They leave the other entrances before it&rsquo;s as dark as this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind the cab,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;If you&rsquo;ll help me
+to mount, I&rsquo;ll ride home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the pluck!&rdquo; said the policeman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think you had better?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;m not a bit afraid. If you&rsquo;ll just tighten the
+girth.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It seemed to Peter he had never encountered such a marvellously fascinating
+combination as was indicated by the clinging position of a minute ago and the
+erect one of the present moment. He tightened the girth with a pull that made
+the roan mare wonder if a steam-winch had hold of the end, and then had the
+pleasure of the little foot being placed in his hand for a moment, as he lifted
+the girl into the saddle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall ride with you,&rdquo; he said, mounting instantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Beg pardon,&rdquo; said the policeman. &ldquo;I must take your names. We
+are required to report all such things to headquarters.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Williams, don&rsquo;t you know me?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Williams looked at Peter, now for the first time on a level with him. &ldquo;I
+beg your pardon, Mr. Stirling. It was so dark, and you are so seldom here
+afternoons that I didn&rsquo;t know you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell the chief that this needn&rsquo;t go on record, nor be given to the
+reporters.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said the girl in a frank yet shy way,
+&ldquo;but will you tell me your first name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was rather astonished, but he said &ldquo;Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried the girl, looking Peter in the face. &ldquo;I
+understand it now. I didn&rsquo;t think I could behave so to a stranger! I must
+have felt it was you.&rdquo; She was smiling joyfully, and she did not drop her
+eyes from his. On the contrary she held out her hand to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course Peter took it. He did not stop to ask if it was right or wrong to
+hold a young girl&rsquo;s hand. If it was wrong, it was certainly a very small
+one, judging from the size of the hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was so mortified! But if it&rsquo;s you it&rsquo;s all right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thought this mood of the girl was both delightful and complimentary, but
+he failed to understand anything of it, except its general friendliness. His
+manner may have suggested this, for suddenly the girl said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I am Leonore
+D&rsquo;Alloi.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was Peter&rsquo;s turn to gasp. &ldquo;Not&mdash;?&rdquo; he began and then
+stopped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl joyfully, as if Peter&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;not&rdquo; had had something delightful in it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But&mdash;she&rsquo;s a child.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be eighteen next week,&rdquo; said Leonore, with all the
+readiness of that number of years to proclaim its age.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter concluded that he must accept the fact. Watts could have a child that
+old. Having reached this conclusion, he said, &ldquo;I ought to have known you
+by your likeness to your mother.&rdquo; Which was an unintentional lie. Her
+mother&rsquo;s eyes she had, as well as the long lashes; and she had her
+mother&rsquo;s pretty figure, though she was taller. But otherwise she was far
+more like Watts. Her curly hair, her curvy mouth, the dimple, and the contour
+of the face were his. Leonore D&rsquo;Alloi was a far greater beauty than her
+mother had ever been. But to Peter, it was merely a renewal of his dream.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just at this point the groom rode up. &ldquo;Beg pardon, Miss
+D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; he said, touching his cap. &ldquo;My &rsquo;orse went
+down on a bit of hice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not hurt, Belden?&rdquo; said Miss D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thought the anxious tone heavenly. He rather wished he had broken
+something himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Nor the &rsquo;orse.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it&rsquo;s all right. Mr. Stirling, we need not interrupt your
+ride. Belden will see me home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Belden see her home! Peter would see him do it! That was what Peter thought. He
+said, &ldquo;I shall ride with you, of course.&rdquo; So they started their
+horses, the groom dropping behind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you want to try it again?&rdquo; asked Mutineer of the roan.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the mare. &ldquo;You are too big and strong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was just saying: &ldquo;I could hear the pound of a horse&rsquo;s feet
+behind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could never overtake
+Fly-away. So when I felt the saddle begin to slip, I thought I was&mdash;was
+going to be dragged&mdash;as I once saw a woman in England&mdash;Oh!&mdash;and
+then suddenly I saw a horse&rsquo;s head, and then I felt some one take hold of
+me so firmly that I didn&rsquo;t have to hold myself at all, and I knew I was
+safe. Oh, how nice it is to be big and strong!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thought so too.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So it is the world over. Peter and Mutineer felt happy and proud in their
+strength, and Leonore and Fly-away glorified them for it. Yet in spite of this,
+as Peter looked down at the curly head, from his own and Mutineers altitude, he
+felt no superiority, and knew that the slightest wish expressed by that small
+mouth, would be as strong with him as if a European army obeyed its commands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a tremendous horse you have?&rdquo; said Leonore.
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo; assented Peter. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s got a bad
+temper, I&rsquo;m sorry to say, but I&rsquo;m very fond of him. He was given me
+by my regiment, and was the choice of a very dear friend now dead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who was that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No one you know. A Mr. Costell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes I do. I&rsquo;ve heard all about him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know of Mr. Costell?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What Miss De Voe told me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss De Voe?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. We saw her both times in Europe. Once at Nice, and once in&mdash;in
+1882&mdash;at Maggiore. The first time, I was only six, but she used to tell me
+stories about you and the little children in the angle. The last time she told
+me all she could remember about you. We used to drift about the lake moonlight
+nights, and talk about you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What made that worth doing to you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh from the very beginning, that I can remember, papa was always talking
+about &lsquo;dear old Peter&rsquo;&rdquo;&mdash;the talker said the last three
+words in such a tone, shot such a look up at Peter, half laughing and half
+timid, that in combination they nearly made Peter reel in his
+saddle&mdash;&ldquo;and you seemed almost the only one of his friends he did
+speak of, so I became very curious about you as a little girl, and then Miss De
+Voe made me more interested, so that I began questioning Americans, because I
+was really anxious to learn things concerning you. Nearly every one did know
+something, so I found out a great deal about you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was realizing for the first time in his life, how champagne made one
+feel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nearly everybody knew something. That is, every one we&rsquo;ve met
+in the last five years. Before that, there was Miss De Voe, and grandpapa, of
+course, when he came over in 1879&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; interrupted Peter, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I had met him
+once before that time, except at the Shrubberies.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, he hadn&rsquo;t seen you. But he knew a lot about you, from Mr.
+Lapharn and Mr. Avery, and some other men who had met you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who else?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Leroy, mamma&rsquo;s bridesmaid, who spent two weeks at our villa
+near Florence, and Dr. Purple, your clergyman, who was in the same house with
+us at Ober-Ammergau, and&mdash;and&mdash;oh the best were Mr. and Mrs.
+Rivington. They were in Jersey, having their honeymoon. They told me more than
+all the rest put together.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I feel quite safe in their hands. Dorothy and I formed a mutual
+admiration society a good many years ago.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She and Mr. Rivington couldn&rsquo;t say enough good of you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must make allowance for the fact that they were on their wedding
+journey, and probably saw everything rose-colored.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was it. Dorothy told me about your giving Mr. Rivington a full
+partnership, in order that Mr. Ogden should give his consent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ray swore that he wouldn&rsquo;t tell. And Dorothy has always appeared
+ignorant. And yet she knew it on her wedding trip.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She couldn&rsquo;t help it. She said she must tell some one, she was so
+happy. So she told mamma and me. She showed us your photograph. Papa and mamma
+said it was like you, but I don&rsquo;t think it is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again Leonore looked up at him. Leonore, when she glanced at a man, had the
+same frank, fearless gaze that her mother had of yore. But she did not look as
+often nor as long, and did not seem so wrapped up in the man&rsquo;s remarks
+when she looked. We are afraid even at seventeen that Leonore had discovered
+that she had very fetching eyes, and did not intend to cheapen them, by showing
+them too much. During the whole of this dialogue, Peter had had only
+&ldquo;come-and-go&rdquo; glimpses of those eyes. He wanted to see more of
+them. He longed to lean over and turn the face up 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. For the moment Peter did not agree with Mr.
+Weller that &ldquo;life isn&rsquo;t all beer and skittles.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been so anxious to meet you. I&rsquo;ve begged papa ever
+since we landed to take me to see you. And he&rsquo;s promised me, over and
+over again, to do it, but something always interfered. You see, I felt very
+strange and&mdash;and queer, not knowing people of my own country, and I felt
+that I really knew you, and wouldn&rsquo;t have to begin new as I do with other
+people. I do so dread next winter when I&rsquo;m to go into society. I
+don&rsquo;t know what I shall do, I&rsquo;ll not know any one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll know me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you don&rsquo;t go into society.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes, I do. Sometimes, that is. I shall probably go more next winter.
+I&rsquo;ve shut myself up too much.&rdquo; This was a discovery of
+Peter&rsquo;s made in the last ten seconds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How nice that will be! And will you promise to give me a great deal of
+attention?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll probably want very little. I don&rsquo;t dance.&rdquo;
+Peter suddenly became conscious that Mr. Weller was right.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you can learn. Please. I do so love valsing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter almost reeled again at the thought of waltzing with Leonore. Was it
+possible life had such richness in it? Then he said with a bitter note in his
+voice very unusual to him:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m too old to learn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a bit,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t look any older
+than lots of men I&rsquo;ve seen valsing. Young men I mean. And I&rsquo;ve seen
+men seventy years old dancing in Europe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 a stable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;here we are already! What a short ride
+it has been.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thought so too, and groaned over the end of it. But then he suddenly
+remembered that Leonore was to be lifted from her horse. He became cold with
+the thought that she might jump before he could get to her, and he was off his
+horse and by her side with the quickness of a military training. He put his
+hands up, and for a moment had&mdash;well, Peter could usually express himself
+but he could not put that moment into words. And it was not merely that Leonore
+had been in his arms for a moment, but that he had got a good look up into her
+eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish you would take my horse round to the Riding Club,&rdquo; he told
+the groom. &ldquo;I wish to see Miss D&rsquo;Alloi home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you very much, but my maid is here in the brougham, so I need not
+trouble you. Good-bye, and thank you. Oh, thank you so much!&rdquo; She stood
+very close to Peter, and looked up into his eyes with her own.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no one I would rather have had save me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stepped into the brougham, and Peter closed the door. He mounted his horse
+again, and straightening himself up, rode away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hi thought,&rdquo; remarked the groom to the stableman, &ldquo;that
+&rsquo;e didn&rsquo;t know &rsquo;ow to sit &rsquo;is &rsquo;orse, but
+&rsquo;e&rsquo;s all right, arter all. &rsquo;E rides like ha &rsquo;orse
+guards capting, w&rsquo;en &rsquo;e don&rsquo;t &rsquo;ave a girl to bother
+&rsquo;im.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Would that girl bother him?
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br/>
+&ldquo;FRIENDS.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+<p>
+At first blush, judging from Peter&rsquo;s behavior, the girl was not going to
+bother 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 evening papers. His dinner
+was eaten with equal coolness. Not till he had reached his study did he vary
+his ordinary daily routine. Then, instead of working or reading, he rolled a
+comfortable chair up to the fire, put on a fresh log or two, opened a new box
+of Bock&rsquo;s, and lighting one, settled back in the chair. How many hours he
+sat and how many cigars he smoked are not recorded, lest the statement should
+make people skeptical of the narrative.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course Peter knew that life had not lost its troubles. He was not fooling
+himself as to what lay before him. He was not callous to the sufferings already
+endured. But he put them, past, and to come, from him for 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 did not seem to be thinking of that. He had
+just been through what he called a &ldquo;revolting experience,&rdquo; but it
+is doubtful if he was thinking of that. Whatever his thoughts were, they put a
+very different look on his face than that which it used to wear while he
+studied blank walls.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter sat down, rather later than usual at his office desk the next
+morning, he took a sheet of paper, and wrote, &ldquo;Dear sir,&rdquo; upon it.
+Then he tore it up. He took another and wrote, &ldquo;My dear Mr.
+D&rsquo;Alloi.&rdquo; He tore that up. Another he began, &ldquo;Dear
+Watts.&rdquo; A moment later it was in the paper basket. &ldquo;My dear
+friend,&rdquo; served to bring a similar fate to the fourth. Then Peter rose
+and strolled about his office aimlessly. Finally he went out into a gallery
+running along the various rooms, and, opening a door, put his head in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You hypocritical scoundrel,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You swore to me that
+you would never tell a living soul.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; came a very guilty voice back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Dorothy&rsquo;s known all this time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dead silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ve both been as innocent as&mdash;as you were
+guilty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, Peter, I can&rsquo;t make you understand, because
+you&rsquo;ve&mdash;you&rsquo;ve never been on a honeymoon. Really, old fellow,
+I was so happy over your generosity in giving me a full share, when I
+didn&rsquo;t bring a tenth of the business, and so happy over Dorothy, that If
+I hadn&rsquo;t told her, I should have simply&mdash;bust. She swore she&rsquo;d
+never tell. And now she&rsquo;s told you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, but she told some one else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then she&rsquo;s broken her word. She&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Pot called the Kettle black.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But to tell one&rsquo;s own wife is different. I thought she could keep
+a secret.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can you expect a person to keep a secret when you can&rsquo;t keep
+it yourself?&rdquo; Peter and Ray were both laughing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ray said to himself, &ldquo;Peter has some awfully knotty point on hand, and is
+resting the brain tissue for a moment.&rdquo; Ray had noticed, when Peter
+interrupted him during office hours, on matters not relating to business, that
+he had a big or complex question in hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter closed the door and went back to his room. Then he took a fifth sheet of
+paper, and wrote:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;WATTS: A day&rsquo;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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;PETER&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Just as he had finished this, his door opened softly. &lsquo;Peter did not hear
+it, but took the letter up and read it slowly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Boo!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not jump at the Boo. He looked up very calmly, but the moment he
+looked up, jump he did. He jumped so that he was shaking hands before the
+impetus was lost.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is the nicest kind of a surprise,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bother you, you phlegmatic old cow,&rdquo; cried a merry voice.
+&ldquo;Here we have spent ten minutes palavering your boy, in order to make him
+let us surprise you, and then when we spring it on you, you don&rsquo;t budge.
+Wasn&rsquo;t it shabby treatment, Dot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve disappointed us awfully, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was shaking hands more deliberately with Leonore than he had with Watts.
+He had been rather clever in shaking hands with him first, so that he need not
+hurry himself over the second. So he had a very nice moment&mdash;all too
+short&mdash;while Leonore&rsquo;s hand lay in his. He said, in order to prolong
+the moment, without making it too marked, &ldquo;It will take something more
+frightful than you, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi, to make me jump.&rdquo; Then Peter was
+sorry he had said it, for Leonore dropped her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, old man, give an account of yourself.&rdquo; Watts was speaking
+jauntily, but not quite as easily as he usually did. &ldquo;Here Leonore and I
+waited all last evening, and you never came. So she insisted that we come this
+morning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand?&rdquo; Peter was looking at Leonore as if she
+had made the remark. Leonore was calmly examining Peter&rsquo;s room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, even a stranger would have called last night to inquire about
+Dot&rsquo;s health, after such an accident. But for you not to do it, was
+criminal. If you have aught to say why sentence should not now be passed on
+you, speak now or forever&mdash;no&mdash;that&rsquo;s the wedding ceremony,
+isn&rsquo;t it? Not criminal sentence&mdash;though, on second thought,
+there&rsquo;s not much difference.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you expect me, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss D&rsquo;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
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I had known that,&rdquo; said Peter, with the sincerest regret in
+his voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s interest in legal literature suddenly ceased. She
+turned and Peter had a momentary glimpse of those wonderful eyes. Either his
+words or tone had evidently pleased Miss D&rsquo;Alloi. The corners of her
+mouth were curving upwards. She made a deep courtesy to him and said:
+&ldquo;You will be glad to know, Mr. Stirling, that Miss D&rsquo;Alloi has
+suffered no serious shock from her runaway, and passed a good night. It seemed
+to Miss D&rsquo;Alloi that the least return she could make for Mr.
+Stirling&rsquo;s kindness, was to save him the trouble of coming to inquire
+about Miss D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s health, and so leave Mr. Stirling more time to
+his grimy old law books.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, sir, I hope you are properly crushed for your wrong-doing,&rdquo;
+cried Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to apologize for not coming,&rdquo; said Peter,
+&ldquo;for that is my loss; but I can say that I&rsquo;m sorry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s quite enough,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I thought perhaps
+you didn&rsquo;t want to be friends. And as I like to have such things right
+out, I made papa bring me down this morning so that I could see for
+myself.&rdquo; She spoke with a frankness that seemed to Peter heavenly, even
+while he grew cold at the thought that she should for a moment question his
+desire to be friends.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you and Peter will be friends,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But mamma told me last night&mdash;after we went upstairs, that she was
+sure Mr. Stirling would never call.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never, Dot?&rdquo; cried Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And when I asked her why, she wouldn&rsquo;t tell me at first, but
+at last she said it was because he was so unsociable. I shan&rsquo;t be friends
+with any one who won&rsquo;t come to see me.&rdquo; Leonore was apparently
+looking at the floor, but from under her lashes she was looking at something
+else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Whatever Peter may have felt, he looked perfectly cool. Too cool, Leonore
+thought. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to make any vows or protestations of
+friendship,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t even pledge myself to come and
+see you, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi. Remember, friendship comes from the word free. If
+we are to be friends, we must each leave the other to act freely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;that is, I suppose, a polite way of
+saying that you don&rsquo;t intend to come. Now I want to know why you
+won&rsquo;t?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The reasons will take too long to explain to you now, so I&rsquo;ll
+defer the telling till the first time I call on you.&rdquo; Peter was smiling
+down at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss D&rsquo;Alloi looked up at Peter, to see what meaning his face gave his
+last remark. Then she held out her two hands. &ldquo;Of course we are to be the
+best of friends,&rdquo; she said. Peter got a really good look down into those
+eyes as they shook hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moment this matter had been settled, Leonore&rsquo;s manner changed.
+&ldquo;So this is the office of the great Peter Stirling?&rdquo; she said, with
+the nicest tone of interest in her voice, as it seemed to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t look it,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;By George, with the
+business people say your firm does, you ought to do better than this.
+It&rsquo;s worse even than our old Harvard quarters, and those were puritanical
+enough.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is a method in its plainness. If you want style, go into
+Ogden&rsquo;s and Rivington&rsquo;s rooms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you have the plain office, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a lot of plain people to deal with, and so I try to keep my room
+simple, to put them at their ease. I&rsquo;ve never heard of my losing a client
+yet, because my room is as it is, while I should have frightened away some if I
+had gone in for the same magnificence as my partners.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I say, chum, I should think that is the sort you would want to
+frighten away. There can&rsquo;t be any money in their business?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We weren&rsquo;t talking of money. We were talking of people. I am very
+glad to say, that with my success, there has been no change in my relations
+with 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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ho, ho,&rdquo; laughed Watts. &ldquo;You wily old fox! See the four bare
+walls. The one shelf of law books. The one cheap cabinet of drawers. The four
+simple chairs, and the plain desk. Behold the great politician! The man of the
+people.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter made no reply. But Leonore said to him, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad you help
+the poor people still, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; and gave Peter another glimpse of
+those eyes. Peter didn&rsquo;t mind after that.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, Dot,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t call chum
+Mr. Stirling. That won&rsquo;t do. Call him&mdash;um&mdash;call him Uncle
+Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Leonore, delighting Peter thereby. &ldquo;Let
+me see. What shall I call you?&rdquo; she asked of Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Honey,&rdquo; laughed Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What shall I call you?&rdquo; Miss D&rsquo;Alloi put her head on one
+side, and looked at Peter out of the corners of her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must decide that, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I must.
+I&mdash;think&mdash;I&mdash;shall&mdash;call&mdash;you&mdash;Peter.&rdquo; She
+spoke hesitatingly till she said his name, but that went very smoothly. Peter
+on the spot fell in love with the five letters as she pronounced them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Plain Peter?&rdquo; inquired Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now what will you call me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.
+You&mdash;are&mdash;to&mdash;call&mdash;me&mdash;call&mdash;me&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; re-affirmed Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I will call you Mr. Stirling, Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, you won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because you said you&rsquo;d call me Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But not if you won&rsquo;t&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You made no condition at the time of promise. Shall I show you the
+law?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. And I shall not call you Peter, any more, Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shall prosecute you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I should win the case, for I should hire a friend of mine to defend
+me. A man named Peter.&rdquo; Leonore sat down in Peter&rsquo;s chair.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to write him at once about it.&rdquo; She took one of
+his printed letter sheets and his pen, and, putting the tip of the holder to
+her lips (Peter has that pen still), thought for a moment. Then she wrote:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+DEAR PETER:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I am threatened with a prosecution. Will you defend me? Address your reply to
+&ldquo;Dear Leonore.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+LEONORE D&rsquo;ALLOI.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now&rdquo; she said to Peter, &ldquo;you must write me a letter in
+reply. Then you can have this note.&rdquo; Leonore rose with the missive in her
+hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never answer letters till I&rsquo;ve received them.&rdquo; Peter took
+hold of the slender wrist, and possessed himself of the paper. Then he sat down
+at his desk and wrote on another sheet:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+DEAR MISS D&rsquo;ALLOI:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I will defend you faithfully and always.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+PETER STIRLING
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That isn&rsquo;t what I said,&rdquo; remarked Miss D&rsquo;Alloi.
+&ldquo;But I suppose it will have to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You forget one important thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My retaining fee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, dear,&rdquo; sighed Leonore. &ldquo;My allowance is nearly gone.
+Don&rsquo;t you ever do work for very, very poor people, for nothing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if their poverty is pretence.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but mine isn&rsquo;t. Really. See. Here is my purse. Look for
+yourself. That&rsquo;s all I shall have till the first of the month.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She gave Peter her purse. He was still sitting at his desk, and he very
+deliberately proceeded to empty the contents out on his blotter. He handled
+each article. There was a crisp ten-dollar bill, evidently the last of those
+given by the bank at the beginning of the month. There were two one-dollar
+bills. There was a fifty-cent piece, two quarters and a dime. A gold German
+twenty-mark piece, about eight inches of narrow crimson ribbon, and a glove
+button, completed the contents. Peter returned the American money and the glove
+button to the purse and handed it back to Miss D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve forgotten the ribbon and the gold piece,&rdquo; said
+Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were never more mistaken in your life,&rdquo; replied Peter, with
+anything but legal guardedness concerning unprovable statements. He folded up
+the ribbon neatly and put it, with the coin, in his waistcoat pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t let you have that
+That&rsquo;s my luck-piece.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it?&rdquo; Peter expressed much surprise blended with satisfaction in
+his tone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. You don&rsquo;t want to take my good luck.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will think it over, and write you a legal opinion later.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please!&rdquo; Miss D&rsquo;Alloi pleaded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is just what I have succeeded in doing&mdash;for myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I want my luck-piece. I found it in a crack of the rocks crossing
+the Ghemi. And I must have the ribbon. I need it to match for a gown it goes
+with.&rdquo; Miss D&rsquo;Alloi put true anxiety into her voice, whatever she
+really felt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be glad to help you match it,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;and any
+time you send me word, I will go shopping with you. As for your luck, I shall
+keep that for the present.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now I know,&rdquo; said Leonore crossly, &ldquo;why lawyers have such a
+bad reputation. They are perfect thieves!&rdquo; She looked at Peter with the
+corners of her mouth drawn down. He gazed at her with a very grave look on his
+face. They eyed each other steadily for a moment, and then the corners of
+Leonore&rsquo;s mouth suddenly curled upwards. She tried hard for a moment to
+keep serious. Then she gave up and laughed. Then they both laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Many people will only see an amusing side to the dialogue here so carefully
+recorded. If so, look back to the time when everything that he or she said was
+worth listening to. Or if there has never been a he or a she, imitate Peter,
+and wait. It is worth waiting for.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br/>
+THE HERMITAGE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+It is not to be supposed from this last reflection of ours, that Leonore was
+not heart-whole. Leonore had merely had a few true friends, owing to her roving
+life, and at seventeen a girl craves friends. When, therefore, the return to
+America was determined upon, she had at once decided that Peter and she would
+be the closest of friends. That she would tell him all her confidences, and
+take all her troubles to him. Miss De Voe and Dorothy had told her about Peter,
+and from their descriptions, as well as from her father&rsquo;s reminiscences,
+Leonore had concluded that Peter was just the friend she had wanted for so
+long. That Leonore held her eyes down, and tried to charm yet tantalize her
+intended friend, was because Leonore could not help it, being only seventeen
+and a girl. If Leonore had felt anything but a friendly interest and liking,
+blended with much curiosity, in Peter, she never would have gone to see him in
+his office, and would never have talked and laughed so frankly with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As for Peter, he did not put his feelings into good docketed shape. He did not
+attempt to label them at all. He had had a delicious half-hour yesterday. He
+had decided, the evening before, that he must see those slate-colored eyes
+again, if he had to go round the world in pursuit of them. How he should do it,
+he had not even thought out, till the next morning. He had understood very
+clearly that the owner of those slate-colored eyes was really an unknown
+quantity to him. He had understood, too, that the chances were very much
+against his caring to pursue those eyes after he knew them better. But he was
+adamant that he must see those eyes again, and prove for himself whether they
+were but an <i>ignis fatuus</i>, or the radiant stars that Providence had cast
+for the horoscope of Peter Stirling. He was studying those eyes, with their
+concomitants, at the present time. He was studying them very coolly, to judge
+from his appearance and conduct. Yet he was enjoying the study in a way that he
+had never enjoyed the study of somebody &ldquo;On Torts.&rdquo; Somebody
+&ldquo;On Torts,&rdquo; never looked like that. Somebody &ldquo;On
+Torts,&rdquo; never had luck-pieces, and silk ribbons. Somebody &ldquo;On
+Torts,&rdquo; never wrote letters and touched the end of pens to its lips.
+Somebody &ldquo;On Torts,&rdquo; never courtesied, nor looked out from under
+its eyelashes, nor called him Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While this investigation had been progressing, Watts had looked at the shelf of
+law books, had looked out of the window, had whistled, and had yawned. Finally,
+in sheer <i>ennui</i> he had thrown open a door, and looked to see what lay
+beyond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ha, ha!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;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 and railroads,
+in the midst of all the gorgeousness of the golden East.&rdquo; Watts passed
+into the room beyond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does he mean, Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has gone into my study. Would you like&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was interrupted by Watts calling, &ldquo;Come in here, Dot, and see how the
+unsociable old hermit bestows himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Leonore and Peter followed Watts&rsquo;s lead. The room into which they went
+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 side street. It had one
+other door besides that by which they had entered. Here the ordinary quality
+ended. Except for the six openings already noted and a large fireplace, the
+walls were shelved from floor to ceiling (which was not a low one), with dusky
+oak shelving. The ceiling was panelled in dark oak, and the floor was covered
+with a smooth surface of the same wood. Yet though the shelves were filled with
+books, few could be seen, for on every upright of the shelving, were several
+frames of oak, hinged as one sees them in public galleries occasionally, and
+these frames contained etchings, engravings, and paintings. Some were folded
+back against the shelves. Others stood out at right angles to them and showed
+that the frames were double ones, both sides containing something. Four
+easy-chairs, three less easy chairs, and a large table desk, likewise of dusky
+oak were the sole other fittings of the room, if we except two large polar bear
+skins.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; cried Leonore looking about, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so glad to see
+this. People have told me so much about your rooms. And no two of them ever
+agreed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;It seems a continual bone of contention
+with my friends. They scold me because I shelved it to the ceiling, because I
+put in one-colored wood, because I framed my pictures and engravings this way,
+and because I haven&rsquo;t gone in for rugs, and bric-&agrave;-brac, and the
+usual furnishings. At times I have really wondered, from their determination to
+change things, whether it was for them to live in, or for my use?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is unusual,&rdquo; said Leonore, reluctantly, and evidently selecting
+a word that should not offend Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You ought to be hung for treating fine pictures so,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had to give them those broad flat mats, because the books gave no
+background.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s&mdash;it&rsquo;s&mdash;&rdquo; Leonore hesitated.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not so startling, after a moment.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see they had to hang this way, or go unhung. I hadn&rsquo;t wall
+space for both pictures and books. And by giving a few frames a turn,
+occasionally, I can always have fresh pictures to look at.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, Dot, here&rsquo;s a genuine Rembrandt&rsquo;s &lsquo;Three
+Crosses,&rsquo;&rdquo; called Watts. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know, old man, that
+you were such a connoisseur.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m fond of such things,
+but I never should have had taste or time to gather these.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then how did you get them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A friend of mine&mdash;a man of exquisite taste&mdash;gathered them. He
+lost his money, and I bought them of him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was Mr. Le Grand?&rdquo; asked Leonore, ceasing her study of the
+&ldquo;Three Crosses.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mrs. Rivington told me about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It must have been devilish hard for him to part with such a
+collection,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He hasn&rsquo;t really parted with them. He comes down here constantly,
+and has a good time over them. It was partly his scheme to arrange them this
+way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are the paintings his, too, Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter could have hugged her for the way she said Peter. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he
+managed to remark. &ldquo;I bought some of them, and Miss De Voe and Lispenard
+Ogden the others. People tell me I spoil them by the flat framing, and the
+plain, broad gold mats. But it doesn&rsquo;t spoil them to me. I think the
+mixture of gold mats and white mats breaks the monotony. And the variation just
+neutralizes the monotone which the rest of the room has. But of course that is
+my personal equation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then this room is the real taste of the &lsquo;plain man,&rsquo;
+eh?&rdquo; inquired Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, papa, it is plain. Just as simple as can be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Simple! Yes, sweet simplicity! Three-thousand-dollar-etching simplicity!
+Millet simplicity! Oh, yes. Peter&rsquo;s a simple old dog.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, but the woodwork and the furniture. Isn&rsquo;t this an enticing
+chair? I must try it.&rdquo; And Leonore almost dissolved from view in its
+depths. Peter has that chair still. He would probably knock the man down who
+offered to buy it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It occurred to Peter that since Leonore was so extremely near the ground, and
+was leaning back so far, that she could hardly help but be looking up. So he
+went and stood in front of the fireplace, and looked down at her. He pretended
+that his hands were cold. Watts perhaps was right. Peter was not as simple as
+people thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It seemed to Peter that he had never had so much to see, all at once, in his
+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 would have been very restful to
+the eye; if it hadn&rsquo;t been for the distracting chin below it. Then there
+were the little feet, just sticking out from underneath the tailor-made gown,
+making Peter think of Herrick&rsquo;s famous lines. Finally there were those
+two hands! Leonore was very deliberately taking off her gloves. Peter had not
+seen those hands ungloved yet, and waited almost breathlessly for the
+unveiling. He decided that he must watch and shake hands at parting before
+Leonore put those gloves on again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;how did you ever manage to get such a
+place here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was a tenant for a good many years of the insurance company that owns
+the building, and when it came to rebuild, it had the architect fit this floor
+for me just as I wished it. So I put our law-offices in front and arranged my
+other rooms along the side street. Would you like to see them?&rdquo; Peter
+asked this last question very obviously of Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they passed through the other door, to a little square hall, lighted by a
+skylight, with a stairway going up to the roof.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I took the upper floor, so as to get good air and the view of the city
+and the bay, which is very fine,&rdquo; Peter said. &ldquo;And I have a
+staircase to the roof, so that in good weather I can go up there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wondered what the great firm was doing up ten stories,&rdquo; said
+Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ogden and Rivington have been very good in yielding to my
+idiosyncracies. This is my mealing closet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a room nine feet square, panelled, ceiled and floored in mahogany, and
+the table and six chairs were made of the same material.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So this is what the papers call the &lsquo;Stirling political
+incubator?&rsquo; It doesn&rsquo;t look like a place for hatching dark
+plots,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sometimes I have a little dinner here. Never more than six, however, for
+it&rsquo;s too small.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Dot, doesn&rsquo;t this have a jolly cosy feeling? Couldn&rsquo;t
+one sit here blowy nights, with the candles lit, eating nuts and telling
+stories? It makes me think of the expression, &lsquo;snug as a
+bug.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Leroy told me, Peter, what a reputation your dinners had, and how
+every one was anxious to be invited just once,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But not a second time, old man. You caught Dot&rsquo;s inference, I
+hope? Once is quite enough.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, will you invite me some day?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would he?&rdquo; Peter longed to tell her that the place and everything
+it contained, including its owner&mdash;Then Peter said to himself, &ldquo;You
+really don&rsquo;t know anything about her. Stop your foolishness.&rdquo; Still
+Peter knew that&mdash;that foolishness was nice. He said, &ldquo;People only
+care for my dinners because they are few and far between, and their being way
+down here in the city, after business hours, makes them something to talk
+about. Society wants badly something to talk about most of the time. Of course,
+my friends are invited.&rdquo; Peter looked down at Leonore, and she
+understood, without, his saying so, that she was to be a future guest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you manage about the prog, chum?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Le Grand had a man&mdash;a Maryland darky&mdash;whom he turned over
+to me. He looks after me generally, but his true forte is cooking. For oysters
+and fish and game I can&rsquo;t find his equal. And, as I never attempt very
+elaborate dinners, he cooks and serves for a party of six in very good shape.
+We are not much in haste down here after six, because it&rsquo;s so still and
+quiet. The hurry&rsquo;s gone up-town to the social slaves. Suppose you stay
+and try his skill at lunch to-day? My partners generally are with me, and
+Jenifer always has something good for them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Leonore said: &ldquo;No. We mustn&rsquo;t make a nuisance of ourselves the
+first time we come.&rdquo; Peter and Watts tried to persuade her, but she was
+not persuadable. Leonore had no intention, no matter how good a time it meant,
+of lunching sola with four men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think we must be going,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t go without seeing the rest of my quarters,&rdquo; said
+Peter, hoping to prolong the visit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was complaisant to that extent. So they went into the pantry, and
+Leonore proceeded, apparently, to show her absolute ignorance of food matters
+under the pretext that she was displaying great housekeeping knowledge. She
+told Peter that he ought to keep his champagne on ice. &ldquo;That champagne
+will spoil if it isn&rsquo;t kept on ice.&rdquo; She complained because some
+bottles of Burgundy had dust on them. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not merely
+untidy,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s bad for the wine. It ought to be
+stood on end, so that the sediment can settle.&rdquo; She criticised the fact
+that a brace of canvas-backs were on ice. &ldquo;All your game should be
+hung,&rdquo; she said. She put her finger or her eyes into every drawer and
+cupboard, and found nothing to praise. She was absolutely grave over it, but
+before long Peter saw the joke and entered into it. It was wonderful how good
+some of the things that she touched tasted later.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then they went into Peter&rsquo;s sleeping-room, Leonore said it was very
+ordinary, but promptly found two things to interest her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you take care of your window flowers?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Mrs. Costell comes down to lunch with me once a week, and potters
+with them. She keeps all the windows full of flowers&mdash;perhaps you have
+noticed them in the other rooms, as well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I liked them, but I didn&rsquo;t think they could be yours. They
+grow too well for a man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems as if Mrs. Costell had only to look at a plant, and it breaks
+out blossoming,&rdquo; Peter replied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a nice speech,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s on a nice subject,&rdquo; Peter told her. &ldquo;When you
+have that, it&rsquo;s very easy to make a nice speech.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to meet Mrs. Costell. I&rsquo;ve heard all about her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The second point of interest concerned the contents of what had evidently been
+planned as an umbrella-stand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you have three swords?&rdquo; she asked, taking the handsomest
+from its resting place.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that I can kill more people.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Dot, you ought to know that an officer wants a service sword and a
+dress-sword.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But these are all dress-swords. I&rsquo;m afraid you are very proud of
+your majorship.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter only smiled a reply down at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I have found out your weakness at last.
+You like gold lace and fixings.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still Peter only smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This sword is presented to Captain Peter Stirling in recognition of his
+gallant conduct at Hornellsville, July 25, 1877,&rdquo; Leonore read on the
+scabbard. &ldquo;What did you do at Hornellsville?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Various things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what did you do to get the sword?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My duty!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you knew all about me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter only smiled at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me. If you don&rsquo;t, somebody else will. Please.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Dot, these are all presentation swords.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter; &ldquo;and so gorgeous that I don&rsquo;t dare
+use them. I keep the swords I wear at the armory.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to tell me what you did to get them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That one was given me by my company when I was made captain. That was
+subscribed for by some friends. The one you have was given me by a
+railroad.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For doing my duty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, papa. We&rsquo;ll go home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter surrendered. &ldquo;There were some substitutes for strikers in freight
+cars that were fitted up with bunks. The strikers fastened the doors on them,
+and pushed them into a car-shed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what did you do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We rolled the cars back.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that was much. Nothing to give a sword for. Now,
+have you anything more to show us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I have a spare room, and Jenifer has a kitchen and sleeping place
+beyond, but they are not worth showing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went out into the little square hall, and so into the study. Leonore began
+unfolding her gloves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had a very nice time,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I think I shall
+come again very often, I like down-town New York.&rdquo; Leonore was making her
+first trip to it, so that she spoke from vast knowledge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t tell you how pleasant it has been to me. It isn&rsquo;t
+often that such sunshine gets in here,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you do prefer sunshine to grimy old law books?&rdquo; inquired
+Leonore, smiling demurely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some sunshine,&rdquo; said Peter, meaningly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wherever there has been sunshine there ought to be lots of flowers. I
+have a good mind&mdash;yes, I will&mdash;leave you these violets,&rdquo;
+Leonore took a little bunch that she had worn near her throat and put them and
+her hand in Peter&rsquo;s. And she hadn&rsquo;t put her glove on yet! Then she
+put her gloves on, and Peter shook hands. Then he remembered that he ought to
+see them to the elevator, so he took them out&mdash;and shook hands again.
+After that he concluded it was his duty to see them to the carriage&mdash;and
+he shook hands again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was not an experienced hand, but he was doing very well.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.<br/>
+THE DUDE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Just as Peter came back to his office, his lunch was announced.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What makes you look so happy?&rdquo; asked Ray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Being so,&rdquo; said Peter, calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a funny old chap he is?&rdquo; Ray remarked to Ogden, as they went
+back to work. &ldquo;He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in the
+Hall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning over those
+awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn&rsquo;t make. Yet he came
+in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop work and
+think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them now and then.
+He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to have a look at that bit
+of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation. He said: &ldquo;Peter Stirling,
+go to work.&rdquo; So all the treasures were put in a drawer 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:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+WATTS:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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&rsquo;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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+PETER.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Then he ground at the law till six, when he swung his clubs and dumb-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 a box of cigars, or a bunch of
+violets, gold-piece, ribbon and sheet of paper? One thing is certain. Peter
+passed another evening without reading or working. And two such idle evenings
+could not be shown in another week of his life for the last twenty years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next day Peter was considerably nearer earth. Not that he didn&rsquo;t
+think those eyes just as lovely, and had he been thrown within their radius, he
+would probably have been as strongly influenced as ever. But he was not thrown
+within their influence, and so his strong nature and common sense reasserted
+themselves. He took his coffee, his early morning ride, and then his work, in
+their due order. After dinner, that evening, he only smoked one cigar. When he
+had done that, he remarked to himself&mdash;apropos of the cigars,
+presumably&mdash;&ldquo;Peter, keep to your work. Don&rsquo;t burn yourself
+again.&rdquo; Then his face grew very firm, and he read a frivolous book
+entitled: &ldquo;Neun atiologische und prophylactische Satze ... uber die
+Choler&aelig;pidemien in Ostindien,&rdquo; till nearly one o&rsquo;clock.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The following day was Sunday. Peter went to church, and in the afternoon rode
+out to Westchester to pass the evening there with Mrs. Costell. Peter thought
+his balance was quite recovered. Other men have said the same thing. The fact
+that they said so, proved that they were by no means sure of themselves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was shown very markedly on Monday in Peter&rsquo;s case, for after lunch
+he did not work as steadily as he had done in the morning hours. He was
+restless. Twice he pressed his lips, and started in to work very, very
+hard&mdash;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, and go to
+work again, with a great determination in his face, only to look at the watch
+again before long. Finally he touched his bell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jenifer,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I wish you would rub off my spurs, and
+clean up my riding trousers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For lohd, sar, I done dat dis day yesserday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind, then,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Tell Curzon to ring me up a
+hansom.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter rode into the park he did not vacillate. He put his horse at a sharp
+canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden far when he suddenly
+checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple of riders. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+been looking for you,&rdquo; he said frankly. Peter had not ceased to be
+straightforward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello! This is nice,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think it&rsquo;s about time?&rdquo; said Leonore.
+Leonore had her own opinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry
+with Peter&mdash;not at all. But she did not look at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had drawn his horse up to the side on which Leonore was riding.
+&ldquo;That is just what I thought,&rdquo; he said deliberately, &ldquo;and
+that&rsquo;s why I&rsquo;m here now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How long ago did that occur to you, please?&rdquo; said Leonore, with
+dignity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About the time it occurred to me that you might ride here regularly
+afternoons.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; Leonore was mollifying.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I like the early morning, when there are fewer people.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You unsociable old hermit,&rdquo; exclaimed Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But now?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Leonore said those two words Peter had not yet had a sight of those eyes.
+And he was getting desperately anxious to see them. So he replied: &ldquo;Now I
+shall ride in the afternoons.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was rewarded by a look. The sweetest kind of a look. &ldquo;Now, that is
+very nice, Peter,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;If we see each other every day in
+the Park, we can tell each other everything that we are doing or thinking
+about. So we will be very good friends for sure.&rdquo; Leonore spoke and
+looked as if this was the pleasantest of possibilities, and Peter was certain
+it was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Peter,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;What a tremendous dude we have
+come out. I wanted to joke you on it the first time I saw you, but this
+afternoon it&rsquo;s positively appalling. I would have taken my Bible oath
+that it was the last thing old Peter would become. Just look at him, Dot.
+Doesn&rsquo;t he fill you with &lsquo;wonder, awe and praise?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked at Peter a little shyly, but she said frankly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve wondered about that, Peter. People told me you were a man
+absolutely without style.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled. &ldquo;Do you remember what Friar Bacon&rsquo;s brass head
+said?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Time is: Time was: Time will never be again?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That fits my lack of style, I think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pell and Ogden, and the rest of them, have made you what I never could,
+dig at you as I would. So you&rsquo;ve yielded to the demands of your toney
+friends?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I tried to dress correctly for my up-town friends, when I was
+with them. But it was not they who made me careful, though they helped me to
+find a good tailor, when I decided that I must dress better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it was the big law practice, eh? Must keep up appearances?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fancy my dressing would no more affect my practice, than does the
+furnishing of my office.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then who is she? Out with it, you sly dog.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I shan&rsquo;t tell you that&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, will you tell me?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled into the frank eyes. &ldquo;Who she is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Why you dress so nicely. Please?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll laugh when I tell you it is my ward.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nonsense,&rdquo; laughed Watts. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s too thin. Come
+off that roof. Unless you&rsquo;re guardian of some bewitching girl?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your ward, Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I don&rsquo;t know whether I can make you understand it. I
+didn&rsquo;t at first. You see I became associated with the ward, in
+people&rsquo;s minds, after I had been in politics for a few years. So I was
+sometimes put in positions to a certain extent representative of it. I never
+thought much how I dressed, and it seems that sometimes at public meetings, and
+parades, and that sort of thing, I wasn&rsquo;t dressed quite as well as the
+other men. So when the people of my ward, who were present, were asked to point
+me out to strangers, they were mortified about the way I looked. It seemed to
+reflect on the ward. The first inkling I had of it was after one of these
+parades, in which, without thinking, I had worn a soft hat. I was the only man
+who did not wear a silk one, and my ward felt very badly about it. So they made
+up a purse, and came to me to ask me to buy a new suit and silk hat and gloves.
+Of course that set me asking questions, and though they didn&rsquo;t want to
+hurt my feelings, I wormed enough out of them to learn how they felt. Since
+then I&rsquo;ve spent a good deal of money on tailors, and dress very
+carefully.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good for &lsquo;de sixt&rsquo;! Hurrah for the unwashed democracy, where
+one man&rsquo;s as good as another! So a &lsquo;Mick&rsquo; ward wants its
+great man to put on all the frills? I tell you, chum, we may talk about
+equality, but the lower classes can&rsquo;t but admire and worship the tinsel
+and flummery of aristocracy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are mistaken. They may like to see brilliant sights. Soldiers,
+ball-rooms or the like, and who does not? Beauty is aesthetic, not
+aristocratic. But they judge people less by their dress or money than is
+usually supposed. Far less than the people up-town do. They wanted me to dress
+better, because it was appropriate. But let a man in the ward try to dress
+beyond his station, and he&rsquo;d be jeered out of it, or the ward, if nothing
+worse happened.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, of course they&rsquo;d hoot at their own kind,&rdquo; said Watts.
+&ldquo;The hardest thing to forgive in this world is your equal&rsquo;s
+success. But they wouldn&rsquo;t say anything to one of us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you, or Pell, or Ogden should go into Blunkers&rsquo;s place in my
+ward, this evening, dressed as you are, or better, you probably would be told
+to get out. I don&rsquo;t believe you could get a drink. And you would stand a
+chance of pretty rough usage. Last week I went right from a dinner to
+Blunkers&rsquo;s to say a word to him. I was in evening dress, newcastle, and
+crush hat&mdash;even a bunch of lilies of the valley&mdash;yet every man there
+was willing to shake hands and have me sit down and stay. Blunkers
+couldn&rsquo;t have been dressed so, because it didn&rsquo;t belong to him. For
+the same reason, you would have no business in Blunkers&rsquo;s place, because
+you don&rsquo;t belong there. But the men know I dressed for a reason, and came
+to the saloon for a reason. I wasn&rsquo;t putting on airs. I wasn&rsquo;t
+intruding my wealth on them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, chum, will you take me into Blunkers&rsquo;s place some
+night, and let me hear you powwow the &lsquo;b&rsquo;ys?&rsquo; I should like
+to see how you do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Peter said deliberately, &ldquo;if some night you&rsquo;ll
+let me bring Blunkers up to watch one of your formal dinners. He would enjoy
+the sight, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore cocked her little nose up in the air, and laughed merrily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but that&rsquo;s very different,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s just as different as the two men with the toothache,&rdquo;
+said Peter. &ldquo;They both met at the dentist&rsquo;s, who it seems had only
+time to pull one tooth. The question arose as to which it should be.
+&lsquo;I&rsquo;m so brave,&rsquo; said one, &lsquo;that I can wait till
+to-morrow.&rsquo; &lsquo;I&rsquo;m such a coward,&rsquo; said the other,
+&lsquo;that I don&rsquo;t dare have it done to-day.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you ever taken people to those places, Peter?&rdquo; asked
+Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I&rsquo;ve always refused. It&rsquo;s a society fad now to have what
+are called &lsquo;slumming parties,&rsquo; and of course I&rsquo;ve been asked
+to help. It makes my blood tingle when I hear them talk over the
+&lsquo;fun&rsquo; as they call it. They get detectives to protect them, and
+then go through the tenements&mdash;the homes of the poor&mdash;and pry into
+their privacy and poverty, just out of curiosity. Then they go home and over a
+chafing dish of lobster or terrapin, and champagne, they laugh at the funny
+things they saw. If the poor could get detectives, and look in on the luxury
+and comfort of the rich, they wouldn&rsquo;t see much fun in it, and
+there&rsquo;s less fun in a down-town tenement than there is in a Fifth Avenue
+palace. I heard a girl tell the other night about breaking in on a wake by
+chance. &lsquo;Weren&rsquo;t we lucky?&rsquo; she said. &lsquo;It was so funny
+to see the poor people weeping and drinking whisky at the same time.
+Isn&rsquo;t it heartless?&rsquo; Yet the dead&mdash;perhaps the bread-winner of
+the family, fallen in the struggle&mdash;perhaps the last little comer, not
+strong enough to fight this earth&rsquo;s battle&mdash;must have lain there in
+plain view of that girl. Who was the most heartless? The family and friends who
+had gathered over that body, according to their customs, or the party who
+looked in on them and laughed?&rdquo; Peter had forgotten where he was, or to
+whom he was talking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore had listened breathlessly. But the moment he ceased speaking, she bowed
+her head and began to sob. Peter came down from his indignant tirade like a
+flash. &ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;forgive me. I forgot.
+Don&rsquo;t cry so.&rdquo; Peter was pleading in an anxious voice. He felt as
+if he had committed murder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, there, Dot. Don&rsquo;t cry. It&rsquo;s nothing to cry
+about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss D&rsquo;Alloi was crying and endeavoring at the same time to solve the
+most intricate puzzle ever yet propounded by man or woman&mdash;that is, to
+find a woman&rsquo;s pocket. She complicated things even more by trying to
+talk. &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;know I&rsquo;m ver&mdash;ver&mdash;very
+fooooooolish,&rdquo; she managed to get out, however much she failed in a
+similar result with her pocket-handkerchief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Since I caused the tears, you must let me stop them,&rdquo; said Peter.
+He had produced his own handkerchief, and was made happy by seeing Leonore bury
+her face in it, and re-appear not quite so woe-begone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;only&mdash;didn&rsquo;t&mdash;know&mdash;you&mdash;could&mdash;
+talk&mdash;like&mdash;like that,&rdquo; explained Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let this be a lesson for you,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t come
+any more of your jury-pathos on my little girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Papa! You&mdash;I&mdash;Peter, I&rsquo;m so glad you told
+me&mdash;I&rsquo;ll never go to one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts laughed. &ldquo;Now I know why you charm all the women whom I hear
+talking about you. I tell you, when you rear your head up like that, and your
+eyes blaze so, and you put that husk in your voice, I don&rsquo;t wonder you
+fetch them. By George, you were really splendid to look at.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was the reason why Leonore had not cried till Peter had finished his
+speech. We don&rsquo;t charge women with crying whenever they wish, but we are
+sure that they never cry when they have anything better to do.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.<br/>
+OPINIONS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+When the ride was ended, Leonore was sent home in the carriage, Watts saying he
+would go with Peter to his club. As soon as they were in the cab, he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to see you about your letter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everything&rsquo;s going as well as can be expected. Of course the
+little woman&rsquo;s scandalized over your supposed iniquity, but I&rsquo;m
+working the heavy sentimental &lsquo;saved-our-little-girl&rsquo;s life&rsquo;
+business for all it&rsquo;s worth. I had her crying last night on my shoulder
+over it, and no woman can do that and be obstinate long. She&rsquo;ll come
+round before a great while.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter winced. He almost felt like calling Watts off from the endeavor. But he
+thought of Leonore. He must see her&mdash;just to prove to himself that she was
+not for him, be it understood&mdash;and how could he see enough of her to do
+that&mdash;for Peter recognized that it would take a good deal of that charming
+face and figure and manner to pall on him&mdash;if he was excluded from her
+home? So he justified the continuance of the attempt by saying to himself:
+&ldquo;She only excludes me because of something of which I am guiltless, and
+I&rsquo;ve saved her from far greater suffering than my presence can ever give
+her. I have earned the privilege if ever man earned it&rdquo; Most people can
+prove to themselves what they wish to prove. The successful orator is always
+the man who imposes his frame of mind on his audience. We call it &ldquo;saying
+what the people want said.&rdquo; But many of the greatest speakers first
+suggest an idea to their listeners, and when they say it in plain English, a
+moment later, the audience say, mentally, &ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what we
+thought a moment ago,&rdquo; and are convinced that the speaker is right.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter remained silent, and Watts continued: &ldquo;We get into our own house
+to-morrow, and give Leonore a birthday dinner Tuesday week as a combined
+house-warming and celebration. Save that day, for I&rsquo;m determined you
+shall be asked. Only the invitation may come a little late. You won&rsquo;t
+mind that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. But don&rsquo;t send me too many of these formal things. I keep out
+of them as much as I can. I&rsquo;m not a society man and probably won&rsquo;t
+fit in with your friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should know you were not <i>de societ&eacute;</i> by that single
+speech. If there&rsquo;s one thing easy to talk to, or fit in with, it&rsquo;s
+a society man or woman. It&rsquo;s their business to be chatty and pleasant,
+and they would be polite and entertaining to a kangaroo, if they found one next
+them at dinner. That&rsquo;s what society is for. We are the yolk of the egg,
+which holds and blends all the discordant, untrained elements. The oil,
+vinegar, salt, and mustard We don&rsquo;t add much flavor to life, but people
+wouldn&rsquo;t mix without us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;if you want to talk petty
+personalities and trivialities, that it&rsquo;s easy enough to get through
+endless hours of time. But I have other things to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly. But we have a purpose, too. You mustn&rsquo;t think society is
+all frivolity. It&rsquo;s one of the hardest working professions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the most brainless.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Don&rsquo;t you see, that society is like any other kind of work,
+and that the people who will centre their whole life on it must be the leaders
+of it? To you, the spending hours over a new <i>entr&eacute;e</i>, or over a
+cotillion figure, seems rubbish, but it&rsquo;s the exact equivalent of your
+spending hours over who shall be nominated for a certain office. Because you
+are willing to do that, you are one of the &lsquo;big four.&rsquo; Because we
+are willing to do our task, we differentiate into the &lsquo;four
+hundred.&rsquo; You mustn&rsquo;t think society doesn&rsquo;t grind up
+brain-tissue. But we use so much in running it, that we don&rsquo;t have enough
+for other subjects, and so you think we are stupid. I remember a woman once
+saying she didn&rsquo;t like conversazioni, &lsquo;because they are really
+brain-parties, and there is never enough to go round, and give a second
+help,&rsquo; Any way, how can you expect society to talk anything but society,
+when men like yourself stay away from it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t ask you to talk anything else. But let me keep out of
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;He&rsquo;s not the man for Galway&rsquo;,&rdquo; hummed Watts.
+&ldquo;He prefers talking to &lsquo;heelers,&rsquo; and
+&lsquo;b&rsquo;ys,&rsquo; and &lsquo;toughs,&rsquo; and other clever,
+intellectual men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like to talk to any one who is working with a purpose in life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Peter, what do those fellows really say of us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can best describe it by something Miss De Voe once said. We were at a
+dinner together, where there was a Chicago man who became irritated at one or
+two bits of ignorance displayed by some of the other guests over the size and
+prominence of his abiding place. Finally he said: &lsquo;Why, look here, you
+people are so ignorant of my city, that you don&rsquo;t even know how to
+pronounce its name.&rsquo; He turned to Miss De Voe and said, &lsquo;We say
+Chicawgo. Now, how do you pronounce it in New York?&rsquo; Miss De Voe put on
+that quiet, crushing manner she has when a man displeases her, and said,
+&lsquo;We never pronounce it in New York.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good for our Dutch-Huguenot stock! I tell you, Peter, blood does
+tell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t a speech I should care to make, because it did no good,
+and could only mortify. But it does describe the position of the lower wards of
+New York towards society. I&rsquo;ve been working in them for nearly sixteen
+years, and I&rsquo;ve never even heard the subject mentioned.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I thought the anarchists and socialists were always taking a whack
+at us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They cry out against over-rich men&mdash;not against society.
+Don&rsquo;t confuse the constituents with the compound. Citric acid is a deadly
+poison, but weakened down with water and sugar, it is only lemonade. They growl
+at the poison, not at the water and sugar. Before there can be hate, there must
+be strength.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next day Peter turned up in the park about four, and had a ride&mdash;with
+Watts. The day after that, he was there a little earlier, and had a
+ride&mdash;with the groom. The day following he had another ride&mdash;with the
+groom. Peter thought they were very wonderful rides. Some one told him a great
+many interesting things. About some one&rsquo;s European life, some one&rsquo;s
+thoughts, some one&rsquo;s hopes, and some one&rsquo;s feelings. Some one
+really wanted a friend to pour it all out to, and Peter listened well, and
+encouraged well.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t laugh at me, as papa does,&rdquo; some one told
+herself, &ldquo;and so it&rsquo;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 to be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This put some one in a very nice frame of mind, and Peter thought he had never
+met such a wonderful combination of frankness, of confluence, and yet of a
+certain girlish shyness and timidity. Some one would tell him something, and
+then appeal to him, if he didn&rsquo;t think that was so? Peter generally
+thought it was. Some one did not drop her little touch of coquetry, for that
+was ingrain, as it is in most pretty girls. But it was the most harmless kind
+of coquetry imaginable. Someone was not thinking at all of winning men&rsquo;s
+hearts. That might come later. At present all she wanted was that they should
+think her pretty, and delightful, so that&mdash;that they should want to be
+friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter joined Watts and Leonore, however, on the fourth day, there was a
+noticeable change in Leonore&rsquo;s manner to him. He did not get any welcome
+except a formal &ldquo;Good-afternoon,&rdquo; and for ten minutes Watts and he
+had to sustain the conversation by firing remarks at each other past a very
+silent intermediary. Peter had no idea what was wrong, but when he found that
+she did not mollify at the end of that time, he said to her;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Matter with what?&rdquo; asked Leonore, calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t take that for an answer. Remember, we have sworn to be
+friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Friends come to see each other.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter felt relieved; and smiled, &ldquo;They do,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;when
+they can.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, they don&rsquo;t, sometimes,&rdquo; said Leonore severely. Then she
+unbent a little. &ldquo;Why haven&rsquo;t you been to see us? You&rsquo;ve had
+a full week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I have had a very full week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to call on us, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To whom are you talking?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My name&rsquo;s Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That depends. Are you going to call on us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is my hope and wish.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore unbent a little more. &ldquo;If you are,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I wish
+you would do it soon, because mamma said to-day she thought of asking you to my
+birthday dinner next Tuesday, but I said you oughtn&rsquo;t to be asked till
+you had called.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you know that bribery is unlawful?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to call?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I am.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s better. When?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What evening are you to be at home?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; said Leonore, beginning to curl up the corners of her
+mouth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I wish you had said this evening,
+because that&rsquo;s nearer, but to-morrow isn&rsquo;t so far away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. Now we&rsquo;ll be friends again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you willing to be good friends&mdash;not make believe, or half
+friends, but&mdash;real friends?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Absolutely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think friends should tell each other everything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Peter was quite willing, even anxious, that Leonore should
+tell him everything.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are quite sure?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;tell me about the way you got that
+sword.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts laughed. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s been asking every one she&rsquo;s met about
+that. Do tell her, just for my sake.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve told you already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not the way I want it. I know you didn&rsquo;t try to make it
+interesting. Some of the people remembered there was something very fine, but I
+haven&rsquo;t found anybody yet who could really tell it to me. Please tell
+about it nicely, Peter.&rdquo; Leonore was looking at Peter with the most
+pleading of looks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was during the great railroad strike. The Erie had brought some men
+up from New York to fill the strikers&rsquo; places. The new hands were lodged
+in freight cars, when off work, for it wasn&rsquo;t safe for them to pass
+outside the guard lines of soldiers. Some of the strikers applied for work, and
+were reinstated. They only did it to get inside our lines. At night, when the
+substitutes in the cars were fast asleep, tired out with the double work they
+had done, the strikers locked the car-doors. They pulled the two cars into a
+shed full of freight, broke open a petroleum tank, and with it wet the cars and
+some others loaded with jute. They set fire to the cars and barricaded the shed
+doors. Of course we didn&rsquo;t know till the flames burst through the roof of
+the shed, when by the light, one of the superintendents found the bunk cars
+gone. The fire-department was useless, for the strikers two days before, had
+cut all the hose. So we were ordered up to get the cars out. Some strikers had
+concealed themselves in buildings where they could overlook the shed, and while
+we were working at the door, they kept firing on us. We were in the light of
+the blazing shed, and they were in the dark, which gave them a big advantage
+over us, and we couldn&rsquo;t spare the time to attend 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, and fortunately they were the nearest to
+the door. We took our muskets&mdash;for the frames of the cars were blazing,
+and the metal part too hot to touch&mdash;and fixing bayonets, drove them into
+the woodwork and so pushed the cars out. When we were outside, we used the
+rails again, to smash an opening in the ends of the cars which were burning the
+least. We got the men out unharmed, but pretty badly frightened.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And were you not hurt?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We had eight wounded and a good many badly burned.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had my share of the burn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish you would tell me what you did&mdash;not what the others
+did.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter would have told her anything while she looked like that at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was in command at that point. I merely directed things, except taking
+up the rails. I happened to know how to get a rail up quickly, without waiting
+to unscrew the bolts. I had read it, years before, in a book on railroad
+construction. I didn&rsquo;t think that paragraph would ever help me to save
+forty lives&mdash;for five minutes&rsquo; delay would have been fatal. The
+inside 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 the real
+work.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you said the inside of the shed was a sheet of flame.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. The railroad had to give us all fresh uniforms. So we made new
+toggery out of that night&rsquo;s work. I&rsquo;ve heard people say militia are
+no good. If they could have stood by me that night, and seen my company working
+over those blazing cars, in that mass of burning freight, with the roof liable
+to fall any minute, and the strikers firing every time a man showed himself, I
+think they would have altered their opinion.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Leonore, her eyes flashing with enthusiasm. &ldquo;How
+splendid it is to be a man, and be able to do real things! I wish I had known
+about it in Europe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because the officers were always laughing about our army. I used to get
+perfectly wild at them, but I couldn&rsquo;t say anything in reply. If I could
+only have told them about that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hear the little Frenchwoman talk,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not French.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes you are, Dot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m all American. I haven&rsquo;t a feeling that isn&rsquo;t all
+American. Doesn&rsquo;t that make me an American, Peter, no matter where I was
+born?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you are an American under the law.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I really?&rdquo; said Leonore, incredulously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. You were born of American parents, and you will be living in this
+country when you become of age. That constitutes nationality.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, how lovely! I knew I was an American, really, but papa was always
+teasing me and saying I was a foreigner. I hate foreigners.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Confound you, chum, you&rsquo;ve spoiled one of my best jokes!
+It&rsquo;s been such fun to see Dot bristle when I teased her. She&rsquo;s the
+hottest little patriot that ever lived.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think Miss D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s nationality is akin to that of a case
+of which I once heard,&rdquo; said Peter, smiling. &ldquo;A man was bragging
+about the number of famous men who were born in his native town. He mentioned a
+well-known personage, among others, and one of his auditors said: &lsquo;I
+didn&rsquo;t know he was born there,&rsquo; &lsquo;Oh, yes, he was,&rsquo;
+replied the man. &lsquo;He was born there, but during the temporary absence of
+his parents!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, how much does a written opinion cost?&rdquo; asked Leonore,
+eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It has a range about equal to the woman&rsquo;s statement that a certain
+object was as long as a piece of string.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But your opinions?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have given an opinion for nothing. The other day I gave one to a
+syndicate, and charged eight thousand dollars.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I wonder if I can afford to get
+your opinion on my being an American? I should like to frame it and hang it in
+my room. Would it be expensive?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is usual with lawyers,&rdquo; said Peter gravely, &ldquo;to find out
+how much a client has, and then make the bill for a little less. How much do
+you have?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I really haven&rsquo;t any now. I shall have two hundred dollars on the
+first. But then I owe some bills.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You forget your grandmamma&rsquo;s money, Dot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! Of course. I shall be rich, Peter, I come into the income of my
+property on Tuesday. I forget how much it is, but I&rsquo;m sure I can afford
+to have an opinion.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Dot, we must get those papers out, and you must find some one to
+put the trust in legal shape, and take care of it for you,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said Leonore to Peter, &ldquo;if you have one lawyer
+to do all your work, that he does each thing cheaper, doesn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Because he divides what his client has, on several jobs, instead of
+on one,&rdquo; Peter told her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I think I&rsquo;ll have you do it all. We&rsquo;ll come down and
+see you about it. But write out that opinion at once, so that I can prove that
+I&rsquo;m an American.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. But there&rsquo;s a safer way, even, of making sure that
+you&rsquo;re an American.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; said Leonore, eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Marry one,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always intended to do
+that, but not for a great many years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.<br/>
+CALLS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter dressed himself the next evening with particular care, even for him. As
+Peter dressed, he was rather down on life. He had been kept from his ride that
+afternoon by taking evidence in a referee case. &ldquo;I really needed the
+exercise badly,&rdquo; he said. He had tried to work his dissatisfaction off on
+his clubs and dumb-bells, but whatever they had done 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 a proper meal. Still, he did not look happy,
+when, on rising from his coffee, he glanced at his watch and found that it was
+but ten minutes past eight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He vacillated for a moment, and then getting into his outside trappings, he
+went out and turned eastward, down the first side street. He walked four
+blocks, and then threw open the swing door of a brilliantly lighted place,
+stepping at once into a blaze of light and warmth which was most attractive
+after the keen March wind blowing outside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He nodded to the three barkeepers. &ldquo;Is Dennis inside?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Misther Stirling. The regulars are all there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter passed through the room, and went into another without knocking. In it
+were some twenty men, sitting for the most part in attitudes denoting ease.
+Two, at a small table in the corner, were playing dominoes. Three others, in
+another corner, were amusing themselves with &ldquo;High, Low, Jack.&rdquo; Two
+were reading papers. The rest were collected round the centre table, most of
+them smoking. Some beer mugs and tumblers were standing about, but not more
+than a third of the twenty were drinking anything. The moment Peter entered,
+one of the men jumped to his feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;B&rsquo;ys,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;here&rsquo;s Misther Stirling.
+Begobs, sir, it&rsquo;s fine to see yez. It&rsquo;s very scarce yez been
+lately.&rdquo; He had shaken hands, and then put a chair in place for Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The cards, papers, and dominoes had been abandoned the moment Dennis announced
+Peter&rsquo;s advent, and when Peter had finished shaking the hands held out to
+him, and had seated himself, the men were all gathered round the big table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter laid his hat on the table, threw back his Newcastle and lit a cigar.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been very short of time, Dennis. But I had my choice this
+evening before going uptown, of smoking a cigar in my own quarters, or here. So
+I came over to talk with you all about Denton.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; what&rsquo;s he been doin&rsquo;?&rdquo; inquired Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw him to-day about the Hummel franchise that comes up in the Board
+next Tuesday. He won&rsquo;t vote for it, he says. I told him I thought it was
+in the interest of the city to multiply means of transit, and asked him why he
+refused. He replied that he thought the Hummel gang had been offering money,
+and that he would vote against bribers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t have the face to say that?&rdquo; shouted one of the
+listeners.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oi never!&rdquo; said Dennis. &ldquo;An&rsquo; he workin&rsquo; night
+an&rsquo; day to get the Board to vote the rival road.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think there&rsquo;s much doubt that money is being spent
+by both sides,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I fear no bill could ever pass without
+it. But the Hummel crowd are really responsible people, who offer the city a
+good percentage. The other men are merely trying to get the franchise, to sell
+it out at a profit to Hummel. I don&rsquo;t like the methods of either, but
+there&rsquo;s a road needed, and there&rsquo;ll be a road voted, so it&rsquo;s
+simply a choice between the two. I shouldn&rsquo;t mind if Denton voted against
+both schemes, but to say he&rsquo;ll vote against Hummel for that reason, and
+yet vote for the other franchise shows that he&rsquo;s not square. I
+didn&rsquo;t say so to him, because I wanted to talk it over with the ward a
+little first to see if they stood with me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That we do, sir,&rdquo; said Dennis, with a sureness which was cool, if
+nothing more. Fortunately for the boldness of the speaker, no one dissented,
+and two or three couples nodded heads or pipes at each other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked at his watch. &ldquo;Then I can put the screws on him safely, you
+think?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; cried several.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose. &ldquo;Dennis, will you see Blunkers and Driscoll this evening, or
+some time to-morrow, and ask if they think so too? And if they don&rsquo;t,
+tell them to drop in on me, when they have leisure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Begobs, sir, Oi&rsquo;ll see them inside av ten minutes. An&rsquo; if
+they don&rsquo;t agree widus, shure, Oi&rsquo;ll make them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you. Good-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-night, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; came a chorus, and Peter passed into
+the street by the much maligned side-door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dennis turned to the group with his face shining with enthusiasm. &ldquo;Did
+yez see him, b&rsquo;ys? There was style for yez. Isn&rsquo;t he
+somethin&rsquo; for the ward to be proud av?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned to Broadway, and fell into a long rapid stride. In spite of the
+cold he threw open his coat, and carried his outer covering on his arm. Peter
+had no intention of going into an up-town drawing-room with any suggestion of
+&ldquo;sixt&rdquo; ward tobacco. So he walked till he reached Madison Square,
+when, after a glance at his watch, he jumped into a cab.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a quarter-past nine when the footman opened the door of the
+Fifty-seventh Street house, in reply to Peter&rsquo;s ring. Yet he was told
+that, &ldquo;The ladies are still at dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned and went down the stoop. He walked to the Avenue, and stopped at a
+house not far off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is Mrs. Pell at home?&rdquo; he asked, and procured entrance for both
+his pasteboard and himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Welcome, little stranger,&rdquo; was his greeting. &ldquo;And it is so
+nice that you came this evening. Here is Van, on from Washington for two
+days.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was going to look you up, and see what &lsquo;we, the people&rsquo;
+were talking about, so that I could enlighten our legislators when I go
+back,&rdquo; said a man of forty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wrote Pope a long letter to-day, which I asked him to show you,&rdquo;
+said Peter. &ldquo;Things are in a bad shape, and getting worse.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Peter,&rdquo; queried the woman, &ldquo;if you are the leader, why
+do you let them get so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So as to remain the leader,&rdquo; said Peter, smiling quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now that&rsquo;s what comes of ward politics,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Pell,
+&ldquo;You are beginning to make Irish bulls.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Peter, &ldquo;I am serious, and because people
+don&rsquo;t understand what I mean, they don&rsquo;t understand American
+politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you say in effect that the way you retain your leadership, is by not
+leading. That&rsquo;s absurd!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Contradiction though it may seem the way to lose authority, is to
+exercise it too much. Christ enunciated the great truth of democratic
+government, when he said, &lsquo;He that would be the greatest among you, shall
+be the servant of all&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you won&rsquo;t carry your theory so far as to let them nominate
+Maguire?&rdquo; said Mr. Pell, anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, please don&rsquo;t begin on politics,&rdquo; said the woman.
+&ldquo;Here is Van, whom I haven&rsquo;t seen for nine weeks, and here is Peter
+whom I haven&rsquo;t seen for time out of mind, and just as I think I have a
+red-letter evening before me, you begin your everlasting politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I merely stopped in to shake hands,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I have a
+call to make elsewhere, and can stay but twenty minutes. For that time we
+choose you speaker, and you can make us do as it pleases you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Twenty minutes later Peter passed into the D&rsquo;Alloi drawing-room. He shook
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s hand steadily, which was more than she did with his.
+Then he was made happy for a moment, with that of Leonore. Then he was
+introduced to a Madame Mellerie, whom he placed at once as the half-governess,
+half-companion, who had charge of Leonore&rsquo;s education; a Mr. Maxwell, and
+a Marquis de somebody. They were both good-looking young fellows; and greeted
+Peter in a friendly way. But Peter did not like them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He liked them less when Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi told him to sit in a given place,
+and then put Madame Mellerie down by him. Peter had not called to see Madame
+Mellerie. But he made a virtue of necessity, and he was too instinctively
+courteous not to treat the Frenchwoman with the same touch of deference his
+manner towards women always had. After they had been chatting for a little on
+French literature, it occurred to Peter that her opinion of him might have some
+influence with Leonore, so he decided that he would try and please her. But
+this thought turned his mind to Leonore, and speaking of her to her governess,
+he at once became so interested in the facts she began to pour out to him, that
+he forgot entirely about his diplomatic scheme.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This arrangement continued half an hour, when a dislocation of the <i>statu
+quo</i> was made by the departure of Mr. Maxwell. When the exit was completed,
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi turned to place her puppets properly again. But she found a
+decided bar to her intentions. Peter had formed his own conclusions as to why
+he had been set to entertain Madame Mellerie, not merely from the fact itself,
+but from the manner in which it had been done, and most of all, from the way
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi had managed to stand between Leonore and himself, as if
+protecting the former, till she had been able to force her arrangements. So
+with the first stir Peter had risen, and when the little bustle had ceased he
+was already standing by Leonore, talking to her. Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi did not
+look happy, but for the moment she was helpless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had had to skirt the group to get to Leonore, and so had stood behind her
+during the farewells. She apparently had not noticed his advent, but the moment
+she had done the daughter-of-the-house duty, she turned to him, and said:
+&ldquo;I wondered if you would go away without seeing me. I was so afraid you
+were one of the men who just say, &lsquo;How d&rsquo;ye do&rsquo; and
+&lsquo;Good-bye,&rsquo; and think they&rsquo;ve paid a call.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I called to see you to-night, and I should not have gone till I had seen
+you. I&rsquo;m rather a persistent man in some things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore, bobbing her head in a very knowing manner,
+&ldquo;Miss De Voe told me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, &ldquo;can&rsquo;t you
+tell us the meaning of the Latin motto on this seal?&rdquo; Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi
+held a letter towards him, but did not stir from her position across the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter understood the device. He was to be drawn off, and made to sit by Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi, not because she wanted to see him, but because she did not want
+him to talk to Leonore. Peter had no intention of being dragooned. So he said:
+&ldquo;Madame Mellerie has been telling me what a good Latin scholar Miss
+D&rsquo;Alloi is. I certainly shan&rsquo;t display my ignorance, till she has
+looked at it.&rdquo; Then he carried the envelope over to Leonore, and in
+handing it to her, moved a chair for her, not neglecting one for himself. Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi looked discouraged, the more when Peter and Leonore put their
+heads close together, to examine the envelope.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;<i>In bonam partem</i>,&rsquo;&rdquo; read Leonore.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s easy, mamma. It&rsquo;s&mdash;why, she isn&rsquo;t
+listening!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can tell her later. I have something to talk to you about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your dinner in my quarters. Whom would you like to have there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you really give me a dinner?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And let me have just whom I want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, lovely! Let me see. Mamma and papa, of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s four. Now you can have two more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter. Would you mind&mdash;I mean&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Leonore
+hesitated a moment and then said in an apologetic tone&mdash;&ldquo;Would you
+like to invite madame? I&rsquo;ve been telling her about your rooms&mdash;and
+you&mdash;and I think it would please her so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That makes five,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, goody!&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; she said,
+correcting herself, &ldquo;that that is very kind of you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now the sixth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That must be a man of course,&rdquo; said Leonore, wrinkling up her
+forehead in the intensity of puzzlement. &ldquo;And I know so few men.&rdquo;
+She looked out into space, and Peter had a moment&rsquo;s fear lest she should
+see the marquis, and name him. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s one friend of yours
+I&rsquo;m very anxious to meet. I wonder if you would be willing to ask
+him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Moriarty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I can&rsquo;t ask him, I don&rsquo;t want to cheapen him by making a
+show of him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! I haven&rsquo;t that feeling about him. I&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you would understand him and see the fine qualities. But do you
+think others would?&rdquo; Peter mentioned no names, but Leonore understood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You are quite right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You shall meet him some day,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;if you wish, but
+when we can have only people who won&rsquo;t embarrass or laugh at him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, I don&rsquo;t know whom to select.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps you would like to meet Le Grand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very much. He is just the man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we&rsquo;ll consider that settled. Are you free for the
+ninth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;m not going out this spring, and mamma and papa
+haven&rsquo;t really begun yet, and it&rsquo;s so late in the season that
+I&rsquo;m sure we are free.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I will ice the canvas-backs and champagne and dust off the Burgundy
+for that day, if your mamma accedes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, I wanted to ask you the other day about that. I thought you
+didn&rsquo;t drink wine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t. But I give my friends a glass, when they are good enough
+to come to me. I live my own life, to please myself, but for that very reason,
+I want others to live their lives to please themselves. Trying to live other
+people&rsquo;s lives for them, is a pretty dog-in-the-manger business.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi joined them. &ldquo;Were you able to translate
+it?&rdquo; she asked, sitting down by them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;It means &lsquo;Towards the
+right side,&rsquo; or as a motto it might be translated, &lsquo;For the right
+side.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi had clearly, to use a western expression, come determined to
+&ldquo;settle down and grow up with the country.&rdquo; So Peter broached the
+subject of the dinner, and when she hesitated, Leonore called Watts into the
+group. He threw the casting ballot in favor of the dinner, and so it was agreed
+upon. Peter was asked to come to Leonore&rsquo;s birthday festival, &ldquo;If
+you don&rsquo;t mind such short notice,&rdquo; and he didn&rsquo;t mind,
+apparently. Then the conversation wandered at will till Peter rose. In doing
+so, he turned to Leonore, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I looked the question of nationality up to-day, and found I was right.
+I&rsquo;ve written out a legal opinion in my best hand, and will deliver it to
+you, on receiving my fee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How much is that?&rdquo; said Leonore, eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That you come and get it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.<br/>
+DOWN-TOWN NEW YORK.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter had not been working long the next morning when he was told that
+&ldquo;The Honorable Terence Denton wishes to see you,&rdquo; &ldquo;Very
+well,&rdquo; he said, and that worthy was ushered in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-morning, Denton. I&rsquo;m glad to see you. I was going down to the
+Hall to-day to say something, but you&rsquo;ve saved me the trouble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know you was. So I thought I&rsquo;d get ahead of you,&rdquo; said
+Denton, with a surly tone and manner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit down,&rdquo; said Peter. Peter had learned that, with a certain
+class of individuals, a distance and a seat have a very dampening effect on
+anger. It is curious, man&rsquo;s instinctive desire to stand up to and be near
+the object for which anger is felt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been talking against me in the ward, and makin&rsquo; them
+down on me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I didn&rsquo;t talk against you. I&rsquo;ve spoken with some of the
+people about the way you think of voting on the franchises.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I wasn&rsquo;t round, but a friend heard Dennis and Blunkers
+a-going over it last night. And it&rsquo;s you did it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But you know me well enough to be sure, after my talk with you
+yesterday, that I wouldn&rsquo;t stop there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So you try to set the pack on me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I try to see how the ward wants its alderman to vote on the
+franchises.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look a-here. What are you so set on the Hummel crowd for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it because Hummel&rsquo;s a big contractor and gives you lots of law
+business?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter, smiling. &ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t think it is,
+either.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has they offered you some stock cheap?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, Denton. You know the <i>tu quoque</i> do here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Denton shifted in his seat uneasily, not knowing what reply to make. Those two
+little Latin words had such unlimited powers of concealment in them. He did not
+know whether <i>tu quoque</i> meant something about votes, an insulting charge,
+or merely a reply, and feared to make himself ridiculous by his response to
+them. He was not the first man who has been hampered and floored by his own
+ignorance. He concluded he must make an entire change of subject to be safe. So
+he said, &ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t goin&rsquo; to be no boss&rsquo;s puppy
+dog.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter, finding it difficult not to smile, &ldquo;you are
+not that kind of a man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I takes my orders from no one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Denton, no one wants you to vote by order. We elected you alderman to do
+what was best for the ward and city, as it seems to you. You are responsible
+for your votes to us, and no other man can be. I don&rsquo;t care who orders
+you or advises you; in the end, you must vote yourself, and you yourself will
+be held to account by us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But if I don&rsquo;t vote as you wants, you&rsquo;ll sour the boys
+on me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall tell them what I think. You can do the same. It&rsquo;s a fair
+game between us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, it ain&rsquo;t. You&rsquo;re rich and you can talk more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know my money has nothing to do with it. You know I don&rsquo;t try
+to deceive the men in talking to them. If they trust what I tell them,
+it&rsquo;s because it&rsquo;s reasonable, and because I haven&rsquo;t tricked
+them before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, are you goin&rsquo; to drive me out?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not. I think you&rsquo;ve made a good alderman, Denton, and
+you&rsquo;ll find I&rsquo;ve said so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you vote for that franchise, I shall certainly tell the ward that I
+think you&rsquo;ve done wrong. Then the ward will do as they please.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As you please, you mean.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. You&rsquo;ve been long enough in politics to know that unless I can
+make the ward think as I do, I couldn&rsquo;t do anything. What would you care
+for my opinion, if you didn&rsquo;t know that the votes are back of it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then the door swung open, and Dennis came in. &ldquo;Tim said yez was
+alone wid Denton, sir, so Oi came right in. It&rsquo;s a good-mornin&rsquo;,
+sir. How are yez, Terence?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are just the man I want, Dennis. Tell Denton how the ward feels
+about the franchises.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure. It&rsquo;s one man they is. An&rsquo; if Denton will step down to
+my place this night, he&rsquo;ll find out how they think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They never would have felt so, if Mister Stirling hadn&rsquo;t talked to
+them. Not one in twenty knew the question was up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s because they are most of them too hard working to keep
+track of all the things. Come, Denton; I don&rsquo;t attempt to say how you
+shall vote. I only tell you how it seems to me. Go round the ward, and talk
+with others. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the future or
+not. I don&rsquo;t want to fight you. We&rsquo;ve been good friends in the
+past, and we can do more by pulling in double harness than by kicking, I
+don&rsquo;t know a man I would rather see at the Hall.&rdquo; Peter held out
+his hand, and Denton took it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right, Mister Stirling. I&rsquo;ll do my best to stay
+friends,&rdquo; he said, and went out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned and smiled at Dennis. &ldquo;They can&rsquo;t find out that
+it&rsquo;s not I, but the ward. So every time there&rsquo;s trouble they lay it
+against me, and it&rsquo;s hard to keep them friendly. And I hate quarrels and
+surliness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s yezself can do it, though. Shure, Denton was in a great state
+av mind this mornin&rsquo;, they was tellin&rsquo; me, but he&rsquo;s all right
+now, an&rsquo; will vote right, or my name isn&rsquo;t Dennis Moriarty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. He doesn&rsquo;t know it yet, but he&rsquo;ll vote square on
+Tuesday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then Tim brought in the cards of Watts and Leonore, and strangely enough,
+Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, and after the
+greetings, Peter said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis,
+Miss D&rsquo;Alloi has wanted to know you because she&rsquo;s heard of your
+being such a friend to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; said Dennis, taking the little hand so eagerly offered
+him, &ldquo;Oim thinkin&rsquo; we&rsquo;re both lucky to be in the thoughts at
+all, at all, av such a sweet young lady.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Mr. Moriarty, you&rsquo;ve kissed the blarney stone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Begobs,&rdquo; responded Dennis, &ldquo;it needs no blarney stone to say
+that. It&rsquo;s afther sayin&rsquo; itself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, have you that opinion?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Peter handed her out a beautifully written sheet of script,
+all in due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red ink marginal
+references to such solid works as &ldquo;Wheaton,&rdquo; &ldquo;Story,&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;Cranch&rsquo;s&rdquo; and &ldquo;Wallace&rsquo;s&rdquo; reports.
+Peter had taken it practically from a &ldquo;Digest,&rdquo; but many apparently
+learned opinions come from the same source. And the whole was given value by
+the last two lines, which read, &ldquo;Respectfully submitted, Peter
+Stirling.&rdquo; Peter&rsquo;s name had value at the bottom of a legal opinion,
+or a check, if nowhere else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look, Mr. Moriarty,&rdquo; cried Leonore, too full of happiness over
+this decision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to share
+it, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always thought I was French&mdash;though I didn&rsquo;t
+feel so a bit&mdash;and now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I&rsquo;m
+so happy. I hate foreigners.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts laughed. &ldquo;Why, Dot. You mustn&rsquo;t say that to Mr. Moriarty.
+He&rsquo;s a foreigner himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I forgot. I didn&rsquo;t think that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Poor
+Leonore stopped there, horrified at what she had said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;Dennis is not a foreigner. He&rsquo;s one
+of the most ardent Americans I know. As far as my experience goes, to make one
+of Dennis&rsquo;s bulls, the hottest American we have to-day, is the
+Irish-American.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, come,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;You know every Irishman pins his
+loyalty to the &lsquo;owld counthry.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; said Dennis, &ldquo;an&rsquo; if they do, what then?
+Sometimes a man finds a full-grown woman, fine, an&rsquo; sweet, an&rsquo;
+strong, an&rsquo; helpful to him, an&rsquo; he comes to love her big like. But
+does that make him forget his old weak mother, who&rsquo;s had a hard life av
+it, yet has done her best by him? Begobs! If he forgot her, he wouldn&rsquo;t
+be the man to make a good husband. Oi don&rsquo;t say Oi&rsquo;m a good
+American, for its small Oi feel besides Misther Stirling. But Oi love her,
+an&rsquo; if she ever wants the arm, or the blood, or the life, av Dennis
+Moriarty, she&rsquo;s only got to say so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;this is very interesting, both as a
+point of view and as oratory; but it isn&rsquo;t business. Peter, we came down
+this morning to take whatever legal steps are necessary to put Dot in
+possession of her grandmother&rsquo;s money, of which I have been trustee. Here
+is a lot of papers about it. I suppose everything is there relating to
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Papa seemed to think it would be very wise to ask you to take care of
+it, and pay me the income, I can&rsquo;t have the principal till I&rsquo;m
+twenty-five.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must tie it up some way, Peter, or Dot will make ducks and drakes of
+it. She has about as much idea of the value of money as she has of the value of
+foreigners. When we had our villa at Florence, she supported the entire pauper
+population of the city.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds. But it struck him that
+this was really a chance&mdash;from a business standpoint, entirely! It is
+true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trust company 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 for his time. &ldquo;Sometimes,
+however,&rdquo; said Peter to himself, &ldquo;these, trusteeships have very
+handsome picking&rsquo;s, aside from the half per cent.&rdquo; Peter did not
+say that the &ldquo;pickings,&rdquo; as they framed themselves in his mind,
+were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiable reason at all times
+for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of letters and other unearned increment.
+So Peter was not obstinate this time. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s such a simple matter
+that I can have the papers drawn while you wait, if you&rsquo;ve half an hour
+to spare.&rdquo; Peter did this, thinking it would keep them longer, but later
+it occurred to him it would have been better to find some other reason, and
+leave the papers, because then Leonore would have had to come again soon. Peter
+was not quite as cool and far-seeing as he was normally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion that they go
+into his study. Peter rang for his head clerk, and explained what was needed
+with great rapidity, and then left the latter and went into the study.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder what he&rsquo;s in such a hurry for?&rdquo; said the clerk,
+retiring with the papers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing in chairs,
+and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking. This was what Dennis was
+saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Schatter, boys, an&rsquo; find me a sledge.&rsquo; Shure, we
+thought it was demented he was, but he was the only cool man, an&rsquo; orders
+were orders. Dooley, he found one, an&rsquo; then the captain went to the rails
+an&rsquo; gave it a swing, an&rsquo; struck the bolts crosswise like, so that
+the heads flew off, like they was shootin&rsquo; stars. Then he struck the
+rails sideways, so as to loosen them from the ties. Then says he: &lsquo;Half a
+dozen av yez take off yez belts an&rsquo; strap these rails together!&rsquo;
+Even then we didn&rsquo;t understand, but we did it All this time the dirty
+spal&mdash;Oi ask yez pardon, miss&mdash;all this time the strikers were
+pluggin&rsquo; at us, an&rsquo; bullets flyin&rsquo; like fun. &lsquo;Drop your
+muskets,&rsquo; says the captain, when we had done; &lsquo;fall in along those
+rails. Pick them up, and double-quick for the shed door,&rsquo; says he, just
+as if he was on parade. Then we saw what he was afther, and double-quick we
+went. Begobs, that door went down as if it was paper. He was the first in.
+&lsquo;Stand back,&rsquo; says he, &lsquo;till Oi see what&rsquo;s
+needed.&rsquo; Yez should have seen him walk into that sheet av flame,
+an&rsquo; stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin&rsquo;, an&rsquo; it so hot that we
+at the door were coverin&rsquo; our faces to save them from scorchin&rsquo;.
+Then he says: &lsquo;Get your muskets!&rsquo; We went, an&rsquo; Moike says to
+me: &lsquo;It&rsquo;s no good. No man can touch them cars. He&rsquo;s
+goin&rsquo; to attind to the strikers,&rsquo; But not he. He came out,
+an&rsquo; he says: &lsquo;B&rsquo;ys, it&rsquo;s hot in there, but, if you
+don&rsquo;t mind a bit av a burn, we can get the poor fellows out. Will yez
+try?&rsquo; &lsquo;Yes!&rsquo; we shouted. So he explained how we could push
+cars widout touchin&rsquo; them. &lsquo;Fall in,&rsquo; says he. &lsquo;Fix
+bayonets. First file to the right av the cars, second rank to the left.
+Forward, march!&rsquo; An&rsquo; we went into that hell, an&rsquo; rolled them
+cars out just as if we was marchin&rsquo; down Broadway, wid flags, an&rsquo;
+music, an&rsquo; women clappin&rsquo; hands.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But weren&rsquo;t you dreadfully burnt?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, miss, yez should have seen us! We was blacker thin the divil
+himsilf. Hardly one av us but didn&rsquo;t have the hair burnt off the part his
+cap didn&rsquo;t cover; an&rsquo;, as for eyelashes, an&rsquo; mustaches,
+an&rsquo; blisters, no one thought av them the next day. Shure, the whole
+company was in bed, except them as couldn&rsquo;t lie easy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Mr. Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure, don&rsquo;t yez know about him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, he was dreadful burnt, an&rsquo; the doctors thought it would be
+blind he&rsquo;d be; but he went to Paris, an&rsquo; they did somethin&rsquo;
+to him there that saved him. Oh, miss, the boys were nearly crazy wid fear av
+losin&rsquo; him. They&rsquo;d rather be afther losin&rsquo; the regimental
+cat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had been tempted to interrupt two or three times, but it was so absorbing
+to watch Leonore&rsquo;s face, and its changing expression, as, unconscious of
+his presence, she listened to Dennis, that Peter had not the heart to do it.
+But now Watts spoke up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you hear that, Peter? There&rsquo;s value for you! You&rsquo;re
+better than the cat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennis left. Then
+the necessary papers were brought in and looked over at Peter&rsquo;s
+study-table, and Miss D&rsquo;Alloi took another of his pens. Peter hoped
+she&rsquo;d stop and think a little, again, but she didn&rsquo;t. Just as she
+had begun an L she hesitated, however.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;this paper calls me &lsquo;Leonore
+D&rsquo;Alloi, spinster!&rsquo; I&rsquo;m not going to sign that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is merely the legal term,&rdquo; Peter explained. Leonore pouted
+for some time over it, but finally signed. &ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t be a spinster,
+anyway, even if the paper does say so,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter agreed with her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See what a great blot I&rsquo;ve made on your clean blotter,&rdquo; said
+Leonore, who had rested the pen-point there. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m very
+sorry.&rdquo; Then she wrote on the blotter, &ldquo;Leonore D&rsquo;Alloi. Her
+very untidy mark.&rdquo; &ldquo;That was what Madame Mellerie always made me
+write on my exercises.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then they said &ldquo;Good-bye.&rdquo; &ldquo;I like down-town New York better
+and better,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So did Peter.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.<br/>
+A BIRTHDAY EVENING.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter went into Ray&rsquo;s office on Monday. &ldquo;I want your advice,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to a birthday dinner to-morrow. A girl for whom
+I&rsquo;m trustee. Now, how handsome a present may I send her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;H&rsquo;m. How well do you know her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are good friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just about what you please, I should say, if you know her well, and make
+money out of her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is, jewelry?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ye&mdash;es.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks.&rdquo; Peter turned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is she, Peter? I thought you never did anything so small as that.
+Nothing, or four figures, has always seemed your rule?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This had extenuating circumstances,&rdquo; smiled Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So when Peter shook hands, the next evening, with the very swagger young lady
+who stood beside her mother, receiving, he was told:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s perfectly lovely! Look.&rdquo; And the little wrist was held
+up to him. &ldquo;And so were the flowers. I couldn&rsquo;t carry a tenth of
+them, so I decided to only take papa&rsquo;s. But I put yours up in my room,
+and shall keep them there.&rdquo; Then Peter had to give place to another, just
+as he had decided that he would have one of the flowers from the bunch she was
+carrying, or&mdash;he left the awful consequences of failure blank.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stood for a moment unconscious of the other people, looking at the pretty
+rounded figure in the dainty evening dress of French open-work embroidery.
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think she could be lovelier than she was in her street
+and riding dresses but she is made for evening dress,&rdquo; was his thought.
+He knew this observation wasn&rsquo;t right, however, so he glanced round the
+room, and then walked up to a couple.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, I told Mr. Beekman that I was trying to magnetize you, and though
+your back was turned, you came to me at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Er&mdash;really, quite wonderful, you know,&rdquo; said Mr. Beekman.
+&ldquo;I positively sharn&rsquo;t dare to be left alone with you, Miss De
+Voe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t fear me. I shall never try to magnetize you, Mr.
+Beekman,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;I was so pleased,&rdquo; she
+continued, turning to Peter, &ldquo;to see you take that deliberate survey of
+the room, and then come over here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled. &ldquo;I go out so little now, that I have turned selfish. I
+don&rsquo;t go to entertain people. I go to be entertained. Tell me what you
+have been doing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But as Peter spoke, there was a little stir, and Peter had to say &ldquo;excuse
+me.&rdquo; He crossed the room, and said, &ldquo;I am to have the pleasure,
+Mrs. Grinnell,&rdquo; and a moment later the two were walking towards the
+dining-room. Miss De Voe gave her arm to Beekman calmly, but her eyes followed
+Peter. They both could have made a better arrangement. Most dinner guests can.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a large dinner, and so was served in the ball-room. The sixty people
+gathered were divided into little groups, and seated at small tables holding
+six or eight. Peter knew all but one at his table, to the extent of having had
+previous meetings. They were all fashionables, and the talk took the usual
+literary-artistic-musical turn customary with that set. &ldquo;Men, not
+principles&rdquo; is the way society words the old cry, or perhaps
+&ldquo;personalities, not generalities&rdquo; is a better form. So Peter ate
+his dinner quietly, the conversation being general enough not to force him to
+do more than respond, when appealed to. He was, it is true, appealed to
+frequently. Peter had the reputation, as many quiet men have, of being brainy.
+Furthermore he knew the right kind of people, was known to enjoy a large
+income, was an eligible bachelor, and was &ldquo;interesting and
+unusual.&rdquo; So society no longer rolled its Juggernaut over him
+regardlessly, as of yore. A man who was close friends with half a dozen
+exclusives of the exclusives, was a man not to be disregarded, simply because
+he didn&rsquo;t talk. Society people applied much the same test as did the
+little &ldquo;angle&rdquo; children, only in place of &ldquo;he&rsquo;s frinds
+wid der perlice,&rdquo; they substituted &ldquo;he&rsquo;s very intimate with
+Miss De Voe, and the Ogdens and the Pells.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had dimly hoped that he would find himself seated at Leonore&rsquo;s
+table&mdash;He had too much self depreciation to think for a moment that he
+would take her in&mdash;but hers was a young table, he saw, and he would not
+have minded so much if it hadn&rsquo;t been for that Marquis. Peter began to
+have a very low opinion of foreigners. Then he remembered that Leonore had the
+same prejudice, so he became more reconciled to the fact that the Marquis was
+sitting next her. And when Leonore sent him a look and a smile, and held up the
+wrist, so as to show the pearl bracelet, Peter suddenly thought what a
+delicious <i>rissole</i> he was eating.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the dinner waned, one of the footmen brought him a card, on which Watts had
+written: &ldquo;They want me to say a few words of welcome and of Dot. Will you
+respond?&rdquo; Peter read the note and then wrote below it: &ldquo;Dear Miss
+D&rsquo;Alloi: You see the above. May I pay you a compliment? Only one? Or will
+it embarrass you?&rdquo; When the card came back a new line said: &ldquo;Dear
+Peter: I am not afraid of your compliment, and am very curious to hear
+it.&rdquo; Peter said, &ldquo;Tell Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi that I will with
+pleasure.&rdquo; Then he tucked the card in his pocket. That card was not going
+to be wasted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So presently the glasses were filled up, even Peter saying, &ldquo;You may give
+me a glass,&rdquo; and Watts was on his feet. He gave &ldquo;our friends&rdquo;
+a pleasant welcome, and after apologizing for their absence, said that at
+least, &ldquo;like the little wife in the children&rsquo;s play, &lsquo;We too
+have not been idle,&rsquo; for we bring you a new friend and introduce her to
+you to-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Peter rose, and told the host: &ldquo;Your friends have been grieved at
+your long withdrawal from them, as the happy faces and welcome we tender you
+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 of American nature,
+despite its life and strength and freshness; that we had lost you for all time.
+But to-night we can hardly regret even this long interlude, if to that
+circumstance we owe the happiest and most charming combination of American
+nature and European art&mdash;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then there was applause, and a drinking of Miss D&rsquo;Alloi&rsquo;s health,
+and the ladies passed out of the room&mdash;to enjoy themselves, be it
+understood, leaving the men in the gloomy, quarrelsome frame of mind it always
+does.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter apparently became much abstracted over his cigar, but the abstraction was
+not perhaps very deep, for he was on his feet the moment Watts 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&mdash;and some one else were
+sitting on it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Speaking of angels,&rdquo; said Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t speaking of you,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Only
+thinking.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;Now if Mrs. Grinnell had only heard
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked a question, so Leonore continued:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were talking about you. I don&rsquo;t understand you. You are so
+different from what I had been told to think you. Every one said you were very
+silent and very uncomplimentary, and never joked, but you are not a bit as they
+said, and I thought you had probably changed, just as you had about the
+clothes. But Mrs. Grinnell says she never heard you make a joke or a compliment
+in her life, and that at the Knickerbocker they call you &lsquo;Peter, the
+silent.&rsquo; You are a great puzzle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy laughed. &ldquo;Here we four women&mdash;Mrs. Grinnell, and Mrs.
+Winthrop and Leonore and myself&mdash;have been quarrelling over you, and each
+insisting you are something different. I believe you are not a bit firm and
+stable, as people say you are, but a perfect chameleon, changing your tint
+according to the color of the tree you are on. Leonore was the worst, though!
+She says that you talk and joke a great deal. We could have stood anything but
+that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am sorry my conversation and humor are held in such low
+estimation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;See. Didn&rsquo;t I tell you he
+joked? And, Peter, do you dislike women?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unquestionably,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please tell me. I told them of your speech about the sunshine, and Mrs.
+Winthrop says that she knows you didn&rsquo;t mean it. That you are a
+woman-hater and despise all women, and like to get off by yourself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the reason I joined you and Dorothy,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you hate women?&rdquo; persisted Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man is not bound to incriminate himself,&rdquo; replied Peter,
+smiling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then that&rsquo;s the reason why you don&rsquo;t like society, and why
+you are so untalkative to women. I don&rsquo;t like men who think badly of
+women. Now, I want to know why you don&rsquo;t like them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Supposing,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;you were asked to sit down to a
+game of whist, without knowing anything of the game. Do you think you could
+like it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Of course not!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that is my situation toward women. They have never liked me, nor
+treated me as they do other men. And so, when I am put with a small-talk woman,
+I feel all at sea, and, try as I may, I can&rsquo;t please her. They are never
+friendly with me as they are with other men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rubbish!&rdquo; said Dorothy. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s what you do, not what
+she does, that makes the trouble. You look at a woman with those grave eyes and
+that stern jaw of yours, and we all feel that we are fools on the spot, and
+really become so. I never stopped being afraid of you till I found out that in
+reality you were afraid of me. You know you are. You are afraid of all
+women.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t a bit afraid of women,&rdquo; affirmed Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then Mr. Beekman came up. &ldquo;Er&mdash;Mrs. Rivington. You know this
+is&mdash;er&mdash;a sort of house-warming, and they tell me we are to go over
+the house, don&rsquo;t you know, if we wish. May I harve the pleasure?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy conferred the boon. Peter looked down at Leonore with a laugh in his
+eyes. &ldquo;Er&mdash;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; he said, with the broadest of
+accents, &ldquo;you know this,&mdash;er&mdash;is a sort of a house-warming
+and&mdash;&rdquo; He only imitated so far and then they both laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore rose. &ldquo;With pleasure. I only wish Mrs. Grinnell had heard you. I
+didn&rsquo;t know you could mimic?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I oughtn&rsquo;t. It&rsquo;s a small business. But I am so happy that I
+couldn&rsquo;t resist the temptation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore asked, &ldquo;What makes you so happy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My new friend,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore went on up the stairs without saying anything. At the top, however, she
+said, enthusiastically: &ldquo;You do say the nicest things! What room would
+you like to see first?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yours,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they went into the little bedroom, and boudoir, and looked over them. Of
+course Peter found a tremendous number of things of interest. There were her
+pictures, most of them her own purchases in Europe; and her books and what she
+thought of them; and her thousand little knick-knacks of one kind and another.
+Peter wasn&rsquo;t at all in a hurry to see the rest of the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are the photographs of my real friends,&rdquo; said Leonore,
+&ldquo;except yours. I want you to give me one to complete my rack.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t had a photograph taken in eight years, and am afraid I
+have none left.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you must sit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. But it must be an exchange.&rdquo; Peter almost trembled at
+his boldness, and at the thought of a possible granting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you want mine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have dozens,&rdquo; said Leonore, going over to her desk, and pulling
+open a drawer. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m very fond of being taken. You may have your
+choice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s very difficult,&rdquo; said Peter, looking at the different
+varieties. &ldquo;Each has something the rest haven&rsquo;t. You don&rsquo;t
+want to be generous, and let me have these four?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you greedy!&rdquo; said Leonore, laughing. &ldquo;Yes, if
+you&rsquo;ll do something I&rsquo;m going to ask you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter pocketed the four. &ldquo;That is a bargain,&rdquo; he said, with a
+brashness simply disgraceful in a good business man. &ldquo;Now, what is
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss De Voe told me long ago about your savings-bank fund for helping
+the poor people. Now that I have come into my money, I want to do what she
+does. Give a thousand dollars a year to it&mdash;and then you are to tell me
+just what you do with it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I&rsquo;m bound to take it, if you insist. But it won&rsquo;t
+do any good. Even Miss De Voe has stopped giving now, and I haven&rsquo;t added
+anything to it for over five years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see, I began by loaning the fund to people who were in trouble, or
+who could be boosted a little by help, and for three or four years, I found the
+money went pretty fast. But by that time people began to pay it back, with
+interest often, and there has hardly been a case when it hasn&rsquo;t been
+repaid. So what with Miss De Voe&rsquo;s contributions, and the return of the
+money, I really have more than I can properly use already. There&rsquo;s only
+about eight thousand loaned at present, and nearly five thousand in
+bank.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so sorry!&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;But couldn&rsquo;t you
+give some of the money, so that it wouldn&rsquo;t come back?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That does more harm than good. It&rsquo;s like giving opium to kill
+temporary pain. It stops the pain for the moment, but only to weaken the system
+so as to make the person less able to bear pain in the future. That&rsquo;s the
+trouble with most of our charity. It weakens quite as much as it helps.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have thought about this for five years as something I should do.
+I&rsquo;m so grieved.&rdquo; And Leonore looked her words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter could not stand that look. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking of sending a
+thousand dollars of the fund, that I didn&rsquo;t think there was much chance
+of using, to a Fresh Air fund and the Day Nursery. If you wish I&rsquo;ll send
+two thousand instead and then take your thousand? Then I can use that for
+whatever I have a chance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That will do nicely. But I thought you didn&rsquo;t think regular
+charities did much good?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some don&rsquo;t. But it&rsquo;s different with children. They
+don&rsquo;t feel the stigma and are not humiliated or made indolent by help. We
+can&rsquo;t do too much to help them. The future of this country depends on its
+poor children. 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 food and 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 much better chance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s very interesting,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;Tell me
+some more about the poor people.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What shall I tell you?&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How to help them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll speak about something I have had in mind for a long time,
+trying to find some way to do it. I think the finest opportunity for
+benevolence, not already attempted, would be a company to lend money to the
+poor, just as I have attempted, on a small scale, in my ward. You see there are
+thousands of perfectly honest people who are living on day wages, and many of
+them can lay up little or no money. Then comes sickness, or loss of employment,
+or a fire which burns up all their furniture and clothes, or some other
+mischance, and they can turn only to pawnbrokers and usurers, with their
+fearful charges; or charity, with its shame. Then there are hundreds of people
+whom a loan of a little money would help wonderfully. This boy can get a place
+if he had a respectable suit of clothes. Another can obtain work by learning a
+trade, but can&rsquo;t live while he learns it. A woman can support herself if
+she can buy a sewing-machine, but hasn&rsquo;t the money to buy it. Another can
+get a job at something, but is required to make a deposit to the value of the
+goods intrusted to her. Now, if all these people could go to some company, and
+tell their story, and get their notes discounted, according to their
+reputation, just as the merchant does at his bank, don&rsquo;t you see what a
+help it would be?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How much would it take, Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One cannot say, because, till it is tested, there would be no way of
+knowing how much would be asked for. But a hundred thousand dollars would do to
+start with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, that&rsquo;s only a hundred people giving a thousand each,&rdquo;
+cried Leonore eagerly. &ldquo;Peter, I&rsquo;ll give a thousand, and I&rsquo;ll
+make mamma and papa give a thousand, and I&rsquo;ll speak to my friends
+and&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Money isn&rsquo;t the difficult part,&rdquo; said Peter, longing to a
+fearful degree to take Leonore in his arms. &ldquo;If it were only money, I
+could do it myself&mdash;or if I did not choose to do it alone, Miss De Voe and
+Pell would help me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it, then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s finding the right man to run such a company. I can&rsquo;t
+give the time, for I can do more good in other directions. It needs a good
+business man, yet one who must have many other qualities which rarely go with a
+business training. He must understand the poor, because he must look into every
+case, to see if it is a safe risk&mdash;or rather if the past life of the
+applicant indicates that he is entitled to help. Now if your grandfather, who
+is such an able banker, were to go into my ward, and ask about the standing of
+a man in it, he wouldn&rsquo;t get any real information. But if I ask, every
+one will tell me what he thinks. The man in control of such a bank must be able
+to draw out the truth. Unless the management was just what it ought to be, it
+would be bankrupt in a few months, or else would not lend to one quarter of the
+people who deserve help. Yet from my own experience, I know, that money can be
+loaned to these people, so that the legal interest more than pays for the
+occasional loss, and that most of these losses are due to inability, more than
+to dishonesty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish we could go on talking,&rdquo; sighed Leonore. &ldquo;But the
+people are beginning to go downstairs. I suppose I must go, so as to say
+good-bye. I only wish I could help you in charity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have given <i>me</i> a great charity this evening,&rdquo; said
+Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean the photographs,&rdquo; smiled Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What else?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have shown me the warmest and most loving of hearts,&rdquo; said
+Peter, &ldquo;and that is the best charity in the world.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the way down they met Lispenard coming up. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve just said
+good-night to 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 better
+not interrupt.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t see you,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Lispenard, with immense wonderment. &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t believe that. You know you were cutting us.&rdquo; Then he turned
+to Peter. &ldquo;You old scamp, you,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;you are worse
+than the Standard Oil.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I sent for you some time ago, Leonore,&rdquo; said her mother,
+disapprovingly. &ldquo;The guests have been going and you were not here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, mamma. I was showing Peter the house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-night,&rdquo; said that individual. &ldquo;I dread formal dinners
+usually, but this one has been the pleasantest of my life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s very nice. And thank you, Peter, for the bracelet, and the
+flowers, and the compliment. They were all lovely. Would you like a
+rose?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Would he? He said nothing, but he looked enough to get it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t we put you down?&rdquo; said a man at the door.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not so far from Washington Square to your place, that your
+company won&rsquo;t repay us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but I have a hansom here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet Peter did not ride. He dismissed cabby, and walked down the Avenue. Peter
+was not going to compress his happiness inside a carriage that evening. He
+needed the whole atmosphere to contain it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he strode along he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t her beauty and grace alone&rdquo;&mdash;(It never is with
+a man, oh, no!)&mdash;&ldquo;but her truth and frankness and friendliness. And
+then she doesn&rsquo;t care for money, and she isn&rsquo;t eaten up with
+ambition. She is absolutely untouched by the world yet. Then she is natural,
+yet reserved, with other men. She&rsquo;s not husband-hunting, like so many of
+them. And she&rsquo;s loving, not merely of those about her, but of
+everything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Musicians will take a simple theme and on it build unlimited variations. This
+was what Peter proceeded to do. From Fifty-seventh Street to Peter&rsquo;s
+rooms was a matter of four miles. Peter had not half finished his thematic
+treatment of Leonore when he reached his quarters. He sat down before his fire,
+however, and went on, not with hope of exhausting all possible variations, but
+merely for his own pleasure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally, however, he rose and put photographs, rose, and card away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve not allowed myself to yield to it,&rdquo; he said (which was
+a whopper) &ldquo;till I was sure she was what I could always love. Now I shall
+do my best to make her love me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.<br/>
+A GOOD DAY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The next day it was raining torrents, but despite this, and to the utter
+neglect of his law business, Peter drove up-town immediately after lunch, to
+the house in Fifty-seventh Street. He asked for Watts, but while he was waiting
+for the return of the servant, he heard a light foot-step, and turning, he
+found Leonore fussing over some flowers. At the same moment she became
+conscious of his presence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-day,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t a good day at all,&rdquo; said Leonore, in a disconsolate
+voice, holding out her hand nevertheless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a horrid day, and I&rsquo;m in disgrace.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For misbehaving last night. Both mamma and madame say I did very wrong.
+I never thought I couldn&rsquo;t be real friends with you.&rdquo; The little
+lips were trembling slightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter felt a great temptation to say something strong. &ldquo;Why can&rsquo;t
+the women let such an innocent child alone?&rdquo; he thought to himself. Aloud
+he said, &ldquo;If any wrong was done, which I don&rsquo;t think, it was my
+fault. Can I do anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe so,&rdquo; said Leonore, with a slight
+unsteadiness in her voice. &ldquo;They say that men will always monopolize a
+girl if she will allow it, and that a really well-mannered one won&rsquo;t
+permit it for a moment.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter longed to take her in his arms and lay the little downcast head against
+his shoulder, but he had to be content with saying: &ldquo;I am so sorry they
+blame you. If I could only save you from it.&rdquo; He evidently said it in a
+comforting voice, for the head was raised a trifle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always been very
+particular with men, but with you it seemed different. Yet they both say I
+stayed too long upstairs, and were dreadfully shocked about the photographs.
+They said I ought to treat you like other men. Don&rsquo;t you think you are
+different?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yes. Peter thought he was very different.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi will see you in the library,&rdquo; announced the
+footman at this point.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned to go, but in leaving he said: &ldquo;Is there any pleasure or
+service I can do, to make up for the trouble I&rsquo;ve caused you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore put her head on one side, and looked a little less grief-stricken.
+&ldquo;May I save that up?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment later Peter was shaking hands with Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is nice of you. Quite like old times. Will you smoke?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. But please yourself. I&rsquo;ve something to talk about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fire away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts, I want to try and win the love of your little girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear old man,&rdquo; cried Watts, &ldquo;there isn&rsquo;t any one in
+God&rsquo;s earth whom I would rather see her choose, or to whom I would sooner
+trust her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Watts,&rdquo; said Peter, gratefully. &ldquo;Watts is weak,
+but he is a good fellow,&rdquo; was his mental remark. Peter entirely forgot
+his opinion of two weeks ago. It is marvellous what a change a different point
+of view makes in most people.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if I give you my little Dot, you must promise me one thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That you will never tell her? Ah! Peter, if you knew how I love the
+little woman, and how she loves me. From no other man can she learn what will
+alter that love. Don&rsquo;t make my consent bring us both suffering?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts, I give my word she shall never know the truth from me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;God bless you, Peter. True as ever. Then that is settled. You shall have
+a clear field and every chance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fear not. There&rsquo;s something more. Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi won&rsquo;t
+pardon that incident&mdash;nor do I blame her. I can&rsquo;t force my presence
+here if she does not give her consent. It would be too cruel, even if I could
+hope to succeed in spite of her. I want to see her this morning. You can tell
+better than I whether you had best speak to her first, or whether I shall tell
+her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;H&rsquo;m. That is a corker, isn&rsquo;t it? Don&rsquo;t you think you
+had better let things drift?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I&rsquo;m not going to try and win a girl&rsquo;s love behind the
+mother&rsquo;s back. Remember, Watts, the mother is the only one to whom a girl
+can go at such a time. We mustn&rsquo;t try to take advantage of either.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll speak to her, and do my best. Then I&rsquo;ll send her
+to you. Help yourself to the tobacco if you get tired of waiting <i>tout
+seul</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts went upstairs and knocked at a door. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said a voice.
+Watts put his head in. &ldquo;Is my Rosebud so busy that she can&rsquo;t spare
+her lover a few moments?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts, you know I live for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts dropped down on the lounge. &ldquo;Come here, then, like a loving little
+wife, and let me say my little say.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No woman nearing forty can resist a little tenderness in her husband, and Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi snuggled up to Watts in the pleasantest frame of mind. Watts
+leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi snuggled some more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, I want to talk with you seriously, dear,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Who
+do you think is downstairs?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear old Peter. And what do you think he&rsquo;s come for!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He wants our consent, dear, to pay his addresses to Leonore.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Watts!&rdquo; Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi ceased to snuggle, and turned a
+horrified face to her husband.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve thought she attracted him, but he&rsquo;s such an impassive,
+cool old chap, that I wasn&rsquo;t sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;ve been so afraid of. I&rsquo;ve worried so
+over it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dear, foolish little woman. What was there to worry over?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts! You won&rsquo;t give your consent?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course we will. Why, what more do you want? Money, reputation,
+brains, health.&rdquo; (That was the order in which Peter&rsquo;s advantages
+ranged themselves in Watts&rsquo;s mind). &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see what more
+you can ask, short of a title, and titles not only never have all those
+qualities combined, but they are really getting decidedly <i>nouveau richey</i>
+and not respectable enough for a Huguenot family, who&rsquo;ve lived two
+hundred and fifty years in New York. What a greedy mamma she is for her little
+girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Watts! But think!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s hard work, dear, with your eyes to look at. But I will, if
+you&rsquo;ll tell me what to think about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My husband! You cannot have forgotten? Oh, no! It is too horrible for
+you to have forgotten that day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You heavenly little Puritan! So you are going to refuse Peter as a
+son-in-law, because he&mdash;ah&mdash;he&rsquo;s not a Catholic monk. Why,
+Rosebud, if you are going to apply that rule to all Dot&rsquo;s lovers, you had
+better post a sign: &lsquo;Wanted, a husband. P.S. No man need
+apply.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts! Don&rsquo;t talk so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear little woman. I&rsquo;m only trying to show you that we can&rsquo;t
+do better than trust our little girl to Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With that stain! Oh, Watts, give him our pure, innocent, spotless
+child!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, well. If you want a spotless wedding, let her marry the Church.
+She&rsquo;ll never find one elsewhere, my darling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts! How can you talk so? And with yourself as an example. Oh,
+husband! I want our child&mdash;our only child&mdash;to marry a man as noble
+and true as her father. Surely there must be others like you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I think there are a great many men as good as I, Rosebud! But
+I&rsquo;m no better than I should be, and it&rsquo;s nothing but your love that
+makes you think I am.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t hear you say such things of yourself. You know you are the
+best and purest man that ever lived. You know you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If there&rsquo;s any good in me, it&rsquo;s because I married
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts, you couldn&rsquo;t be bad if you tried.&rdquo; And Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi put her arms round Watts&rsquo;s neck and kissed him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts fondled her for a moment in true lover&rsquo;s fashion. Then he said,
+&ldquo;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 believe would
+not be true to her, or make her happy. I know every circumstance of
+Peter&rsquo;s connection with that woman, and he is as blameless as man ever
+was. Such as it was, it was ended years ago, and can never give him more
+trouble. He is a strong man, and will be true to Dot. She might get a man who
+would make her life one long torture. She may be won by a man who only cares
+for her money, and will not even give her the husks of love. But Peter loves
+her, and has outgrown his mistakes. And don&rsquo;t forget that but for him we
+might now have nothing but some horribly mangled remains to remember of our
+little darling. Dear, I love Dot twenty times more than I love Peter. For her
+sake, and yours, I am trying to do my best for her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So presently Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi came into the library, where Peter sat. She
+held out her hand to him, but Peter said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me say something first. Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, I would not have had
+that occurrence happen in your home or presence if I had been able to prevent
+it. It grieves me more than I can tell you. I am not a rou&eacute;. In spite of
+appearances I have lived a clean life. I shall never live any other in the
+future. I&mdash;I love Leonore. Love her very dearly. And if you will give her
+to me, should I win her, I pledge you my word that I will give her the love,
+and tenderness, and truth which she deserves. Now, will you give me your
+hand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is speaking the truth,&rdquo; thought Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, as Peter
+spoke. She held out her hand. &ldquo;I will trust her to you if she chooses
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Half an hour later, Peter went back to the drawing-room, to find Leonore
+reposing in an exceedingly undignified position before the fire on a big
+tiger-skin, and stroking a Persian cat, who, in delight at this enviable
+treatment, purred and dug its claws into the rug. Peter stood for a time
+watching the pretty tableau, wishing he was a cat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Tawney-eye,&rdquo; said Leonore, in heartrending tones, &ldquo;it
+isn&rsquo;t a good day at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to quarrel with you on that,&rdquo; said Peter.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a glorious day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore rose from the skin. &ldquo;Tawney-eye and I don&rsquo;t think
+so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you will. In the first place I&rsquo;ve explained about the monopoly
+and the photographs to your mamma, and she says she did not understand it, and
+that no one is to blame. Secondly, she says I&rsquo;m to stay to dinner and am
+to monopolize you till then. Thirdly, she says we may be just as good friends
+as we please. Fourthly, she has asked me to come and stay for a week at
+Grey-Court this summer. Now, what kind of a day is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Simply glorious! Isn&rsquo;t it, Tawney-eye?&rdquo; And the young lady
+again forgot her &ldquo;papas, proprieties, potatoes, prunes and prisms,&rdquo;
+and dropping down on the rug, buried her face in the cat&rsquo;s long silky
+hair. Then she reappeared long enough to say:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are such a comforting person! I&rsquo;m so glad you were
+born.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.<br/>
+THE BOSS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+After this statement, so satisfying to both, Leonore recovered her dignity
+enough to rise, and say, &ldquo;Now, I want to pay you for your niceness. What
+do you wish to do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose we do what pleases you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I want to please you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That <i>is</i> the way to please me,&rdquo; said Peter emphatically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then a clock struck four. &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;Come
+to the tea-table, and we&rsquo;ll have afternoon tea together. It&rsquo;s the
+day of all others for afternoon tea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I just said it was a glorious day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh? yes. It&rsquo;s a nice day. But it&rsquo;s dark and cold and rainy
+all the same.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But that makes it all the better. We shan&rsquo;t be interrupted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;that Miss De Voe told me once
+that you were a man who found good in everything, and I see what she
+meant.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t hold a candle to Dennis. He says its &lsquo;a foine
+day&rsquo; so that you feel that it really is. I never saw him in my life, when
+it wasn&rsquo;t &lsquo;a foine day.&rsquo; I tell him he carries his sunshine
+round in his heart.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are so different,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;from what every one
+said. I never knew a man pay such nice compliments. That&rsquo;s the seventh
+I&rsquo;ve heard you make.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know I&rsquo;m a politician, and want to become popular.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter! Will you let me ask you something?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anything,&rdquo; said Peter, rashly, though speaking the absolute truth.
+Peter just then was willing to promise anything. Perhaps it was the warm cup of
+tea; perhaps it was the blazing logs; perhaps it was the shade of the lamp,
+which cast such a pleasant rosy tint over everything; perhaps it was the
+comfortable chair; perhaps it was that charming face; perhaps it was what Mr.
+Mantalini called the &ldquo;demd total.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Leonore, shaking her head in a puzzled way,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve begun to read the papers&mdash;the political part, I
+mean&mdash;and there are so many things I don&rsquo;t understand which I want
+to ask you to explain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is very nice,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;because there are a great
+many things of which I want to tell you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goody!&rdquo; said Leonore, forgetting again she was now bound to
+conduct herself as befit a society girl. &ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll not laugh at
+me if I ask foolish questions?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what do the papers mean by calling you a boss?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I am supposed to have sufficient political power to dictate to a
+certain extent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t they speak of a boss as something not nice?&rdquo; asked
+Leonore, a little timidly, as if afraid of hurting Peter&rsquo;s feelings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Usually it is used as a stigma,&rdquo; said Peter, smiling. &ldquo;At
+least by the kind of papers you probably read.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you are not a bad boss, are you?&rdquo; said Leonore, very
+earnestly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some of the papers say so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what surprised me. Of course I knew they were wrong, but
+are bosses bad, and are you a boss?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are asking me one of the biggest questions in American politics. I
+probably can&rsquo;t answer it, but I&rsquo;ll try to show you why I
+can&rsquo;t. Are there not friends whose advice or wish would influence
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Like you,&rdquo; said Leonore, giving Peter a glimpse of her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really,&rdquo; thought Peter, &ldquo;if she does that often, I
+can&rsquo;t talk abstract politics.&rdquo; Then he rallied and said:
+&ldquo;Well, that is the condition of men as well, and it is that condition,
+which creates the so-called boss. In every community there are men who
+influence more or less the rest. It may be that one can only influence half a
+dozen other intimates. Another may exert power over fifty. A third may sway a
+thousand. One may do it by mere physical superiority. Another by a friendly
+manner. A third by being better informed. A fourth by a deception or bribery. A
+fifth by honesty. 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 he has his
+admirers. Sloftky is popular with the Jews, because he is of their 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 of men who are a little more
+marked than the rest, who have power to influence the opinions of men about
+them, and therefore have power to influence votes. That is the first step in
+the ladder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But isn&rsquo;t Mr. Moriarty one?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He comes in the next grade. Each of the men I have mentioned can usually
+affect an average of twenty-five votes. But now we get to another rung of the
+ladder. Here we have Dennis, and such men as Blunkers, Denton, Kennedy,
+Schlurger and others. They not merely have their own set of followers, but they
+have more or less power to dominate the little bosses of whom I have already
+spoken. Take Dennis for instance. He has fifty adherents who stick to him
+absolutely, two hundred and fifty who listen to him with interest, and a dozen
+of the smaller bosses, who pass his opinions to their followers. So he can thus
+have some effect on about five hundred votes. Of course it takes more force and
+popularity to do this and in this way we have a better grade of men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I like Mr. Moriarty, and can understand why others do. He is so
+ugly, and so honest, and so jolly. He&rsquo;s lovely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;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 by being
+better informed, and by being more far-seeing. Such men as Gallagher 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 with other work have no time. They
+don&rsquo;t need the great personal popularity of 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 their intentions, must meet and try to arrange to pull
+together, for otherwise they can do nothing. Naturally, in a dozen or twenty
+men, there will be grades, 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 the
+papers call a boss of a ward. Then when these various ward bosses endeavor to
+unite for general purposes, the strongest man will sway them, and he is boss of
+the city.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that is what you are?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. By that I mean that nothing is attempted in the ward or city
+without consultation with me. But of course I am more dependent on the voters
+than they are on me, for if they choose to do differently from what I advise,
+they have the power, while I am helpless.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean the smaller bosses?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not so much them as the actual voters. A few times I have shot right
+over the heads of the bosses and appealed directly to the voters.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you can make them do what you want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Within limits, yes. As I told you, I am absolutely dependent on the
+voters. If they should defeat what I want three times running, every one would
+laugh at me, and my power would be gone. So you see that a boss is only a boss
+so long as he can influence votes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But they haven&rsquo;t defeated you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if the voters took their opinions from the other bosses how did you
+do anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There comes in the problem of practical politics. The question of who
+can affect the voters most. Take my own ward. Suppose that I want something
+done so much that I insist. And suppose that some of the other leaders are
+equally determined that it shan&rsquo;t be done. The ward splits on 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 tell them why and what I
+want to do. Then the men I have had to antagonize do the same, and the voters
+decide between us. It then is a question as to which side can win the majority
+of the voters. Because I have been very successful in this, I am the so-called
+boss. That is, I can make the voters feel that I am right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For many reasons. First, I have always tried to tell the voters the
+truth, and never have been afraid to acknowledge I was wrong, when I found I
+had made a mistake, so people trust what I say. Then, unlike most of the
+leaders in politics, I am not trying to get myself office or profit, and so the
+men feel that I am disinterested. Then I try to be friendly with the whole
+ward, so that if I have to do what they don&rsquo;t like, their personal
+feeling for me will do what my arguments never could. With these simple,
+strong-feeling, and unreasoning folk, one can get ten times the influence by a
+warm handshake and word that one can by a logical argument. We are so used to
+believing what we read, if it seems reasonable, that it is hard for us to
+understand that men who spell out editorials with difficulty, and who have not
+been trained to reason from facts, are not swayed by what to us seems an
+obvious argument. But, on the contrary, if a man they trust, puts it in plain
+language to them, they see it at once. I might write a careful editorial, and
+ask my ward to read it, and unless they knew I wrote it, they probably
+wouldn&rsquo;t be convinced in the least. But let me go into the saloons, and
+tell the men just the same thing, and there isn&rsquo;t a man who
+wouldn&rsquo;t be influenced by it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are so popular in the ward?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think so, I find kind words and welcome everywhere. But then I have
+tried very hard to be popular. I have endeavored to make a friend of every man
+in it with whom one could be friendly, because I wished to be as powerful as
+possible, so that the men would side with me whenever I put my foot down on
+something wrong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you ever tell the ward how they are to vote?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell them my views. But never how to vote. Once I came very near it,
+though.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How was that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;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 by political
+influence. When I was able to take a hand, I felt that I could do 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 in the ward, and on election day I
+asked a good many men, as a personal favor, to vote for the Republican, and my
+friends asked others. Even Dennis Moriarty worked and voted for what he calls a
+&lsquo;dirty Republican,&rsquo; though he said &lsquo;he never thought
+he&rsquo;d soil his hands wid one av their ballots.&rsquo; That is the nearest
+I ever came to telling them how to vote.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And did they do as you asked?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The only Republican the ward has chosen since 1862 was elected in that
+year. It was a great surprise to every one&mdash;even to myself&mdash;for the
+ward is Democratic by about four thousand majority. But I couldn&rsquo;t do
+that sort of thing often, for the men wouldn&rsquo;t stand it. In other words,
+I can 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 their opinions to
+mine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then the bosses really can&rsquo;t do what they want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Or at least not for long. That is a newspaper fallacy. A relic of
+the old idea that great things are done by one-man power. If you will go over
+the men who are said to control&mdash;the bosses, as they are called&mdash;in
+this city, you will find that they all have worked their way into influence
+slowly, and have been many years kept in power, though they could be turned out
+in a single fight. Yet this power is obtained only by the wish of a majority,
+for the day they lose the consent of a majority of the voters that day their
+power ends. We are really more dependent than the representatives, for they are
+elected for a certain time, while our tenure can be ended at any moment. Why am
+I a power in my ward? Because I am supposed to represent a given number of
+votes, which are influenced by my opinions. It would be perfectly immaterial to
+my importance how I influenced those votes, so long as I could control them.
+But because I can influence them, the other leaders don&rsquo;t dare to
+antagonize me, and so I can have my way up to a certain point. And because I
+can control the ward I have made it a great power in city politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you do that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By keeping down the factional feeling. You see there are always more men
+struggling for power or office, than can have it, and so there cannot but be
+bad blood between the contestants. For instance, when I first became interested
+in politics, Moriarty and Blunkers were quite as anxious to down each other as
+to down the Republicans. Now they are sworn 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. Still others 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 at first, and from being one of the most uncertain wards in the
+city, the sixth has been known at headquarters for the last five years as
+&lsquo;old reliability&rsquo; from the big majority it always polls. So at
+headquarters I am looked up to and consulted. Now do you understand why and
+what a boss is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Peter. Except why bosses are bad.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you see that it depends on what kind of men they are, and
+what kind of voters are back of them. A good man, with honest votes back of
+him, is a good boss, and <i>vice versa</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I know you are a good boss. It&rsquo;s a great pity that all the
+bosses can&rsquo;t be good?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have not found them so bad. They are quite as honest, unselfish, and
+reasonable 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, I have never known
+a man who could control a thousand votes for five years, who was not a better
+man, all in all, than the voters whom he influenced. More one cannot expect.
+The people are not quick, but they find out a knave or a demagogue if you give
+them time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the old saying; &lsquo;you can fool all of the people, some
+of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can&rsquo;t fool
+all of the people all of the time,&rsquo;&rdquo; laughed a voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took his eyes off Leonore&rsquo;s face, where they had been resting
+restfully, and glanced up. Watts had entered the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let me interrupt your
+political disquisitions; I have only come in for a cup of tea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi and I were merely discussing bosses,&rdquo; said
+Peter. &ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi, when women get the ballot, as I hope they
+will, I trust you will be a good boss, for I am sure you will influence a great
+many votes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Leonore, laughing, &ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t be a boss at
+all. You&rsquo;ll be my boss, I think, and I&rsquo;ll always vote for
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thought the day even more glorious than he had before.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.<br/>
+THE BETTER ELEMENT.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The evening after this glorious day, Peter came in from his ride, but instead
+of going at once to his room, he passed down a little passage, and stood in a
+doorway.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is everything going right, Jenifer?&rdquo; he queried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The flowers came from Thorley&rsquo;s?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the candies and ices from Maillard?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ve <i>frapp&eacute;</i> the champagne?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jenifer, don&rsquo;t put quite so much onion juice as usual in the Queen
+Isabella dressing. Ladies don&rsquo;t like it as much as men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you stood the Burgundy in the sun?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah! Wha foh yo&rsquo; think I doan do as I ginl&rsquo;y do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jenifer was combining into a stuffing bread crumbs, chopped broiled oysters,
+onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was becoming irritated at
+such evident doubt of his abilities.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried. He glanced
+round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search of possible sources
+for slips, but did not see them. All he was able to say was, &ldquo;That broth
+smells very nice, Jenifer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah. Dar ain&rsquo;t nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and
+de squeezin&rsquo;s of a hunerd clams, sah. Dat sup will make de angels sorry
+dey died. Dey&rsquo;ll just tink you&rsquo;se dreful unkine not to offer dem a
+secon&rsquo; help. Buh doan yo&rsquo; do it, sah, foh when dey gits to dem
+prayhens, dey&rsquo;ll be pow&rsquo;ful glad yo&rsquo; didn&rsquo;t.&rdquo; To
+himself, Jenifer remarked: &ldquo;Who he gwine hab dis day? He neber so anxious
+befoh, not even when de Presidint an Guv&rsquo;nor Pohter dey dun dine
+hyah.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went to his room and, after a due course of clubbing and tubbing, dressed
+himself with the utmost care. Truth compels the confession that he looked in
+his glass for some minutes. Not, however, apparently with much pleasure, for an
+anxious look came into his face, and he remarked aloud, as he turned away,
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t look so old, but I once heard Watts say that I should
+never take a prize for my looks, and he was right. I wonder if she cares for
+handsome men?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter forgot his worry in the opening of a box in the dining-room and the
+taking out of the flowers. He placed the bunches at the different places,
+raising one of the bouquets of violets to his lips, before he laid it down.
+Then he took the cut flowers, and smilax, and spread them loosely in the centre
+of the little table, which otherwise had nothing on it, except the furnishings
+placed at each seat. After that he again kissed a bunch of violets. History
+doesn&rsquo;t state whether it was the same bunch. Peter must have been very
+fond of flowers!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; called a voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that you, Le Grand? Go right into my room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve done that already. You see I feel at home. How are
+you?&rdquo; he continued, as Peter joined him in the study.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As always.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought I would run in early, so as to have a bit of you before the
+rest. Peter, here&rsquo;s a letter from Muller. He&rsquo;s got that
+&lsquo;Descent&rsquo; in its first state, in the most brilliant condition. You
+had better get it, and trash your present impression. It has always looked
+cheap beside the rest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. Will you attend to it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then came the sound of voices and the rustle of draperies in the little
+hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello! Ladies?&rdquo; said Le Grand. &ldquo;This is to be one of what
+Lispenard calls your &lsquo;often, frequently, only once&rsquo; affairs, is
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid we are early,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi. &ldquo;We
+did not know how much time to allow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Such old friends cannot come too soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And as it is, I&rsquo;m really starved,&rdquo; said another personage,
+shaking hands with Peter as if she had not seen him for a twelve-month instead
+of parting with him but two hours before. &ldquo;What an appetite riding in the
+Park does give one! Especially when afterwards you drive, and drive, and drive,
+over New York stones.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; cried Madame. &ldquo;<i>C&rsquo;est tres bien</i>!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it jolly?&rdquo; responded Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it is not American. It is Parisian.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, it isn&rsquo;t! It&rsquo;s all American. Isn&rsquo;t it,
+Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Peter was telling Jenifer to hasten the serving of dinner. So Leonore had
+to fight her country&rsquo;s battles by herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s all this to-day&rsquo;s papers are saying, Peter?&rdquo;
+asked Watts, as soon as they were seated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s rather a large subject even for a slow dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean about the row in the Democratic organization over the nomination
+for governor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The papers seem to know more about it than I do,&rdquo; said Peter
+calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Le Grand laughed. &ldquo;Miss De Voe, Ogden, Rivington&mdash;all of us, have
+tried to get Peter, first and last, to talk politics, but not a fact do we get.
+They say it&rsquo;s his ability to hold his tongue which made Costell trust him
+and push him, and that that was the reason he was chosen to fill Costells
+place.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>I</i> don&rsquo;t fill his place,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;No one
+can do that. I merely succeeded him. And Miss D&rsquo;Alloi will tell you that
+the papers calling me &lsquo;Taciturnity Junior&rsquo; is a libel. Am I not a
+talker, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>I</i> really can&rsquo;t find out,&rdquo; responded Leonore, with a
+puzzled look. &ldquo;People say you are not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think you would fail me after the other night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said madame. &ldquo;The quiet men are the great men. Look at
+the French.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, madame!&rdquo; exclaimed Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are joking&rdquo; cried Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s delicious,&rdquo; laughed Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whew,&rdquo; said Le Grand, under his breath.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! Why do you cry out? Mr. Stirling, am I not right?&rdquo; Madame
+appealed to the one face on which no amusement or skepticism was shown.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think it is rather dangerous to ascribe any particular trait to any
+nationality. It is usually misleading. But most men who think much, talk
+little, and the French have many thinkers&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I always liked Von Moltke, just for it being said of him that he could
+be silent in seven languages,&rdquo; said Le Grand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s so restful. We crossed on
+the steamer with a French Marquis who can speak six languages, and can&rsquo;t
+say one thing worth listening to in any.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thought the soup all Jenifer had cracked it up to be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; said Leonore, turning to him, &ldquo;Mr. Le Grand said
+that you never will talk politics with anybody. That doesn&rsquo;t include me,
+of course?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter promptly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought it didn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Leonore, her eyes dancing with
+pleasure, however, at the reply. &ldquo;We had Mr. Pell to lunch to-day and I
+spoke to him as to what you said about the bosses, and he told me that bosses
+could never be really good, unless the better element were allowed to vote, and
+not the saloon-keepers and roughs. I could see he was right, at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;From his point of view. Or rather the view of his class.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Broadly speaking, all persons of sound mind are entitled to vote on the
+men and the laws which are to govern them. Aside from this, every ounce of
+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&rsquo;t you
+see that there is an even chance, at least, that they&rsquo;ll vote rightly,
+and if the wrong half carries the election, it is because more intelligent
+people have voted wrongly, have not voted, or have not taken the trouble to try
+and show the people the right way, but have left them to the mercies of the
+demagogue. If we grant that every man who takes care of himself has some brain,
+and some experience, his vote is of some value, even if not a high one. Suppose
+we have an eagle, and a thousand pennies. Are we any better off by tossing away
+the coppers, because each is worth so little. That is why I have always
+advocated giving the franchise to women. If we can add ten million voters to an
+election, we have added just so much knowledge to it, and made it just so much
+the harder to mislead or buy enough votes to change results.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You evidently believe,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;in the saying,
+&lsquo;Everybody knows more than anybody?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had forgotten all about his company in his interest over&mdash;over the
+franchise. So he started slightly at this question, and looked up
+from&mdash;from his subject.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Le Grand. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been listening and longing
+to ask questions. When we see such a fit of loquacity, we want to seize the
+opportunity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t finished. Tell me.
+Can&rsquo;t you make the men do what you want, so as to have them choose only
+the best men?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I had the actual power I would not,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I would not dare to become responsible for so much, and because
+a government of the &lsquo;best&rsquo; men is not an American
+government.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;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 as one makes a
+child behave without regard to its own desires. With grown men, such a system
+only results in widening the distance between the classes 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 him nearer to the more educated. He even educates
+himself by his own mistakes; for every bad man elected, and every bad law
+passed, make him suffer the results, and he can only blame himself. Of course
+we don&rsquo;t get as good a government or laws, but then we have other
+offsetting advantages.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are those?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We get men and laws which are the wish of the majority. Such are almost
+self-supporting and self-administering. It is not a mere combination of words,
+printing-ink, and white paper which makes a law. It is the popular sentiment
+back of it which enforces it, and unless a law is the wish of a majority of the
+people who are to be governed by it, it is either 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 by force, in the face of popular sentiment. Then,
+too, we get a stability almost unknown in governments which do not conform to
+the people. This country has altered its system of government less than any
+other great country in the last hundred years. And there is less socialistic
+legislation and propaganda here than anywhere else. That is, less
+discontent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Peter, if the American people are as sensible as you think, how do
+you account for the kind of men who exercise control?&rdquo; said Le Grand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By better men not trying.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But we have reform movements all the time, led by good men. Why
+aren&rsquo;t these men elected?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are as absolutely inexperienced and blind as to the way to influence
+votes, as well can be. Look at it, as a contest, without regard to the merit of
+the cause. On one side we have bosses, who know and understand the men in their
+wards, have usually made themselves popular, are in politics for a living, have
+made it a life-study, and by dear experience have learned that they must
+surrender their own opinions in order to produce harmony and a solid vote. The
+reformer, on the contrary, is usually a man who has other occupations, and, if
+I may say so, has usually met with only partial success in them. By that I mean
+that the really successful merchant, or banker, or professional man cannot take
+time to work in politics, and so only the less successful try. Each reformer,
+too, is sure that he himself is right, and as his bread and butter is not in
+the issue, he quarrels to his heart&rsquo;s content with his associates, so
+that they rarely can unite all their force. Most of the reform movements in
+this city have been attempted in a way that is simply laughable. What should we
+say if a hundred busy men were to get together to-morrow, and decide that they
+would open a great bank, to fight the clearing-house banks of New York? Yet
+this, in effect, is what the reformers have done over and over again in
+politics. They say to the men who have been kept in power for years by the
+people, &lsquo;You are scoundrels. The people who elected you are ignorant We
+know how to do it better. Now we&rsquo;ll turn you out.&rsquo; In short, they
+tell the majority they are fools, but ask their votes. The average reformer
+endorses thoroughly the theory &lsquo;that every man is as good as another, and
+a little better.&rsquo; And he himself always is the better man. The people
+won&rsquo;t stand that. The &lsquo;holier than thou&rsquo; will defeat a man
+quicker in this country than will any rascality he may have done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t you think the reformer is right in principle?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In nine cases out of ten. But politics does not consist in being right.
+It&rsquo;s in making other people think you are. Men don&rsquo;t like to be
+told that they are ignorant and wrong, and this assumption is the basis of most
+of the so-called educational campaigns. To give impetus to a new movement takes
+immense experience, shrewdness, tact, and many other qualities. The people are
+obstructive&mdash;that is conservative&mdash;in most things, and need plenty of
+time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unless <i>you</i> tell them what they are to do,&rdquo; laughed Watts.
+&ldquo;Then they know quick enough.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that has taken them fifteen years to learn. Don&rsquo;t you see
+how absurd it is to suppose that the people are going to take the opinions of
+the better element off-hand? At the end of a three months&rsquo; campaign? Men
+have come into my ward and spoken to empty halls; they&rsquo;ve flooded it with
+campaign literature, which has served to light fires; their papers have argued,
+and nobody read them. But the ward knows me. There&rsquo;s hardly a voter who
+doesn&rsquo;t. They&rsquo;ve tested me. Most of them like me. I&rsquo;ve lived
+among them for years. I&rsquo;ve gone on their summer excursions. I&rsquo;ve
+talked with them all over the district. I have helped them in their troubles. I
+have said a kind word over their dead. I&rsquo;m godfather to many. With others
+I&rsquo;ve stood shoulder to shoulder when the bullets were flying. Why, the
+voters who were children when I first came here, with whom I use to sit in the
+angle, are almost numerous enough now to carry an election as I advise. Do you
+suppose, because speakers, unknown to them, say I&rsquo;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? That is the true secret of the failure of
+reformers. A logical argument is all right in a court of appeals, but when it
+comes to swaying five thousand votes, give me five thousand loving hearts
+rather than five thousand logical reasons.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet you have carried reforms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have tried, but always in a practical way. That is, by not
+antagonizing the popular men in politics, but by becoming one of them and
+making them help me. I have gained political power by recognizing that I could
+only have my own way by making it suit the voters. You see there are a great
+many methods of doing about the same thing. And the boss who does the most
+things that the people want, can do the most things that the people don&rsquo;t
+want. Every time I have surrendered my own wishes, 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 do not care about or did not like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And as a result you are called all sorts of names.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. The papers call me a boss. If the voters didn&rsquo;t agree with
+me, they would call me a reformer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Peter,&rdquo; said Le Grand, &ldquo;would you not like to see such
+a type of man as George William Curtis in office?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Curtis probably stood for the noblest political ideas this country
+has ever produced. But he held a beacon only to a small class. A man who writes
+from an easy-chair, will only sway easy-chair people. And easy-chair people
+never carried an election in this country, and never will. This country cannot
+have a government of the best. It will always be a government of the average.
+Mr. Curtis was only a leader to his own grade, just as Tim Sullivan is the
+leader of his. Mr. Curtis, in his editorials, spoke the feelings of one element
+in America. Sullivan, in Germania Hall, voices another. Each is representative,
+the one of five per cent. of New York; the other of ninety-five per cent. If
+the American people have decided one thing, it is that they will not be taken
+care of, nor coercively ruled, by their better element, or minorities.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet you will acknowledge that Curtis ought to rule, rather than
+Sullivan?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if our government is to be representative. I need not say that I
+wish such a type as Mr. Curtis was representative.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose if he had tried to be a boss he would have failed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think so. For it requires as unusual a combination of qualities to be
+a successful boss, as to be a successful merchant or banker. Yet one cannot
+tell. I myself have never been able to say what elements make a boss, except
+that he must be in sympathy with the men whom he tries to guide, and that he
+must be meeting them. Mr. Curtis had a broad, loving nature and sympathies, and
+if the people had discovered them, they would have liked him. But the reserve
+which comes with culture makes one largely conceal one&rsquo;s true feelings.
+Super-refinement puts a man out of sympathy 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 what Watts calls a tough, and such a man, to
+understand and admire one another.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t you think,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, &ldquo;that
+the people of our class are better and finer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The expression &lsquo;noblesse oblige&rsquo; shows that,&rdquo; said
+madame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My experience has led me to think otherwise,&rdquo; said Peter.
+&ldquo;Of course there is a difference of standards, of ideals, and of
+education, in people, and therefore there are differences in conduct. But for
+their knowledge of what is right and wrong, I do not think the so-called better
+classes, which should, in truth, be called the prosperous classes, live up to
+their own standards of right any more than do the poor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I say, draw it mild. At least exclude the criminal classes,&rdquo;
+cried Watts. &ldquo;They know better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We all know better. But we don&rsquo;t live up to our knowledge. I
+crossed on one of the big Atlantic liners lately, with five hundred other
+saloon passengers. They were naturally people of intelligence, and presumably
+of easy circumstances. Yet at least half of those people were plotting to rob
+our government of money by contriving plans to avoid paying duties truly owed.
+To do this all of them had to break our laws, and in most cases had, in
+addition, to lie deliberately. Many of them were planning to accomplish this
+theft by the bribery of the custom-house inspectors, thus not merely making
+thieves of themselves, but bribing other men to do wrong. In this city I can
+show you blocks so densely inhabited that they are election districts in
+themselves. Blocks in which 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
+eat less and be less warm; where man and woman, old and young, must shiver in
+winter, and stifle in summer; where there is not room to bury the people who
+live in the block within the ground on which they dwell. But I cannot find you,
+in the poorest and vilest parts of this city, any block where the percentage of
+liars and thieves and bribe-givers is as large as was that among the
+first-class passengers of that floating palace. Each condition of society has
+its own mis-doings, and I believe varies little in the percentage of
+wrong-doers to the whole.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To hear Peter talk you would think the whole of us ought to be sentenced
+to life terms,&rdquo; laughed Watts. &ldquo;I believe it&rsquo;s only an
+attempt on his part to increase the practice of lawyers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you really think people are so bad, Peter?&rdquo; asked Leonore,
+sadly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I have not, ten times in my life, met a man whom I should now call
+bad. I have met men whom I thought so, but when I knew them better I found the
+good in them more than balancing the evil. Our mistake is in supposing that
+some men are &lsquo;good&rsquo; and others &lsquo;bad,&rsquo; and that a sharp
+line can be drawn between them. The truth is, that every man has both qualities
+in him and in very few does the evil overbalance the good. I marvel at the
+goodness I find in humanity, when I see the temptation and opportunity there is
+to do wrong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some men are really depraved, though,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said madame. &ldquo;Think of those strikers!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter felt a thrill of pleasure pass through him, but he did not show it.
+&ldquo;Let me tell you something in connection with that. A high light in place
+of a dark shadow. There was an attempt to convict some of the strikers, but it
+failed, for want of positive evidence. The moral proof, however, against a
+fellow named Connelly was so strong that there could be no doubt that he was
+guilty. Two years later that man started out in charge of a long express, up a
+seven-mile grade, where one of our railroads crosses the Alleghanies. By the
+lay of the land every inch of that seven miles of track can be seen throughout
+its entire length, and when he had pulled half way up, he saw a section of a
+freight train coming down the grade at a tremendous speed. A coupling had
+broken, and this part of the train was without a man to put on the brakes. To
+go on was death. To stand still was the same. No speed which he could give his
+train by backing would enable it to escape those uncontrolled cars. He sent his
+fireman back to the first car, with orders to uncouple the engine. He whistled
+&lsquo;on brakes&rsquo; to his train, so that it should be held on the grade
+safely. And he, and the engine alone, went on up that grade, and met that
+flying mass of freight. He saved two hundred people&rsquo;s lives. Yet that
+man, two years before, had tried to burn alive forty of his fellow-men. Was
+that man good or bad?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, chum, if you ask it as a conundrum, I give it up. But there are
+thoroughly and wholly good things in this world, and one of them is this
+stuffing. Would it be possible for a fellow to have a second help?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled. &ldquo;Jenifer always makes the portions according to what is to
+follow, and I don&rsquo;t believe he&rsquo;ll think you had better. Jenifer,
+can Mr. D&rsquo;Alloi have some more stuffing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yissah,&rdquo; said Jenifer, grinning the true darkey grin, &ldquo;if de
+gentmun want&rsquo;t sell his ap&rsquo;tite foh a mess ob potash.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a dyspeptic, and so
+don&rsquo;t need potash. But you might wrap the rest up in a piece of
+newspaper, and I&rsquo;ll take it home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, you must have met a great many men in politics whom you knew to
+be dishonest?&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I have known few men whom I could call dishonest. But then I make a
+great distinction between the doer of a dishonest act and a dishonest
+man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is what the English call &lsquo;a fine-spun&rsquo; distinction, I
+think,&rdquo; said madame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not. A dishonest man I hold to be one who works steadily and
+persistently with bad means and motives. But there are many men whose lives
+tell far more for good than for evil in the whole, yet who are not above doing
+wrong at moments or under certain circumstances. This man will lie under given
+conditions of temptations. Another will bribe, if the inducement is strong
+enough. A third will merely trick. Almost every man has a weak spot somewhere.
+Yet why let this one weakness&mdash;a partial moral obliquity or
+imperfection&mdash;make us cast him aside as useless and evil. As soon say that
+man physically is spoiled, because he is near-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 not hesitate which to use. But if we only have the latter,
+how foolish to refuse to employ it as we may, because we know there are in the
+world a few better ones.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is not condoning a man&rsquo;s sins, by failing to blame him, direct
+encouragement to them?&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One need not condone the sin. My rule has been, in politics, or
+elsewhere, to fight dishonesty wherever I found it. But I try to fight the act,
+not the man. And if I find the evil doer beyond hope of correction, I do not
+antagonize the doer of it. More can be done by amity and forbearance than by
+embittering and alienating. Man is not bettered by being told that he is bad. I
+had an alderman in here three or four days ago who was up to mischief. I could
+have called him a scoundrel, without telling him untruth. But I didn&rsquo;t. I
+told him what I thought was right, in a friendly way, and succeeded in
+straightening him out, so that he dropped his intention, yet went away my
+friend. If I had quarrelled with him, we should have parted company, he would
+have done the wrong, I should have fought him when election time came&mdash;and
+defeated him. But he, and probably fifty of his adherents in the ward would
+have become my bitter enemies, and opposed everything I tried in the future. If
+I quarrelled with enough such men, I should in time entirely lose my influence
+in the ward, or have it generally lessened. But by dealing as a friend with
+him, I actually prevented his doing what he intended, and we shall continue to
+work together. Of course a man can be so bad that this course is impossible,
+but they are as few in politics as they are elsewhere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Taciturnity Stirling in his great circus feat of riding a whole ward at
+once,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t claim that I&rsquo;m right,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I
+once thought very differently. 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
+that if most people gave the energy they spend in reforming the world, or their
+friends, to reforming themselves, there would be no need of reformers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The old English saying that &lsquo;people who can&rsquo;t mind their own
+business invariably mind some one&rsquo;s else,&rsquo; seems applicable,&rdquo;
+said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But is it not very humiliating to you to have to be friends with such
+men?&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know Mr. Drewitt?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said all but madame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you take pleasure in knowing him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s very amusing and a
+regular parlor pet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is the reason I took him. For ten years that man was notoriously
+one of the worst influences in New York State politics. At Albany, in the
+interest of a great corporation, he was responsible for every job and bit of
+lobbying done in its behalf. I don&rsquo;t mean to say that he really bribed
+men himself, for he had lieutenants for the actual dirty work, but every dollar
+spent passed through his hands, and he knew for what purpose it was used. At
+the end of that time, so well had he done his work, that he was made president
+of the corporation. Because of that position, and because he is clever, New
+York society swallowed him and has ever since delighted to f&ecirc;te him. I
+find it no harder to shake hands and associate with the men he bribed, than you
+do to shake hands and associate with the man who gave the bribe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even supposing the great breweries, and railroads, and other interests
+to be chiefly responsible for bribery, that makes it all the more necessary to
+elect men above the possibility of being bribed,&rdquo; said Le Grand.
+&ldquo;Why not do as they do in Parliament? Elect only men of such high
+character and wealth, that money has no temptation for them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The rich man is no better than the poor man, except that in place of
+being bribed by other men&rsquo;s money, he allows his own money to bribe him.
+Look at the course of the House of Lords on the corn-laws. The
+slave-holders&rsquo; course on secession. The millionaire silver
+senators&rsquo; course on silver. The one was willing to make every poor man in
+England pay a half more for his bread than need be, in order that land might
+rent for higher prices. The slave-owner was willing to destroy his own country,
+rather than see justice done. The last are willing to force a great commercial
+panic, ruining hundreds and throwing thousands out of employment, if they can
+only get a few cents more per ounce for their silver. Were they voting honestly
+in the interest of their fellow-men? Or were their votes bribed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi rose, saying, &ldquo;Peter. We came early and we must go
+early. I&rsquo;m afraid we&rsquo;ve disgraced ourselves both ways.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went down with them to their carriage. He said to Leonore in the descent,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid the politics were rather dull to you. I lectured
+because I wanted to make some things clear to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; questioned Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because, in the next few months you&rsquo;ll see a great deal about
+bosses in the papers, and I don&rsquo;t want you to think so badly of us as
+many do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t think badly of you, Peter,&rdquo; said Leonore, in the
+nicest tone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;And if you see things said of me
+that trouble you, will you ask me about them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But I thought you wouldn&rsquo;t talk politics?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will talk with you, because, you know, friends must tell each other
+everything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Leonore had settled back in the carriage for the long drive, she
+cogitated: &ldquo;Mr. Le Grand said that he and Miss De Voe, and Mr. Ogden had
+all tried to get Peter to talk about politics, but that he never would. Yet,
+he&rsquo;s known them for years, and is great friends with them. It&rsquo;s
+very puzzling!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Probably Leonore was thinking of American politics.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.<br/>
+THE BLUE-PETER.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Leonore&rsquo;s puzzle went on increasing in complexity, but there is a limit
+to all intricacy, and after a time Leonore began to get an inkling of the
+secret. She first noticed that Peter seemed to spend an undue amount of time
+with her. He not merely turned up in the Park daily, but they were constantly
+meeting elsewhere. Leonore went to a gallery. There was Peter! 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 with nothing better to do than to see her
+home. At first Leonore merely thought these meetings were coincidences, but
+their frequency soon ended this theory, and then Leonore noticed that Peter had
+a habit of questioning her about her plans beforehand, and of evidently shaping
+his accordingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nor was this all. Peter seemed to be constantly trying to get her to spend time
+with him. Though the real summer was fast coming, he had another 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&rsquo;s in Westchester. Then nothing would do but
+to have another drive, ending in a dinner at the Country Club.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Flowers, too, seemed as frequent as their meetings. Peter had always smiled
+inwardly at bribing a girl&rsquo;s love with flowers and bon-bons, but he had
+now discovered that flowers are just the thing to send a girl, if you love her,
+and that there is no bribing about it. So none could be too beautiful and
+costly for his purse. Then Leonore wanted a dog&mdash;a mastiff. The legal
+practice of the great firm and the politics of the city nearly stopped till the
+finest of its kind had been obtained for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Another incriminating fact came to her through Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had a great surprise to-day,&rdquo; she told Leonore. &ldquo;One that
+fills me with delight, and that will please you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter asked me at dinner, if we weren&rsquo;t to have Anneke&rsquo;s
+house at Newport for the summer, and when I said &lsquo;yes,&rsquo; he told me
+that if I would save a room for him, he would come down Friday nights and stay
+over Sunday, right through the summer. He has been a simply impossible man
+hitherto to entice into a visit. Ray and I felt like giving three
+cheers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He seemed glad enough to be invited to visit Grey-Court,&rdquo; thought
+Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But even without all this, Peter carried the answer to the puzzle about with
+him in his own person. Leonore could not but feel the difference in the way he
+treated, and talked, and looked at her, as compared to all about 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, and later certain, that there was a shade
+of eagerness in his manner, a tenderness in his voice, and a look in his eye,
+when he was with her, that was there in the presence of no one else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Leonore ceased to puzzle over the problem at a given point, having found the
+answer. But the solving did not bring her much apparent pleasure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; she remarked to herself. &ldquo;I thought we were going
+to be such good friends! That we could tell each other everything. And now
+he&rsquo;s gone and spoiled it. Probably, too, he&rsquo;ll be bothering me
+later, and then he&rsquo;ll be disappointed, and cross, and we shan&rsquo;t be
+good friends any more. Oh, dear! Why do men have to behave so? Why can&rsquo;t
+they just be friends?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is a question which many women have asked. The query indicates a degree of
+modesty which should make the average masculine blush at his own self-love. The
+best answer to the problem we can recommend to the average woman is a careful
+and long study of a mirror.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a result of this cogitation Leonore decided that she would nip Peter&rsquo;s
+troublesomeness in the bud, that she would put up a sign, &ldquo;Trespassing
+forbidden;&rdquo; by which he might take warning. Many women have done the same
+thing to would-be lovers, and have saved the lovers much trouble and needless
+expense. But Leonore, after planning out a dialogue in her room, rather messed
+it when she came to put it into actual public performance. Few girls of
+eighteen are cool over a love-affair. And so it occurred thusly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore said to Peter one day, when he had dropped in for a cup of afternoon
+tea after his ride with her:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I ask you a question, I wonder if you will tell me what you think,
+without misunderstanding why I tell you something?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will try.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;there is a very nice Englishman whom I
+knew in London, who has followed me over here, and is troubling me. He&rsquo;s
+dreadfully poor, and papa says he thinks he is after my money. Do you think
+that can be so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So far the public performance could not have gone better if it had been
+rehearsed. But at this point, the whole programme went to pieces. Peter&rsquo;s
+cup of tea fell to the floor with a crash, and he was leaning back in his
+chair, with a look of suffering on his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; cried Leonore, &ldquo;what is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; said Peter, rallying a little. &ldquo;Ever since an
+operation on my eyes they sometimes misbehave themselves. It&rsquo;s neuralgia
+of the optic nerve. Sometimes it pains me badly. Don&rsquo;t mind me. It will
+be all right in a minute if I&rsquo;m quiet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t I do anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I have an eye-wash which I used to carry with me, but it is so long
+since I have had a return of my trouble that I have stopped carrying it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What causes it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Usually a shock. It&rsquo;s purely nervous.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But there was no shock now, was there?&rdquo; said Leonore, feeling so
+guilty that she felt it necessary to pretend innocence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter pulled himself together instantly and, leaning over, began deliberately
+to gather up the fragments of the cup. Then he laid the pieces on the tea-table
+and said: &ldquo;I was dreadfully frightened when I felt the cup slipping. It
+was very stupid in me. Will you try to forgive me for breaking one of your
+pretty set?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s nothing,&rdquo; said Leonore. To herself that young lady
+remarked, &ldquo;Oh, dear! It&rsquo;s much worse than I thought. I shan&rsquo;t
+dare say it to him, after all&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she did, for Peter helped her, by going back to her original question,
+saying bravely: &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know enough about Mr. Max &mdash;&mdash;
+the Englishman, to speak of him, but I think I would not suspect men of that,
+even if they are poor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because it would be much easier, to most men, to love you than to love
+your money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so glad. I felt so worried over it. Not about this case, for I
+don&rsquo;t care for him, a bit. But I wondered if I had to suspect every man
+who came near me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s eyes ceased to burn, and his second cup of tea, which a moment
+before was well-nigh choking him, suddenly became nectar for the gods.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 so dangerous a
+preamble.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be bothered by men, and wish they would let me
+alone,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t the slightest intention of
+marrying for at least five years, and shall say no to whomever asks me before
+then,&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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, and she could talk
+of five years! It was the clearest possible indication to Peter that Leonore
+was heart-whole. &ldquo;No one, who is in love,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;could
+possibly talk of five years, or five months even.&rdquo; When Peter got back to
+his chambers that afternoon, he was as near being despairing as he had been
+since&mdash;since&mdash;a long time ago. Even the obvious fact, that, if
+Leonore was not in love with him, she was also not in love with any one else,
+did not cheer him. There is a flag in the navy known as the Blue-Peter. That
+evening, Peter could have supplied our whole marine, with considerable bunting
+to spare.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But even worse was in store for him on the morrow. When he joined Leonore in
+the Park that day, she proved to him that woman has as much absolute brutality
+as the lowest of prize-fighters. Women get the reputation of being less brutal,
+because of their dread of blood-letting. Yet when it comes to torturing the
+opposite sex in its feelings, they are brutes compared with their sufferers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;that this is almost our last
+ride together?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t jerk the reins needlessly, Peter,&rdquo; said Mutineer,
+crossly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have changed our plans. Instead of going to Newport next week, I have
+at last persuaded papa to travel a little, so that I can see something of my
+own country, and not be so shamefully ignorant. We are going to Washington on
+Saturday, and from there to California, and then through the Yellowstone, and
+back by Niagara. We shan&rsquo;t be in Newport till the middle of August&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not die at once. He caught at a life-preserver of a most delightful
+description. &ldquo;That will be a very enjoyable trip,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I should like to go myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no one I would rather have than you,&rdquo; said Leonore,
+laying her little hand softly on the wound she had herself just made, in a way
+which women have. Then she stabbed again. &ldquo;But we think it pleasanter to
+have it just a party of four.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How long shall you be in Washington?&rdquo; asked Peter, catching wildly
+at a straw this time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For a week. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The President has been wanting to see me, and I thought I might run down
+next week,&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; thought Leonore. &ldquo;How very persistent he
+is!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where will you put up?&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t decided. Where shall you stay?&rdquo; she had the
+brutality to ask.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The President wants me with him, but I may go to a hotel. It leaves one
+so much freer.&rdquo; Peter was a lawyer, and saw no need of committing
+himself. &ldquo;If I am there when you are, I can perhaps help you enjoy
+yourself. I think I can get you a lunch at the White House, and, as I know most
+of the officials, I have an open sesame to some other nice things.&rdquo; Poor
+Peter! He was trying to tempt Leonore to tolerate his company by offering
+attractions in connection therewith. A chromo with the pound of tea. And this
+from the man who had thought flowers and bon-bons bribery!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why does the President want to see you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To talk politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About the governorship?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Though we don&rsquo;t say so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it true, Peter, that you can decide who it is to be as the papers
+say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I would give twenty-five thousand dollars to-day if I could name the
+Democratic nominee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you mind my not telling you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I want to know. And you are to tell me,&rdquo; said her majesty,
+calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will tell you, though it is a secret, if you will tell me a secret of
+yours which I want to know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that&rsquo;s
+necessary. You are to tell me without making me promise anything.&rdquo;
+Leonore might deprecate a man&rsquo;s falling in love with her, but she had no
+objection to the power and perquisites it involved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shan&rsquo;t tell you,&rdquo; said Peter, making a tremendous
+rally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked out from under her lashes to see just how much of Peter&rsquo;s
+sudden firmness was real and how much pretence. Then she became unconscious of
+his presence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said something.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said something else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you really so anxious to know?&rdquo; he asked, surrendering without
+terms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had a glorious look at those glorious eyes. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the
+dearest of all mouths.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The great panic,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;has led to the formation of a
+so-called Labor party, and, from present indications, they are going to
+nominate a bad man. Now, there is a great attempt on foot to get the Democratic
+convention to endorse whomever the Labor party nominates.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who will that be?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A Stephen Maguire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t want him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I have never crossed his path without finding him engaged in
+something discreditable. But he&rsquo;s truckled himself into a kind of
+popularity and power, and, having always been &lsquo;a Democrat,&rsquo; he
+hopes to get the party to endorse him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you order the convention not to do it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled down into the eyes. &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t order men in this
+country with any success.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But can&rsquo;t you prevent them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so. But it looks now as if I should have to do it in a way very
+disagreeable to myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is a great secret, you understand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore, all interest and eagerness. &ldquo;I can keep
+a secret splendidly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are sure?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So can I,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore perfectly bristled with indignation. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t be treated
+so,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Are you going to tell me?&rdquo; She put on her
+severest manner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is obstinate,&rdquo; thought Leonore to herself. Then aloud she said:
+&ldquo;Then I shan&rsquo;t be friends any more?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is very nice,&rdquo; said Peter, soberly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said Leonore, looking at him in surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have come to the conclusion,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that there is
+no use in our trying to be friends. So we had better give up at once.
+Don&rsquo;t you think so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a pretty horse Miss Winthrop has?&rdquo; said Leonore. And she
+never obtained an answer to her question, nor answered Peter&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.<br/>
+A MUTINEER.</h2>
+
+<p>
+After Peter&rsquo;s return from Washington, there was a settled gloom about him
+positively appalling. He could not be wooed, on any plea, by his closest
+friends, to journey up-town into the social world. He failed entirely to avail
+himself of the room in the Rivington&rsquo;s Newport villa, though Dorothy
+wrote appealingly, and cited his own words to him. Even to his partners he
+became almost silent, except on law matters. Jenifer found 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 moments that this atmosphere seemed to yield
+at all was when Peter took a very miscellaneous collection of rubbish out of a
+little sachet, meant for handkerchiefs, which he now carried in his
+breast-pocket, and touched the various articles to his lips. Then for a time he
+would look a little less suicidal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But it was astonishing the amount of work he did, the amount of reading he got
+through, the amount of politics he bossed, and the cigars he smoked, between
+the first of June, and the middle of August The party-leaders had come to the
+conclusion that Peter did not intend to take a hand in this campaign, but,
+after his return from Washington, they decided otherwise. &ldquo;The President
+must have asked him to interfere,&rdquo; was their whispered conclusion,
+&ldquo;but it&rsquo;s too late now. It&rsquo;s all cut and dried.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter found, as this remark suggested, that his two months&rsquo; devotion to
+the dearest of eyes and sweetest of lips, had had serious results. As with
+Mutineer once, he had dropped his bridle, but there was no use in uttering, as
+he had, then, the trisyllable which had reduced the horse to order. He had a
+very different kind of a creature with which to deal, than a Kentucky gentleman
+of lengthy lineage, a creature called sometimes a &ldquo;tiger.&rdquo; Yet
+curiously enough, the same firm voice, and the same firm manner, and a
+&ldquo;mutineer,&rdquo; though this time a man instead of a horse, was
+effective here. All New York knew that something had been done, and wanted to
+know what. There was not a newspaper in the city that would have refused to
+give five thousand dollars for an authentic stenographic report of what
+actually was said in a space of time not longer than three hours in all.
+Indeed, so intensely were people interested, that several papers felt called
+upon to fabricate and print most absurd versions of what did occur, all the
+accounts reaching conclusions as absolutely different as the press portraits of
+celebrities. From three of them it is a temptation to quote the display
+headlines or &ldquo;scare-heads,&rdquo; which ushered these reports to the
+world. The first read:
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>&ldquo;THE BOSSES AT WAR!&rdquo;</b></span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&ldquo;HOT WORDS AND LOOKS.&rdquo;</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&ldquo;BUT THEY&rsquo;LL CRAWL LATER.&rdquo;</span><br/>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&ldquo;There&rsquo;s beauty in the bellow of the blast,</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">There&rsquo;s grandeur in the growling of the gale;</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But there&rsquo;s eloquence-appalling, when Stirling is aroaring,</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And the Tiger&rsquo;s getting modest with his tail&rdquo;</span><br/>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was a Republican account. The second was:
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<b>&ldquo;MAGUIRE ON TOP!&rdquo;</b>
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<b>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</b>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The third, printed in an insignificant little penny paper, never read and
+almost unknown by reading people, yet which had more city advertising than all
+the other papers put together, and a circulation to match the largest,
+announced:
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>&ldquo;TACITURNITY JUNIOR&rsquo;S&rdquo;</b></span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>&ldquo;ONCE MORE AT THE BAT!&rdquo;</b></span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&ldquo;NO MORE NONSENSE.&rdquo;</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&ldquo;HE PUTS MAGUIRE OUT ON THIRD BASE.&rdquo;</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>&ldquo;NOW PLAY BALL!&rdquo;</b></span><br/>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And unintelligible as this latter sounds, it was near enough the truth to
+suggest inspiration. But there is no need to reprint the article that followed,
+for now it is possible, for the first time, to tell what actually occurred; and
+this contribution should alone permit this work to rank, as no doubt it is
+otherwise fully qualified to, in the dullest class of all books, that of the
+historical novel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The facts are, that Peter alighted from a hansom one evening, in the middle of
+July, and went into the Manhattan Club. He exchanged greetings with a number of
+men in the halls, and with more who came in while he was reading the evening
+papers. A man came up to him while he still read, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Stirling. Reading about your own iniquity?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter, rising and shaking hands. &ldquo;I gave up
+reading about that ten years ago. Life is too short.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pelton and Webber were checking their respectability in the coat-room,
+as I came up. I suppose they are in the caf&eacute;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said nothing, but turned, and the two entered that room. Peter shook
+hands with three men who were there, and they all drew up round one of the
+little tables. A good many men who saw that group, nudged each other, and
+whispered remarks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A reporter from the <i>Sun</i> is in the strangers&rsquo; room. Mr.
+Stirling, and asks to see you,&rdquo; said a servant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot see him,&rdquo; said Peter, quietly. &ldquo;But say to him that
+I may possibly have something to tell him about eleven o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The four men at the table exchanged glances.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t imagine a newspaper getting an interview out of you,
+Stirling,&rdquo; laughed one of them a little nervously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled. &ldquo;Very few of us are absolutely consistent. I can&rsquo;t
+imagine any of you, for instance, making a political mistake but perhaps you
+may some day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A pause of a curious kind came after this, which was only interrupted by the
+arrival of three more men. They all shook hands, and Peter rang a bell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What shall it be?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a moment&rsquo;s hesitation, and then one said. &ldquo;Order for us.
+You&rsquo;re host. Just what you like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled. &ldquo;Thomas,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;bring us eight Apollinaris
+cocktails.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The men all laughed, and Thomas said, &ldquo;Beg pardon, Mr. Stirling?&rdquo;
+in a bewildered way. Thomas had served the club many years, but he had never
+heard of that cocktail.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Thomas,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;if you don&rsquo;t have that in
+stock, make it seven Blackthorns.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then presently eight men packed themselves into the elevator, and a moment
+later were sitting in one of the private dining-rooms. For an hour and a half
+they chatted over the meal, very much as if it were nothing more than a social
+dinner. But the moment the servant had passed the cigars and light, and had
+withdrawn, the chat suddenly ceased, and a silence came for a moment Then a man
+said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity it can&rsquo;t please all, but the majority&rsquo;s
+got to rule.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; promptly said another, &ldquo;this is really a Maguire
+ratification meeting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing else to do,&rdquo; affirmed a third.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But a fourth said: &ldquo;Then what are we here for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No one seemed to find an answer. After a moment&rsquo;s silence, the original
+speaker said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the only way we can be sure of winning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He gives us every pledge,&rdquo; echoed the second.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And we&rsquo;ve agreed, anyways, so we are bound,&rdquo; continued the
+first speaker.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took his cigar out of his mouth. &ldquo;Who are bound?&rdquo; he asked,
+quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, the organization is&mdash;the party,&rdquo; said Number Two, with a
+&ldquo;deny-it-if-you-dare&rdquo; in his voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see how we can back out now, Stirling,&rdquo; said Number
+One.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who wants to?&rdquo; said another. &ldquo;The Labor party promises to
+support us on our local nominations, and Maguire is not merely a Democrat, but
+he gives us every pledge.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no good of talking of anything else anyhow,&rdquo; said
+Number One, &ldquo;for there will be a clean majority for Maguire in the
+convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And no other candidate can poll fifty votes on the first ballot,&rdquo;
+said Number Two.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then they all looked at Peter, and became silent. Peter puffed his cigar
+thoughtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you say?&rdquo; said Number One.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter merely shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I tell you it&rsquo;s done,&rdquo; cried one of the men, a little
+excitedly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s too late to backslide! We want to please you,
+Stirling, but we can&rsquo;t this time. We must do what&rsquo;s right for the
+party.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not letting my own feeling decide it,&rdquo; said Peter.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m thinking of the party. For every vote the Labor people give
+Maguire, the support of that party will lose us a Democratic vote.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But we can&rsquo;t win with a triangular fight. The Republicans will
+simply walk over the course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If Peter had been a hot-headed reformer, he would have said: &ldquo;Better that
+than that such a scoundrel shall win.&rdquo; But Peter was a politician, and so
+saw no need of saying the unpleasantest thing that occurred to him, even if he
+felt it. Instead, he said: &ldquo;The Labor party will get as many votes from
+the Republicans as from us, and, for every vote the Labor party takes from us,
+we shall get a Republican vote, if we put up the right kind of a man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; cried Number One.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you figure that?&rdquo; asked another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In these panic times, the nomination of such a man as Maguire, with his
+truckling to the lowest passions and his socialistic speeches, will frighten
+conservative men enough to make them break party lines, and unite on the most
+certain candidate. That will be ours.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why risk it, when, with Maguire, it&rsquo;s certain?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter wanted to say: &ldquo;Maguire shall not be endorsed, and that ends
+it.&rdquo; Instead, he said: &ldquo;We can win with our own man, and
+don&rsquo;t need to trade with or endorse the Labor party. We can elect Maguire
+by the aid of the worst votes in this city, or we can elect our own man by the
+aid of the best. The one weakens our party in the future; the other strengthens
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think that possible?&rdquo; asked the man who had sought information
+as to what they &ldquo;were here for.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. The Labor party makes a stir, but it wouldn&rsquo;t give us the
+oyster and be content with the shells if it really felt strong. See what it
+offers us. All the local and State ticket except six assemblymen, two senators,
+and a governor, tied hand and foot to us, whose proudest claim for years has
+been that he&rsquo;s a Democrat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But all this leaves out of sight the fact that the thing&rsquo;s
+done,&rdquo; said Number One.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. It&rsquo;s too late. The polls are closed,&rdquo; said another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stopped puffing. &ldquo;The convention hasn&rsquo;t met,&rdquo; he
+remarked, quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That remark, however, seemed to have a sting in it, for Number Two cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come. We&rsquo;ve decided. Now, put up or shut up. No more beating about
+the bush.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell us what you intend, Stirling,&rdquo; said Number One. &ldquo;We are
+committed beyond retreat. Come in with us, or stay outside the
+breastworks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;since you&rsquo;ve taken your own
+position, without consulting me, you will allow me the same privilege.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go to&mdash;where you please,&rdquo; said Number Six, crossly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what do you intend to do?&rdquo; asked Number One.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter knocked the ash off his cigar. &ldquo;You consider yourselves pledged to
+support Maguire?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. We are pledged,&rdquo; said four voices in unison.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To oppose him,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I tell you the majority of the convention is for him,&rdquo; said
+Number One. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you believe me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what good will your opposition do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will defeat Maguire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No power on earth can do that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t beat him in the convention, Stirling. The delegates
+pledged to him, and those we can give him elect him on the first ballot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How about November fourth?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Number One sprang to his feet. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean?&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never!&rdquo; said Number Three.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, Stirling, say what you intend!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I intend,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;if the Democratic convention
+endorses Stephen Maguire, to speak against him in every ward of this city, and
+ask every man in it, whom I can influence, to vote for the Republican
+candidate.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dead silence reigned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll go back on the party?&rdquo; finally said one, in
+awe-struck tones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be a traitor?&rdquo; cried another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d have believed anything but that you would be a dashed
+Mugwump!&rdquo; groaned the third.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say you are fooling?&rdquo; begged Number Seven.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;Nor am I more a traitor to my party than
+you. You insist on supporting the Labor candidate and I shall support the
+Republican candidate. We are both breaking our party.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll win,&rdquo; said Number One.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not so sure,&rdquo; said the gentleman of the previous
+questions. &ldquo;How many votes can you hurt us, Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Peter looked very contented.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t expect to beat us single?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled quietly. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t had time to see many men.
+But&mdash;I&rsquo;m not single. Bohlmann says the brewers will back me, Hummel
+says he&rsquo;ll be guided by me, and the President won&rsquo;t
+interfere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You might as well give up,&rdquo; continued the previous questioner.
+&ldquo;The Sixth is a sure thirty-five hundred to the bad, and between
+Stirling&rsquo;s friends, and the Hummel crowd, and Bohlmann&rsquo;s people,
+you&rsquo;ll lose twenty-five thousand in the rest of the city, besides the
+Democrats you&rsquo;ll frighten off by the Labor party. You can&rsquo;t put it
+less than thirty-five thousand, to say nothing of the hole in the campaign
+fund.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The beauty about a practical politician is that votes count for more than his
+own wishes. Number One said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s ended. You&rsquo;ve smashed our slate. What have you
+got in its place?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Porter?&rdquo; suggested Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said three voices.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t stand any more of him,&rdquo; said Number One.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s an honest, square man,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t help that. One dose of a man who&rsquo;s got as little
+gumption as he, is all we can stand. He may have education, but I&rsquo;ll be
+hanged if he has intellect. Why don&rsquo;t you ask us to choose a college
+professor, and have done with it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, Stirling,&rdquo; said the previous questioner, &ldquo;the
+thing&rsquo;s been messed so that we&rsquo;ve got to go into convention with
+just the right man to rally the delegates. There&rsquo;s only one man we can do
+it with, and you know it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose, and dropped his cigar-stump into the ash-receiver. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t see anything else,&rdquo; he said, gloomily. &ldquo;Do any of
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment&rsquo;s silence, and then Number One said: &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take the nomination if
+necessary, but keep it back for a time, till we see if something better
+can&rsquo;t be hit upon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No danger,&rdquo; said Number One, holding out his hand, gleefully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s more ways of killing a pig than choking it with
+butter,&rdquo; said Number Three, laughing and doing the same.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity Costell isn&rsquo;t here,&rdquo; added the previous
+questioner. &ldquo;After you&rsquo;re not yielding to him, he&rsquo;d never
+believe we had forced you to take it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And that was what actually took place at that very-much-talked-about dinner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went downstairs with a very serious look on his face. At the door, the
+keeper of it said: &ldquo;There are six reporters in the strangers&rsquo; room,
+Mr. Stirling, who wish to see you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A man who had just come in said: &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry for you, Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled quietly. &ldquo;Tell them our wishes are not mutual.&rdquo; Then
+he turned to the newcomer. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;so far as the party is concerned, Hummel. But I&rsquo;m to foot the bill
+to do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The devil! You don&rsquo;t mean&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter nodded his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give twenty-five thousand to the fund,&rdquo; said Hummel,
+gleefully. &ldquo;See if I don&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Excuse me, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said a man who had just come in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Peter promptly, &ldquo;But I must ask the same
+favor of you, as I am going down town at once.&rdquo; Peter had the brutality
+to pass out of the front door instantly, leaving the reporter with a
+disappointed look on his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If he only would have said something?&rdquo; groaned the reporter to
+himself. &ldquo;Anything that could be spun into a column. He needn&rsquo;t
+have told me what he didn&rsquo;t care to tell, yet he could have helped me to
+pay my month&rsquo;s rent as easily as could be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As for Peter, he fell into a long stride, and his face nearly equalled his
+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 the gloom in his face
+which had been so fixed an expression for the last month. But he looked as a
+man might look who knew he had but a few hours to live, yet to whom death had
+no terror.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am giving up,&rdquo; Peter thought, &ldquo;everything that has been my
+true life till now. My profession, my friends, my chance to help others, my
+books, and my quiet. I shall be misunderstood, reviled and hated. Everything I
+do will be distorted for partisan purposes. Friends will misjudge. Enemies will
+become the more bitter. I give up fifty thousand dollars a year in order to
+become a slave, with toadies, trappers, lobbyists and favor-seekers as my daily
+quota of humanity. I even sacrifice the larger part of my power.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So ran Peter&rsquo;s thoughts, and they were the thoughts of a man who had not
+worked seventeen years in politics for nothing. He saw alienation of friends,
+income, peace, and independence, and the only return a mere title, which to him
+meant a loss, rather than a gain of power. Yet this was one of the dozen prizes
+thought the best worth striving for in our politics. Is it a wonder that our
+government and office-holding is left to the foreign element? That the native
+American should prefer any other work, rather than run the gauntlet of public
+opinion and press, with loss of income and peace, that he may hold some
+difficult office for a brief term?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But finally Peter rose. &ldquo;Perhaps she&rsquo;ll like it,&rdquo; he said
+aloud, and presumably, since no woman is allowed a voice in American politics,
+he was thinking of Miss Columbia. Then he looked at some photographs, a scrap
+of ribbon, a gold coin (Peter clearly was becoming a money worshipper), three
+letters, a card, a small piece of blotting-paper, a handkerchief (which Leonore
+and Peter had spent nearly ten minutes in trying to find one day), a glove, and
+some dried rose-leaves and violets. Yet this was the man who had grappled an
+angry tiger but two hours before and had brought it to lick his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He went to bed very happy.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.<br/>
+CLOUDS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+But a month later he was far happier, for one morning towards the end of
+August, his mail brought him a letter from Watts, announcing that they had been
+four days installed in their Newport home, and that Peter would now be welcome
+any time. &ldquo;I have purposely not filled Grey-Court this summer, so that
+you should have every chance. Between you and me and the post, I think there
+have been moments when mademoiselle missed &lsquo;her friend&rsquo; far more
+than she confessed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dat&rsquo;s stronory,&rdquo; thought Jenifer. &ldquo;He dun eat
+mo&rsquo; dis yar hot mo&rsquo;nin&rsquo; dan he dun in two mumfs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Jenifer was sent out with a telegram, which merely said: &ldquo;May I come
+to-day by Shore line limited? P.S.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you get back, Jenifer,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;you may pack my
+trunk and your own. We may start for Newport at two.&rdquo; Evidently Peter did
+not intend to run any risks of missing the train, in case the answer should be
+favorable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter passed into his office, and set to work to put the loose ends in such
+shape that nothing should go wrong during his absence. He had not worked long,
+when one of the boys told him that:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Cassius Curlew wants to see you, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stopped his writing, looking up quickly: &ldquo;Did he say on what
+business?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ask him, please.&rdquo; And Peter went on writing till the boy returned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He says it&rsquo;s about the convention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell him he must be more specific.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy returned in a moment with a folded scrap of paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He said that would tell you, Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter unfolded the scrap, and read upon it: &ldquo;A message from
+Maguire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Show him in.&rdquo; Peter touched a little knob on his desk on which was
+stamped &ldquo;Chief Clerk.&rdquo; A moment later a man opened a door.
+&ldquo;Samuels,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I wish you would stay here for a
+moment. I want you to listen to what&rsquo;s said.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next moment a man crossed the threshold of another door.
+&ldquo;Good-morning, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Curlew,&rdquo; said Peter, without rising and with a cold
+inclination of his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a message for you, Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; said the man, pulling a
+chair into a position that suited him, and sitting, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s
+private.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said nothing, but began to write.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you understand? I want a word with you private,&rdquo; said the man
+after a pause.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Samuels is my confidential clerk. You can speak with perfect freedom
+before him.&rdquo; Peter spoke without raising his eyes from his writing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t want any one round. It&rsquo;s just between you and
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I got your message,&rdquo; said Peter, still writing, &ldquo;I sent
+for Mr. Samuels. If you have anything to say, say it now. Otherwise leave it
+unsaid.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said the man, &ldquo;your party&rsquo;s been tricking
+us, and we won&rsquo;t stand it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter wrote diligently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And we know who&rsquo;s back of it. It was all pie down to that dinner
+of yours.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that Maguire&rsquo;s message?&rdquo; asked Peter, though with no
+cessation of his labors.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nop,&rdquo; said the man. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the introduction. Now, we
+know what it means. You needn&rsquo;t deny it. You&rsquo;re squinting at the
+governorship yourself. And you&rsquo;ve made the rest go back on Maguire, and
+work for you on the quiet. Oh, we know what&rsquo;s going on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me when you begin on the message,&rdquo; said Peter, still writing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maguire&rsquo;s sent me to you, to tell you to back water. To stop
+bucking.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell Mr. Maguire I have received his message.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that isn&rsquo;t all, and don&rsquo;t you forget it! Maguire&rsquo;s
+in this for fur and feathers, and if you go before the convention as a
+candidate, we&rsquo;ll fill the air with them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that part of the message?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By that we mean that half an hour after you accept the nomination,
+we&rsquo;ll have a force of detectives at work on your past life, and
+we&rsquo;ll hunt down and expose every discreditable thing you&rsquo;ve ever
+done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his hands on his
+hip-pocket. But even before he did it, Peter had begun speaking, in a quiet,
+self-contained voice: &ldquo;That sounds so like Mr. Maguire, that I think we
+have the message at last. Go to him, and say that I have received his message.
+That I know him, and I know his methods. That I understand his hopes of driving
+me, as he has some, from his path, by threats of private scandal. That, judging
+others by himself, he believes no man&rsquo;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 accept the nomination. That rather than see him the nominee of
+the Democratic party, I will take it myself. Tell him to set on his
+blood-hounds. They are welcome to all they can unearth in my life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he was not
+quite sure that he could sustain this altitude, if he saw more of the man. But
+as his hand was on the knob, Curlew spoke again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got something more to
+say to you. We have proof already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned, with an amused look on his face. &ldquo;I was wondering,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague
+threats.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No siree,&rdquo; said Curlew with a self-assured manner, but at the same
+time putting Peter&rsquo;s desk between the clerk and himself, so that his
+flank could not be turned. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got some evidence that
+won&rsquo;t be sweet reading for you, and we&rsquo;re going to print it, if you
+take the nomination.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once. That I
+shall take the nomination.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And disgrace one of your best friends?&rdquo; asked Curlew.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter started slightly, and looked sharply at the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ho, ho,&rdquo; said Curlew. &ldquo;That bites, eh? Well, it will bite
+worse before it&rsquo;s through with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stood silent for a moment, but his hands trembled slightly, and any one
+who understood anatomy could have recognized that every muscle in his body was
+at full tension. But all he said was: &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s about that trip of yours on the
+&lsquo;Majestic.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked bewildered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got sworn affidavits of two stewards,&rdquo; Curlew
+continued, &ldquo;about yours and some one else&rsquo;s goings on. I guess Mr.
+and Mrs. Rivington won&rsquo;t thank you for having them printed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instantly came a cry of fright, and the crack of a revolver, which brought
+Peter&rsquo;s partners and the clerks crowding into the room. It was to find
+Curlew lying back on the desk, held there by Peter with one hand, while his
+other, clasping the heavy glass inkstand, was swung aloft. There was a look on
+Peter&rsquo;s face that did not become it. An insurance company would not have
+considered Curlew&rsquo;s life at that moment a fair risk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But when Peter&rsquo;s arm descended it did so gently, put the inkstand back on
+the desk, and taking a pocket-handkerchief wiped a splash of ink from the hand
+that had a moment before been throttling Curlew. That worthy struggled up from
+his back-breaking attitude and the few parts of his face not drenched with ink,
+were very white, while his hands trembled more than had Peter&rsquo;s a moment
+before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter!&rdquo; cried Ogden. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I lost my temper for a moment,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But who fired that shot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned to the clerks. &ldquo;Leave the room,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;all
+of you. And keep this to yourselves. I don&rsquo;t think the other floors could
+have heard anything through the fire-proof brick, but if any one comes, refer
+them to me.&rdquo; As the office cleared, Peter turned to his partners and
+said: &ldquo;Mr. Curlew came here with a message which he thought needed the
+protection of a revolver. He judged rightly, it seems.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you hit?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I felt something strike.&rdquo; Peter put his hand to his side. He
+unbuttoned his coat and felt again. Then he pulled out a little sachet from his
+breast-pocket, and as e did so, a flattened bullet dropped to the floor. Peter
+looked into the sachet anxiously. The bullet had only gone through the lower
+corner of the four photographs and the glove! Peter laughed happily. &ldquo;I
+had a gold coin in my pocket, and the bullet struck that. Who says that a
+luck-piece is nothing but a superstition?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Peter, shan&rsquo;t we call the police?&rdquo; demanded Ogden,
+still looking stunned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Curlew moved towards the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; said Peter, and Curlew stopped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ray,&rdquo; Peter continued, &ldquo;I am faced with a terrible question.
+I want your advice?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What, Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man is trying to force me to stand aside and permit a political wrong.
+To do this, he threatens to publish lying affidavits of worthless scoundrels,
+to prove a shameful intimacy between a married woman and me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bosh,&rdquo; laughed Ray. &ldquo;He can publish a thousand and no one
+would believe them of you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it would
+connect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that ever lived.
+He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloat over it. That
+the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. That in the heat of a
+political contest, the partisans will be only too glad to believe it and repeat
+it. That no criminal prosecution, no court vindication, will ever quite kill
+the story as regards her. And so he hopes that, rather than entail this on a
+woman whom I love, and on her husband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I
+know of such a case in Massachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such
+a danger, the man withdrew. What should I do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do? Fight him. Tell him to do his worst.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter put his hand on Ray&rsquo;s shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even if&mdash;if&mdash;it is one dear to us both?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Do you remember your being called home in our Spanish trip,
+unexpectedly? You left me to bring Miss De Voe, and&mdash;Well. They&rsquo;ve
+bribed, or forged affidavits of two of the stewards of the
+&lsquo;Majestic.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ray tried to spring forward towards Curlew. But Peter&rsquo;s hand still rested
+on his shoulder, and held him back, &ldquo;I started to kill him,&rdquo; Peter
+said quietly, &ldquo;but I remembered he was nothing but the miserable
+go-between.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God, Peter! What can I say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ray! The stepping aside is nothing to me. It was an office which I was
+ready to take, but only as a sacrifice and a duty. It is to prevent wrong that
+I interfered. So do not think it means a loss to me to retire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, do what you intended to do. We must not compromise with wrong
+even for her sake.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The two shook hands, &ldquo;I do not think they will ever use it, Ray,&rdquo;
+said Peter. &ldquo;But I may be mistaken, and cannot involve you in the
+possibility, without your consent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course they&rsquo;ll use it,&rdquo; cried Ogden. &ldquo;Scoundrels
+who could think of such a thing, will use it without hesitation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;A man who uses a coward&rsquo;s weapons,
+is a coward at heart. We can prevent it, I think.&rdquo; Then he turned to
+Curlew. &ldquo;Tell Mr. Maguire about this interview. Tell him that I spared
+you, because you are not the principal. But tell him from me, that if a word is
+breathed against Mrs. Rivington, I swear that I&rsquo;ll search for him till I
+find him, and when I find him I&rsquo;ll kill him with as little compunction as
+I would a rattlesnake.&rdquo; Peter turned and going to his dressing-room,
+washed away the ink from his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Curlew shuffled out of the room, and, black as he was, went straight to the
+Labor headquarters and told his story.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he&rsquo;ll do it too, Mr. Maguire,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You
+should have seen his look as he said it, and as he stood over me. I feel it
+yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think he means it?&rdquo; said Ray to Ogden, when they were back
+in Ray&rsquo;s room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t think so if I hadn&rsquo;t seen his face as he stood
+over that skunk. But if ever a man looked murder he did at that moment. And
+quiet old Peter of all men!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We must talk to him. Do tell him that&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you dare do it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t. Unless he speaks I shall&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ray and Ogden,&rdquo; said a quiet voice, &ldquo;I wish you would write
+out what you have just seen and heard. It may be needed in the future.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, let me speak,&rdquo; cried Ray. &ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t do what
+you said. Think of such an end to your life. No matter what that scoundrel
+does, don&rsquo;t end your life on a gallows. It&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter held up his hand. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know the American people, Ray.
+If Maguire uses that lying story, I can kill him, and there isn&rsquo;t a jury
+in the country which, when the truth was told, wouldn&rsquo;t acquit me.
+Maguire knows it, too. We have heard the last of that threat, I&rsquo;m
+sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went back to his office. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t wonder,&rdquo; he thought,
+as he stood looking at the ink-stains on his desk and floor, &ldquo;that people
+think politics nothing but trickery and scoundrelism. Yet such vile weapons and
+slanders would not be used if there were not people vile and mean enough at
+heart to let such things influence them. The fault is not in politics. It is in
+humanity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.<br/>
+SUNSHINE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+But just as Peter was about to continue this rather unsatisfactory train of
+thought, his eye caught sight of a flattened bullet lying on the floor. He
+picked it up, with a smile. &ldquo;I knew she was my good luck,&rdquo; he said.
+Then he took out the sachet again, and kissed the dented and bent coin. Then he
+examined the photographs. &ldquo;Not even the dress is cut through,&rdquo; he
+said gleefully, looking at the full length. &ldquo;It couldn&rsquo;t have hit
+in a better place.&rdquo; When he came to the glove, however, he grieved a
+little over it. Even this ceased to trouble him the next moment, for a telegram
+was laid on his desk. It merely said, &ldquo;Come by all means.
+W.C.D&rsquo;A.&rdquo; Yet that was enough to make Peter drop thoughts, work,
+and everything for a time. He sat at his desk, gazing at a blank wall, and
+thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. But his expression bore no
+resemblance to the one formerly assumed when that particular practice had been
+habitual.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nor was this expression the only difference in this day, to mark the change
+from Peter past to Peter present. For instead of manoeuvring to make Watts sit
+on the back seat, when he was met by the trap late that afternoon, at Newport,
+he took possession of that seat in the coolest possible manner, leaving the one
+by the driver to Watts. Nor did Peter look away from the girl on that back
+seat. Quite the contrary. It did not seem to him that a thousand eyes would
+have been any too much. Peter&rsquo;s three months of gloom vanished, and
+became merely a contrast to heighten his present joy. A sort of
+&ldquo;shadow-box.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had had the nicest kind of welcome from his &ldquo;friend.&rdquo; If the
+manner had not been quite so absolutely frank as of yore, yet there was no
+doubt as to her pleasure in seeing Peter. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s very nice to see
+you again,&rdquo; she had said while shaking hands. &ldquo;I hoped you would
+come quickly.&rdquo; Peter was too happy to say anything in reply. He merely
+took possession of that vacant seat, and rested his eyes in silence till Watts,
+after climbing into place, asked him how the journey to Newport had been.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lovelier than ever,&rdquo; said Peter, abstractedly. &ldquo;I
+didn&rsquo;t think it was possible.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; said Watts, turning with surprise on his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Leonore did not look surprised. She only looked the other way, and the
+corners of her mouth were curving upwards.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The journey?&rdquo; queried Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean Newport, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; said Leonore helpfully, when
+Peter said nothing. Leonore was looking out from under her lashes&mdash;at
+things in general, of course.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 deceiving loophole she had
+opened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts said, &ldquo;Oh, of course. It improves every year. But wasn&rsquo;t the
+journey hot, old man?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t notice,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t notice! And this one of the hottest days of the
+year.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had something else to think about,&rdquo; explained Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Politics?&rdquo; asked Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ve been so interested in
+all the talk. It was just as maddening as could be, how hard it was to get New
+York papers way out west. I&rsquo;m awfully in the dark about some things.
+I&rsquo;ve asked 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
+the Tennis Tournament, and thought he would tell me all about it. But he was
+horrid! His whole manner said: &lsquo;I can&rsquo;t waste real talk on a
+girl.&rsquo; I told him I was a great friend of yours, and that you would tell
+me when you came, but he only laughed and said, he had no doubt you would, for
+you were famous for your indiscretion. I hate men who laugh at women the moment
+they try to talk as men do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll have to turn Pell down. A
+Congressman who laughs at one of my friends won&rsquo;t do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I really wish you would. That would teach him,&rdquo; said Leonore,
+vindictively. &ldquo;A man who laughs at women can&rsquo;t be a good
+Congressman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell you what we&rsquo;ll do,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+want to retire him, because&mdash;because I like his mother. But I will tell
+you something for you to tell him, that will astonish him very much, and make
+him want to know who told you, and so you can tease him endlessly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter!&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;You are the nicest man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; asked Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a great secret,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I shall only tell
+it to Miss D&rsquo;Alloi, so that if it leaks beyond Pell, I shall know whom to
+blame for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goody!&rdquo; cried Leonore, giving a little bounce for joy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it about that famous dinner?&rdquo; inquired Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, I&rsquo;m so curious about that. Will you tell me what you
+did?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I ate a dinner,&rdquo; said Peter smiling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now don&rsquo;t be like Mr. Pell,&rdquo; said Leonore, reprovingly,
+&ldquo;or I&rsquo;ll take back what I just said.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you roar, and did the tiger put its tail between its legs?&rdquo;
+asked Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is the last thing our friends, the enemies, have found,&rdquo; said
+Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will tell me about it, won&rsquo;t you, Peter?&rdquo; said Leonore,
+ingratiatingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you a mount for me, Watts, for to-morrow? Mutineer comes by boat
+to-night, but won&rsquo;t be here till noon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ve one chap up to your weight, I think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like dodgers,&rdquo; said Leonore, the corners of her
+mouth drawn down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was not dodging,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I only was asking a
+preliminary question. If you will get up, before breakfast, and ride with me, I
+will tell you everything that actually occurred at that dinner. You will be the
+only person, I think, who wasn&rsquo;t there, who knows.&rdquo; It was shameful
+and open bribery, but bosses are shameful and open in their doings, so Peter
+was only living up to his r&ocirc;le.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The temptation was too strong to be resisted, Leonore said, &ldquo;Of coarse I
+will,&rdquo; and the corners of her mouth reversed their position. But she said
+to herself: &ldquo;I shall have to snub you in something else to make up for
+it.&rdquo; Peter was in for a bad quarter of an hour somewhere.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore had decided just how she was going to treat Peter. To begin with, she
+intended to accentuate that &ldquo;five years&rdquo; in various ways. Then she
+would be very frank and friendly, just as long as he, too, would keep within
+those limits, but if Peter even verged on anything more, she intended to leave
+him to himself, just long enough to show him that such remarks as his
+&ldquo;not caring to be friends,&rdquo; brought instant and dire punishment.
+&ldquo;And I shan&rsquo;t let him speak,&rdquo; Leonore decided, &ldquo;no
+matter if he wants to. For if he does, I&rsquo;ll have to say &lsquo;no,&rsquo;
+and then he&rsquo;ll go back to New York and sulk, and perhaps never come near
+me again, since he&rsquo;s so obstinate, while I want to stay friends.&rdquo;
+Many such campaigns have been planned by the party of the first part. But the
+trouble is that, usually, the party of the second part also has a plan, which
+entirely disconcerts the first. As the darkey remarked: &ldquo;Yissah. My dog
+he wud a beat, if it hadn&rsquo;t bin foh de udder dog.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter found as much contrast in his evening, as compared with his morning, as
+there was in his own years. After dinner. Leonore said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I always play billiards with papa. Will you play too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know how,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it&rsquo;s time you learned. I&rsquo;ll take you on my side,
+because papa always beats me. I&rsquo;ll teach you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So there was the jolliest of hours spent in this way, all of them laughing at
+Peter&rsquo;s shots, and at Leonore&rsquo;s attempts to show him how.
+&ldquo;Every woman ought to play billiards,&rdquo; Peter thought, when it was
+ended. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s the most graceful sight I&rsquo;ve seen in
+years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore said, &ldquo;You get the ideas very nicely, but you hit much too hard.
+You can&rsquo;t hit a ball too softly. You pound it as if you were trying to
+smash it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s something I really must learn,&rdquo; said Peter, who had
+refused over and over again in the past.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll teach you, while you are here,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not refuse this time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nor did he refuse another lesson. When they had drifted into the drawing-room,
+Leonore asked: &ldquo;Have you been learning how to valse?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled at so good an American using so European a word, but said
+seriously, &ldquo;No. I&rsquo;ve been too busy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a shame,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;because there are to
+be two dances this week, and mamma has written to get you cards.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it very hard?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s as easy as breathing, and
+much nicer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t you teach me that, also?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Easily. Mamma, will you play a valse? Now see.&rdquo; Leonore drew her
+skirts back with one hand, so as to show the little feet, and said: &ldquo;one,
+two, three, so. One, two, three, so. Now do that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had hoped that the way to learn dancing was to take the girl in
+one&rsquo;s arms. But he recognized that this would follow. So he set to work
+manfully to imitate that dainty little glide. It seemed easy as she did it. But
+it was not so easy when he tried it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you clumsy,&rdquo; said Leonore laughing. &ldquo;See. One, two,
+three, so. One, two, three, so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter forgot to notice the step, in his admiration of the little feet and the
+pretty figure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Leonore after a pause, &ldquo;are you going to do
+that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter tried again, and again, and again. Peter would have done it all night,
+with absolute contentment, so long as Leonore, after every failure, would show
+him the right way in her own person.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally she said, &ldquo;Now take my hands. No. Way apart, so that I can see
+your feet. Now. We&rsquo;ll try it together. One, two, change. One, two,
+change.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter thought this much better, and was ready to go on till strength failed.
+But after a time, Leonore said, &ldquo;Now. We&rsquo;ll try it the true way.
+Take my hand so and put your arm so. That&rsquo;s the way. Only never hold a
+girl too close. We hate it. Yes. That&rsquo;s it. Now, mamma. Again. One, two,
+three. One, two, three.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was heavenly, Peter thought, and could have wept over the shortness, as it
+seemed to him, of this part of the lesson.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But it ended, and Leonore said: &ldquo;If you&rsquo;ll practice that in your
+room, with a bolster, you&rsquo;ll get on very fast.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I always make haste slowly,&rdquo; said Peter, not taking to the bolster
+idea at all kindly. &ldquo;Probably you can find time to-morrow for another
+lesson, and I&rsquo;ll learn much quicker with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And will you give me some waltzes at the dances?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what I&rsquo;ll do,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;You
+shall have the dances the other men don&rsquo;t ask of me. But you don&rsquo;t
+dance well enough, in case I can get a better partner. I love valsing too much
+to waste one with a poor dancer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment before Peter thought waltzing the most exquisite pleasure the world
+contained. But he suddenly changed his mind, and concluded it was odious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nevertheless,&rdquo; he decided, &ldquo;I will learn how.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.<br/>
+THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter had his ride the next morning, and had a very interested listener to his
+account of that dinner. The listener, speaking from vast political knowledge,
+told him at the end. &ldquo;You did just right. I thoroughly approve of
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That takes a great worry off my mind,&rdquo; said Peter soberly.
+&ldquo;I was afraid, since we were to be such friends, and you wanted my help
+in the whirligig this winter, that you might not like my possibly having to
+live in Albany.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you live in New York?&rdquo; said Leonore, looking
+horrified.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I don&rsquo;t like it at all,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s no good having friends if they don&rsquo;t live near
+one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I think,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I suppose I
+couldn&rsquo;t tempt you to come and keep house for me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now I must snub him,&rdquo; thought Leonore. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;It will be bad enough to do that five years from now, for the man I
+love.&rdquo; She looked out from under her eyelashes to see if her blow had
+been fatal, and concluded from the glumness in Peter&rsquo;s face, that she
+really had been too cruel. So she added: &ldquo;But you may give me a ball, and
+we&rsquo;ll all come up and stay a week with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter relaxed a little, but he said dolefully, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what I
+shall do. I shall be in such need of your advice in politics and
+housekeeping.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;if you really find that you
+can&rsquo;t get on without help, we&rsquo;ll make it two weeks. But you must
+get up toboggan parties, and other nice things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder what the papers will say,&rdquo; thought Peter, &ldquo;if a
+governor gives toboggan parties?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After the late breakfast, Peter was taken down to see the tournament. He
+thought he would not mind it, since he was allowed to sit next Leonore. But he
+did. First he wished that she wouldn&rsquo;t pay so much attention to the
+score. Then that the men who fluttered round her would have had the good taste
+to keep away. It enraged Peter to see how perfectly willing she was to talk and
+chat about things of which he knew nothing, and how more than willing the men
+were. And then she laughed at what they said!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s fifteen-love, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; Leonore asked him
+presently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t look over fifteen,&rdquo; actually growled Peter.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether he&rsquo;s in love or not. I suppose he
+thinks he is. Boys fifteen years old always do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore forgot the score, even, in her surprise. &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;you growl just like B&ecirc;tise (the mastiff). Now I know what the
+papers mean when they say you roar.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;it makes me cross to see a lot of boys
+doing nothing but hit a small ball, and a lot more looking at them and thinking
+that it&rsquo;s worth doing.&rdquo; Which was a misstatement. It was not that
+which made Peter mad.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you ever played tennis?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never. I don&rsquo;t even know how to score.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re dreadfully
+illiterate.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know it,&rdquo; growled Peter, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t belong here, and
+have no business to come. I&rsquo;m a ward boss, and my place is in saloons.
+Don&rsquo;t hesitate to say it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All this was very foolish, but it was real to Peter for the moment, and he
+looked straight ahead with lines on his face which Leonore had never seen
+before. He ought to have been ordered to go off by himself till he should be in
+better mood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instead Leonore turned from the tennis, and said: &ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t
+talk that way, Peter. You know I don&rsquo;t think that.&rdquo; Leonore had
+understood the misery which lay back of the growl. &ldquo;Poor fellow,&rdquo;
+she thought, &ldquo;I must cheer him up.&rdquo; So she stopped looking at the
+tennis. &ldquo;See,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there are Miss Winthrop and Mr.
+Pell. Do take me over to them and let me spring my surprise. You talk to Miss
+Winthrop.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Peter!&rdquo; said Pell. &ldquo;When did you come?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Last night. How do you do, Miss Winthrop?&rdquo; Then for two minutes
+Peter talked, or rather listened, to that young lady, though sighing
+internally. Then, <i>Laus Deo!</i> up came the poor little chap, whom Peter had
+libelled in age and affections, only ten minutes before, and set Peter free. He
+turned to see how Leonore&rsquo;s petard was progressing, to find her and Pell
+deep in tennis. But just as he was going to expose his ignorance on that game,
+Leonore said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Pell, what do you think of the political outlook?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pell sighed internally, &ldquo;You can read it in the papers,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I want your opinion. Especially about the great departure the
+Democratic Convention is going to make.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean in endorsing Maguire?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore began to visibly swell in importance. &ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; she
+said, contemptuously. &ldquo;Every one knows that that was decided against at
+the Manhattan dinner. I mean the unusual resolution about the next
+senator.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pell ceased to sigh. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not really?&rdquo; said Leonore incredulously, her nose cocking a little
+more airily. &ldquo;I thought of course you would know about it. I&rsquo;m so
+surprised!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pell looked at her half quizzingly, and half questioningly. &ldquo;What is the
+resolution?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Naming a candidate for the vacancy for the Senate.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said Pell, laughing. &ldquo;The convention has nothing
+to do with the senators. The Legislature elects them.&rdquo; He thought,
+&ldquo;Why can&rsquo;t women, if they will talk politics, at least learn the
+ABC.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;but this is a new idea. The Senate has
+behaved so badly, that the party leaders think it will be better to make it a
+more popular body by having the New York convention nominate a man, and then
+they intend to make the legislature elect him. If the other states will only
+follow New York&rsquo;s lead, it may make the Senate respectable and open to
+public opinion.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pell sniffed obviously. &ldquo;In what fool paper did you read that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t read it,&rdquo; said Leonore, her eyes dancing with
+delight. &ldquo;The papers are always behind the times. But I didn&rsquo;t
+think that you would be, since you are to be named in the resolution.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pell looked at her blankly. &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you know that the Convention will pass a resolution, naming
+you for next senator?&rdquo; said Leonore, with both wonder and pity in her
+face and voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who told you that?&rdquo; said Pell, with an amount of interest blended
+with doubt that was a decided contrast to a moment ago.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s telling,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;You know, Mr. Pell,
+that one mustn&rsquo;t tell people who are outside the party councils
+everything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe you are trying to stuff me,&rdquo; said Pell, &ldquo;If it is
+so, or anything like it, you wouldn&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Leonore, tantalizingly, &ldquo;I could tell you a great
+deal more than that. But of course you don&rsquo;t care to talk politics with a
+girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pell weakened. &ldquo;Tell me who told you about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think we must go home to lunch,&rdquo; said Leonore, turning to Peter,
+who had enjoyed Leonore&rsquo;s triumph almost as much as she had.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; said Pell, &ldquo;have you heard what Miss D&rsquo;Alloi
+has been saying?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Part of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where can she have picked it up?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I met Miss D&rsquo;Alloi at a lunch at the White House, last
+June,&rdquo; said Peter seriously, &ldquo;and she, and the President, and I,
+talked politics. Politically, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi is rather a knowing person. I
+hope you haven&rsquo;t been saying anything indiscreet, Miss
+D&rsquo;Alloi?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I have,&rdquo; laughed Leonore, triumphantly, adding,
+&ldquo;but I won&rsquo;t tell anything more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pell looked after them as they went towards the carriage. &ldquo;How
+extraordinary!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;She couldn&rsquo;t have it from Peter. He
+tells nothing. Where the deuce did she get it, and is it so?&rdquo; Then he
+said: &ldquo;Senator Van Brunt Pell,&rdquo; with a roll on all the r&rsquo;s.
+&ldquo;That sounds well. I wonder if there&rsquo;s anything in it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Leonore to Peter, triumphantly &ldquo;that he would
+like to have talked politics. But he&rsquo;ll get nothing but torture from me
+if he tries.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It began to dawn on Peter that Leonore did not, despite her frank manner, mean
+all she said. He turned to her, and asked:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you really in earnest in saying that you&rsquo;ll refuse every man
+who asks you to marry him within five years?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore&rsquo;s triumph scattered to the four winds. &ldquo;What an awfully
+impudent question,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;after my saying it so often. What
+shall I answer?&rdquo; She looked Peter in the eye with severity. &ldquo;I
+shan&rsquo;t refuse,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;because I shan&rsquo;t even let
+him speak. If any man dares to attempt it, I&rsquo;ll tell him frankly I
+don&rsquo;t care to listen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She really means it,&rdquo; sighed Peter internally. &ldquo;Why is it,
+that the best girls don&rsquo;t care to marry?&rdquo; Peter became very cross,
+and, what is worse, looked it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nor was Leonore much better, &ldquo;There,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I knew just
+how it would be. He&rsquo;s getting sulky already. He isn&rsquo;t nice any
+more. The best thing will be to let him speak, for then he&rsquo;ll go back to
+New York, and won&rsquo;t bother me.&rdquo; The corners of her mouth drew away
+down, and life became very gray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So &ldquo;the best of friends&rdquo; rode home from the Casino, without so much
+as looking at each other, much less speaking. Clearly Peter was right. There
+was no good in trying to be friends any longer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Precedent or habit, however, was too strong to sustain this condition long.
+First Leonore had to be helped out of the carriage. This was rather pleasant,
+for she had to give Peter her hand, and so life became less unworth living to
+Peter. Then the footman at the door gave Peter two telegraphic envelopes of the
+bulkiest kind, and Leonore too began to take an interest in life again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are they about?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Convention. I came off so suddenly that some details were left
+unarranged.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Read them out loud,&rdquo; she said calmly, as Peter broke the first
+open.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled at her, and said: &ldquo;If I do, will you give me another
+waltzing lesson after lunch?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t bargain,&rdquo; said Leonore, disapprovingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Peter, putting the telegrams in his pocket, and
+turning towards the stairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore let him go up to the first landing. But as soon as she became convinced
+that he was really going to his room, she said, &ldquo;Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned and looked down at the pretty figure at the foot of the stairs. He
+came down again. When he had reached the bottom he said, &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was half angry, and half laughing. &ldquo;You ought to want to read
+them to me,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;since we are such friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;And you ought to want to teach me to
+waltz, since we are such friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t like the spirit,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter laughed. &ldquo;Nor I,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Still, I&rsquo;ll prove
+I&rsquo;m the better, by reading them to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now I will teach him,&rdquo; said Leonore to herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter unfolded the many sheets. &ldquo;This is very secret, of course,&rdquo;
+he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Leonore looked round the hall as if she was a conspirator.
+&ldquo;Come to the window-seat upstairs,&rdquo; she whispered, and led the way.
+When they had ensconced themselves there, and drawn the curtains, she said,
+&ldquo;Now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You had better sit nearer me,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;so that I can
+whisper it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;No one can hear us.&rdquo; She thought,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d snub you for that, if I wasn&rsquo;t afraid you wouldn&rsquo;t
+read it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You understand that you are not to repeat this to anyone.&rdquo; Peter
+was smiling over something.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore said, &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; half crossly and half eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter read:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Use Hudson knowledge counties past not belief local twenty imbecility
+certified of yet till yesterday noon whose Malta could accurately it at
+seventeen. Potomac give throw Haymarket estimated Moselle thirty-three to into
+fortify through jurist arrived down right&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t be treated so!&rdquo; interrupted Leonore, indignantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean,&rdquo; said Peter, still smiling. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+reading it to you, as you asked.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No you are not. You are just making up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me see it.&rdquo; Leonore shifted her seat so as to overlook Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s only two pages,&rdquo; said Peter, holding them so that
+Leonore had to sit very close to him to see. &ldquo;There are eighteen
+more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked at them. &ldquo;Was it written by a lunatic?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo; Peter looked at the end. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s from Green.
+Remember. You are not to repeat it to any one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Luncheon is served, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; said a footman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bother luncheon,&rdquo; thought Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please tell me what it means?&rdquo; said Leonore, rising.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do that, till I get the key and decipher it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Leonore, clapping her hands in delight.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a cipher. How tremendously interesting! We&rsquo;ll go at it
+right after lunch and decipher it together, won&rsquo;t we?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After the dancing lesson, you mean, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; suggested
+Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you know I was going to do it?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You told me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never! I didn&rsquo;t say a word.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You looked several,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore regarded him very seriously. &ldquo;You are not &lsquo;Peter
+Simple&rsquo; a bit,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like deep
+men.&rdquo; She turned and went to her room. &ldquo;I really must be
+careful,&rdquo; she told the enviable sponge as it passed over her face,
+&ldquo;he&rsquo;s a man who needs very special treatment. I ought to send him
+right back to New York. But I do so want to know about the politics. No.
+I&rsquo;ll keep friends till the campaign&rsquo;s finished. Then he&rsquo;ll
+have to live in Albany, and that will make it all right. Let me see. He said
+the governor served three years. That isn&rsquo;t five, but perhaps he&rsquo;ll
+have become sensible before then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As for Peter, he actually whistled during his ablutions, which was something he
+had not done for many years. He could not quite say why, but it represented his
+mood better than did his earlier growl.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.<br/>
+A GUARDIAN ANGEL.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peter had as glorious an afternoon as he had had a bad morning. First he danced
+a little. Then the two sat at the big desk in the deserted library and worked
+together over those very complex dispatches till they had them translated. Then
+they had to discuss their import. Finally they had to draft answers and
+translate them into cipher. All this with their heads very close together, and
+an utter forgetfulness on the part of a certain personage that snubbing rather
+than politics was her &ldquo;plan of campaign.&rdquo; But Leonore began to feel
+that she was a political power herself, and so forgot her other schemes. When
+they had the answering dispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter
+and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think we&rsquo;ve done that very well,&rdquo; in the most approving
+voice. &ldquo;Do you think they&rsquo;ll do as we tell them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so frankly and with
+such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed was noble or great
+enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times that afternoon, it had
+seemed to him that he could not keep himself from leaning over and taking one.
+He even went so far now as to speculate on exactly what Leonore would do if he
+did. Fortunately his face was not given to expressing his thoughts. Leonore
+never dreamed how narrow an escape she had. &ldquo;If only she wouldn&rsquo;t
+be so friendly and confiding,&rdquo; groaned Peter, even while absolutely happy
+in her mood. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do it, when she trusts me so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;perhaps when you&rsquo;ve done staring
+at me, you&rsquo;ll answer my question.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think they&rsquo;ll do as we tell them,&rdquo; smiled Peter.
+&ldquo;But we&rsquo;ll get word to-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we
+shall know better how the land lies, and can talk plainer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will there be more ciphers, to-morrow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; To himself Peter said, &ldquo;I must write Green and the
+rest to telegraph me every day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now we&rsquo;ll have a cup of tea,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I like
+politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you would like Albany,&rdquo; said Peter, putting a chair for her
+by the little tea-table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t live in Albany for the whole world,&rdquo; said
+Leonore, resuming her old self with horrible rapidity. But just then she burnt
+her finger with the match with which she was lighting the lamp, and her cruelty
+vanished in a wail. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;How it hurts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; said Peter sympathetically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little hand was held up. &ldquo;It does hurt,&rdquo; said Leonore, who saw
+that there was a painful absence of all signs of injury, and feared Peter would
+laugh at such a burn after those he had suffered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Peter treated it very seriously. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure it does,&rdquo; he
+said, taking possession of the hand. &ldquo;And I know how it hurts.&rdquo; He
+leaned over and kissed the little thumb. Then he didn&rsquo;t care a scrap
+whether Leonore liked Albany or not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t snub you this time,&rdquo; said Leonore to herself,
+&ldquo;because you didn&rsquo;t laugh at me for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s evening was not so happy. Leonore told him as they rose from
+dinner that she was going to a dance. &ldquo;We have permission to take you. Do
+you care to go?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. If you&rsquo;ll give me some dances.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve told you once that I&rsquo;ll only give you the ones not
+taken by better dancers. If you choose to stay round I&rsquo;ll take you for
+those.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you ever have a dance over?&rdquo; asked Peter, marvelling at such a
+possibility.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve only been to one dance. I didn&rsquo;t have at that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, growling a little, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Leonore, calmly, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t put yourself out on
+my account.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not,&rdquo; growled Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m doing it to please
+myself.&rdquo; Then he laughed, so Leonore laughed too.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a game of billiards they all went to the dance. As they entered the hall,
+Peter heard his name called in a peculiar voice behind. He turned and saw
+Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy merely said, &ldquo;Peter!&rdquo; again. But Peter understood that
+explanations were in order. He made no attempt to dodge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dorothy,&rdquo; he said softly, giving a glance at Leonore, to see that
+she was out of hearing, &ldquo;when you spent that summer with Miss De Voe, did
+Ray come down every week?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would he have come if you had been travelling out west?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter,&rdquo; cried Dorothy, below her breath, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so
+glad it&rsquo;s come at last!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We hope our readers can grasp the continuity of Dorothy&rsquo;s mental
+processes, for her verbal ones were rather inconsequent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s lovely,&rdquo; continued the verbal process. &ldquo;And
+I&rsquo;m sure I can help you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I need it,&rdquo; groaned Peter. &ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t care in the
+least for me, and I can&rsquo;t get her to. And she says she isn&rsquo;t going
+to marry for&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; interrupted Dorothy, contemptuously, and sailed into
+the ladies&rsquo; dressing-room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter gazed after her. &ldquo;I wonder what&rsquo;s nonsense?&rdquo; he
+thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy set about her self-imposed task with all the ardor for matchmaking,
+possessed by a perfectly happy married woman. But Dorothy evidently intended
+that Leonore should not marry Peter, if one can judge from the tenor of her
+remarks to Leonore in the dressing-room. Peter liked Dorothy, and would
+probably not have believed her capable of treachery, but it is left to
+masculine mind to draw any other inference from the dialogue which took place
+between the two, as they prinked before a cheval glass.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so glad to have Peter here for this particular evening,&rdquo;
+said Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Leonore, calmly, in the most uninterested of tones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because Miss Biddle is to be here. For two years I&rsquo;ve been trying
+to bring those two together, so that they might make a match of it. They are
+made for each other.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore tucked a rebellious curl in behind the drawn-back lock. Then she said,
+&ldquo;What a pretty pin you have.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it? Ray gave it to me,&rdquo; said Dorothy, giving Leonore
+all the line she wanted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never met Miss Biddle,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s a great beauty, and rich. And then she has that nice
+Philadelphia manner. Peter can&rsquo;t abide the young-girl manner. He hates
+giggling and talking girls. It&rsquo;s funny too, because, though he
+doesn&rsquo;t dance or talk, they like him. But Miss Biddle is an older girl,
+and can talk on subjects which please him. She is very much interested in
+politics and philanthropy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; said Leonore, fluffing the lace on her gown,
+&ldquo;that Peter never talked politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Dorothy. &ldquo;But she has studied
+political economy. He&rsquo;s willing to talk abstract subjects. She&rsquo;s
+just the girl for a statesman&rsquo;s wife. Beauty, tact, very clever, and yet
+very discreet. I&rsquo;m doubly glad they&rsquo;ll meet here, for she has given
+up dancing, so she can entertain Peter, who would otherwise have a dull time of
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If she wants to,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Dorothy, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a bit afraid about that.
+Peter&rsquo;s the kind of man with whom every woman&rsquo;s ready to fall in
+love. Why, my dear, he&rsquo;s had chance after chance, if he had only cared to
+try. But, of course, he doesn&rsquo;t care for such women as you and me, who
+can&rsquo;t enter into his thoughts or sympathize with his ambitions. To him we
+are nothing but dancing, dressing, prattling flutter-birds.&rdquo; Then Dorothy
+put her head on one side, and seemed far more interested in the effect of her
+own frock than in Peter&rsquo;s fate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He talks politics to me,&rdquo; Leonore could not help saying. Leonore
+did not like Dorothy&rsquo;s last speech.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter&rsquo;s such a gentleman that he always talks seriously even
+to us; but it&rsquo;s only his politeness. I&rsquo;ve seen him talk to girls
+like you, and he is delightfully courteous, and one would think he liked it.
+But, from little things Ray has told me, I know he looks down on society
+girls.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you ready, Leonore?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was very ready. Watts and Peter were ready also; had been ready during
+the whole of this dialogue. Watts was cross; Peter wasn&rsquo;t. Peter would
+willingly have waited an hour longer, impatient only for the moment of meeting,
+not to get downstairs. That is the difference between a husband and a lover.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; said Leonore, the moment they were on the stairs,
+&ldquo;do you ever tell other girls political secrets?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy was coming just behind, and she poked Peter in the back with her fan.
+Then, when Peter turned, she said with her lips as plainly as one can without
+speaking: &ldquo;Say yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked surprised. Then he turned to Leonore and said, &ldquo;No. You are
+the only person, man or woman, with whom I like to talk politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; shrieked Dorothy to herself. &ldquo;You great, big, foolish
+old stupid! Just as I had fixed it so nicely!&rdquo; What Dorothy meant is
+quite inscrutable. Peter had told the truth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, after the greetings were over, Dorothy helped Peter greatly. She said to
+him, &ldquo;Give me your arm, Peter. There is a girl here whom I want you to
+meet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter&rsquo;s going to dance this valse with me,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+And Peter had two minutes of bliss, amateur though he was. Then Leonore said
+cruelly, &ldquo;That&rsquo;s enough; you do it very badly!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter had seated her by her mother, he said: &ldquo;Excuse me for a
+moment. I want to speak to Dorothy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew you would be philandering after the young married women. Men of
+your age always do,&rdquo; said Leonore, with an absolutely incomprehensible
+cruelty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter did not speak to Dorothy. He sat down by Leonore and talked, till a
+scoundrelly, wretched, villainous, dastardly, low-born, but very good-looking
+fellow carried off his treasure. Then he wended his way to Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why did you tell me to say &lsquo;yes&rsquo;?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy sighed. &ldquo;I thought you couldn&rsquo;t have understood me,&rdquo;
+she said; &ldquo;but you are even worse than I supposed. Never mind, it&rsquo;s
+done now. Peter, will you do me a great favor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia, is here. She doesn&rsquo;t know many of
+the men, and she doesn&rsquo;t dance. Now, if I introduce you, won&rsquo;t you
+try to make her have a good time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Peter, gloomily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t go and desert her, just because another man comes up. It
+makes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle is very
+sensitive. I know you don&rsquo;t want to hurt her feelings.&rdquo; All this
+had been said as they crossed the room. Then: &ldquo;Miss Biddle, let me
+introduce Mr. Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter sat down to his duty. &ldquo;I mustn&rsquo;t look at Leonore,&rdquo; he
+thought, &ldquo;or I shan&rsquo;t be attentive.&rdquo; So he turned his face
+away from the room heroically. As for Dorothy, she walked away with a smile of
+contentment. &ldquo;There, miss,&rdquo; she remarked, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll see if
+you can trample on dear old Peter!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s that girl to whom Mr. Stirling is talking?&rdquo; asked
+Leonore of her partner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, that&rsquo;s the rich Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia,&rdquo; replied
+the scoundrel, in very gentleman-like accents for one of his class. &ldquo;They
+say she&rsquo;s never been able to find a man good enough for her, and so
+she&rsquo;s keeping herself on ice till she dies, in hopes that she&rsquo;ll
+find one in heaven. She&rsquo;s a great catch.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s decidedly good-looking,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Think so? Some people do. I don&rsquo;t. I don&rsquo;t like
+blondes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Leonore had progressed as far as her fourth partner, she asked:
+&ldquo;What sort of a girl is that Miss Biddle?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s really stunning,&rdquo; she was told. &ldquo;Fellows are all
+wild about her. But she has an awfully snubbing way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is she clever?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is she? That&rsquo;s the trouble. She won&rsquo;t have anything to do
+with a man unless he&rsquo;s clever. Look at her to-night! She got her big fish
+right off, and she&rsquo;s driven away every man who&rsquo;s come near her ever
+since. She&rsquo;s the kind of a girl that, if she decides on anything, she
+does it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s her big fish?&rdquo; said Leonore, as if she had not
+noticed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That big fellow, who is so awfully exclusive&mdash;Stirling. He
+doesn&rsquo;t think any people good enough for him but the Pells, and Miss De
+Voe, and the Ogdens. What they can see in him I can&rsquo;t imagine. I sat
+opposite him once at dinner, this spring, at the William Pells, and he only
+said three things in the whole meal. And he was sitting next that clever Miss
+Winthrop.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After the fifth dance, Dorothy came up to Leonore. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s going
+beautifully,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;do you see how Peter has turned his back
+to the room? And I heard a man say that Miss Biddle was freezing to every man
+who tried to interrupt them. I must arrange some affairs this week so that they
+shall have chances to see each other. You will help me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very much engaged for this week,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a pity! Never mind; I&rsquo;ll get Peter. Let me see. She rides
+beautifully. Did Peter bring his horses?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One,&rdquo; said Leonore, with a suggestion of reluctance in stating the
+fact.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go and arrange it at once,&rdquo; said Dorothy, thinking that
+Peter might be getting desperate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mamma,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;how old Mrs. Rivington has
+grown!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t noticed it, dear,&rdquo; said her mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy went up to the pair and said: &ldquo;Peter, won&rsquo;t you show Miss
+Biddle the conservatories! You know,&rdquo; she explained, &ldquo;they are very
+beautiful.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose dutifully, but with a very passive look on his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And, Peter,&rdquo; said Dorothy, dolefully, &ldquo;will you take me in
+to supper? I haven&rsquo;t found a man who&rsquo;s had the grace to ask
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll sit at the same table,&rdquo; said Dorothy to Miss Biddle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Peter got into the carriage that evening he was very blue. &ldquo;I had
+only one waltz,&rdquo; he told himself, &ldquo;and did not really see anything
+else of her the whole evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that Miss Biddle as clever as people say she is?&rdquo; asked Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is a very unusual woman,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I rarely have
+known a better informed one.&rdquo; Peter&rsquo;s tone of voice carried the
+inference that he hated unusual and informed women, and as this is the case
+with most men, his voice presumably reflected his true thoughts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should say so,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;At our little table she said
+the brightest things, and told the best stories. That&rsquo;s a girl as is a
+girl. I tried to see her afterwards, but found that Peter was taking an Italian
+lesson of her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; asked Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a chap who breakfasts with me three times a week, to talk
+Italian, which I am trying to learn,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;and Dorothy told
+Mrs. Biddle, so she offered to talk in it. She has a beautiful accent and it
+was very good of her to offer, for I knew very little as yet, and don&rsquo;t
+think she could have enjoyed it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you want with Italian?&rdquo; asked Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To catch the Italian vote,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you sly-boots,&rdquo; said Watts. Then he turned. &ldquo;What makes
+my Dot so silent?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Leonore in weary tones, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve danced too
+much and I&rsquo;m very, very tired.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;see that you sleep late.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be all right to-morrow,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;and
+I&rsquo;m going to have an early horseback ride.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter and I will go too,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m to ride with
+Dorothy and Miss Biddle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ha, ha,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;More Italian lessons, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two people looked very cross that evening when they got to their rooms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore sighed to her maid: &ldquo;Oh, Marie, I am so tired! Don&rsquo;t let me
+be disturbed till it&rsquo;s nearly lunch.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Peter groaned to nobody in particular, &ldquo;An evening and a ride gone! I
+tried to make Dorothy understand. It&rsquo;s too bad of her to be so
+dense.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So clearly Dorothy was to blame. Yet the cause of all this trouble fell asleep
+peacefully, remarking to herself, just before she drifted into dreamland,
+&ldquo;Every man in love ought to have a guardian, and I&rsquo;ll be
+Peter&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.<br/>
+INTERFERENCE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Peter returned from his ride the next day, he found Leonore reading the
+papers in the big hall. She gave him a very frigid &ldquo;good-morning,&rdquo;
+yet instantly relaxed a little in telling him there was another long telegram
+for him on the mantel. She said nothing of his reading the despatch to her, but
+opened a new sheet of paper, and began to read its columns with much apparent
+interest. That particular page was devoted to the current prices of
+&ldquo;Cotton;&rdquo; &ldquo;Coffee;&rdquo; &ldquo;Flour;&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Molasses;&rdquo; &ldquo;Beans;&rdquo; &ldquo;Butter;&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Hogs;&rdquo; &ldquo;Naval Stores;&rdquo; &ldquo;Ocean Freights,&rdquo;
+and a large number of equally kindred and interesting subjects.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter took the telegram, but did not read it. Instead he looked down at all of
+his pretty &ldquo;friend&rdquo; not sedulously hidden by the paper; He
+recognized that his friend had a distinctly &ldquo;not-at-home&rdquo; look, but
+after a moment&rsquo;s hesitation he remarked, &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t expect me
+to read this alone?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; continued Peter, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s an answer to those we
+wrote and sent yesterday, and I shan&rsquo;t dare reply it without your
+advice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter coolly put his hand on the paper and pushed it down till he could see
+Leonore&rsquo;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 it on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Peter said, &ldquo;I caught you,&rdquo; and laughed. Then Leonore laughed.
+Then they filled in the space before lunch by translating and answering the
+telegram.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As soon as that meal was over, Peter said, &ldquo;Now will you teach me
+waltzing again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to spend time teaching a man to dance, who
+doesn&rsquo;t dance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was nearly wild to dance last night,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dorothy asked me to do something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think much of men who let women control them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to please Dorothy&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I was as well off
+talking to one girl as to another. Since you don&rsquo;t like my dancing, I
+supposed you would hardly choose to dance again with me, or ropes
+wouldn&rsquo;t have held me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can talk Italian too,&rdquo; said Leonore, with no apparent
+connection.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you talk it with me?&rdquo; said Peter eagerly. &ldquo;You see,
+there are a good many Italians in the district, now, who by their ignorance and
+their not speaking English, are getting into trouble all the time. I want to
+learn, so as to help them, without calling in an interpreter.&rdquo; Peter was
+learning to put his requests on grounds other than his own wishes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore very sweetly, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll give you
+another lesson in dancing. How did you enjoy your ride?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like Dorothy,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;and I like Miss Biddle. But I
+didn&rsquo;t get the ride I wanted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got a very nice look from those slate-colored eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They set a music-box going, and Peter&rsquo;s instruction began. When it was
+over, Leonore said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve improved wonderfully.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well enough to dance with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take pity on you unless
+you&rsquo;d rather talk to some other girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter only smiled quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; said Leonore, later, as he was sipping his tea, &ldquo;do
+you think I&rsquo;m nothing but a foolish society flutterbird?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you want to know what I think of you?&rdquo; asked Peter, eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore hastily. &ldquo;But do you think of me as
+nothing but a society girl?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter, truth speaking in voice and face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The corners of Leonore&rsquo;s mouth descended to a woeful degree.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you are a society girl,&rdquo; continued Peter, &ldquo;because
+you are the nicest kind of society.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore fairly filled the room with her smile. Then she said, &ldquo;Peter,
+will you do me a favor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you tell Dorothy that I have helped you translate cipher telegrams
+and write the replies?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was rather astonished, but said, &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he did it very badly, Leonore thought, for meeting Dorothy the next day at
+a lawn party, after the mere greetings, he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dorothy, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi has been helping me translate and write
+cipher telegrams.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dorothy looked startled at the announcement for a moment. Then she gave a
+glance at Leonore, who was standing by Peter, visibly holding herself in a very
+triumphant attitude. Then she burst out into the merriest of laughs, and kept
+laughing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such a joke,&rdquo; gasped Dorothy, &ldquo;but I can&rsquo;t tell
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As for Leonore, her triumphant manner had fled, and her cheeks were very red.
+And when some one spoke to Dorothy, and took her attention, Leonore said to
+Peter very crossly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are so clumsy! Of course I didn&rsquo;t mean that way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter sighed internally. &ldquo;I am stupid, I suppose,&rdquo; he said to
+himself. &ldquo;I tried to do just what she asked, but she&rsquo;s displeased,
+and I suppose she won&rsquo;t be nice for the rest of the day. If it was only
+law or politics! But women!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Leonore didn&rsquo;t abuse him. She was very kind to him, despite her
+displeasure. &ldquo;If Dorothy would only let me alone,&rdquo; thought Peter,
+&ldquo;I should have a glorious time. Why can&rsquo;t she let me stay with her
+when she&rsquo;s in such a nice mood. And why does she insist on my being
+attentive to her. I don&rsquo;t care for her. It seems as if she was determined
+to break up my enjoyment, just as I get her to myself.&rdquo; Peter mixed his
+&ldquo;hers&rdquo; and &ldquo;shes&rdquo; too thoroughly in this sentence to
+make its import clear. His thoughts are merely reported verbatim, as the
+easiest way. It certainly indicates that, as with most troubles, there was a
+woman in it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said much this same thing to himself quite often during the following
+week, and always with a groan. Dorothy was continually putting her finger in.
+Yet it was in the main a happy time to Peter. His friend treated him very
+nicely for the most part, if very variably. Peter never knew in what mood he
+should find her. Sometimes he felt that Leonore considered him as the dirt
+under her little feet. Then again, she could not be too sweet to him. There was
+an evening&mdash;a dinner&mdash;at which he sat between Miss Biddle and Leonore
+when, it seemed to Peter, Leonore said and looked such nice things, that the
+millennium had come. Yet the next morning, she told him that: &ldquo;It was a
+very dull dinner. I talked to nobody but you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fortunately for Peter, the D&rsquo;Allois were almost as new an advent in
+Newport, so Leonore was not yet in the running. But by the time Peter&rsquo;s
+first week had sped, he found that men were putting their fingers in, as well
+as Dorothy. Morning, noon, and night they gathered. Then lunches, teas, drives,
+yachts and innumerable other affairs also plunged their fingers in. Peter did
+not yield to the superior numbers, he went wherever Leonore went. But the other
+men went also, and understood the ropes far better. He fought on, but a
+sickening feeling began to creep over him of impending failure. It was soon not
+merely how Leonore treated him; it was the impossibility of getting her to
+treat him at all. Even though he was in the same house, it seemed as if there
+was always some one else calling or mealing, or taking tea, or playing tennis
+or playing billiards, or merely dropping in. And then Leonore took fewer and
+fewer meals at home, and spent fewer and fewer hours there. 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, he considered himself lucky. He understood
+at last what Miss De Voe had meant when she had spoken of the difficulty of
+seeing enough of a popular girl either to love her or to tell her of it. They
+prayed for rain in church on Sunday, on account of the drought, and Peter said
+&ldquo;Amen&rdquo; with fervor. Anything to end such fluttering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the end of two weeks, Peter said sadly that he must be going.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rubbish,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;You are to stay for a month.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you&rsquo;ll stay,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter waited a moment for some one else to speak. Some one else didn&rsquo;t.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I must,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t a matter of my own
+wishes, but I&rsquo;m needed in Syracuse.&rdquo; Peter spoke as if Syracuse was
+the ultimate of human misery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it necessary for you to be there?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not absolutely, but I had better go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Later in the day Leonore said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve decided you are not to go to
+Syracuse. I shall want you here to explain what they do to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And that cool, insulting speech filled Peter with happiness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve decided to stay another week,&rdquo; he told Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nor could all the appeals over the telegraph move him, though that day and the
+next the wires to Newport from New York and Syracuse were kept hot, the
+despatches came so continuously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two days after this decision, Peter and Leonore went to a cotillion. Leonore
+informed him that: &ldquo;Mamma makes me leave after supper, because she
+doesn&rsquo;t like me to stay late, so I miss the nice part.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How many waltzes are you going to give me?&rdquo; asked Peter, with an
+eye to his one ball-room accomplishment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give you the first,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;and then if
+you&rsquo;ll sit near me, I&rsquo;ll give you a look every time I see a man
+coming whom I don&rsquo;t like, and if you are quick and ask me first,
+I&rsquo;ll give it to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter became absolutely happy. &ldquo;How glad I am,&rdquo; he thought,
+&ldquo;that I didn&rsquo;t go to Syracuse! What a shame it is there are other
+dances than waltzes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But after Peter had had two waltzes, he overheard his aged friend of fifteen
+years say something to a girl that raised him many degrees in his mind.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a very brainy fellow,&rdquo; said Peter admiringly.
+&ldquo;That never occurred to me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he waited till he saw Leonore seated, and then joined her.
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you sit out this dance with me?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked surprised. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s getting very clever,&rdquo; she
+thought, never dreaming that Peter&rsquo;s cleverness, like so many other
+people&rsquo;s nowadays, consisted in a pertinent use of quotations. Parrot
+cleverness, we might term it. Leonore listened to the air which the musicians
+were beginning, and finding it the Lancers, or dreariest of dances, she made
+Peter happy by assenting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose we go out on the veranda,&rdquo; said Peter, still quoting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now of what are you going to talk?&rdquo; said Leonore, when they were
+ensconced on a big wicker divan, in the soft half light of the Chinese
+lanterns.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to tell you of something that seems to me about a hundred years
+ago,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But it concerns myself, and I don&rsquo;t want
+to bore you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try, and if I don&rsquo;t like it I&rsquo;ll stop you,&rdquo; said
+Leonore, opening up a line of retreat worthy of a German army.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you&rsquo;ll think about it,&rdquo; said Peter,
+faltering a little. &ldquo;I suppose I can hardly make you understand it, as it
+is to me. But I want you to know, because&mdash;well&mdash;it&rsquo;s only
+fair.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked at Peter with a very tender look in her eyes. He could not see
+it, because Leonore sat so that her face was in shadow. But she could see his
+expression, and when he hesitated, with that drawn look on his face, Leonore
+said softly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean&mdash;about&mdash;mamma?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter started. &ldquo;Yes! You know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore gently. &ldquo;And that was why I trusted you,
+without ever having met you, and why I wanted to be friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter sighed a sigh of relief. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been so afraid of it,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;She told you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. That is, Miss De Voe told me first of your having been
+disappointed, so I asked mamma if she knew the girl, and then mamma told me.
+I&rsquo;m glad you spoke of it, for I&rsquo;ve wanted to ask you
+something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If that was why you wouldn&rsquo;t call at first on us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why did mamma say you wouldn&rsquo;t call?&rdquo; When Peter made
+no reply, Leonore continued, &ldquo;I knew&mdash;that is I felt, there was
+something wrong. What was it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t tell you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore, very positively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter hesitated. &ldquo;She thought badly of me about something, till I
+apologized to her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now she invites me to Grey-Court.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it wasn&rsquo;t anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She had misjudged me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, tell me what it was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi, I know you do not mean it,&rdquo; said Peter,
+&ldquo;but you are paining me greatly. There is nothing in my whole life so
+bitter to me as what you ask me to tell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I beg your pardon. I was very
+thoughtless!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t think the worse of me, because I loved your mother,
+and because I can&rsquo;t tell you?&rdquo; said Peter, in a dangerous tone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore, but she rose. &ldquo;Now we&rsquo;ll go back to
+the dancing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; begged Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Leonore was already in the full light blazing from the room. &ldquo;Are you
+coming?&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I have this waltz?&rdquo; said Peter, trying to get half a loaf.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s promised to Mr.
+Rutgers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then mine host came up and said. &ldquo;I congratulate you, Mr.
+Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter wanted to kick him, but he didn&rsquo;t.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I congratulate you,&rdquo; said another man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On what?&rdquo; Peter saw no cause for congratulation, only for sorrow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter,&rdquo; said Dorothy, sailing up at this junction, &ldquo;how
+nice! And such a surprise!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, haven&rsquo;t you heard?&rdquo; said mine host.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; cried Leonore, &ldquo;is it about the Convention?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said a man. &ldquo;Manners is in from the club and tells us
+that a despatch says your name was sprung on the Convention at nine, and that
+you were chosen by acclamation without a single ballot being taken. Every
+one&rsquo;s thunderstruck.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; said a small voice, fairly bristling with importance,
+&ldquo;I knew all about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Every one laughed at this, except Dorothy. Dorothy had a suspicion that it was
+true. But she didn&rsquo;t say so. She sniffed visibly, and said,
+&ldquo;Nonsense. As if Peter would tell you secrets. Come, Peter, I want to
+take you over and let Miss Biddle congratulate you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter has just asked me for this waltz,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;Oh,
+Mr. Rutgers, I&rsquo;m so sorry, I&rsquo;m going to dance this with Mr.
+Stirling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then Peter felt he was to be congratulated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t marry him myself,&rdquo; thought Leonore, &ldquo;but I
+won&rsquo;t have my friends married off right under my nose, and you can try
+all you want, Mrs. Rivington.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter&rsquo;s guardianship was apparently bearing fruit. Yet man to this day
+holds woman to be the weaker vessel!
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.<br/>
+OBSTINACY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The next morning Peter found that his prayer for a rainy day had been answered,
+and came down to breakfast in the pleasantest of humors.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See how joyful his future Excellency looks already,&rdquo; said Watts,
+promptly recalling Peter to the serious part of life. And fortunately too, for
+from that moment, the time which he had hoped to have alone (if <i>two</i> ever
+can be alone), began to be pilfered from him. Hardly were they seated at
+breakfast when Pell dropped in to congratulate him, and from that moment,
+despite the rain, every friend in Newport seemed to feel it a bounden duty to
+do the same, and to stay the longer because of the rain. Peter wished he had
+set the time for the Convention two days earlier or two days later.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you won&rsquo;t ask any of these people to luncheon,&rdquo; Peter
+said in an aside to Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; he was asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked puzzled, and finally said weakly, &ldquo;I&mdash;I have a good
+deal to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then as proper punishment for his misdemeanor, the footman announced
+Dorothy and Miss Biddle, Ray and Ogden. Dorothy sailed into the room with the
+announcement:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve all come to luncheon if we are asked.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter,&rdquo; said Ray, when they were seated at the table.
+&ldquo;Have you seen this morning&rsquo;s &lsquo;Voice of Labor?&rsquo; No?
+Good gracious, they&rsquo;ve raked up that old verse in Watts&rsquo;s
+class-song and print it as proof that you were a drunkard in your college days.
+Here it is. Set to music and headed &lsquo;Saloon Pete.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, Ray, we must write to the &lsquo;Voice&rsquo; and tell them
+the truth,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never write to the paper that tells the lie,&rdquo; said Peter,
+laughing. &ldquo;Always write to the one that doesn&rsquo;t. Then it will go
+for the other paper. But I wouldn&rsquo;t take the trouble in this case. The
+opposition would merely say that: &lsquo;Of course Mr. Stirling&rsquo;s
+intimate friends are bound to give such a construction to the song, and the
+attempt does them credit.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why don&rsquo;t you deny it, Peter?&rdquo; asked Leonore anxiously.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s awful to think of people saying you are a drunkard!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I denied the untruths told of me I should have my hands full. Nobody
+believes such things, except the people who are ready to believe them. They
+wouldn&rsquo;t believe otherwise, no matter what I said. If you think a man is
+a scoundrel, you are not going to believe his word.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Peter,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, &ldquo;you ought to deny
+them for the future. After you and your friends are dead, people will go back
+to the newspapers, and see what they said about you, and then will misjudge
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not afraid of that. I shall hardly be of enough account to figure
+in 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 which seems impossible now. The
+greater the man, the greater the abuse.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do the papers call you &lsquo;Pete&rsquo;?&rdquo; asked Leonore,
+anxiously. &ldquo;I rather like Peter, but Pete is dreadful!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To prove that I am unfit to be governor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you serious?&rdquo; asked Miss Biddle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. From their point of view, the dropping of the &lsquo;r&rsquo; ought
+to convince voters that I am nothing but a tough and heeler.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it won&rsquo;t!&rdquo; declared Leonore, speaking from vast
+experience.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think it will. Though if they keep at it, and really
+convince the voters who can be convinced by such arguments, that I am what they
+call me, they&rsquo;ll elect me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo; asked Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because intelligent people are not led astray but outraged by such
+arguments, and ignorant people, who can be made to believe all that is said of
+me, by such means, will think I am just the man for whom they want to
+vote.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How is it possible that the papers can treat you so?&rdquo; said Watts.
+&ldquo;The editors know you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes. I have met nearly every man connected with the New York
+press.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They must know better?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But for partisan purposes they must say what they do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then they are deliberately lying to deceive the people?&rdquo; asked
+Miss Biddle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s rather a puzzling matter in ethics,&rdquo; said Peter.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that the newspaper fraternity have any lower
+standard of morals, than men in other professions. In the main they stand for
+everything that is admirable, so long as it&rsquo;s non-partisan, and some of
+the men who to-day are now writing me down, have aided me in the past more than
+I can say, and are at this moment my personal friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How dishonest!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot quite call it that. When the greatest and most honorable
+statesmen of Europe and America will lie and cheat each other to their utmost
+extent, under cover of the term &lsquo;diplomacy,&rsquo; and get rewarded and
+praised by their respective countries for their knavery, provided it is
+successful, I think &lsquo;dishonest&rsquo; is a strong word for a merely
+partisan press. Certain it is, that the partisan press would end to-morrow, but
+for the narrowness and meanness of readers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which they cause,&rdquo; said Ogden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as much,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;as the saloon makes a drunkard,
+food causes hunger, and books make readers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, at least, you must acknowledge they&rsquo;ve got you, when they say
+you are the saloon-keepers&rsquo; friend,&rdquo; laughed Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I am that&mdash;but only for votes, you understand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling, why do you like saloons?&rdquo; asked Miss Biddle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like saloons. My wish is to see the day come, when such a
+gross form of physical enjoyment as tippling shall cease entirely. But till
+that day comes, till humanity has taught itself and raised itself, I want to
+see fair play.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The rich man can lay in a stock of wine, or go to a hotel or club, and
+get what he wants at any time and all times. It is not fair, because a
+man&rsquo;s pockets are filled with nickels instead of eagles, that he shall
+not have the same right. For that reason, I have always spoken for the saloon,
+and even for Sunday openings. You know what I think myself of that day. You
+know what I think of wine. But if I claim the right to spend Sunday in my way
+and not to drink, I must concede an equal right to others to do as they please.
+If a man wants to drink at any time, what right have I to say he shall
+not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But the poor man goes and makes a beast of himself,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is as much champagne drunkenness as whisky drunkenness, in
+proportion to the number of drinkers of each. But a man who drinks champagne,
+is sent home in a cab, and is put to bed, while the man who can&rsquo;t afford
+that kind of drink, and is made mad by poisoned and doctored whisky, doctored
+and poisoned because of our heavy tax on it, must take his chance of arrest.
+That is the shameful thing about all our so-called temperance legislation.
+It&rsquo;s based on an unfair interference with personal liberty, and always
+discriminates in favor of the man with money. If the rich man has his club, let
+the poor man have his saloon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How much better, though,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi, &ldquo;to stop
+the sale of wine everywhere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is neither possible nor right. You can&rsquo;t strengthen humanity
+by tying its hands. It must be left free to become strong. I have thought much
+about the problem, and I see only one fair and practical means of bettering our
+present condition. But boss as the papers say I am, I am not strong enough to
+force it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is that, Peter?&rdquo; asked Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So long as a man drinks in such a way as not to interfere with another
+person&rsquo;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 restraining him, as
+it does thieves, or murderers, or wife-beaters. My idea is, that a license,
+something perhaps like our dog-license, shall be given to every one who applies
+for it. That before a man can have a drink, this license must be shown. Then if
+a man is before the police court a second time, for drunkenness, or if his
+family petition for it, his license shall be cancelled, and a heavy fine
+incurred by any one who gives or sells that man a drink thereafter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; laughed Watts, &ldquo;you are heavenly! Just imagine a host
+saying to his dinner-party, &lsquo;Friends, before this wine is passed, will
+you please show me your drink licenses.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may laugh, Watts,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but such a request would
+have saved many a young fellow from ruin, and society from an occasional
+terrible occurrence which even my little social experience has shown me. And it
+would soon be so much a matter of course, that it would be no more than showing
+your ticket, to prove yourself entitled to a ride. It solves the problem of
+drunkenness. And that is all we can hope to do, till humanity is&mdash;&rdquo;
+Then Peter, who had been looking at Leonore, smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is what?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The rest is in cipher,&rdquo; said Peter, but if he had finished his
+sentence, it would have been, &ldquo;half as perfect as you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After this last relay of callers had departed, it began to pour so nobly that
+Peter became hopeful once more. He wandered about, making a room-to-room
+canvass, in search of happiness, and to his surprise saw happiness descending
+the broad stair incased in an English shooting-cap, and a mackintosh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not going out in such weather?&rdquo; demanded Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ve had no exercise to-day, and I&rsquo;m going for a
+walk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s pouring torrents,&rdquo; expostulated Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you&rsquo;ll get wet through.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so. I like to walk in the rain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter put his hand on the front door-handle, to which this conversation had
+carried them, &ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t go out,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going,&rdquo; said Leonore, made all the more eager now that
+it was forbidden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Peter weakening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me pass,&rdquo; said Leonore decisively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does your father know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you should ask him. It&rsquo;s no weather for you to walk
+in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t ask him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shall,&rdquo; and Peter went hurriedly to the library.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watts,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s raining torrents and Leonore
+insists on going to walk. Please say she is not to go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Watts, not looking up from his book.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was enough. Peter sped back to the hall. It was empty. He put his head
+into the two rooms. Empty. He looked out of the front door. There in the
+distance, was that prettiest of figures, distinguishable even when 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 take Peter many seconds to come up
+with her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your father says you are not to go out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help it, since I am out,&rdquo; said Leonore, sensibly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you should come back at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care to,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you going to obey him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He never would have cared if you hadn&rsquo;t interfered. It&rsquo;s
+your orders, not his. So I intend to have my walk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are to come back,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore stopped and faced him. &ldquo;This is getting interesting,&rdquo; she
+thought. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll see who can be the most obstinate.&rdquo; Aloud she
+said, &ldquo;Who says so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I say I shan&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter felt his helplessness. &ldquo;Please come back.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore laughed internally. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t choose to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shall have to make you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was a conundrum, indeed. If it had been a knotty law point, Peter would
+have been less nonplussed by it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore felt her advantage, and used it shamefully. She knew that Peter was
+helpless, and she said, &ldquo;How?&rdquo; again, laughing at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter groped blindly. &ldquo;I shall make you,&rdquo; he said again, for lack
+of anything better.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Leonore, helping him out, though with a most
+insulting laugh in her voice and face, &ldquo;you will get a string and lead
+me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked the picture of helplessness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or you might run over to the Goelets&rsquo;, and borrow their
+baby&rsquo;s perambulator,&rdquo; continued that segment of the Spanish
+Inquisition. If ever an irritating, aggravating, crazing, exasperating,
+provoking fretting enraging, &ldquo;I dare you,&rdquo; was uttered, it was in
+Leonore&rsquo;s manner as she said this.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter looked about hopelessly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please hurry up and say how,&rdquo; Leonore continued, &ldquo;for I want
+to get down to the cliff walk. It&rsquo;s very wet here on the grass. Perhaps
+you will carry me back? You evidently think me a baby in arms.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s such fun to tease,&rdquo; was her thought, &ldquo;and you can
+say just what you please without being afraid of his doing anything
+ungentlemanly.&rdquo; Many a woman dares to torture a man for just the same
+reason.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was quite right as to Peter. He had recognized that he was powerless; that
+he could not use force. He looked the picture of utter indecision. But as
+Leonore spoke, a sudden change came over his face and figure. &ldquo;Leonore
+had said it was wet on the grass! Leonore would wet her feet! Leonore would
+take cold! Leonore would have pneumonia! Leonore would die!&rdquo; 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 for the moment, and he said to
+himself: &ldquo;I must do it, even if she never forgives me.&rdquo; Then the
+indecision left his face, and he took a step forward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore caught her breath with a gasp. The &ldquo;dare-you&rdquo; look,
+suddenly changed to a very frightened one, and turning, she sped across the
+lawn, at her utmost speed. She had read something in Peter&rsquo;s face, and
+felt that she must fly, however ignominious such retreat might be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter followed, but though he could have caught her in ten seconds, he did not.
+As on a former occasion, he thought: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll let her get out of
+breath. Then she will not be so angry. At least she won&rsquo;t be able to
+talk. How gracefully she runs!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently, as soon as Leonore became convinced that Peter did not intend to
+catch her, she slowed down to a walk. Peter at once joined her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;will you come back?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was trying to conceal her panting. She was not going to acknowledge
+that she was out of breath since Peter wasn&rsquo;t. So she made no reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are walking in the wrong direction,&rdquo; said Peter, laying his
+hand on her arm. Then, since she made no reply, his hand encircled the arm, and
+he stopped. Leonore took two more steps. Then she too, curiously enough,
+halted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop holding me,&rdquo; she said, not entirely without betraying her
+breathlessness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are to come back,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got an awful look from those eyes. They were perfectly blazing with
+indignation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop holding me,&rdquo; she repeated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a fearful moment to Peter. But he said, with an appeal in his voice,
+&ldquo;You know I suffer in offending you. I did not believe that I could touch
+you without your consent. But your health is dearer to me than your anger is
+terrible. You must come home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Leonore, realizing that helplessness in a man exists only by his own
+volition, turned, and began walking towards the now distant house. Peter at
+once released her arm, and walked beside her. Not a glimpse did he get of those
+dear eyes. Leonore was looking directly before her, and a grenadier could not
+have held himself straighter. If insulted dignity was to be acted in pantomime,
+the actor could have obtained some valuable points from that walk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter walked along, feeling semi-criminal, yet semi-happy. He had saved Leonore
+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 made Leonore&rsquo;s cheeks
+blaze, as Peter&rsquo;s touch had made her eyes. The rain had condensed in
+little diamonds on her stray curls, and on those long lashes. It seemed to
+Peter that he had never seen her lovelier. The longing to take her in his arms
+was so strong, that he almost wished she had 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 day at least. That meant a very terrible thing to him. A
+whole day of neglect; a whole day with no glimpse of these eyes; a whole day
+without a smile from those lips!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter had too much sense to say anything at once. He did not speak till they
+were back in the hall. Leonore had planned to go straight to her room, but
+Peter was rather clever, since she preceded him, in getting to the foot of the
+staircase so rapidly that he was there first.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This secured him his moment for speech. He said simply: &ldquo;Miss
+D&rsquo;Alloi, I ask your forgiveness for offending you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore had her choice of standing silent, of pushing passed Peter, or of
+speaking. If she had done the first, or the second, her position was absolutely
+impregnable. But a woman&rsquo;s instinct is to seek defence or attack in words
+rather than actions. So she said: &ldquo;You had no right, and you were very
+rude.&rdquo; She did not look at Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It pained me far more than it could pain you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore liked Peter&rsquo;s tone of voice, but she saw that her position was
+weakening. She said, &ldquo;Let me by, please.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter with reluctance gave her just room to pass. He felt that he had not said
+half of what he wished, but he did not dare to offend again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As it turned out, it was the best thing he could do, for the moment Leonore had
+passed him, she exclaimed, &ldquo;Why! Your coat&rsquo;s wringing wet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s nothing,&rdquo; said Peter, turning to the voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He found those big dark eyes at last looking at him, and looking at him without
+anger. Leonore had stopped on the step above him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That shows how foolish you were to go out in the rain,&rdquo; said
+Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter, venturing on the smallest smiles.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore promptly explained the charge in Peter&rsquo;s &ldquo;yes.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very different,&rdquo; he was told. &ldquo;I put on tips and
+a mackintosh. You didn&rsquo;t put on anything. And it was pouring
+torrents.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I&rsquo;m tough,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;A wetting won&rsquo;t
+hurt me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve tramped for hours in the
+Orkneys, and Sweden and Norway, when it was raining. But then I was dressed for
+it. Go and put on dry clothes at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was what Peter had intended to do, but he saw his advantage. &ldquo;It
+isn&rsquo;t worth while,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never heard of such obstinacy,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I pity your
+wife, if you ever get one. She&rsquo;ll have an awful time of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not like that view at all. But he did not forego at once his hope of
+getting some compensation out of Leonore&rsquo;s wish. So he said:
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s too much trouble to change my clothes, but a cup of your tea
+may keep me from taking cold.&rdquo; It was nearly five, o&rsquo;clock, and
+Peter was longing for that customary half-hour at the tea-table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore said in the kindness of her heart, &ldquo;When you&rsquo;ve changed
+your clothes, I&rsquo;ll make you a cup.&rdquo; Then she went upstairs. When
+she had reached the second floor, she turned, and leaning over the balustrade
+of the gallery, said, &ldquo;Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter, surveying her from below, and thinking how
+lovely she was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was smiling saucily. She said in triumph: &ldquo;I had my way. I did
+get my walk.&rdquo; Then she went to her room, her head having a very
+victorious carriage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went to his room, smiling. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good lawyer,&rdquo; he
+told his mirror, &ldquo;who compromises just enough to make both sides think
+they&rsquo;ve won.&rdquo; Peter changed his clothes with the utmost despatch,
+and hurried downstairs to the tea-table. She was not there! Peter waited nearly
+five minutes quietly, with a patience almost colossal. Then he began to get
+restless. He wandered about the room for another two minutes. Then he became
+woe-begone. &ldquo;I thought she had forgiven me,&rdquo; he remarked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said the loveliest of visions from the doorway. Most women
+would have told one that the beauty lay in the Parisian tea-gown. Peter knew
+better. Still, he was almost willing to forgive Leonore the delay caused by the
+donning of it, the result was so eminently satisfactory. &ldquo;And it will
+take her as long to make tea as usual, anyway,&rdquo; he thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hadn&rsquo;t I better put some rum into it to-day?&rdquo; he was asked,
+presently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may put anything in it, except the sugar tongs,&rdquo; said Peter,
+taking possession of that article.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But then I can&rsquo;t put any sugar in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fingers were made before forks,&rdquo; suggested Peter. &ldquo;You
+don&rsquo;t want to give me anything bitter, do you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You deserve it,&rdquo; said Leonore, but she took the lumps in her
+fingers, and dropped them in the cup.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t wait five years!&rdquo; thought Peter, &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t wait five
+months&mdash;weeks&mdash;days&mdash;hours&mdash;minutes&mdash;sec&mdash;&mdash;
+&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts saved Peter from himself by coming in here. &ldquo;Hello! Here you are.
+How cosy you look. I tried to find you both a few minutes ago, but thought you
+must have gone to walk after all. Here, Peter. Here&rsquo;s a special delivery
+letter, for which I receipted a while ago. Give me a cup, Dot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said, &ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; and, after a glance at the envelope,
+opened the letter with a sinking sensation. He read it quickly, and then
+reached over and rang the bell. When the footman came, Peter rose and said
+something in a low voice to him. Then he came back to his tea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing wrong, I hope,&rdquo; asked Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. At least I am called back to New York,&rdquo; said Peter gloomily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bother,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;When?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall leave by the night express.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense. If it was so important as that, they&rsquo;d have wired
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t a matter which could be telegraphed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it, Peter?&rdquo; said Leonore, putting her finger in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s confidential.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Leonore did not ask again. But when the tea was finished, and all had
+started upstairs, Leonore said, &ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; on the landing. When Peter
+stopped, she whispered, &ldquo;Why are you going to New York?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t tell you,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, you can, now that papa isn&rsquo;t here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I know it&rsquo;s politics, and you are to tell me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t politics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You really want to know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s something really confidential.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore gave Peter one look of insulted dignity, and went upstairs to her room.
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s different,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t a bit
+afraid of displeasing me any more. I don&rsquo;t know what to do with
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter found Jenifer waiting. &ldquo;Only pack the grip,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I hope to come back in a few days.&rdquo; But he looked very glum, and
+the glumness stuck to him even after he had dressed and had descended to
+dinner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am leaving my traps,&rdquo; he told Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi. &ldquo;For I
+hope to be back next week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Next week!&rdquo; cried Watts. &ldquo;What has been sprung on you that
+will take you that long?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t depend on me, unfortunately,&rdquo; said Peter,
+&ldquo;or I wouldn&rsquo;t go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the carriage was announced later, Peter shook hands with Watts and Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi, and then held out his hand to Leonore. &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo;
+he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to tell me why you are going?&rdquo; said that young lady,
+with her hands behind her, in the prettiest of poses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shan&rsquo;t say good-bye.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot tell you,&rdquo; said Peter, quietly; &ldquo;please say
+good-bye.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That refusal caused Peter gloom all the way to the station. But if Leonore
+could have looked into the future she would have seen in her refusal the
+bitterest sorrow she had ever known.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.<br/>
+OATHS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+As soon as Peter was on the express he went into the smoking cabin of the
+sleeping-car, and lighting a cigar, took out a letter and read it over again.
+While he was still reading it, a voice exclaimed:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good! Here&rsquo;s Peter. So you are in it too?&rdquo; Ogden continued,
+as Ray and he took seats by Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I always did despise Anarchists and Nihilists,&rdquo; sighed Ray,
+&ldquo;since I was trapped into reading some of those maudlin Russian novels,
+with their eighth-century ideas grafted on nineteenth-century conditions. Baby
+brains stimulated with whisky.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ogden turned to Peter. &ldquo;How serious is it likely to be, Colonel?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t any idea,&rdquo; replied Peter, &ldquo;The staff is of
+the opposite party now, and I only have a formal notification to hold my
+regiment in readiness. If it&rsquo;s nothing but this Socialist and Anarchist
+talk, there is no real danger in it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This country can never be in danger from discontent with our government,
+for it&rsquo;s what the majority want it to be, or if not, it is made so at the
+next election. That is the beauty of a Democracy. The majority always supports
+the government. We fight our revolutions with ballots, not with bullets.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet Most says that blood must be shed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that he has just reached the stage
+of intelligence which doctors had attained when they bled people to make them
+strong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What can you do with such a fellow&rsquo;s talk? You can&rsquo;t argue
+with him,&rdquo; said Ogden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Talk!&rdquo; muttered Ray, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t dignify it with that word.
+Gibberish!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No?&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s too earnest to deserve that
+name. The man can&rsquo;t express himself, but way down underneath all the
+absurd talk of &lsquo;natural monopolies,&rsquo; and of &lsquo;the oppression
+of the money-power,&rsquo; there lies a germ of truth, without which none of
+their theories would have a corporal&rsquo;s guard of honest believers. We have
+been working towards that truth in an unsystematic way for centuries, but we
+are a long way from it, and till we solve how to realize it, we shall have
+ineffectual discontent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But that makes the whole thing only the more arrant nonsense,&rdquo;
+grumbled Ray. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s foolish enough in all conscience sake, if they
+had a chance of success, but when they haven&rsquo;t any, why the deuce do they
+want to drag us poor beggars back from Newport?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why did Rome insist on burning while Nero fiddled?&rdquo; queried Peter
+smiling. &ldquo;We should hear nothing of socialism and anarchy if Newport and
+the like had no existence.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe at heart you&rsquo;re a Socialist yourself,&rdquo; cried Ray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No danger,&rdquo; laughed Ogden; &ldquo;his bank account is too large.
+No man with Peter&rsquo;s money is ever a Socialist&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You forget,&rdquo; said Ray, &ldquo;that Peter is always an exception to
+the rule.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I disagree with Socialists entirely both
+in aims and methods, but I sympathize with them, for I see the fearful problems
+which they think their theories will solve, and though I know how mistaken they
+are, I cannot blame them, when I see how seriously and honestly they believe
+in, and how unselfishly they work for, their ideas. Don&rsquo;t blame the
+Socialists, for they are quite as conscientious as were the Abolitionists.
+Blame it to the lack of scientific education, which leaves these people to
+believe that theories containing a half truth are so wholly true that they mean
+the regeneration and salvation of society.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you are right,&rdquo; sighed Ray, &ldquo;for you&rsquo;ve
+thought of it, and I haven&rsquo;t. I don&rsquo;t want to, either. I thank the
+Lord I&rsquo;m not as serious as you, Graveyard. But if you want to air your
+theory, I&rsquo;ll lend you my ears, for friendship&rsquo;s sake. I don&rsquo;t
+promise to remember.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter puffed his cigar for a moment &ldquo;I sometimes conclude,&rdquo; he
+said, &ldquo;that the people who are most in need of education, are the
+college-bred men. They seem to think they&rsquo;ve done all the work and study
+of their life in their four years, and so can dissipate mentally ever
+after.&rdquo; But Peter smiled as he said this and continued, more seriously:
+&ldquo;Society and personal freedom are only possible in conjunction, when law
+or public opinion interferes to the degree of repressing all individual acts
+that interfere with the freedom of others; thus securing the greatest
+individual freedom to all. So far as physical force is concerned, we have
+pretty well realized this condition. Because a man is strong he can no longer
+take advantage of the weak. But strength is not limited to muscle. 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 it attempts to repress individualism, and
+reduce mankind to an evenness opposed to all natural laws, is suicidal of the
+best in favor of mediocrity. But so far as it attempts to protect that
+mediocrity and weakness from the superior minds of the best, it is only in line
+with the laws which protect us from murder and robbery. You can&rsquo;t expect
+men of the Most variety, however, to draw such distinctions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do wish they would settle it, without troubling me,&rdquo; groaned
+Ray. &ldquo;Lispenard&rsquo;s right. A man&rsquo;s a fool who votes, or serves
+on a jury, or joins a regiment. What&rsquo;s the good of being a good citizen,
+when the other fellow won&rsquo;t be? I&rsquo;m sick of being good for
+nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you just discovered that?&rdquo; laughed Ogden. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+progressing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ray, &ldquo;I am good for one thing. Like a good many
+other men I furnish the raw material on which the dearest of women may lavish
+her affection. Heigh-ho! I wish I was before the fire with her now. It&rsquo;s
+rather rough to have visits to one&rsquo;s wife cut short in this way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rose. &ldquo;I am going to get some sleep, for we don&rsquo;t know
+what&rsquo;s before us, and may not have much after to-night. But, Ray,
+there&rsquo;s a harder thing than leaving one&rsquo;s wife at such a
+time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that, Peter?&rdquo; asked Ray, looking at Peter with
+surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To know that there is no one to whom your going or return really
+matters.&rdquo; Peter passed out of the cabin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By George!&rdquo; said Ray, &ldquo;if it wasn&rsquo;t Peter, I&rsquo;d
+have sworn there was salt water in his eyes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anneke has always insisted that he was lonely. I wonder if she&rsquo;s
+right?&rdquo; Ogden queried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If he is, why the deuce does he get off in those solitary quarters of
+his?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ray,&rdquo; said Ogden, &ldquo;I have a sovereign contempt for a man who
+answers one question with another.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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; who promptly went and did the same to
+still others. While they were doing this, Peter drove uptown, and went into
+Dickel&rsquo;s riding academy. As he passed through the office, a man came out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;How serious is it
+likely to be?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle
+the Anarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall need
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter passed into another room where were eight men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-morning, Colonel,&rdquo; said one. &ldquo;You are prompt.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the trouble?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Central has decided to make a general reduction. They put it in
+force at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, that
+they&rsquo;ve six hundred new hands ready somewhere to put right in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Byrnes tells me he has all he can do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. We&rsquo;ve obtained the governor&rsquo;s consent to embody eight
+regiments. It isn&rsquo;t only the strike that&rsquo;s serious, but this parade
+of the unemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have called
+in the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying of
+arms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s rather rough on you, Stirling,&rdquo; spoke up a man,
+&ldquo;to have it come while you are a nominee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled, and passed into the room beyond. &ldquo;Good-morning, General
+Canfield,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have taken the necessary steps to embody my
+regiment. Are there any further orders?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station,&rdquo; the
+officer replied; &ldquo;so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had
+better familiarize yourself at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;General Canfield,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;my regiment has probably
+more sympathizers with the strikers than has any other in the city. It could
+not be put in a worse place.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you objecting to orders?&rdquo; said the man, in a sharp decisive
+voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Peter. &ldquo;I am stating a fact, in hopes that it
+may prevent trouble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man and Peter looked each other in the eye.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have your orders,&rdquo; said the man, but he didn&rsquo;t look
+pleased or proud.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned and left the room, looking very grave. He look his cab and went to
+his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went down into the streets.
+They seemed peaceably active as he walked through them. A small boy was calling
+an extra, but it was in reference to the arrival of a much-expected
+racing-yacht. There was nothing to show that a great business depression rested
+with crushing weight on the city, and especially on the poor; that anarchy was
+lifting its head, and from hungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood
+and blaze; that capital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle
+which perhaps meant death and destruction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeeze through, and
+was guarded by a keeper. Peter passed in, however, without question, and heard
+a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy was gathering, so too was order.
+Peter called his officers together, and gave a few orders. Then he turned and
+whispered for a moment with Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They don&rsquo;t put us there, sir!&rdquo; exclaimed Dennis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are they mad?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve given us the worst job, not merely as a job, but
+especially for the regiment. Perhaps they won&rsquo;t mind if things do go
+wrong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yez mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What will people say of me on November fourth, if my regiment flunks on
+September thirtieth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Arrah musha dillah!&rdquo; cried Dennis. &ldquo;An&rsquo; is that
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid so. Will the men stand by me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oi&rsquo;ll make them. Yez see,&rdquo; shouted Dennis,
+&ldquo;Oi&rsquo;ll tell the b&rsquo;ys they are tryin&rsquo; to put yez in a
+hole, an&rsquo; they&rsquo;ll stan&rsquo; by yez, no matter what yez are told
+to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As quickly as possible Peter put on his fatigue uniform. When he came out, it
+was to find that the rank and file had done the same, and were now standing in
+groups about the floor. A moment later they were lined up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stepped forward and said in a clear, ringing voice: &ldquo;Before the
+roll is called I wish to say a word. We may receive orders any moment to take
+possession of the buildings and switches at the Central Station, to protect the
+property and operators of that road. This will be hard to some of you, who
+believe the strikers are right. But we have nothing to do with that. We have
+taken our oath to preserve order and law, and we are interested in having it
+done, far more than is the capitalist, for he can buy protection, whether laws
+are enforced or not, while the laboring man cannot. But if any man here is not
+prepared to support the State in its duty to protect the life and property of
+all, by an enforcement of the laws, I wish to know it now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stood a moment waiting, and then said, &ldquo;Thank you, men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The roll-call was made, and Peter sent off a line to headquarters, stating that
+his regiment, with only eighteen reported &ldquo;missing&rdquo; was mustered
+and ready for further orders. Then the regiment broke ranks, and waited.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just as two o&rsquo;clock struck a despatch was handed Peter. A moment later
+came the rap of the drum, and the men rose from the floor and fell in. A few
+sharp, quick words were passed from mouth to mouth. Guns rose to the shoulders
+with a click and a movement almost mechanical. The regiment swung 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 break their lines to get within the curbs. So without sound of
+drum or music they passed through street after street. A regiment is thrilling
+when it parades to music: it is more so when it marches in silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently it passed into a long tunnel, where the footfall echoed in a
+startling way. But as it neared the other end, a more startling sound could be
+heard. It was a low murmur, as of many voices, and of voices that were not
+pleasant. Peter&rsquo;s wisdom in availing himself of the protection and
+secrecy of the tunnel as an approach became obvious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment later, as the regiment debouched from the tunnel&rsquo;s mouth, the
+scene broke upon them. A vast crowd filled Fourth Avenue and Forty-second
+Street. Filled even the cut of the entrance to the tunnel. An angry crowd,
+judging from the sounds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sharp order passed down the ranks, and the many broad lines melted into a
+long-thin one again, even as the regiment went forward. It was greeted with
+yells, and bottles and bricks were hurled from above it, but the appearance of
+the regiment had taken the men too much by surprise for them to do more. The
+head entered the mob, and seemed to disappear. 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. The regiment had passed through the crowd, and was within the
+station. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. To march up Fifth Avenue, with empty
+guns, in a parade, between ten thousand admiring spectators is one thing. To
+march between ten thousand angry strikers and their sympathizers, with ball
+cartridges in the rifles, is quite another. It is all the difference between
+smoking a cigar after dinner, and smoking one in a powder magazine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The regiment&rsquo;s task had only just begun, however. Peter had orders to
+clear the streets about the station. After a consultation with the police
+captain, the companies were told off, and filing out of the various doors, they
+began work. Peter had planned his debouchments so as to split the mob into
+sections, knowing that each fragment pushed back rendered the remainder less
+formidable. First a sally was made from the terminal station, and after two
+lines of troops had been thrown across Forty-second Street, the second was
+ordered to advance. Thus a great tongue of the mob, which stretched towards
+Third Avenue, was pressed back, almost to that street, and held there, without
+a quarter of the mob knowing that anything was being done. Then a similar
+operation was repeated on Forty-third Street and Forty-fourth Street, and
+possession was taken of Madison Avenue. Another wedge was driven into the mob
+and a section pushed along Forty-second, nearly to Fifth Avenue. Then what was
+left of the mob was pushed back from the front of the building down Park
+Avenue. Again Peter breathed more freely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think the worst is done,&rdquo; he told his officers.
+&ldquo;Fortunately the crowd did not expect us, and was not prepared to resist.
+If you can once split a mob, so that it has no centre, and can&rsquo;t get
+together again, except by going round the block, you&rsquo;ve taken the heart
+out of it&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he said this a soldier came up, and saluting, said: &ldquo;Captain Moriarty
+orders me to inform you that a committee of the strikers ask to see you,
+Colonel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter followed the messenger. He found a couple of sentries marking a line. On
+one side of this line sat or reclined Company D. and eight policemen. On the
+other stood a group of a dozen men, and back of them, the crowd.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter passed the sentry line, and went up to the group. Three were the
+committee. The rest were the ubiquitous reporters. From the newspaper report of
+one of the latter We quote the rest:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;You wish to see me?&rdquo; asked Colonel Stirling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Colonel,&rdquo; said Chief Potter. &ldquo;We are here to
+remonstrate with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve done nothing yet,&rdquo; said Doggett, &ldquo;and till we
+had, the troops oughtn&rsquo;t to have been called in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now people say that the scabs are to be given a regimental escort to
+the depot, and will go to work at eight.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been quiet till now,&rdquo; growled a man in the crowd
+surlily, &ldquo;but we won&rsquo;t stand the militia protecting the scabs and
+rats.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to fight for the capitalist?&rdquo; ask Kurfeldt, when
+Colonel Stirling stood silent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am fighting no man&rsquo;s battle, Kurfeldt,&rdquo; replied Colonel
+Stirling. &ldquo;I am obeying orders.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The committee began to look anxious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re no friend of the poor man, and you needn&rsquo;t pose any
+more,&rdquo; shouted one of the crowd.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shut your mouth,&rdquo; said Kurfeldt to the crowd. &ldquo;Colonel
+Stirling,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;we know you&rsquo;re our friend. But you
+can&rsquo;t stay so if you fight labor. Take your choice. Be the rich
+man&rsquo;s servant, or our friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know neither rich man nor poor man in this,&rdquo; Colonel Stirling
+said. &ldquo;I know only the law.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll let the scabs go on?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you order your men to fire on us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you break the laws.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do it at your peril,&rdquo; cried Potter angrily. &ldquo;For every shot
+your regiment fires, you&rsquo;ll lose a thousand votes on election day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Colonel Stirling turned on him, his face blazing with scorn.
+&ldquo;Votes,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s lives!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; cried Doggett, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t come the heavy nobility
+racket on us. We are here for business. Votes is votes, and you needn&rsquo;t
+pretend you don&rsquo;t think so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Colonel Stirling was silent for a moment. Then he said calmly: &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hear him talk,&rdquo; jeered one of the crowd, &ldquo;and he touting
+round the saloons to get votes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The crowd jeered and hissed unpleasantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, Colonel,&rdquo; said Kurfeldt, &ldquo;we know you&rsquo;re after
+votes this year, and know too much to drive them away. You ain&rsquo;t
+goin&rsquo; to lose fifty thousand votes, helpin&rsquo; scabs to take the bread
+away from us, only to see you and your party licked.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; shouted a man in the crowd. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t dare
+monkey with votes!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Colonel Stirling turned and faced the crowd. &ldquo;Do you want to know how
+much I care for votes,&rdquo; he called, his head reared in the air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Speak up loud, sonny,&rdquo; shouted a man far back in the mass,
+&ldquo;we all want to hear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Colonel Stirling&rsquo;s voice rang quite clear enough, &ldquo;Votes be
+damned!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s &ldquo;damn&rdquo; had damned the strike as well as the votes.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Dead silence fell on the committee and crowd. Even Company D. looked astounded.
+Finally, however, one of the committee said, &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no good
+wasting time here.&rdquo; Then a reporter said to a confr&egrave;re,
+&ldquo;What a stunning headline that will make?&rdquo; Then the Captain of
+Company D. got his mouth closed enough to exclaim, &ldquo;Oi always thought he
+could swear if he tried hard. Begobs, b&rsquo;ys, it&rsquo;s proud av him we
+should be this day. Didn&rsquo;t he swear strong an&rsquo; fine like? Howly
+hivens! it&rsquo;s a delight to hear damn said like that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For some reason that &ldquo;swear-word&rdquo; pleased New York and the country
+generally, showing that even an oath has its purpose in this world, so long as
+it is properly used. Dean Swift said a lie &ldquo;was too good to be lavished
+about.&rdquo; So it is of profanity. The crowd understood Peter&rsquo;s remark
+as they would have understood nothing else. They understood that besides those
+rifles and bayonets there was something else not to be trifled with. So in this
+case, it was not wasted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Mr. Bohlmann, Christian though he was, as he read his paper that evening
+cried, &ldquo;Och! Dod Beder Stirling he always does say chust der righd
+ding!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.<br/>
+CUI BONO?</h2>
+
+<p>
+Of the further doings of that day it seems hardly necessary to write, for the
+papers recorded it with a fulness impossible here. The gathering crowds. The
+reinforcement of the militia. The clearing and holding of Forty-second Street
+to the river. The arrival of the three barge-loads of &ldquo;scabs.&rdquo;
+Their march through that street to the station safely, though at every cross
+street greeted with a storm of stones and other missiles. The struggle of the
+mob at the station to force back the troops so as to get at the
+&ldquo;rats.&rdquo; The impact of the &ldquo;thin line&rdquo; and that dense
+seething mass of enraged, crazed men. The yielding of the troops 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. Then the dozen shots fired almost
+simultaneously. The great surge of the mob forward. The quick order, and the
+rattle of guns, as they rose to the shoulder. Another order, and the sheet of
+flame. The great surge of the mob backwards. Then silence. Silence in the
+ranks. Silence in the mob. Silence in those who lay on the ground between the
+two.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Capital and Labor were disagreed as to a ten per cent reduction of wages, and
+were trying to settle it. At first blush capital had the best of it.
+&ldquo;Only a few strikers and militia-men killed,&rdquo; was the apparent
+result of that struggle. The scabs were in safety inside the station, and
+trains were already making up, preparatory to a resumption of traffic. But
+capital did not go scot-free. &ldquo;Firing in the streets of New York,&rdquo;
+was the word sent out all over the world, and on every exchange in the country,
+stocks fell. Capital paid twenty-five million dollars that day, for those few
+ounces of lead. Such a method of settlement seems rather crude and costly, for
+the last decade of the nineteenth century.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Boys all over the city were quickly crying extras of the
+&ldquo;Labor-party&rdquo; organ, the first column of which was headed:
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>BUTCHER STIRLING</b></span><br/>
+<br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">THE NOMINEE OF THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY</span><br/>
+<br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>SHOOTS DOWN UNARMED MEN</b></span><br/>
+<br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">IN</span><br/>
+<br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">COLD BLOOD.</span><br/>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was supplemented by inflammatory broadsides. Men stood up on fences,
+lamp-posts, or barrels, wherever they could get an audience, and shrieked out
+invectives against police, troops, government, and property; and waved red
+flags. Orders went out to embody more regiments. Timid people retired indoors,
+and bolted their shutters. The streets became deserted, except where they were
+filled by groups of angry men listening to angrier speakers. It was not a calm
+night in New York.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet in reality, the condition was less serious, for representatives of Capital,
+Labor, and Government were in consultation. Inside the station, in the
+Directors&rsquo; room of the railroad, its officials, a committee of the
+strikers, and an officer in fatigue uniform, with a face to match, were seated
+in great leather-covered chairs, around a large table. When they had first
+gathered, there had been dark brows, and every sentence had been like the blow
+of flint on steel. At one moment all but the officer had risen from their
+seats, and the meeting had seemed ended. But the officer had said something
+quietly, and once more they had seated themselves. Far into the night they sat,
+while mobs yelled, and sentries marched their beats. When the gathering ended,
+the scowls were gone. Civil partings were exchanged, and the committee and the
+officer passed out together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That Stirling is a gritty bull-dog for holding on, isn&rsquo;t
+he?&rdquo; said one of the railroad officials. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a regular
+surrender for us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but we couldn&rsquo;t afford to be too obstinate with him, for he
+may be the next governor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One of the committee said to the officer as they passed into the street,
+&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ve given up everything to the road, to please you. I hope
+you&rsquo;ll remember it when you&rsquo;re governor and we want things
+done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;for every surrender of opinion you
+and the railroad officials have made to-night, I thank you. But you should have
+compromised twelve hours sooner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So as you should not have had to make yourself unpopular?&rdquo; asked
+Kurfeldt. &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t be afraid. You&rsquo;ve done your best for
+us. Now we&rsquo;ll do our best for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was not thinking of myself. I was thinking of the dead,&rdquo; said
+Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter sent a despatch to headquarters and went the rounds to see if all was as
+it should be. Then spreading his blanket in the passenger waiting-room, he fell
+asleep, not with a very happy look on the grave face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the morning-papers announced that the strike was ended by a compromise, and
+New York and the country breathed easier.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not get much sleep, for he was barely dreaming of&mdash;of a striker,
+who had destroyed his peace, by striking him in the heart with a pair of
+slate-colored eyes&mdash;when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He was on his
+feet before the disturber of his dreams could speak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A despatch from headquarters,&rdquo; said the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter broke it open. It said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take possession of Printing-house Square, and await further
+orders.&rdquo; In ten minutes the regiment was tramping through the dark,
+silent streets, on its way to the new position.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think we deserve a rest,&rdquo; growled the Lieutenant-Colonel to
+Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shan&rsquo;t get it,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;If there&rsquo;s
+anything hard to be done, we shall have it.&rdquo; Then he smiled.
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to have an understanding hereafter, before you make a
+man colonel, that he shan&rsquo;t run for office.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are we in for now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t say. To-day&rsquo;s the time of the parade and meeting in
+City Hall Park.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 the bulletin boards
+of the newspapers, which were chiefly devoted to the doings about the Central
+Station, could be taken as such. Except for this, the regiment was the only
+indication that the universal peace had not come, and even this looked
+peaceful, as soon as it had settled down to hot coffee, bread and raw ham.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the park, however, was a suggestive sight. For not merely were all the
+benches filled with sleeping men, but the steps of the City Hall, the grass,
+and even the hard asphalt pavement were besprinkled with a dirty, ragged,
+hungry-looking lot of men, unlike those usually seen in the streets of New
+York. When the regiment marched into the square, a few of the stragglers rose
+from their recumbent attitudes, and looked at it, without much love in their
+faces. As the regiment breakfasted, more and more rose from their hard beds to
+their harder lives. They moved about restlessly, as if waiting for something.
+Some gathered in little groups and listened to men who talked and shrieked far
+louder than was necessary in order that their listeners should hear. Some came
+to the edge of the street and cursed and vituperated the breakfasting regiment.
+Some sat on the ground and ate food which they produced from their pockets 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 few scuffles occurred in
+attempts to get some. That crowd represented the slag and scum of the boiling
+pot of nineteenth-century conditions. And as the flotsam on a river always
+centres at its eddies, so these had drifted, from the country, and from the
+slums, to the centre of the whirlpool of American life. Here they were waiting.
+Waiting for what? The future only would show. But each moment is a future, till
+it becomes the present.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While the regiment still breakfasted it became conscious of a monotonous sound,
+growing steadily in volume. Then came the tap of the drum, and the regiment
+rose from a half-eaten meal, and lined up as if on parade. Several of the
+members remarked crossly: &ldquo;Why couldn&rsquo;t they wait ten
+minutes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next moment the head of another regiment swung from Chambers Street into
+the square. It was greeted by hisses and groans from the denizens of the park,
+but this lack of politeness was more than atoned for, by the order:
+&ldquo;Present arms,&rdquo; passed down the immovable line awaiting it. After a
+return salute the commanding officers advanced and once more saluted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In obedience to orders from headquarters, I have the honor to report my
+regiment to you, Colonel Stirling, and await your orders,&rdquo; said the
+officer of the &ldquo;visiting&rdquo; regiment, evidently trying not to laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let your men break ranks, and breakfast, Major Rivington,&rdquo; said
+Peter. In two minutes dandy and mick were mingled, exchanging experiences, as
+they sliced meat off the same ham-bones and emptied the same cracker boxes.
+What was more, each was respecting and liking the other. One touch of danger is
+almost as efficacious as one touch of nature. It is not the differences in men
+which make ill-feeling or want of sympathy, it is differences in conditions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the mean time, Peter, Ray and Ogden had come together over their grub, much
+as if it was a legal rather than an illegal trouble to be dealt with.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where were you?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At the Sixty-third Street terminals,&rdquo; said Ray. &ldquo;We
+didn&rsquo;t have any fun at all. As quiet as a cow. You always were lucky!
+Excuse me, Peter, I oughtn&rsquo;t to have said it,&rdquo; Ray continued,
+seeing Peter&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s this wretched American trick of
+joking at everything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ogden, to change the subject, asked: &ldquo;Did you really say
+&lsquo;damn&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I thought you disapproved of cuss words.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do. But the crowd wouldn&rsquo;t believe that I was honest in my
+intention to protect the substitutes. They thought I was too much of a
+politician to dare to do it. So I swore, thinking they would understand that as
+they would not anything else. I hoped it might save actual firing. But they
+became so enraged that they didn&rsquo;t care if we did shoot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then one of the crowd shrieked, &ldquo;Down with the blood-suckers. On to
+freedom. Freedom of life, of property, of food, of water, of air, of land.
+Destroy the money power!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If we ever get to the freedom he wants,&rdquo; said Ray,
+&ldquo;we&rsquo;ll utilize that chap for supplying free gas.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Splendid raw material for free soap,&rdquo; said Ogden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s not the only one,&rdquo; said Ray. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t had
+a wash in nine hours, and salt meats are beginning to pall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are plenty of fellows out there will eat it for you, Ray,&rdquo;
+said Peter, &ldquo;and plenty more who have not washed in weeks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s their own fault.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But if you burn or cut yourself, through ignorance, that
+doesn&rsquo;t make the pain any the less.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They don&rsquo;t look like a crowd which could give us trouble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They are just the kind who can. They are men lifted off their common
+sense, and therefore capable of thinking they can do anything, just as John
+Brown expected to conquer Virginia with forty men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But there&rsquo;s no danger of their getting the upper hand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Yet I wish we had orders to clear the Park now, while there are
+comparatively few here, or else to go back to our armories, and let them have
+their meeting in peace. Our being here will only excite them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hear that,&rdquo; said Ray, as the crowd gave a great roar as another
+regiment came up Park Place, across the Park and spread out so as to cover
+Broadway.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business. But many seemed to
+have none, and drifted into the Park. Some idlers came from curiosity, but most
+seemed to have some purpose other than the mere spectacle. From six till ten
+they silted in imperceptibly from twenty streets. As fast as the crowd grew,
+regiments appeared, and taking up positions, lay at ease. There was something
+terrible about the quiet way in which both crowd and troops increased. The
+mercury was not high, but it promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the
+car lines took off their cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The
+exchanges and the banks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed
+their example. New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced
+each other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been yelling to
+his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted himself, and limped
+towards Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling,&rdquo; he shouted, &ldquo;come out from those murderers. I
+want to tell you something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went forward. &ldquo;What is it, Podds?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Podds dropped his voice. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re out for blood to-day. But I
+don&rsquo;t want yours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here,
+quick. Hide yourself before the people rise in their might.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled sadly. &ldquo;How are Mrs. Podds and the children?&rdquo; he asked
+kindly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is a family at such a moment?&rdquo; shrieked Podds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The world is my family. I love the whole world, and I&rsquo;m going to
+revolutionize it. I&rsquo;m going to give every man his rights. The gutters
+shall reek with blood, and every plutocrat&rsquo;s castle shall be levelled to
+the soil. But I&rsquo;ll spare you, for though you are one of the classes,
+it&rsquo;s your ignorance, not your disposition, that makes you one. Get away
+from here. Get away before it&rsquo;s too late.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then the sound of a horse&rsquo;s feet was heard, and a staff officer came
+cantering from a side street into the square. He saluted Peter and said,
+&ldquo;Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamation forbidding the
+meeting and parade. General Canfield orders you to clear the Park, by pushing
+the mob towards Broadway. The regiments have been drawn in so as to leave a
+free passage down the side streets.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t try to move us a foot,&rdquo; screamed Podds, &ldquo;or
+there&rsquo;ll be blood. We claim the right of free meeting and free
+speech.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Even as he spoke, the two regiments formed, stiffened, fixed bayonets, and
+moved forward, as if they were machines rather than two thousand men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brethren,&rdquo; yelled Podds, &ldquo;the foot of the tyrant is on us.
+Rise. Rise in your might.&rdquo; Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of
+bayonets close upon him. He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing
+his arms about Peter&rsquo;s neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his free
+arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t push me off,&rdquo; shrieked Podds in his ear,
+&ldquo;it&rsquo;s coming,&rdquo; and he clung with desperate energy to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and the whole
+figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to send Podds flying
+across the street.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then the earth
+shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers, rose in the
+air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street. Into that chasm a moment later,
+stones, rails, anarchists, and soldiers fell, leaving nothing but a thick cloud
+of overhanging dust. Underneath that great dun pall lay soldier and anarchist,
+side by side, at last at peace. The one died for his duty, the other died for
+his idea. The world was none the better, but went on unchanged.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII<br/>
+HAPPINESS</h2>
+
+<p>
+The evening on which Peter had left Grey-Court, Leonore had been moved
+&ldquo;for sundry reasons&rdquo; to go to her piano and sing an English ballad
+entitled &ldquo;Happiness.&rdquo; She had sung it several times, and with
+gusto.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning she read the political part of the papers. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t see anything to have taken him back,&rdquo; she said &ldquo;but I
+am really glad, for he was getting hard to manage. I couldn&rsquo;t send him
+away, but now I hope he&rsquo;ll stay there.&rdquo; Then Leonore fluttered all
+day, in the true Newport style, with no apparent thought of her
+&ldquo;friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But something at a dinner that evening interested her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m ashamed,&rdquo; said the hostess, &ldquo;of my shortage of
+men. Marlow was summoned back to New York last night, by business, quite
+unexpectedly, and Mr. Dupont telegraphed me this afternoon that he was detained
+there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s curious,&rdquo; said Dorothy. &ldquo;Mr. Rivington and my
+brother came on Tuesday expecting to stay for a week, but they had special
+delivery letters yesterday, and both started for New York. They would not tell
+me what it was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Stirling received a special delivery, too,&rdquo; said Leonore,
+&ldquo;and started at once. And he wouldn&rsquo;t tell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How extraordinary!&rdquo; said the hostess. &ldquo;There must be
+something very good at the roof-gardens.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It has something to do with headwears,&rdquo; said Leonore, not hiding
+her light under a bushel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Headwear?&rdquo; said a man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I only had a glimpse of the heading,
+but I saw &lsquo;Headwears N.G.S.N.Y.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sudden silence fell, no one laughing at the mistake.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are wondering what will happen,&rdquo; said the host, &ldquo;if men
+go in for headwear too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They do that already,&rdquo; said a man, &ldquo;but unlike women, they
+do it on the inside, not the outside of the head.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But nobody laughed, and the dinner seemed to drag from that moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore and Dorothy had come together, and as soon as they were in their
+carriage, Leonore said, &ldquo;What a dull dinner it was?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Leonore,&rdquo; cried Dorothy, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t talk about
+dinners. I&rsquo;ve kept up till now, bu&mdash;&rdquo; and Dorothy&rsquo;s
+sentence melted into a sob.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it home, Mrs. Rivington?&rdquo; asked the tiger, sublimely
+unconscious, as a good servant should be, of this dialogue, and of his
+mistress&rsquo;s tears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Portman, the Club,&rdquo; sobbed Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dorothy,&rdquo; begged Leonore, &ldquo;what is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you understand?&rdquo; sobbed Dorothy. &ldquo;All this
+fearful anarchist talk and discontent? And my poor, poor darling! Oh,
+don&rsquo;t talk to me.&rdquo; Dorothy became inarticulate once more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How foolish married women are!&rdquo; thought Leonore, even while
+putting her arm around Dorothy, and trying blindly to comfort her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it a message, Mrs. Rivington?&rdquo; asked the man, opening the
+carriage-door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ask for Mr. Melton, or Mr. Duer, and say Mrs. Rivington wishes to see
+one of them.&rdquo; Dorothy dried her eyes, and braced up. Before Leonore had
+time to demand an explanation, Peter&rsquo;s gentlemanly scoundrel was at the
+door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it, Mrs. Rivington?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Duer, is there any bad news from New York?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. A great strike on the Central is on, and the troops have been
+called in to keep order.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that all the news?&rdquo; asked Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Dorothy. &ldquo;Home, Portman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The two women were absolutely silent during the drive. But they kissed each
+other in parting, not with the peck which women so often give each other, but
+with a true kiss. And when Leonore, in crossing the porch, encountered the
+mastiff which Peter had given her, she stopped and kissed him too, very
+tenderly. What is more, she brought him inside, which was against the rules,
+and put him down before the fire. Then she told the footman to bring her the
+evening-papers, and sitting down on the rug by B&ecirc;tise, proceeded to
+search them, not now for the political outlook, but for the labor troubles.
+Leonore suddenly awoke to the fact that there were such things as commercial
+depressions and unemployed. She read it all with the utmost care. She read the
+outpourings of the Anarchists, in a combination of indignation, amazement and
+fear, &ldquo;I never dreamed there could be such fearful wretches!&rdquo; she
+said. There was one man&mdash;a fellow named Podds&mdash;whom the paper
+reported as shrieking in Union Square to a select audience:
+</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>
+&ldquo;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!&rdquo;
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Leonore shuddering. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s fearful. I wish
+some one would blow you in pieces!&rdquo; Thereby was she proving herself not
+unlike Podds. All humanity have something of the Anarchist in them. Then
+Leonore turned to the mastiff and told him some things. Of how bad the strikers
+were, and how terrible were the Anarchists. &ldquo;Yes, dear,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;I wish we had them here, and then you could treat them as they deserve,
+wouldn&rsquo;t you, B&ecirc;tise? I&rsquo;m so glad he has my
+luck-piece!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment later her father and another man came into the hall from the street,
+compelling Leonore to assume a more proper attitude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello, Dot!&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;Still up? Vaughan and I are going
+to have a game of billiards. Won&rsquo;t you score for us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bad news from New York, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; said Vaughan,
+nonchalantly, as he stood back after his first play.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore saw her father make a grimace at Vaughan, which Vaughan did not see.
+She said, &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I missed,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;Your turn, Will.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me the news before you shoot?&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The collision of the strikers and the troops.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was any one hurt?&rdquo; asked Leonore, calmly scoring two to her
+father&rsquo;s credit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Eleven soldiers and twenty-two strikers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What regiment was it?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Colonel Stirling&rsquo;s,&rdquo; said Vaughan, making a brilliant
+<i>mass&eacute;</i>. &ldquo;Fortunately it&rsquo;s a Mick regiment, so we
+needn&rsquo;t worry over who was killed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore thought to herself: &ldquo;You are as bad every bit as Podds!&rdquo;
+Aloud she said, &ldquo;Did it say who were killed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. The dispatch only said fourteen dead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was a beautiful shot,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;You ought to run
+the game out with that position. I think, papa, that I&rsquo;ll go to bed. I
+find I&rsquo;m a little tired. Good-night, Mr. Vaughan.&rdquo; Leonore went
+upstairs, slowly, deep in thought. She did not ring for her maid. On the
+contrary she lay down on her bed in her dinner-gown, to its everlasting
+detriment. &ldquo;I know he isn&rsquo;t hurt,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;because I
+should feel it. But I wish the telegram had said.&rdquo; She hardly believed
+herself, apparently, for she buried her head in the pillow, and began to sob
+quietly. &ldquo;If I only had said good-bye,&rdquo; she moaned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Early the next morning Watts found Leonore in the hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How pale my Dot is!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t sleep well,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you going to ride with me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I don&rsquo;t feel like it this morning,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Watts left the hall, a servant entered it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had to wait, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;No papers are
+for sale till eight o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore took the newspaper silently and went to the library. Then she opened it
+and looked at the first column. She read it hurriedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew he wasn&rsquo;t hurt,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;because I would
+have felt it, and because he had my luck piece.&rdquo; Then she stepped out of
+one of the windows, called B&ecirc;tise to her, and putting her arms about his
+neck, kissed him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the New York papers came things were even better, for they recorded the
+end of the strike. Leonore even laughed over that big, big D. &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t imagine him getting so angry,&rdquo; she said &ldquo;He must have a
+temper, after all.&rdquo; She sang a little, as she fixed the flowers in the
+vases, and one of the songs was &ldquo;Happiness.&rdquo; Nor did she snub a man
+who hinted at afternoon tea, as she had a poor unfortunate who suggested tennis
+earlier in the day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While they were sipping their tea, however, Watts came in from the club.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, going to the bay window farthest from the
+tea-table, &ldquo;come here I want to say something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They whispered for a moment, and then Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi came back to her tea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you have a cup, papa?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Not to-day, dear,&rdquo; said Watts, with an unusual tenderness
+in his voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was raising a spoon to her mouth, but suddenly her hand trembled a
+little. After a glance at her father and mother, she pushed her tea-cup into
+the centre of the table as if she had finished it, though it had just been
+poured. Then she turned and began to talk and laugh with the caller.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the moment the visitor was out of the room, Leonore said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it, papa?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts was standing by the fire. He hesitated. Then he groaned. Then he went to
+the door. &ldquo;Ask your mother,&rdquo; he said, and went out of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mamma?&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t excite yourself, dear,&rdquo; said her mother.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you to-morrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore was on her feet. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said huskily, &ldquo;tell me
+now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait till we&rsquo;ve had dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mamma,&rdquo; cried Leonore, appealingly, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t you see
+that&mdash;that&mdash;that I suffer more by not knowing it? Tell me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Leonore,&rdquo; cried her mother, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t look that way.
+I&rsquo;ll tell you; but don&rsquo;t look that way!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi put her arms about Leonore. &ldquo;The Anarchists have
+exploded a bomb.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And it killed a great many of the soldiers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, mamma,&rdquo; said Leonore. She unclasped her mother&rsquo;s
+arms, and went towards the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leonore,&rdquo; cried her mother, &ldquo;stay here with me, dear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather be alone,&rdquo; said Leonore, quietly. She went
+upstairs to her room 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
+before her at nothing, as Peter had so often done. Is it harder to lose out of
+life the man or woman whom one loves, or to see him or her happy in the love of
+another. Is the hopelessness of the impossible less or greater than the
+hopelessness of the unattainable?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally Leonore rose, and touched her bell. When her maid came she said,
+&ldquo;Get me my travelling dress.&rdquo; Ten minutes later she came into the
+library, saying to Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Papa, I want you to take me to New York, by the first train.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you crazy, my darling?&rdquo; cried Watts. &ldquo;With riots and
+Anarchists all over the city.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must go to New York,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;If you won&rsquo;t
+take me, I&rsquo;ll go with madame.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not for a moment&mdash;&rdquo; began Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; cried Leonore, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t you see it&rsquo;s
+killing me? I can&rsquo;t bear it&mdash;&rdquo; and Leonore stopped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Watts, we must,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two hours later they were all three rolling towards New York. It was a five
+hours&rsquo; ride, but Leonore sat the whole distance without speaking, or
+showing any consciousness of her surroundings. For every turn of those wheels
+seemed to fall into a rhythmic repetition of: &ldquo;If I had only said
+&lsquo;good-bye.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The train was late in arriving, and Watts tried to induce Leonore to go to a
+hotel for the night. She only said &ldquo;No. Take me to him,&rdquo; but it was
+in a voice which Watts could not disregard. So after a few questions at the
+terminal, which produced no satisfactory information, Watts told the cabman to
+drive to the City Hall Park.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They did not reach it, however, for at the corner of Centre Street and
+Chambers, there came a cry of &ldquo;halt,&rdquo; and the cab had to stop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t pass this line,&rdquo; said the sentry. &ldquo;You must
+go round by Broadway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The street is impassable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Watts got out, and held a whispered dialogue with the sentry. This resulted in
+the summoning of the officer of the watch. In the mean time Leonore descended
+and joined them. Watts turned and said to her: &ldquo;The sentry says
+he&rsquo;s here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently an officer came up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; what do the likes av yez want at this time av night?&rdquo; he
+inquired crossly. &ldquo;Go away wid yez.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Captain Moriarty,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;won&rsquo;t you let me
+see him? I&rsquo;m Miss D&rsquo;Alloi.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; said Dennis, &ldquo;yez oughtn&rsquo;t to be afther
+disturbin&rsquo; him. It&rsquo;s two nights he&rsquo;s had no sleep.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore suddenly put her hand on Dennis&rsquo;s arm. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s not
+killed?&rdquo; she whispered, as if she could not breathe, and the figure
+swayed a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Divil a bit! They got it wrong entirely. It was that dirty spalpeen av a
+Podds.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo; said Leonore, pleadingly. &ldquo;You are not
+deceiving me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Begobs,&rdquo; said Dennis, &ldquo;do yez think Oi could stand here wid
+a dry eye if he was dead?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore put her head on Dennis&rsquo;s shoulder, and began to sob softly. For a
+moment Dennis looked aghast at the results of his speech, but suddenly his face
+changed. &ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;we all love him just like
+that, an that&rsquo;s why the Blessed Virgin saved him for us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Leonore, with tears in her eyes, said, &ldquo;I felt it,&rdquo; in the
+most joyful of voices. A voice that had a whole <i>Te Deum</i> in it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you let me see him?&rdquo; she begged. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t
+wake him, I promise you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That yez shall,&rdquo; said Dennis. &ldquo;Will yez take my arm?&rdquo;
+The four passed within the lines. &ldquo;Step careful,&rdquo; he continued.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s pavin&rsquo; stones, and rails, and plate-glass
+everywheres. It looks like there&rsquo;d been a primary itself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All thought that was the best of jokes and laughed. They passed round a great
+chasm in the street and sidewalk. Then they came to long rows of bodies
+stretched on the grass, or rather what was left of the grass, in the Park.
+Leonore shuddered. &ldquo;Are they all dead?&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Dead!
+Shurely not. It&rsquo;s the regiment sleepin&rsquo;,&rdquo; she was told. They
+passed between these rows for a little distance. &ldquo;This is him,&rdquo;
+said Dennis, &ldquo;sleepin&rsquo; like a babby.&rdquo; Dennis turned his back
+and began to describe the explosion to Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi and Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There, half covered with a blanket, wrapped in a regulation great coat, his
+head pillowed on a roll of newspapers, lay Peter. Leonore knelt down on the
+ground beside him, regardless of the proprieties or the damp. She listened to
+hear if he was breathing, and when she found that he actually was, her face had
+on it a little thanksgiving proclamation of its own. Then with the prettiest of
+motherly manners, she softly pulled the blanket up and tucked it in about his
+arms. Then she looked to see if there was not something else to do. But there
+was nothing. So she made more. &ldquo;The poor dear oughtn&rsquo;t to sleep
+without something on his head. He&rsquo;ll take cold.&rdquo; She took her
+handkerchief and tried to fix it so that it should protect Peter&rsquo;s head.
+She tried four different ways, any one of which would have served; but each
+time she thought of a better way, and had to try once more. She probably would
+have thought of a fifth, if Peter had not suddenly opened his eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;what a shame? I&rsquo;ve waked you up.
+And just as I had fixed it right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter studied the situation calmly, without moving a muscle. He looked at the
+kneeling figure for some time. Then he looked up at the arc light a little
+distance away. Then he looked at the City Hall clock. Then his eyes came back
+to Leonore. &ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; he said finally, &ldquo;this is getting to be
+a monomania. You must stop it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said Leonore, laughing at his manner as if it was intended
+as a joke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter put out his hand and touched Leonore&rsquo;s dress. Then he rose quickly
+to his feet. &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello,&rdquo; cried Watts. &ldquo;Have you come to? Well. Here we are,
+you see. All the way from Newport to see you in fragments, only to be
+disappointed. Shake!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said nothing for a moment. But after he had shaken hands, he said,
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very good of you to have thought of me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; explained Leonore promptly, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m always anxious
+about my friends. Mamma will tell you I am.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter turned to Leonore, who had retired behind her mother. &ldquo;Such friends
+are worth having,&rdquo; he said, with a strong emphasis on
+&ldquo;friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Leonore came out from behind her mother. &ldquo;&lsquo;How nice he&rsquo;s
+stupid,&rdquo; she thought. &ldquo;He is Peter Simple, after all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;your friends are nearly dying with
+hunger and want of sleep, so the best thing we can do, since we needn&rsquo;t
+hunt for you in scraps, is to go to the nearest hotel. Where is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to go uptown,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Nothing down
+here is open at this time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not sleepy,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;but I am so
+hungry!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Serves you right for eating no din&mdash;&rdquo; Watts started to say,
+but Leonore interjected, in an unusually loud voice. &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you get
+us something?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing; that will do for you, I&rsquo;m afraid,&rdquo; said Peter.
+&ldquo;I had Dennett send up one of his coffee-boilers so that the men should
+have hot coffee through the night, and there&rsquo;s a sausage-roll man close
+to him who&rsquo;s doing a big business. But they&rsquo;ll hardly serve your
+purpose.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The very thing,&rdquo; cried Watts. &ldquo;What a lark!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can eat anything,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they went over to the stands. Peter&rsquo;s blanket was spread on the
+sidewalk, and three Newport swells, and the Democratic nominee for governor sat
+upon it, with their feet in the gutter, and drank half-bean coffee and ate hot
+sausage rolls, made all the hotter by the undue amount of mustard which the
+cook would put in. What is worse, they enjoyed it as much as if it was the
+finest of dinners. Would not society have been scandalized had it known of
+their doings?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How true it is that happiness is in a mood rather than in a moment. How eagerly
+we prepare for and pursue the fickle sprite, only to find our preparations 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 of the four. The coffee might
+have been all beans, and yet it would have been better than the best served in
+Viennese caf&eacute;s. The rolls might have had even a more weepy amount of
+mustard, and yet the burning and the tears would only have been the more of a
+joke. The sun came up, as they ate, talked and laughed, touching everything
+about them with gold, but it might have poured torrents, and the two would have
+been as happy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For Leonore was singing to herself: &ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t dead. He isn&rsquo;t
+dead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Peter was thinking: &ldquo;She loves me. She must love me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII.<br/>
+GIFTS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+After the rolls and coffee had been finished, Peter walked with his friends to
+their cab. It had all been arranged that they were to go to Peter&rsquo;s
+quarters, and get some sleep. These were less than eight blocks away, but the
+parting was very terrific! However, it had to be done, and so it was gone
+through with. Hard as it was, Peter had presence of mind enough to say, through
+the carriage window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You had better take my room, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi, for the spare room is
+the largest. I give you the absolute freedom of it, minus the gold-box. Use
+anything you find.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Peter went back to the chaotic street and the now breakfasting regiment,
+feeling that strikes, anarchists, and dynamite were only minor circumstances in
+life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+About noon Leonore came back to life, and succeeded in making a very bewitching
+toilet despite the absence of her maid. Whether she peeped into any drawers or
+other places, is left to feminine readers to decide. If she did, she certainly
+had ample authority from Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This done she went into the study, and, after sticking her nose into some of
+the window flowers, she started to go to the bookshelves. As she walked her
+foot struck something which rang with a metallic sound, as it moved on the wood
+floor. The next moment, a man started out of a deep chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; was all Leonore said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope I didn&rsquo;t startle you. You must have kicked my sword.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I didn&rsquo;t know you were here!&rdquo; Leonore eyed the door
+leading to the hall, as if she were planning for a sudden flight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The regiment was relieved by another from Albany this morning. So I came
+up here for a little sleep.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a shame that I should have kept you out of your room,&rdquo; said
+Leonore, still eyeing the door. From Leonore&rsquo;s appearance, one would have
+supposed that she had purloined something of value from his quarters, and was
+meditating a sudden dash of escape with it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t look at it in that light,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But
+since you&rsquo;ve finished with the room for the moment, I&rsquo;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.&rdquo; Peter passed through the doorway towards which Leonore had
+glanced. Then Leonore&rsquo;s anxious look left her, and she no longer looked
+at the door. One would almost have inferred that Leonore was afraid of Peter,
+but that is absurd, since they were such good friends, since Leonore had come
+all the way from Newport to see him, and since Leonore had decided that Peter
+must do as she pleased.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet, curiously enough, when Peter returned in about twenty minutes, the same
+look came into Leonore&rsquo;s face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall have something to eat in ten minutes,&rdquo; Peter said,
+&ldquo;for I hear your father and mother moving.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked towards the door. She did not intend that Peter should see her
+do it, but he did.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now what shall we do or talk about?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You know I am
+host and mustn&rsquo;t do anything my guests don&rsquo;t wish.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said this in the most matter-of-fact way, but Leonore, after a look from
+under her eyelashes at him, stopped thinking about the door. She went over to
+one of the window-seats.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come and sit here by me,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and tell me everything
+about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter described &ldquo;the war, and what they fought each other for,&rdquo;
+as well as he was able, for, despite his intentions, his mind would wander as
+those eyes looked into his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am glad that Podds was blown to pieces!&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because it&rsquo;s one of those cases of a man of really good
+intentions, merely gone wrong. He was a horse-car driver, who got inflammatory
+rheumatism by the exposure, and was discharged. He suffered fearful pain, and
+saw his family suffer for bread. He grew bitter, and took up with these wild
+theories, not having enough original brain force, or education, 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 to despise me and ordered me out of his
+rooms. I had once done him a service, and felt angered at what I thought
+ungrateful conduct, so I made no attempt to keep up the friendliness. He knew
+yesterday that dynamite was in the hands of some of those men, and tried to
+warn me away. When I refused to go, he threw himself upon me, to protect me
+from the explosion. Nothing else saved my life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, will your regiment have to do anything more?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so. The dynamite has caused a reaction, and has
+driven off 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 a couple
+of days, but then if I&rsquo;m asked, I&rsquo;ll go back to Newport.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Papa and mamma want you, I&rsquo;m sure,&rdquo; said Leonore, glancing
+at the door again, after an entire forgetfulness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shall go,&rdquo; said Peter, though longing to say something
+else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked at him and said in the frankest way; &ldquo;And I want you
+too.&rdquo; That was the way she paid Peter for his forbearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then they all went up on the roof, where in one corner there were pots of
+flowers about a little table, over which was spread an awning. Over that table,
+too, Jenifer had spread himself. How good that breakfast was! What a glorious
+September day it was! How beautiful the view of the city and the bay was! It
+was all so thoroughly satisfactory, that the three nearly missed the
+&ldquo;limited.&rdquo; Of course Peter went to the station with them, and,
+short as was the time, he succeeded in obtaining for one of the party,
+&ldquo;all the comic papers,&rdquo; &ldquo;the latest novel,&rdquo; a small
+basket of fruit, and a bunch of flowers, not one of which, with the exception
+of the latter, the real object of these attentions wanted in the least.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just here it is of value to record an interesting scientific discovery of
+Leonore&rsquo;s, because women so rarely have made them. It was, that the
+distance from New York to Newport is very much less than the distance from
+Newport to New York.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Curiously enough, two days later, his journey seemed to Peter the longest
+railroad ride he had ever taken. &ldquo;His friend&rdquo; did not meet him this
+time. His friend felt that her trip to New York must be offset before she could
+resume her proper self-respect. &ldquo;He was very nice,&rdquo; she had said,
+in monologue, &ldquo;about putting the trip down to friendship. And he was very
+nice that morning in his study. But I think his very niceness is suspicious,
+and so I must be hard on him!&rdquo; A woman&rsquo;s reasoning is apt to seem
+defective, yet sometimes it solves problems not otherwise answerable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore found her &ldquo;hard&rdquo; policy harder than she thought for. She
+told Peter the first evening that she was going to a card-party. &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t take you,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be all the better for a long night&rsquo;s sleep,&rdquo; said
+Peter, calmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was bad enough, but the next morning, as she was arranging the flowers,
+she remarked to some one who stood and watched her, &ldquo;Miss Winthrop is
+engaged. How foolish of a girl in her first season! Before she&rsquo;s had any
+fun, to settle down to dull married life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had a rose in her hand, prepared to revive Peter with it, in case her
+speech was too much for one dose, but when she glanced at him, he was smiling
+happily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Leonore, disapprovingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t listening.
+Did you say Miss Winthrop was married?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What were you smiling over?&rdquo; said Leonore, in the same voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was thinking of&mdash;of&mdash;.&rdquo; Then Peter hesitated and
+laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of what?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You really mustn&rsquo;t ask me,&rdquo; laughed Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of what were you thinking?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of eyelashes,&rdquo; confessed Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s terrible!&rdquo; cogitated Leonore, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t snub
+him any more, try as I may.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In truth, Peter was not worrying any longer over what Leonore said or did to
+him. He was merely enjoying her companionship. He was at once absolutely happy,
+and absolutely miserable. Happy in his hope. Miserable in its non-certainty. To
+make a paradox, he was confident that she loved him, yet he was not sure. A man
+will be absolutely confident that a certain horse will win a race, or he will
+be certain that a profit will accrue from a given business transaction. Yet,
+until the horse has won, or the profit is actually made, he is not assured. So
+it was with Peter. He thought that he had but to speak, yet dared not do it.
+The present was so certain, and the future might have such agonies. So for two
+days he merely followed Leonore about, enjoying her pretty ways and hardly
+heeding her snubs and petulance. He was very silent, and often abstracted, but
+his silence and abstraction brought no relief to Leonore, and only frightened
+her the more, for he hardly let her out of his sight, and the silent devotion
+and tenderness were so obvious that Leonore felt how absolutely absurd was her
+pretence of unconsciousness. In his very &ldquo;Miss D&rsquo;Alloi&rdquo; now,
+there was a tone in his voice and a look in his face which really said the
+words: &ldquo;My darling.&rdquo; Leonore thought this was a mean trick, of
+apparently sustaining the conventions of society, while in reality outraging
+them horribly, but she was helpless to better his conduct. Twice unwittingly he
+even called her &ldquo;Leonore&rdquo; (as he had to himself for two months),
+thereby terribly disconcerting the owner of that name. She wanted to catch him
+up and snub him each time, but she was losing her courage. She knew that she
+was walking on a mine, and could not tell what chance word or deed of hers
+would bring an explosion. &ldquo;And then what can I say to him?&rdquo; she
+asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What she said was this:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter came downstairs the third evening of his stay &ldquo;armed and equipped
+as the law directs&rdquo; for a cotillion. In the large hallway, he found
+Leonore, likewise in gala dress, resting her hand on the tall mantel of the
+hall, and looking down at the fire. Peter stopped on the landing to enjoy that
+pose. He went over every detail with deliberation. But girl, gown, and things
+in general, were much too tempting to make this distant glimpse over lengthy.
+So he descended to get a closer view. The pose said nothing, and Peter strolled
+to the fire, and did likewise. But if he did not speak he more than made up for
+his silence with his eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally the pose said, &ldquo;I suppose it&rsquo;s time we started?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some one&rsquo;s got to speak,&rdquo; the pose had decided. Evidently
+the pose felt uneasy under that silent gaze.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only a little past ten,&rdquo; said Peter, who was quite
+satisfied with the <i>status quo</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then silence came again. After this had held for a few moments, the pose said:
+&ldquo;Do say something!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Anything else I can do for
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unless you can be more entertaining, we might as well be sitting in the
+Purdies&rsquo; dressing-rooms, as standing here. Suppose we go to the library
+and sit with mamma and papa?&rdquo; Clearly the pose felt nervous.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not like this idea. So he said: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try to amuse you.
+Let me tell you something very interesting to me. It&rsquo;s my birthday
+to-morrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you tell me sooner?
+Then I would have had a gift for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I was afraid of.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want me to give you something?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Then Peter&rsquo;s hands trembled, and he seemed to have
+hard work in adding, &ldquo;I want you to give me&mdash;a kiss.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter!&rdquo; said Leonore, drawing back grieved and indignant. &ldquo;I
+didn&rsquo;t think you would speak to me so. Of all men!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t think,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that I meant to pain
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have,&rdquo; said Leonore, almost ready to cry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that isn&rsquo;t what I meant.&rdquo;
+Peter obviously struggled to find words to say what he did mean as he had never
+struggled over the knottiest of legal points, or the hardest of wrestling
+matches. &ldquo;If I thought you were a girl who would kiss a man for the
+asking, I should not care for a kiss from you.&rdquo; Peter strayed away from
+the fire uneasily. &ldquo;But I know you are not.&rdquo; Peter gazed wildly
+round, as if the furnishings, of the hall might suggest the words for which he
+was blindly groping. But they didn&rsquo;t, and after one or two half-begun
+sentences, he continued: &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t watched you, and dreamed about
+you, and loved you, for all this time, without learning what you are.&rdquo;
+Peter roamed about the great hall restlessly. &ldquo;I know that your lips will
+never give what your heart doesn&rsquo;t.&rdquo; Then his face took a
+despairing look, and he continued quite rapidly: &ldquo;I ask without much
+hope. You are so lovely, while I&mdash;well I&rsquo;m not a man women care for.
+I&rsquo;ve tried to please you. Tried to please you so hard, that I may have
+deceived you. I probably am what women say of me. But if I&rsquo;ve been
+otherwise with you it is because you are different from any other woman in the
+world.&rdquo; Here the sudden flow of words ended, and Peter paced up and down,
+trying to find what to say. If any one had seen Peter as he paced, without his
+present environment, he would have thought him a man meditating suicide.
+Suddenly his voice and face became less wild, and he said tenderly:
+&ldquo;There is no use in my telling you how I love you. You know it now, or
+will never learn it from anything I can say.&rdquo; Peter strode back to the
+fire. &ldquo;It is my love which asks for a kiss. And I want it for the love
+you will give with it, if you can give it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore had apparently kept her eyes on the blazing logs during the whole of
+this monologue. But she must have seen something of Peter&rsquo;s uneasy
+wanderings about the room, for she had said to herself: &ldquo;Poor dear! He
+must be fearfully in earnest, I never knew him so restless. He prowls just like
+a wild animal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment&rsquo;s silence came after Peter&rsquo;s return to the fire. Then he
+said: &ldquo;Will you give it to me, Miss D&rsquo;Alloi?&rdquo; But his voice
+in truth, made the words, &ldquo;Give me what I ask, my darling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Leonore softly. &ldquo;On your birthday.&rdquo; Then
+Leonore shrank back a little, as if afraid that her gift would be sought
+sooner. No young girl, however much she loves a man, is quite ready for that
+first kiss. A man&rsquo;s lips upon her own are too contrary to her instinct
+and previous training to make them an unalloyed pleasure. The girl who is
+over-ready for her lover&rsquo;s first kiss, has tasted the forbidden fruit
+already, or has waited over-long for it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter saw the little shrinking and understood it. What was more, he heeded it
+as many men would not have done. Perhaps there was something selfish in his
+self-denial, for the purity and girlishness which it indicated were very dear
+to him, and he hated to lessen them by anything he did. He stood quietly by
+her, and merely said, &ldquo;I needn&rsquo;t tell you how happy I am!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked up into Peter&rsquo;s face. If Leonore had seen there any lack
+of desire to take her in his arms and kiss her, she would never have forgiven
+him. But since his face showed beyond doubt that he was longing to 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&rsquo;s confidingly, and said,
+&ldquo;So am I.&rdquo; It means a good deal when a girl does not wish to run
+away from her lover the moment after she has confessed her love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they stood for some time, Leonore looking down into the fire, and Peter
+looking down at Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally Peter said, &ldquo;Will you do me a great favor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve done enough for one night.
+But you can tell me what it is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you look up at me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What for?&rdquo; said Leonore, promptly looking up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to see your eyes,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Leonore, promptly looking down again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been dreaming all my life
+about some eyes, and I want to see what my dream is like in reality.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a very funny request,&rdquo; said Leonore perversely.
+&ldquo;You ought to have found out about them long ago. The idea of any one
+falling in love, without knowing about the eyes!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you show your eyes so little,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+never had a thoroughly satisfying look at them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You look at them every time I look at you,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+&ldquo;Sometimes it was very embarrassing. Just supposing that I showed them to
+you now, and that you find they aren&rsquo;t what you like?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never waste time discussing impossibilities,&rdquo; said Peter.
+&ldquo;Are you going to let me see them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How long will it take?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can tell better after I&rsquo;ve seen them,&rdquo; said Peter,
+astutely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I have time this evening,&rdquo; said Leonore, still
+perversely, though smiling a look of contentment down into the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter said nothing for a moment, wishing to give Leonore&rsquo;s conscience a
+chance to begin to prick. Then be ended the silence by saying: &ldquo;If I had
+anything that would give you pleasure, I wouldn&rsquo;t make you ask for it
+twice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s&mdash;different,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;Still,
+I&rsquo;ll&mdash;well, look at them,&rdquo; and Leonore lifted her eyes to
+Peter&rsquo;s half laughingly and half timidly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter studied those eyes in silence&mdash;studied them till Leonore, who did
+not find that steady look altogether easy to bear, and yet was not willing to
+confess herself stared out of countenance, asked: &ldquo;Do you like
+them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that all you can say? Other people have said very complimentary
+things!&rdquo; said Leonore, pretending to be grieved over the monosyllable,
+yet in reality delighting in its expressiveness as Peter said it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that before I can tell you what I
+think of your eyes, we shall have to invent some new words.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 that Peter still held
+the hand given him some time before. To use a poker term, Peter was standing
+&ldquo;pat,&rdquo; and wished no change. Once or twice the little hand had
+hinted that it had been held long enough, but Peter did not think so, and the
+hand had concluded that it was safest to let well alone. If it was too cruel It
+might rouse the sleeping lion which the owner of that hand knew to exist behind
+that firm, quiet face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently Peter put his unoccupied hand in his breast-pocket, and produced a
+small sachet. &ldquo;I did something twice,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that I have
+felt very meanly about at times. Perhaps you&rsquo;ll forgive me now?&rdquo; He
+took from the sachet, a glove, and a small pocket-handkerchief, and without a
+word showed them to Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore looked at them. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the glove I lost at Mrs.
+Costell&rsquo;s, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; she asked gravely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter nodded his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is that the handkerchief which disappeared in your rooms, at your
+second dinner?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter nodded his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And both times you helped me hunt for them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter nodded his head. He at last knew how prisoners felt when he was
+cross-examining them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew you had them all the time,&rdquo; said Leonore laughing.
+&ldquo;It was dreadfully funny to see you pretend to hunt, when the guilty look
+on your own face was enough to show you had them. That&rsquo;s why I was so
+determined to find them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter knew how prisoners felt when the jury says, &ldquo;Not guilty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how did the holes come in them?&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;Do you
+have mice in your room?&rdquo; Leonore suddenly looked as worried as had Peter
+the moment before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter put his hand in the sachet, and produced a bent coin. &ldquo;Look at
+that,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, it&rsquo;s my luck-piece!&rdquo; exclaimed Leonore. &ldquo;And
+you&rsquo;ve spoiled that too. What a careless boy!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;They are not spoiled to me. Do you know
+what cut these holes and bent this coin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A bullet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Your luck-piece stopped it, or I shouldn&rsquo;t be here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Leonore triumphantly, &ldquo;I said you weren&rsquo;t
+hurt, when the news of the shooting came, because I knew you had it. I was so
+glad you had taken it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am going to give it back to you by and by,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had rather that you should have it,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;I want
+you to have my luck.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall have it just the same even after I&rsquo;ve given it to
+you,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to have it made into a plain gold ring,&rdquo; replied
+Peter, &ldquo;and when I give it to you, I shall have all your luck.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came a silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally Peter said, &ldquo;Will you please tell me what you meant by talking
+about five years!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! Really, Peter,&rdquo; Leonore hastened to explain, in an anxious
+way, as if Peter had charged her with murder or some other heinous crime.
+&ldquo;I did think so. I didn&rsquo;t find it out till&mdash;till that night.
+Really! Won&rsquo;t you believe me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter smiled. He could have believed anything.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I know at last what Anarchists are
+for.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His ready acceptance of her statement made Leonore feel a slight prick of
+conscience. She said: &ldquo;Well&mdash;Peter&mdash;I mean&mdash;that
+is&mdash;at least, I did sometimes think before then&mdash;that when I married,
+I&rsquo;d marry you&mdash;but I didn&rsquo;t think it would come so soon. Did
+you? I thought we&rsquo;d wait. It would have been so much more
+sensible!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve waited a long time,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor dear!&rdquo; said Leonore, putting her other hand over
+Peter&rsquo;s, which held hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter enjoyed this exquisite pleasure in silence for a time, but the enjoyment
+was too great not to be expressed So he said;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like your hands almost as much as your eyes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s very nice,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I like the way you say &lsquo;dear,&rsquo;&rdquo; said Peter.
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want to say it again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I hate people who say the same thing twice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then there was a long pause.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What poor things words are?&rdquo; said Peter, at the end of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know just what you mean,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Clearly they both meant what they said, for there came another absence of
+words. How long the absence would have continued is a debatable point. Much too
+soon a door opened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hello!&rdquo; said a voice. &ldquo;Back already? What kind of an evening
+had you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A very pleasant one,&rdquo; said Peter, calmly, yet expressively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let go my hand, Peter, please,&rdquo; a voice whispered imploringly.
+&ldquo;Oh, please! I can&rsquo;t to-night. Oh, please!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say &lsquo;dear,&rsquo;&rdquo; whispered Peter, meanly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please, dear,&rdquo; said Leonore. Then Leonore went towards the stairs
+hurriedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not off already, Dot, surely?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;m going to bed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come and have a cigar, Peter,&rdquo; said Watts, walking towards the
+library.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In a moment,&rdquo; said Peter. He went to the foot of the stairs and
+said, &ldquo;Please, dear,&rdquo; to the figure going up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said the figure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter went up five steps. &ldquo;Please,&rdquo; he begged.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the figure, &ldquo;but there is my hand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter turned the little soft palm uppermost and kissed it Then he forgot the
+cigar and Watts. He went to his room, and thought of&mdash;of his birthday
+gift.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX.<br/>
+&ldquo;GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+<p>
+If Peter had roamed about the hall that evening, he was still more restless the
+next morning. He was down early, though for no apparent reason, and did nothing
+but pass from hall to room, and room to hall, spending most of his time in the
+latter, however.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How Leonore could have got from her room into the garden without Peter&rsquo;s
+seeing her was a question which puzzled him not a little, when, by a chance
+glance out of a window, he saw that personage clipping roses off the bushes. He
+did not have time to spare, however, to reason out an explanation. He merely
+stopped roaming, and went out to&mdash;to the roses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-morning,&rdquo; said Leonore pleasantly, though not looking at
+Peter, as she continued her clipping.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter did not say anything for a moment. Then he asked, &ldquo;Is that
+all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean,&rdquo; said Leonore, innocently.
+&ldquo;Besides, someone might be looking out of a window.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter calmly took hold of the basket to help Leonore sustain its enormous
+weight. &ldquo;Let me help you carry it,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;But there&rsquo;s no occasion to
+carry my hand too. I&rsquo;m not decrepit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hoped I was helping you,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not. But you may carry the basket, since you want to hold
+something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Peter meekly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; said Leonore, as she snipped, and dropped roses into
+the basket, &ldquo;you are not as obstinate as people say you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t deceive yourself on that score,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well! I mean you are not absolutely determined to have your own
+way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never give up my own views,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;unless I can see
+more to be gained by so doing. To that extent I am not at all obstinate.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;that you go and cut the roses on
+those furthest bushes while I go in and arrange these?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo; said Peter calmly, and with an evident lack of
+enthusiasm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well. Will you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The motion to adjourn,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;is never
+debatable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;that you are beginning very
+badly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is what I have thought ever since I joined you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why don&rsquo;t you go away?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why make bad, worse?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Leonore, &ldquo;Your talking has made me cut my
+finger, almost.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; said Peter, reaching out for her hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m too busy,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;that if you cut many more buds,
+you won&rsquo;t have any more roses for a week. You&rsquo;ve cut twice as many
+roses as you usually do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll go in and arrange them. I wish you would give
+B&ecirc;tise a run across the lawn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never run before breakfast,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Doctors say
+it&rsquo;s very bad.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he followed her in. Leonore became tremendously occupied in arranging the
+flowers, Peter became tremendously occupied in watching her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You want to save one of those for me,&rdquo; he said, presently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take one,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My legal rule has been that I never take what I can get given me. You
+can&rsquo;t do less than pin it in my button-hole, considering that it is my
+birthday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I have a duty to do, I always get through with it at once,&rdquo;
+said Leonore. She picked out a rose, arranged the leaves as only womankind can,
+and, turning to Peter, pinned it in his button-hole. But when she went to take
+her hands away, she found them held against the spot so firmly that she could
+feel the heart-beats underneath.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, please,&rdquo; was all she said, appealingly, while Peter&rsquo;s
+rose seemed to reflect some of its color on her cheeks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want you to give it to me if you don&rsquo;t wish,&rdquo;
+said Peter, simply. &ldquo;But last night I sat up late thinking about it. All
+night I dreamed about it. When I waked up this morning, I was thinking about
+it. And I&rsquo;ve thought about it ever since. I can wait, but I&rsquo;ve
+waited so long!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Leonore, with very red cheeks, and a very timid manner, held her lips up
+to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; Leonore said presently, when again arranging of the roses,
+&ldquo;since you&rsquo;ve waited so long, you needn&rsquo;t have been so slow
+about it when you did get it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry I did it so badly,&rdquo; said Peter, contritely.
+&ldquo;I always was slow! Let me try again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then show me how?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now who&rsquo;s obstinate?&rdquo; inquired Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You,&rdquo; said Leonore, promptly. &ldquo;And I don&rsquo;t like
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Leonore,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;If you only knew how happy I
+am!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore forgot all about her charge of obstinacy. &ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; she
+said. &ldquo;And I won&rsquo;t be obstinate any more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was that better?&rdquo; Peter asked, presently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;That wouldn&rsquo;t have been possible.
+But you do take so long! I shan&rsquo;t be able to give you more than one a
+day. It takes so much time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But then I shall have to be much slower about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll only give you one every other day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shall be so much the longer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed Leonore. &ldquo;You are obstinate, after all!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 not profitable to write
+what they said. It is idle to write of the week that followed. To all others
+what they said and did could only be the sayings and doings of two very
+intolerable people. But to them it was what can never be told in
+words&mdash;and to them we will leave it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was Leonore who put an end to this week. Each day that Peter lingered
+brought letter and telegraphic appeals to him from the party-leaders, over
+which Peter only laughed, and which he not infrequently failed even to answer.
+But Mr. Pell told Leonore something one day which made her say to Peter later:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it true that you promised to speak in New York on the
+fifteenth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But I wrote Green last night saying I shan&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And were you to have made a week of speeches through the State?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But I can&rsquo;t spare the time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, you can. You must leave to-morrow and make them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; groaned Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who says so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do. Please, Peter? I so want to see you win. I shall never forgive
+myself if I defeat you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But a whole week,&rdquo; groaned Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall break up here on the eighteenth, and of course you would have
+to leave a day sooner. So you&rsquo;ll not be any better off.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; sighed Peter, &ldquo;If I do as you want, will you give me
+the seven I shall lose before I go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear me, Peter,&rdquo; sighed Leonore, &ldquo;you oughtn&rsquo;t to ask
+them, since it&rsquo;s for your own sake. I can&rsquo;t keep you contented. You
+do nothing but encroach.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should get them if I was here,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;And one a day
+is little enough! I think, if I oblige you by going away, I shouldn&rsquo;t be
+made to suffer more than is necessary.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to call you Growley,&rdquo; said Leonore, patting him on
+the cheek. Then she put her own against it. &ldquo;Thank you, dear,&rdquo; she
+said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s just as hard for me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Peter buckled on his armor and descended into the arena. Whether he spoke
+well or ill, we leave it to those to say who care to turn back to the files of
+the papers of that campaign. Perhaps, however, it may be well to add that an
+entirely unbiassed person, after reading his opening speeches, delivered in the
+Cooper Union and the Metropolitan Opera House, in New York City, wrote him:
+&ldquo;It is libel to call you Taciturnity. They are splendid! How I wish I
+could hear you&mdash;and see you, dear. I&rsquo;m very lonely, and so are
+B&ecirc;tise and Tawney-eye. We do nothing but wander round the house all day,
+waiting for your letter, and the papers.&rdquo; Three thousand people in the
+Brooklyn Rink were kept waiting for nearly ten minutes by Peter&rsquo;s perusal
+of that letter. But when he had finished it, and had reached the Rink, he
+out-Stirlinged Stirling. A speaker nowadays speaks far more to the people
+absent than to the people present. Peter did this that evening. He spoke, it is
+true, to only one person that night, but it was the best speech of the
+campaign.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A week later, Peter rang the bell of the Fifty-seventh Street house. He was in
+riding costume, although he had not been riding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. and Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi are at breakfast,&rdquo; he was informed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter rather hurriedly laid his hat and crop on the hall-table, and went
+through the hall, but his hurry suddenly came to an end, when a young lady,
+carrying her napkin, added herself to the vista. &ldquo;I knew it must be
+you,&rdquo; she said, offering her hand very properly&mdash;(on what grounds
+Leonore surmised that a ring at the door-bell at nine o&rsquo;clock meant
+Peter, history does not state)&mdash;&ldquo;I wondered if you knew enough to
+come to breakfast. Mamma sent me out to say that you are to come right
+in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter was rather longer over the handshake than convention demands, but he
+asked very politely, &ldquo;How are your father and&mdash;?&rdquo; But just
+then the footman closed a door behind him, and Peter&rsquo;s interest in
+parents suddenly ceased.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How could you be so late?&rdquo; said some one presently. &ldquo;I
+watched out of the window for nearly an hour.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My train was late. The time-table on that road is simply a
+satire!&rdquo; said Peter. Yet it is the best managed road in the country, and
+this particular train was only seven minutes overdue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have been to ride, though,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I have an engagement to ride with a disagreeable girl after
+breakfast, so I dressed for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose the disagreeable girl should break her engagement&mdash;or
+declare there never was one?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;It may not have been put in
+the contract, but the common law settles it beyond question.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore laughed a happy laugh. Then she asked: &ldquo;For whom are those
+violets?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had to go to four places before I could get any at this season,&rdquo;
+said Peter. &ldquo;Ugly girls are just troublesome enough to have preferences.
+What will you give me for them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some of them,&rdquo; said Leonore, and obtained the bunch. Who dares to
+say after that that women have no business ability nor shrewdness? It is true
+that she kissed the fraction returned before putting it in Peter&rsquo;s
+button-hole, which raises the question which had the best of the bargain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m behind the curtain, so I can&rsquo;t see anything,&rdquo; said
+a voice from a doorway, &ldquo;and therefore you needn&rsquo;t jump; but I wish
+to inquire if you two want any breakfast?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A few days later Peter again went up the steps of the Fifty-seventh Street
+house. This practice was becoming habitual with Peter; in fact, so habitual
+that his cabby had said to him this very day, &ldquo;The old place, sir?&rdquo;
+Where Peter got the time it is difficult to understand, considering that his
+law practice was said to be large, and his political occupations just at
+present not small. But that is immaterial. The simple fact that Peter went up
+the steps is the essential truth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From the steps, he passed into a door; from the door he passed into a hall;
+from a hall he passed into a room; from a room he passed into a pair of arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank the Lord, you&rsquo;ve come,&rdquo; Watts remarked. &ldquo;Leonore
+has up and down refused to make the tea till you arrived.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was at headquarters, and they would talk, talk, talk,&rdquo; said
+Peter. &ldquo;I get out of patience with them. One would think the destinies of
+the human race depended on this campaign!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So the Growley should have his tea,&rdquo; said a vision, now seated on
+the lounge at the tea-table. &ldquo;Then Growley will feel better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m doing that already,&rdquo; said Growley, sitting down on the
+delightfully short lounge&mdash;now such a fashionable and deservedly popular
+drawing-room article. &ldquo;May I tell you how you can make me absolutely
+contented?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose that will mean some favor from me,&rdquo; said Leonore.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like children who want to be bribed out of their bad
+temper. Nice little boys are never bad-tempered.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was only bad-tempered,&rdquo; whispered Peter, &ldquo;because I was
+kept from being with you. That&rsquo;s cause enough to make the best-tempered
+man in the universe murderous.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Leonore, mollifying, &ldquo;what is it this
+time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want you all to come down to my quarters this evening after dinner.
+I&rsquo;ve received warning that I&rsquo;m to be serenaded about nine
+o&rsquo;clock, and I thought you would like to hear it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What fun,&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;Of course we&rsquo;ll go. Shall
+you speak?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. We&rsquo;ll sit in my window-seats merely, and listen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How many will there be?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It depends on the paper you read. The &lsquo;World&rsquo; will probably
+say ten thousand, the &lsquo;Tribune&rsquo; three thousand, and the
+&lsquo;Voice of Labor&rsquo; &lsquo;a handful.&rsquo; Oh! by the way, I brought
+you a &lsquo;Voice&rsquo;.&rdquo; He handed Leonore a paper, which he took from
+his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now this was simply shameful of him! Peter had found, whenever the papers
+really abused him, that Leonore was doubly tender to him, the more, if he
+pretended that the attacks and abuse pained him. So he brought her regularly
+now that organ of the Labor party which was most vituperative of him, and
+looked sad over it just as long as was possible, considering that Leonore was
+trying to comfort him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;That dreadful paper. I can&rsquo;t
+bear to read it. Is it very bad to-day?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t read it,&rdquo; said Peter, smiling. &ldquo;I never
+read&mdash;&rdquo; then Peter coughed, suddenly looked sad, and
+continued&mdash;&ldquo;the parts that do not speak of me.&rdquo; &ldquo;That
+isn&rsquo;t a lie,&rdquo; he told himself, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t read
+them.&rdquo; But he felt guilty. Clearly Peter was losing his old-time
+straightforwardness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After its saying that you had deceived your clients into settling those
+suits against Mr. Bohlmann, upon his promise to help you in politics, I
+don&rsquo;t believe they can say anything worse,&rdquo; said Leonore, putting
+two lumps of sugar (with her fingers) into a cup of tea. Then she stirred the
+tea, and tasted it. Then she touched the edge of the cup with her lips.
+&ldquo;Is that right?&rdquo; she asked, as she passed it to Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Absolutely,&rdquo; said Peter, looking the picture of bliss. But then he
+remembered that this wasn&rsquo;t his r&ocirc;le, so he looked sad and said:
+&ldquo;That hurt me, I confess. It is so unkind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor dear,&rdquo; whispered a voice. &ldquo;You shall have an extra one
+to-day, and you shall take just as long as you want!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now, how could mortal man look grieved, even over an American newspaper, with
+that prospect in view? It is true that &ldquo;one&rdquo; is a very indefinite
+thing. Perhaps Leonore merely meant another cup of tea. Whatever she meant,
+Peter never learned, for, barely had he tasted his tea when the girl 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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leonore!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;What&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter!&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;Say it isn&rsquo;t so?&rdquo; It was
+terrible to see the suffering in her face and to hear the appeal in her voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My darling,&rdquo; cried the mother, &ldquo;what is the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It can&rsquo;t be,&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;Mamma! Papa! Say it
+isn&rsquo;t so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What, my darling?&rdquo; said Peter, supporting the swaying figure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This,&rdquo; said Leonore, huskily, holding out the newspaper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi snatched it. One glance she gave it. &ldquo;Oh, my poor
+darling!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I ought not to have allowed it. Peter! Peter!
+Was not the stain great enough, but you must make my poor child suffer for
+it?&rdquo; She shoved Peter away, and clasped Leonore wildly in her arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mamma!&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk so! Don&rsquo;t! I
+know he didn&rsquo;t! He couldn&rsquo;t!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter caught up the paper. There in big head-lines was:
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<b>SPEAK UP, STIRLING!</b>
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p class="center">
+<b>WHO IS THIS BOY?</b>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+DETECTIVE PELTER FINDS A WARD UNKNOWN TO THE COURTS, AND
+EXPLANATIONS ARE IN ORDER FROM
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<b>PURITY STIRLING.</b>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The rest of the article it is needless to quote. What it said was so worded as
+to convey everything vile by innuendo and inference, yet in truth saying
+nothing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my darling!&rdquo; continued Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi. &ldquo;You have a
+right to kill me for letting him come here after he had confessed it to me. But
+I&mdash;Oh, don&rsquo;t tremble so. Oh, Watts! We have killed her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter held the paper for a moment. Then he handed it to Watts. He only said
+&ldquo;Watts?&rdquo; but it was a cry for help and mercy as terrible as
+Leonore&rsquo;s had been the moment before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, chum,&rdquo; cried Watts. &ldquo;Leonore, dear, it&rsquo;s
+all right. You mustn&rsquo;t mind. Peter&rsquo;s a good man. Better than most
+of us. You mustn&rsquo;t mind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;Let me speak. Mamma, did Peter
+tell you it was so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All were silent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mamma! Say something? Papa! Peter! Will nobody speak?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leonore,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;do not doubt me. Trust me and I
+will&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; cried Leonore interrupting, &ldquo;was this why you
+didn&rsquo;t come to see us? Oh! I see it all! This is what mamma knew. This is
+what pained you. And I thought it was your love for&mdash;!&rdquo; Leonore
+screamed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My darling,&rdquo; cried Peter wildly, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t look so.
+Don&rsquo;t speak&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t touch me,&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t. Only go
+away.&rdquo; Leonore threw herself upon the rug weeping. It was fearful the way
+those sobs shook her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It can&rsquo;t be,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Watts! She is killing
+herself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Watts had disappeared from the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only go away,&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s all you can do
+now. There&rsquo;s nothing to be done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter leaned over and picked up the prostrate figure, and laid it tenderly on
+the sofa. Then he kissed the edge of her skirt. &ldquo;Yes. That&rsquo;s all I
+can do,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;Good-bye, sweetheart. I&rsquo;ll go
+away.&rdquo; He looked 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 down them,
+staggering a little as if dizzy, and tried to walk towards the Avenue.
+Presently he ran into something. &ldquo;Clumsy,&rdquo; said a lady&rsquo;s
+voice. &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Peter mechanically. A moment later
+he ran into something again. &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Peter, and
+two well-dressed girls laughed to see a bareheaded man apologize to a
+lamp-post. He walked on once more, but had not gone ten paces when a hand was
+rested on his shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then, my beauty,&rdquo; said a voice. &ldquo;You want to get a cab,
+or I shall have to run you in. Where do you want to go?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the policeman shaking him, &ldquo;where do you belong?
+My God! It&rsquo;s Mr. Stirling. Why, sir. What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ve killed her,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s awfully screwed,&rdquo; ejaculated the policeman. &ldquo;And
+him of all men! Nobody shall know.&rdquo; He hailed a passing cab, and put
+Peter into it. Then he gave Peter&rsquo;s office address, and also got in. He
+was fined the next day for being off his beat &ldquo;without adequate
+reasons,&rdquo; but he never told where he had been. When they reached the
+building, he helped Peter into the 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 been told that Peter would dine up-town, had departed on his own
+leave of absence. The policeman had already gone through Peter&rsquo;s pockets
+to get money for cabby, and now he repeated the operation, taking possession of
+Peter&rsquo;s keys. He opened the door and, putting him into a deep chair in
+the study, laid the purse and keys on Peter&rsquo;s desk, writing on a scrap of
+paper with much difficulty: &ldquo;mr. stirling $2.50 I took to pay the
+carriage. John Motty policeman 22 precinct,&rdquo; he laid it beside the keys
+and purse. Then he went back to his beat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And what was Peter doing all this time? Just what he now did. He tried to
+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 stumbling over the desk and
+chairs. As he stumbled he thought, sometimes to himself, sometimes aloud:
+&ldquo;If I could only think! I can&rsquo;t see. What was it Dr. Pilcere said
+about her eyes? Or was it my eyes? Did he give me some medicine? I can&rsquo;t
+remember. And it wouldn&rsquo;t help her. Why can&rsquo;t I think? What is this
+pain in her head and eyes? Why does everything look so dark, except when those
+pains go through her head? They feel like flashes of lightning, and then I can
+see. Why can&rsquo;t I think? Her eyes get in the way. He gave me something to
+put on them. But I can&rsquo;t give it to her. She told me to go away. To stop
+this agony! How she suffers. It&rsquo;s getting worse every moment. I
+can&rsquo;t remember about the medicine. There it comes again. Now I know.
+It&rsquo;s not lightning. It&rsquo;s the petroleum! Be quick, boys. Can&rsquo;t
+you hear my darling scream? It&rsquo;s terrible. If I could only think. What
+was it the French doctor said to do, if it came back? No. We want to get some
+rails.&rdquo; Peter dashed himself against a window. &ldquo;Once more, men,
+together. Can&rsquo;t you hear her scream? Break down the door!&rdquo; Peter
+caught up and hurled a pot of flowers at the window, and the glass shattered
+and fell to the floor and street &ldquo;If I could see. But it&rsquo;s all
+dark. Are those lights? No. It&rsquo;s too late. I can&rsquo;t save her from
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he wandered physically and mentally. Wandered till sounds of martial music
+came up through the broken window. &ldquo;Fall in,&rdquo; cried Peter.
+&ldquo;The Anarchists are after her. It&rsquo;s dynamite, not lightning. Podds,
+Don&rsquo;t let them hurt her. Save her. Oh! save her I Why can&rsquo;t I get
+to her? Don&rsquo;t try to hold me,&rdquo; he cried, as he came in contact with
+a chair. He caught it up and hurled it across the room, so that it crashed into
+the picture-frames, smashing chair and frames into fragments. &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t be the one to throw it,&rdquo; he cried, in an agonized voice.
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s all I have. For years I&rsquo;ve been so lonely. Don&rsquo;t
+I can&rsquo;t throw it. It kills me to see her suffer. It wouldn&rsquo;t be so
+horrible if I hadn&rsquo;t done it myself. If I didn&rsquo;t love her so. But
+to blow her up myself. I can&rsquo;t. Men, will you stand by me, and help me to
+save her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The band of music stopped. A moment&rsquo;s silence fell and then up from the
+street, came the air of: &ldquo;Marching through Georgia,&rdquo; five thousand
+voices singing:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;Rally round our party, boys;<br/>
+Rally to the blue,<br/>
+And battle for our candidate,<br/>
+So sterling and so true,<br/>
+Fight for honest government, boys,<br/>
+And down the vicious crew;<br/>
+Voting for freedom and Stirling.<br/>
+<br/>
+&ldquo;Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, brave and strong.<br/>
+Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, never wrong.<br/>
+And roll the voters up in line,<br/>
+Two hundred thousand strong;<br/>
+Voting for freedom and Stirling.&rdquo;<br/>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t fight so many. Two hundred thousand! I have no sword. I
+didn&rsquo;t shoot them. No! I only gave the order. It hurt me, but I
+didn&rsquo;t mean to hurt her. She&rsquo;s all I have. Do you think I intended
+to kill her? No! No sacrifice would be too great. And you can talk to me of
+votes! Two hundred thousand votes! I did my best for her. I didn&rsquo;t mean
+to hurt her. And I went to see the families. I went to see them all. If I only
+could think. But she is suffering too much. I can&rsquo;t think as long as she
+lies on the rug, and trembles so. See the flashes of lightning pass through her
+head. Don&rsquo;t bury your face in the rug. No wonder it&rsquo;s all dark. Try
+to think, and then it will be all right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Up from the street came the air of: &ldquo;There were three crows,&rdquo; and
+the words:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth,<br/>
+Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth.<br/>
+Steven Maguire has schemed and schemed,<br/>
+    But all his schemes will end in froth!<br/>
+And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.<br/>
+And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.<br/>
+<br/>
+&ldquo;For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth,<br/>
+For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth,<br/>
+For Peter Stirling elected will be<br/>
+    And Steven Maguire will be in broth,<br/>
+And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah,<br/>
+And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.&rdquo;<br/>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Steven Maguire. He never could be honest. If I had him
+here!&rdquo; Peter came in contact with a chair. &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s that? Ah!
+It&rsquo;s you. You&rsquo;ve killed her. Now!&rdquo; And another chair went
+flying across the room with such force, that the door to the hall flew off its
+hinges, and fell with a crash. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve killed him&rdquo; screamed
+Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve&mdash;No, I&rsquo;ve killed my darling. All I have in
+the world!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so he raved, and roamed, and stumbled, and fell; and rose, and roamed, and
+raved, and stumbled, and fell, while the great torchlight procession sang and
+cheered him from below.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was wildly fighting his pain still when two persons, who, after ringing and
+ringing, had finally been let in by Jenifer&rsquo;s key, stood where the door
+had been.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God,&rdquo; cried one, in terror. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s crazy! Come
+away!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the other, without a word or sign of fear, went up to that wild-looking
+figure, and put her hand in his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter stopped his crazed stride.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t think, I tell you. I can&rsquo;t think as long as you lie
+there on the rug. And your eyes blaze so. They feel just like balls of
+fire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please sit down, Peter. Please? For my sake. Here. Here is the chair.
+Please sit down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter sank back in the chair. &ldquo;I tell you I can&rsquo;t think. They do
+nothing but burn. It&rsquo;s the petroleum!&rdquo; He started forward, but a
+slender arm arrested his attempt to rise, and he sank back again as if it had
+some power over him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hyah, miss. Foh de lub ub heaben, put some ub dis yar on he eyes,&rdquo;
+said Jenifer, who had appeared with a bottle, and was blubbering enough to
+supply a whole whaling fleet. &ldquo;De doctor he done give dis yar foh de
+Aspic nerve.&rdquo; Which is a dish that Jenifer must have invented himself,
+for it is not discoverable even on the fullest of menus.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leonore knelt in front of Peter, and, drenching her fingers with the wash,
+began rubbing it softly over his eyes. It has always been a problem whether it
+was the remedy or the ends of those fingers which took those lines of suffering
+out of Peter&rsquo;s face and made him sit quietly in that chain Those having
+little faith in medicines, and much faith in a woman&rsquo;s hands, will opine
+the latter. Doctors will not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sufficeth it to say, after ten minutes of this treatment, during which
+Peter&rsquo;s face had slowly changed, first to a look of rest, and then to one
+which denoted eagerness, doubt and anxiety, but not pain, that he finally put
+out his hands and took Leonore&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have come to me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;Has he told you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who? What?&rdquo; asked Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You still think I could?&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;Then why are you
+here?&rdquo; He opened his eyes wildly and would have risen, only Leonore was
+kneeling in front of the chair still.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t excite yourself, Peter,&rdquo; begged Leonore.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll not talk of that now. Not till you are better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you here for?&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;Why did you
+come&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, please, Peter, be quiet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me, I will have it.&rdquo; Peter was exciting himself, more from
+Leonore&rsquo;s look than by what she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Peter. I made papa bring me&mdash;because&mdash;Oh! I wanted to ask
+you to do something. For my sake!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to ask you,&rdquo; sobbed Leonore, &ldquo;to marry her. Then I
+shall always think you were what I&mdash;I&mdash;have been loving, and
+not&mdash;&rdquo; Leonore laid her head down on his knee, and sobbed bitterly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter raised Leonore in his arms, and laid the little head on his shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear one,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do you love me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sobbed Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you think I love you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now look into your heart. Could you tell me a lie?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor can I you. I am not the father of that boy, and I never wronged his
+mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you told&mdash;&rdquo; sobbed Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I lied to your mother, dear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For what?&rdquo; Leonore had lifted her head, and there was a look of
+hope in her eyes, as well as of doubt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because it was better at that time than the truth. But Watts will tell
+you that I lied.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Papa?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Dot. Dear old Peter speaks the truth.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if you lied to her, why not to me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t lie to you, Leonore. I am telling you the truth.
+Won&rsquo;t you believe me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; cried Leonore. &ldquo;I know you speak the truth.
+It&rsquo;s in your face and voice.&rdquo; And the next moment her arms were
+about Peter&rsquo;s neck, and her lips were on his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just then some one in the &ldquo;torchlight&rdquo; shouted:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter wid Stirling?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And a thousand voices joyfully yelled;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s all right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so was the crowd.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX.<br/>
+A CONUNDRUM.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Pierce was preparing to talk. Usually Mr. Pierce was talking. Mr. Pierce
+had been talking already, but it had been to single listeners only, and for
+quite a time in the last three hours Mr. Pierce had been compelled to be
+silent. But at last Mr. Pierce believed his moment had come. Mr. Pierce thought
+he had an audience, and a plastic audience at that. And these three
+circumstances in combination made Mr. Pierce fairly bubbling with words. No
+longer would he have to waste his precious wit and wisdom,
+<i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te,</i> or on himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At first blush Mr. Pierce seemed right in his conjecture. Seated&mdash;in
+truth, collapsed, on chairs and lounges, in a disarranged and untidy-looking
+drawing-room, were nearly twenty very tired-looking people. 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 the multitude of flowers and the gay dresses proved
+beyond question that something else had made the disorder of the room and had
+put that exhausted look upon the faces.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Experienced observers would have understood it at a glimpse. From the work and
+fatigues of this world, people had gathered for a little enjoyment of what we
+call society. It is true that both the room and its occupants did not indicate
+that there had been much recreation. But, then, one can lay it down as an axiom
+that the people who work for pleasure are the hardest-working people in the
+world; and, as it is that for which society labors, this scene is but another
+proof that they get very much fatigued over their pursuit of happiness and
+enjoyment, considering that they hunt for it in packs, and entirely exclude the
+most delicious intoxicant known&mdash;usually called oxygen&mdash;from their
+list of supplies from the caterer. Certainly this particular group did look
+exhausted far beyond the speech-making point. But this, too, was a deception.
+These limp-looking individuals had only remained in this drawing-room for the
+sole purpose of &ldquo;talking it over,&rdquo; and Mr. Pierce had no walk-over
+before him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Pierce cleared his throat and remarked: &ldquo;The development of marriage
+customs and ceremonies from primeval days is one of the most curious
+and&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a lovely wedding it has been!&rdquo; said Dorothy, heaving a sigh
+of fatigue and pleasure combined.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wasn&rsquo;t it!&rdquo; went up a chorus from the whole party, except
+Mr. Pierce, who looked eminently disgusted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As I was remarking&mdash;&rdquo; began Mr. Pierce again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But the best part,&rdquo; said Watts, who was lolling on one of the
+lounges, &ldquo;was those &lsquo;sixt&rsquo; ward presents. As Mr. Moriarty
+said; &lsquo;Begobs, it&rsquo;s hard it would be to find the equal av that
+tureen!&rsquo; He was right! Its equal for ugliness is inconceivable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet the poor beggars spent eight hundred dollars on it&rdquo; sighed
+Lispenard, wearily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Relative to the subject&mdash;&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Leonore told me,&rdquo; said a charmingly-dressed girl, &ldquo;that
+she liked it better than any other present she had received.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, she was more enthusiastic,&rdquo; laughed Watts, &ldquo;over all the
+&lsquo;sixt&rsquo; ward and political presents than she was over what we gave
+her. We weren&rsquo;t in it at all with the Micks. She has come out as much a
+worshipper of hoi-polloi as Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe she cares a particle for them,&rdquo; said our old
+friend, the gentlemanly scoundrel; &ldquo;but she worships them because they
+worship him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; sighed Lispenard, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s the way things go in
+life. There&rsquo;s that fellow gets worshipped by every one, from the Irish
+saloon-keeper up to Leonore. While look at me! I&rsquo;m a clever,
+sweet-tempered, friendly sort of a chap, but nobody worships me. There
+isn&rsquo;t any one who gives a second thought for yours truly. I seem good for
+nothing, except being best man to much luckier chaps. While look at Peter!
+He&rsquo;s won the love of a lovely girl, who worships him to a degree simply
+inconceivable. I never saw such idealization.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you haven&rsquo;t been watching Peter,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+D&rsquo;Alloi, who, as a mother, had no intention of having it supposed that
+Leonore was not more loved than loving.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Taking modern marriage as a basis&mdash;&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; laughed Dorothy, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s no doubt they are a
+pair, and I&rsquo;m very proud of it, because I did it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cock-a-doodle-doo!&rdquo; crowed Ray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did,&rdquo; said Dorothy, &ldquo;and my own husband is not the one to
+cast reflection on my statement.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s the only one who dares,&rdquo; said Ogden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I did. Leonore would never have cared for such a silent, serious
+man if I hadn&rsquo;t shown her that other women did, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; laughed Ogden. &ldquo;It was Podds did it. Dynamite is
+famous for the uncertainty of the direction in which it will expend its force,
+and in this case it blew in a circle, and carried Leonore&rsquo;s heart clear
+from Newport to Peter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or, to put it scientifically,&rdquo; said Lispenard, &ldquo;along the
+line of least resistance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems to me that Peter was the one who did it,&rdquo; said Le Grand.
+&ldquo;But of course, as a bachelor, I can&rsquo;t expect my opinion to be
+accepted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Dorothy. &ldquo;He nearly spoiled it by cheapening
+himself. No girl will think a man is worth much who lets her tramp on
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; said Lispenard, &ldquo;few girls can resist the flattery
+of being treated by a man as if she is the only woman worth considering in the
+world, and Peter did that to an extent which was simply disgraceful. It was
+laughable to see the old hermit become social the moment she appeared, and to
+see how his eyes and attention followed her. And his learning to dance! That
+showed how things were.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He began long before any of you dreamed,&rdquo; said Mrs. D&rsquo;Alloi.
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t he, Watts?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Undoubtedly,&rdquo; laughed Watts. &ldquo;And so did she. I really think
+Leonore did quite as much in her way, as Peter did. I never saw her treat any
+one quite as she behaved to Peter from the very first. I remember her coming in
+after her runaway, wild with enthusiasm over him, and saying to me &lsquo;Oh,
+I&rsquo;m so happy. I&rsquo;ve got a new friend, and we are going to be such
+friends always!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That raises the same question,&rdquo; laughed Ogden, &ldquo;that the
+Irishman did about the street-fight, when he asked &lsquo;Who throwed that last
+brick first?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, if it didn&rsquo;t seem too absurd,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;I
+should say they began it the moment they met.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that at all absurd,&rdquo; said a gray-haired,
+refined looking woman who was the least collapsed of the group, or was perhaps
+so well bred as to conceal her feelings. &ldquo;I myself think it began before
+they even 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 who imagines an
+ideal and loves that. She happened to be his ideal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, Miss De Voe,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce, &ldquo;you must have
+misjudged him. Though Peter is now my grandson, I am still able to know what he
+is. He is not at all the kind of man who allows himself to be controlled by an
+ideal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not feel that I have ever known Peter. He does not let people
+perceive what is underneath,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;But of one thing I
+am sure. Nearly everything he does is done from sentiment. At heart he is an
+idealist.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried several.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is a most singular statement,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce. &ldquo;There
+is not a man I know who has less of the sentimental and ideal in him. An
+idealist is a man of dreams and romance. Peter is far too sensible a fellow to
+be that. There is nothing heroic or romantic in him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense, <i>Paternus</i>,&rdquo; said Watts. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t
+know anything about the old chap. You&rsquo;ve only seen him as a cool clever
+lawyer. If your old definition of romance is right: that it is &lsquo;Love, and
+the battle between good and evil,&rsquo; Peter has had more true romance than
+all the rest of us put together.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce. &ldquo;You have merely seen Peter in love,
+and so you all think he is romantic. He isn&rsquo;t. He is a cool man, who
+never acts without weighing his actions, and therein has lain the secret of his
+success. He calmly marks out his line of life, and, regardless of everything
+else, pursues it. He disregards everything not to his purpose, and utilizes
+everything that serves. I predicted great success for him many years ago when
+he was fresh from college, simply from a study of his mental characteristics
+and I have proved myself a prophet. He has never made a slip, legally,
+politically, or socially. To use a yachting expression, he has &lsquo;made
+everything draw.&rsquo; An idealist, or a man 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&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t agree with you,&rdquo; interrupted Dorothy, sitting up
+from her collapse as if galvanized into life and speech by Mr. Pierce&rsquo;s
+monologue. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t understand Peter. He is a man of great
+feeling. Think of that speech of his about those children! Think of his conduct
+to his mother as long as she lived! Think of the goodness and kindness he
+showed to the poor! Why, Ray says he has refused case after case for want of
+time in recent years, while doing work for people in his ward which was worth
+nothing. If&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They were worth votes,&rdquo; interjected Mr. Pierce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at his buying the Costell place in Westchester when Mr. Costell
+died so poor, and giving it to Mrs. Costell,&rdquo; continued Dorothy, warming
+with her subject. &ldquo;Look at his going to those strikers&rsquo; families,
+and arranging to help them. Were those things done for votes? If I could only
+tell you of something he once did for me, you would not say that he was a man
+without feeling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no doubt,&rdquo; said Mr. Pierce blandly, &ldquo;that he did many
+things which, on their face, seemed admirable and to indicate feeling. But if
+carefully examined, they would be found to have been advantageous to him. Any
+service he could have done to Mrs. Rivington surely did not harm him. His
+purchase of Costell&rsquo;s place pleased the political friends of the dead
+leader. His aiding the strikers&rsquo; families placated the men, and gained
+him praise from the press. I dislike greatly to oppose this rose-colored view
+of Peter, but, from my own knowledge of the man, I must. He is without feeling,
+and necessarily makes no mistakes, nor is he led off from his own ambitions by
+sentiment of any kind. When we had that meeting with the strikers, he sat
+there, while all New York was seething, with mobs and dead just outside the
+walls, as cool and impassive as a machine. He was simply determined that we
+should compromise, because his own interests demanded it, and he carried his
+point merely because he was the one cool man at that meeting. If he had had
+feeling he could not have been cool. That one incident shows the key-note of
+his success.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I say his strong sympathies and feeling were the key-note,&rdquo;
+reiterated Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Pell, &ldquo;that Peter&rsquo;s great success lay
+in his ability to make friends. It was simply marvellous. I&rsquo;ve seen it,
+over and over again, both in politics and society. He never seemed to excite
+envy or bitterness. He had a way of doing things which made people like him.
+Every one he meets trusts him. Yet nobody understands him. So he interests
+people, without exciting hostility. I&rsquo;ve heard person after person say
+that he was an uninteresting, ordinary man, and yet nobody ever seemed to
+forget him. Every one of us feels, I am sure, that, as Miss De Voe says, he had
+within something he never showed people. I have never been able to see why he
+did or did not do hundreds of things. Yet it always turned out that what he did
+was right. He makes me think of the Frenchwoman who said to her sister,
+&lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know why it is, sister, but I never meet any one
+who&rsquo;s always right but myself.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have hit it,&rdquo; said Ogden Ogden, &ldquo;and I can prove that
+you have by Peter&rsquo;s own explanation of his success. I spoke to him once
+of a rather curious line of argument, as it seemed to me, which he was taking
+in a case, and he said: &lsquo;Ogden, I take that course because it is the way
+Judge Potter&rsquo;s mind acts. If you want to convince yourself, take the
+arguments which do that best, but when you have to deal with judges or juries,
+take the lines which fit their capacities. People talk about my unusual success
+in winning cases. It&rsquo;s simply because I am not certain that my way and my
+argument are the only way and the only argument. I&rsquo;ve studied the judges
+closely, so that I know what lines to take, and I always notice what seems to
+interest the jury most, in each case. But, more important than this study, is
+the fact that I can comprehend about how the average man will look at a certain
+thing. You see I am the son of plain people. Then I am meeting all grades of
+mankind, and hearing what they say, and getting their points of view. I have
+never sat in a closet 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 have
+succeeded, because I am merely the normal or average man, and therefore am
+understood by normal or average people, or by majorities, to put it in another
+way.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Mr. Stirling isn&rsquo;t a commonplace man,&rdquo; said another of
+the charmingly dressed girls. &ldquo;He is very silent, and what he says
+isn&rsquo;t at all clever, but he&rsquo;s very unusual and interesting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nevertheless,&rdquo; said Ogden, &ldquo;I believe he was right. He has a
+way of knowing what the majority of people think or feel about things. And that
+is the secret of his success, and not his possession or lack of feeling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You none of you have got at the true secret of Peter&rsquo;s
+success,&rdquo; said Ray. &ldquo;It was his wonderful capacity for work. To a
+lazy beggar like myself it is marvellous. I&rsquo;ve known that man to work
+from nine in the morning till one at night, merely stopping for meals.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet he did not seem an ambitious man,&rdquo; said Le Grand. &ldquo;He
+cared nothing for social success, he never has accepted office till now, and he
+has refused over and over again law work which meant big money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ray. &ldquo;Peter worked hard in law and politics. Yet
+he didn&rsquo;t want office or money. He could more than once have been a
+judge, and Costell wanted him governor six years ago. He took the nomination
+this year against his own wishes. He cared as little for money or reputation in
+law, as he cared for society, and would compromise cases which would have added
+greatly to his reputation if he had let them go to trial. He might have been
+worth double what he is to-day, if he had merely invested his money, instead of
+letting it lie in savings banks or trust companies. I&rsquo;ve spoken about it
+repeatedly to him, but he only said that he wasn&rsquo;t going to spend time
+taking care of money, for money ceased to be valuable when it had to be taken
+care of; its sole use to him being to have it take care of him. I think he
+worked for the sake of working.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That explains Peter, certainly. His one wish was to help others,&rdquo;
+said Miss De Voe. &ldquo;He had no desire for reputation or money, and so did
+not care to increase either.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And mark my words,&rdquo; said Lispenard. &ldquo;From this day,
+he&rsquo;ll set no limit to his endeavors to obtain both.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t work harder than he has to get political power,&rdquo;
+said an usher. &ldquo;Think of how anxious he must have been to get it, when he
+would spend so much time in the slums and saloons! He couldn&rsquo;t have liked
+the men he met there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve taken him to task about that, and told him he had no business
+to waste his time so,&rdquo; said Ogden; &ldquo;but he said that he was not
+taking care of other people&rsquo;s money or trying to build up a great
+business, and that if he chose to curtail his practice, so as to have some time
+to work in politics, it was a matter of personal judgment.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I once asked Peter,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe, &ldquo;how he could bear,
+with his tastes and feelings, to go into saloons, and spend so much time with
+politicians, and with the low, uneducated people of his district. He said,
+&lsquo;That is my way of trying to do good, and it is made enjoyable to me by
+helping men over rough spots, or by preventing political wrong. I have taken
+the world and humanity as it is, and have done what I could, without stopping
+to criticise or weep over shortcomings and sins. I admire men who stand for
+noble impossibilities. But I have given my own life to the doing of small
+possibilities. I don&rsquo;t say the way is the best. But it is my way, for I
+am a worker, not a preacher. And just because I have been willing to do things
+as the world is willing to have them done, power and success have come to me to
+do more.&rsquo; I believe it was because Peter had no wish for worldly success,
+that it came to him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are all wrong,&rdquo; groaned Lispenard. &ldquo;I love Peter as much
+as I love my own kin, with due apology to those of it who are present, but I
+must say that his whole career has been the worst case of sheer, downright luck
+of which I ever saw or heard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Luck!&rdquo; exclaimed Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, luck!&rdquo; said Lispenard. &ldquo;Look at it. He starts in like
+all the rest of us. And Miss Luck calls him in to look at a sick kitten die.
+Very ordinary occurrence that! Health-board report several hundred every week.
+But Miss Luck knew what she was about and called him in to just the right kind
+of a kitten to make a big speech about. Thereupon he makes it, blackguarding
+and wiping the floor up with a millionaire brewer. Does the brewer wait for his
+turn to get even with him? Not a bit. Miss Luck takes a hand in and the brewer
+falls on Peter&rsquo;s breast-bone, and loves him ever afterwards. My cousin
+writes him, and he snubs her. Does she annihilate him as she would have other
+men? No. Miss Luck has arranged all that, and they become the best of
+friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lispenard&mdash;&rdquo; Miss De Voe started to interrupt indignantly,
+but Lispenard continued, &ldquo;Hold on till I finish. One at a time. Well.
+Miss Luck gets him chosen to a convention by a fluke and Peter votes against
+Costell&rsquo;s wishes. What happens? Costell promptly takes him up and pushes
+him for all he&rsquo;s worth. He snubs society, and society concludes that a
+man who is more snubby and exclusive than itself must be a man to cultivate. He
+refuses to talk, and every one promptly says: &lsquo;How interesting he
+is!&rsquo; He gets in the way of a dynamite bomb. Does it kill him? 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 one breathes easier, and likes him
+the better. He enrages and shoots the strikers. Does he lose votes? Not one.
+Miss Luck arranges that the directors shall yield things which they had sworn
+not to yield; and the strikers are reconciled and print a card in praise of
+him. He runs for office. Do the other parties make a good fight of it? No. They
+promptly nominate a scoundrelly demagogue and a nonentity who thinks votes are
+won by going about in shirtsleeves. So he is elected by the biggest plurality
+the State has ever given. Has Miss Luck done enough? No. She at once sets every
+one predicting that he&rsquo;ll get the presidential nomination two years from
+now, if he cares for it. Be it friend or enemy, intentional or unintentional,
+every one with whom he comes in contact gives him a boost. While look at me!
+There isn&rsquo;t a soul who ever gave me help. It&rsquo;s been pure,
+fire-with-your-eyes-shut luck.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was this morning luck too?&rdquo; asked a bridesmaid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Absolutely,&rdquo; sighed Lispenard. &ldquo;And what luck! I always said
+that Peter would never marry, because he would insist on taking women
+seriously, and because at heart he was afraid of them to a woeful degree, and
+showed it in such a way, as simply to make women think he didn&rsquo;t like
+them individually. But Miss Luck wouldn&rsquo;t allow that. Oh, no! Miss Luck
+isn&rsquo;t content even that Peter shall take his chance of getting a wife,
+with the rest of us. She&rsquo;s not going to have any accidents for him. So
+she takes the loveliest of girls and trots her all over Europe, so that she
+shan&rsquo;t have friends, or even know men well. She arranges too, that the
+young girl shall have her head filled with Peter by a lot of admiring women,
+who are determined to make him into a sad, unfortunate hero, instead of the
+successful man he is. A regular conspiracy to delude a young girl. Then before
+the girl has seen anything of the world, she trots her over here. Does she
+introduce them at a dance, so that Peter shall be awkward and silent? Not she!
+She puts him where he looks his best&mdash;on a horse. She starts the thing off
+romantically, so that he begins on the most intimate footing, before another
+man has left his pasteboard. So he&rsquo;s way ahead of the pack when they open
+cry. Is that enough? No! At the critical moment he is called to the aid of his
+country. Gets lauded for his pluck. Gets blown up. Gets everything to make a
+young girl worship him. Pure luck! It doesn&rsquo;t matter what Peter says or
+does. Miss Luck always arranges that it turn up the winning card.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no luck in it,&rdquo; cried Mr. Pierce. &ldquo;It was all due
+to his foresight and shrewdness. He plans things beforehand, and merely presses
+the button. Why, look at his marriage alone? Does he fall in love early in
+life, and hamper himself with a Miss Nobody? Not he! He waits till he has
+achieved a position where he can pick from the best, and then he does exactly
+that, if you&rsquo;ll pardon a doating grandfather&rsquo;s saying it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;we have all known Peter long enough to
+have found out what he is, yet there seems to be a slight divergence of
+opinion. Are we fools, or is Peter a gay deceiver?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is the most outspoken man I ever knew,&rdquo; said Miss De Voe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he tells nothing,&rdquo; said an usher.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. He is absolutely silent,&rdquo; said a bridesmaid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Except when he&rsquo;s speechifying,&rdquo; said Ray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Leonore says he talks and jokes a great deal,&rdquo; said Watts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never knew any one who is deceiving herself so about a man,&rdquo;
+said Dorothy. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s terrible. What do you think she had the face to
+say to me to-day?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She was speaking of their plans after returning from the wedding
+journey, and she said: &lsquo;I am going to have Peter keep up his bachelor
+quarters.&rsquo; &lsquo;Does he say he&rsquo;ll do it?&rsquo; I asked. &lsquo;I
+haven&rsquo;t spoken to him,&rsquo; she replied, &lsquo;but of course he
+will.&rsquo; I said: &lsquo;Leonore, all women think they rule their husbands,
+but they don&rsquo;t in reality, and Peter will be less ruled than any man I
+know.&rsquo; Then what do you think she said?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t keep us in suspense.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She said: &lsquo;None of you ever understood Peter. But I do.&rsquo;
+Think of it! From that little chit, who&rsquo;s known Peter half the number of
+months that I&rsquo;ve known him years!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; sighed Lispenard. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not
+prepared to say it isn&rsquo;t so. Indeed, after seeing Peter, who never seemed
+able to understand women till this one appeared on the scene, develop into a
+regulation lover, I am quite prepared to believe that every one knows more than
+I do. At the same time, I can&rsquo;t afford to risk my reputation for
+discrimination and insight over such a simple thing as Peter&rsquo;s character.
+You&rsquo;ve all tried to say what Peter is. Now I&rsquo;ll tell you in two
+words and you&rsquo;ll all find you are right, and you&rsquo;ll all find you
+are wrong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are as bad as Leonore,&rdquo; cried Dorothy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Watts, &ldquo;we are all listening. What is
+Peter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is an extreme type of a man far from uncommon in this country, yet
+who has never been understood by foreigners, and by few Americans.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter is a practical idealist&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXI"></a>CHAPTER LXI.<br/>
+LEONORE&rsquo;S THEORY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+And how well had that &ldquo;talk-it-over&rdquo; group at the end of Peters
+wedding-day grasped his character? How clearly do we ever gain an insight into
+the feelings and motives which induce conduct even in those whom we best know
+and love? Each had found something in Peter that no other had discovered. We
+speak of rose-colored glasses, and Shakespeare wrote, &ldquo;All things are
+yellow to a jaundiced eye.&rdquo; When we take a bit of blue glass, and place
+it with yellow, it becomes green. When we put it with red, it becomes purple.
+Yet blue it is all the time. Is not each person responsible for the tint he
+seems to produce in others? Can we ever learn that the thing is blue, and that
+the green or purple aspect is only the tinge which we ourselves help to give?
+Can we ever learn that we love and are loved entirely as we give ourselves
+colors which may harmonize with those about us? That love, wins love; kindness,
+kindness; hate, hate. That just such elements as we give to the individual, the
+individual gives back to us? That the sides we show are the sides seen by the
+world. There were people who could truly believe that 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 a compromiser of many of his own strongest
+principles. Yet there were people who could, say other things of him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But more important than the opinion of Peter&rsquo;s friends, and of the world,
+was the opinion of Peter&rsquo;s wife. Was she right in her theory that she was
+the only one who understood him? Or had she, as he had once done, reared an
+ideal, and given that ideal the love which she supposed she was giving Peter?
+It is always a problem in love to say whether we love people most for the
+qualities they actually possess, or for those with which our own love endows
+them. Here was a young girl, inexperienced in world and men, joyfully sinking
+her own life in that of a man whom, but a few months before, had been only a
+matter of hearsay to her. Yet she had apparently taken him, as women will, for
+better, for worse, till death, as trustfully as if he and men generally were as
+knowable as A B C, instead of as unknown as the algebraic X. Only once had she
+faltered in her trust of him, and then but for a moment. How far had her love,
+and the sight of Peter&rsquo;s misery, led her blindly to renew that trust? And
+would it hold? She had seen how little people thought of that scurrilous
+article, and how the decent papers had passed it over without a word. But she
+had also seen, the scandal harped upon by partisans and noted that Peter failed
+to vindicate himself publicly, or vouchsafe an explanation to her. Had she
+taken Peter with trust or doubt, knowledge or blindness?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps a conversation between the two, a week later, will answer these
+questions. It occurred on the deck of a vessel. Yet this parting glimpse of
+Peter is very different from that which introduced him. The vessel is not
+drifting helplessly, but its great screw is whirling it towards the island of
+Martinique, as if itself anxious to reach that fairy land of fairy lands.
+Though the middle of November, the soft warmth of the tropics is in the air.
+Nor are the sea and sky now leaden. The first is turned into liquid gold by the
+phosphorescence, and the full moon silvers everything else. Neither is Peter
+pacing the deck with lines of pain and endurance on his face. He is up in the
+bow, where the vessel&rsquo;s forefoot throws up the white foam in silver drops
+in the moonlight. And he does not look miserable. Anything but that. He is
+sitting on an anchor stock, with his back comfortably braced against the rail.
+Another person is not far distant. What that person sits upon and leans against
+is immaterial to the narrative.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you smoke?&rdquo; asked that person.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m too happy,&rdquo; said Peter, in a voice evidencing the truth
+of his words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you if I bite off the end?&rdquo; asked Eve, Jr., placing
+temptation most temptingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like the idea exceedingly,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But my right arm
+is so very pleasantly placed that it objects to moving.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t move it. I know where they are. I even know about the
+matches.&rdquo; And Peter sat calmly while his pockets were picked. He even
+seemed to enjoy the sensation of that small hand rummaging in his waistcoat
+pockets. &ldquo;You see, dear, that I am learning your ways,&rdquo; Leonore
+continued, in a tone of voice which suggested that that was the chief end of
+woman. Perhaps it is. The Westminster catechism only tells us the chief end of
+man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There. Now are you really happy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anybody more so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then, dear, I want to talk with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The wish is reciprocal. But what have we been doing for six days?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been telling each other everything, just as we ought. But
+now I want to ask two favors, dear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that&rsquo;s necessary. Just tell me what they
+are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. These favors are. Though I know you&rsquo;ll say
+&lsquo;yes.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;First. I want you always to keep your rooms just as they are?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear-heart, after our six weeks&rsquo; trip, we must be in Albany for
+three years, and when we come back to New York, we&rsquo;ll have a house of
+course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But I want you to keep the rooms just as they are, because I love
+them. I don&rsquo;t think I shall ever feel the same for any other place. It
+will be very convenient to have them whenever, we want to run down from Albany.
+And of course you must keep up with the ward.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you don&rsquo;t suppose, after we are back in New-York, that
+I&rsquo;ll stay down there, with you uptown?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no! Of course not. Peter! How absurd you are! But I shall go down
+very often. Sometimes we&rsquo;ll give little dinners to real friends. And
+sometimes, when we want to get away from people, we&rsquo;ll dine by ourselves
+and spend the night there. Then whenever you want to be at the saloons or
+primaries we&rsquo;ll dine together there and I&rsquo;ll wait for you. And then
+I think I&rsquo;ll go down sometimes, when I&rsquo;m shopping, and lunch with
+you. I&rsquo;ll promise not to bother you. You shall go back to your work, and
+I&rsquo;ll amuse myself with your flowers, and books, till you are ready to go
+uptown. Then we&rsquo;ll ride together.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lispenard frightened me the other day, but you frighten me worse.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He said you would be a much lovelier woman at thirty than you are
+now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that frightened you?&rdquo; laughed Leonore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Terribly. If you are that I shall have to give up law and politics
+entirely, so as to see enough of you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what has that to do with my lunching with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think I could work at law with you in the next room?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want me? I thought it was such a nice plan.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is. If your other favor is like that I shan&rsquo;t know what to say.
+I shall merely long for you to ask favors.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is very different. Will you try to understand me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t misunderstand you, at all events.&rdquo; Which was a
+crazy speech for any man to make any woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then, dear, I want to speak of that terrible time&mdash;only for a
+moment, dear. You mustn&rsquo;t think I don&rsquo;t believe what you said. I
+do! I do! Every word of it, and to prove it to you I shall never speak of it
+again. But when I&rsquo;ve shown you that I trust you entirely, some stormy
+evening, when we&rsquo;ve had the nicest little dinner together at your rooms,
+and I&rsquo;ve given you some coffee, and bitten your cigar for you, I shall
+put you down before the fire, and sit down in your lap, as I am doing now, and
+put my arms about your neck so, and put my cheek so. And then I want you,
+without my asking to tell me why you told mamma that lie, and all about
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear-heart,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I cannot tell. I promised.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but that didn&rsquo;t include your wife, dear, of course. Besides,
+Peter, friends should tell each other everything. And we are the best of
+friends, aren&rsquo;t we?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if I don&rsquo;t tell my dearest friend?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall never speak of it, Peter, but I know sometimes when I am by
+myself I shall cry over it. Not because I doubt you, dear, but because you
+won&rsquo;t give me your confidence.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know, Dear-heart, that I can&rsquo;t bear the thought of your
+doing that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not, dear. That&rsquo;s the reason I tell you. I knew you
+couldn&rsquo;t bear it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I understand you, dear. I know just what you are. I&rsquo;m the
+only person who does.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me what I am.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think, dear, that something once came into your life that made you
+very miserable, and took away all your hope and ambition. So, instead of trying
+to make a great position or fortune, you tried to do good to others. 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 you worked hard to get that.
+Then you found that you could help most by working in politics, so you did
+that. And you have tried to gain power so as to increase your power for good. I
+know you haven&rsquo;t liked a great deal you have had to do. I know that you
+much prefer to sit before your study fire and read than sit in saloons. I know
+that you would rather keep away from tricky people than to ask or take their
+help. But you have sacrificed your own feelings and principles because you felt
+that they were not to be considered if you could help others. And, because
+people have laughed at you or misunderstood, you have become silent and
+unsocial, except as you have believed your mixing with the world to be
+necessary to accomplish good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a little idealist we are!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, dear, that isn&rsquo;t all the little idealist has found out. She
+knows something else. She knows that all his life her ideal has been waiting
+and longing for some one who did understand him, so that he can tell her all
+his hopes and feelings, and that at last he has found her, and she will try to
+make up for all the misery and sacrifice he has endured She knows, too, that he
+wants to tell her everything. You mustn&rsquo;t think, dear, that it was only
+prying which made me ask you so many questions. I&mdash;I really wasn&rsquo;t
+curious except to see if you would answer, for I felt that you didn&rsquo;t
+tell other people your real thoughts and feelings, and so, whenever you told
+me, it was really getting you to say that you loved me. You wanted me to know
+what you really are. And that was why I knew that you told me the truth that
+night. And that is the reason why I know that some day you will tell me about
+that lie.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter, whatever he might think, did not deny the correctness of Leonore&rsquo;s
+theories concerning his motives in the past or his conduct in the future. He
+kissed the soft cheek so near him, tenderly, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like your thoughts about me, dear one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you do,&rdquo; said Leonore. &ldquo;You said once that when
+you had a fine subject it was always easy to make a fine speech. It&rsquo;s
+true, too, of thoughts, dear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING ***</div>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People
+Thought of Him, by Paul Leicester Ford
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him
+
+Author: Paul Leicester Ford
+
+Release Date: December 30, 2004  [eBook #14532]
+Most recently updated: December 22, 2008
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING AND
+WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING and WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM
+
+by
+
+PAUL LEICESTER FORD
+
+Stitt Publishing Company New York
+Henry 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 day
+that his proud mamma had given him a sweetmeat for a very inarticulate
+"goo" which she translated into "papa," Mr. Pierce had found speech
+profitable. He had been able to talk his nurse into granting him every
+indulgence. He had talked his way through school and college. He had
+talked his wife into marrying him. He had talked himself to the head of
+a large financial institution. He had talked his admission into society.
+Conversationally, Mr. Pierce was a success. He could discuss
+Schopenhauer or cotillion favors; St. Paul, the apostle, or St. Paul,
+the railroad. He had cultivated the art as painstakingly as a
+professional musician. He had countless anecdotes, which he introduced
+to his auditors by a "that reminds me of." He had endless quotations,
+with the quotation marks omitted. Finally he had an idea on every
+subject, 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. Conversation
+must take his course, or he would none of it. Generally he controlled.
+If an upstart endeavored to turn the subject, Mr. Pierce waited till the
+intruder had done speaking, and then quietly, but firmly would remark:
+"Relative to the subject we were discussing a moment ago--" If any one
+ventured to speak, even _sotto voce_, before Mr. Pierce had finished all
+he had to say, he would at once cease his monologue, wait till the
+interloper had finished, and then resume his lecture just where he had
+been interrupted. Only once had Mr. Pierce found this method to fail in
+quelling even the sturdiest of rivals. The recollection of that day is
+still a mortification to him. It had happened on the deck of an ocean
+steamer. For thirty minutes he had fought his antagonist bravely. Then,
+humbled and vanquished, he had sought the smoking-room, to moisten his
+parched throat, and solace his wounded spirit, with a star cocktail. He
+had 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 own
+way. Seated in the standing-room of a small yacht, were some eight
+people. With a leaden sky overhead, and a leaden sea about it, the boat
+gently rose and fell with the ground swell. Three miles away could be
+seen the flash-light marking the entrance to the harbor. But though
+slowly gathering clouds told that wind was coming, the yacht now lay
+becalmed, drifting with the ebb tide. The pleasure-seekers had been
+together all day, and were decidedly talked out. For the last hour they
+had been singing songs--always omitting Mr. Pierce, who never so trifled
+with his vocal organs. During this time he had been restless. At one
+point he had attempted to deliver his opinion on the relation of verse
+to music, but an unfeeling member of the party had struck up "John
+Brown's Body," and his lecture had ended, in the usual serial style, at
+the most interesting point, without even the promise of a "continuation
+in our next." Finally, however, the singers had sung themselves hoarse
+in the damp night air, the last "Spanish Cavalier" had been safely
+restored to his inevitable true-love, and the sound of voices and banjo
+floated 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 and
+unromantic. Clearing his throat, quite as much to pre-empt the pause as
+to articulate the better, Mr. Pierce spoke:
+
+"That modern times are less romantic and interesting than bygone
+centuries is a fallacy. From time immemorial, love and the battle
+between evil and good are the two things which have given the world
+romance and interest. Every story, whether we find it in the myths of
+the East, the folklore of Europe, the poems of the Troubadours, or in
+our newspaper of this morning, is based on one or the other of these
+factors, or on both combined. Now it is a truism that love never played
+so 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 partial
+divorce from worldly and parental influences. Moreover the great battle
+of society, to crush wrong and elevate right, was never before so
+bravely fought, on so many fields, by so many people as to-day. But
+because our lovers and heroes no longer brag to the world of their
+doings; no longer stand in the moonlight, and sing of their 'dering
+does,' the world assumes that the days of tourneys and guitars were the
+only days of true love and noble deeds. Even our professed writers of
+romance join in the cry. 'Draw life as it is,' they say. 'We find
+nothing in it but mediocrity, selfishness, and money-loving.' By all
+means 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 a
+dinner of corned-beef and cabbage. But perhaps one of them at the same
+moment was fighting his way through smoke and flame, to save life at the
+risk of his own. Boiled dinner and burned firemen are equally true. Are
+they equally worthy of description? What would the age of chivalry be,
+if the chronicles had recorded only the brutality, filthiness and
+coarseness of their contemporaries? The wearing of underclothing
+unwashed till it fell to pieces; the utter lack of soap; the eating with
+fingers; the drunkenness and foul-mouthedness that drove women from the
+table at a certain point, and so inaugurated the custom, now continued
+merely as an excuse for a cigar? Some one said once that a man finds in
+a great city just the qualities he takes to it. That's true of romance
+as well. Modern novelists don't find beauty and nobility in life,
+because they don't look for them. They predicate from their inner souls
+that 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 in
+a baron's tower--braver battles, truer love, nobler sacrifices. Romance
+is 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 go
+through life look for the fine things--not for the despicable. It won't
+make you any richer. It won't make you famous. It won't better you in a
+worldly way. But it will make your lives happier, for by the time you
+are my age, you'll love humanity, and look upon the world and call it
+good. And you will have found romance enough to satisfy all longings for
+medi�val times."
+
+"But, dear, one cannot imagine some people ever finding anything
+romantic in life," said a voice, which, had it been translated into
+words would have said, "I know you are right, of course, and you will
+convince me at once, but in my present state of unenlightenment it seems
+to me that--" the voice, already low, became lower. "Now"--a moment's
+hesitation--"there is--Peter Stirling."
+
+"Exactly," said Mr. Pierce. "That is a very case in point, and proves
+just what I've been saying. Peter is like the novelists of whom I've
+been talking. I don't suppose we ought to blame him for it. What can you
+expect of a son of a mill-foreman, who lives the first sixteen years of
+his life in a mill-village? If his hereditary tendencies gave him a
+chance, 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 is
+developed and stimulated by art, music, literature, and contact with
+clever people. But a mill-village is one vast expanse of mediocrity and
+prosaicness, and it would take a bigger nature than Peter's to recognize
+the beautiful in such a life. In truth, he is as limited, as exact, and
+as unimaginative as the machines of his own village. Peter has no
+romance in him; hence he will never find it, nor increase it in this
+world. This very case only proves my point; that to meet romance one
+must 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 dozen
+and never dream it. They would not interest him even if he did notice
+them. And I'll prove it to you." Mr. Pierce raised his voice. "We are
+discussing romance, Peter. Won't you stop that unsocial tramp of yours
+long enough to give us your opinion on the subject?"
+
+A moment's silence followed, and then a singularly clear voice, coming
+from the forward part of the yacht, replied: "I never read them, Mr.
+Pierce."
+
+Mr. Pierce laughed quietly. "See," he said, "that fellow never dreams of
+there being romance outside of novels. He is so prosaic that he is
+unconscious of anything bigger than his own little sphere of life. Peter
+may obtain what he wants in this world, for his desires will be of the
+kind to be won by work and money. But he will never be controlled by a
+great idea, nor be the hero of a true romance."
+
+Steele once wrote that the only difference between the Catholic Church
+and the Church of England was, that the former was infallible and the
+latter never wrong. Mr. Pierce would hardly have claimed for himself
+either of these qualities. He was too accustomed in his business to
+writing, "E. and O.E." above his initials, to put much faith in human
+dicta. But in the present instance he felt sure of what he said, and the
+little group clearly agreed. If they were right, this story is like that
+recounted in Mother Goose, which was ended before it was begun. But Mr.
+Pierce had said that romance is everywhere to those who have the spirit
+of it in them. Perhaps in this case the spirit was lacking in his
+judges--not in Peter Stirling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+APPEARANCES.
+
+
+The unconscious illustration of Mr. Pierce's theory was pacing backwards
+and forwards on the narrow space between the cuddy-roof and the gunwale,
+which custom dignifies with the name of deck. Six strides forward and
+turn. Six strides aft and turn. That was the extent of the beat. Yet had
+Peter been on sentry duty, he could not have continued it more regularly
+or persistently. If he were walking off his supper, as most of those
+seated aft would have suggested, the performance was not particularly
+interesting. The limit and rapidity of the walk resembled the tramp of a
+confined animal, exercising its last meal. But when one stands in front
+of the lion's cage, and sees that restless and tireless stride, one
+cannot but wonder how much of it is due to the last shin-bone, and how
+much to the wild and powerful nature under the tawny skin. The question
+occurs because the nature and antecedents of the lion are known. For
+this same reason the yachters were a unit in agreeing that Stirling's
+unceasing walk was merely a digestive promenade. The problem was whether
+they were right? Or whether, to apply Mr. Pierce's formula, they merely
+imposed their own frame of mind in place of Stirling's, and decided,
+since their sole reason for walking at the moment would be entirely
+hygienic, that he too must be striding from the same cause?
+
+Dr. Holmes tells us that when James and Thomas converse there are really
+six talkers. First, James as James thinks he is, and Thomas as Thomas
+thinks he is. Second James as Thomas thinks him, and Thomas as James
+thinks him. Finally, there are James and Thomas as they really are.
+Since this is neither an autobiography nor an inspired story, the
+world's view of Peter Stirling must be adopted without regard to its
+accuracy. And because this view was the sum of his past and personal,
+these elements must be computed before we can know on what the world
+based its conclusions concerning him.
+
+His story was as ordinary and prosaic as Mr. and Mrs. Pierce seemed to
+think his character. Neither riches nor poverty had put a shaping hand
+to it. The only child of his widowed mother, he had lived in one of the
+smaller manufacturing cities of New England a life such as falls to most
+lads. Unquestionably he had been rather more shielded from several forms
+of temptation than had most of his playmates, for his mother's isolation
+had made him not merely her son, but very largely her companion. In
+certain ways this had tended to make him more manly than the average
+fellow of his age, but in others it had retarded his development; and
+this backwardness had been further accentuated by a deliberate mind,
+which hardly kept pace with his physical growth. His school record was
+fair: "Painstaking, but slow," was the report in studies. "Exemplary,"
+in conduct. He was not a leader among the boys, but he was very
+generally liked. A characteristic fact, for good or bad, was that he had
+no enemies. From the clergyman to the "hired help," everybody had a
+kind 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 girls
+of the High School never liked him. If they had been called upon for
+reasons, few could have given a tangible one. At their age, everything
+this world contains, be it the Falls of Niagara, or a stick of chewing
+gum, is positively or negatively "nice." For some crime of commission or
+omission, Peter had been weighed and found wanting. "He isn't nice," was
+the universal verdict of the scholars who daily filed through the door,
+which the town selectmen, with the fine contempt of the narrow man for
+his unpaid "help," had labelled, "For Females." If they had said that he
+was "perfectly horrid," there might have been a chance for him. But the
+subject was begun and ended with these three words. Such terseness in
+the sex was remarkable and would have deserved a psychological
+investigation had it been based on any apparent data. But women's
+opinions are so largely a matter of instinct and feeling, and so little
+of judgment and induction, that an analysis of the mental processes of
+the hundred girls who had reached this one conclusion, would probably
+have revealed in each a different method of obtaining this product. The
+important point is to recognize this consensus of opinion, and to note
+its bearing on the development of the lad.
+
+That Peter could remain ignorant of this feeling was not conceivable. It
+puzzled 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 worst
+way. Had he avoided the girls persistently and obviously, he might have
+interested them intensely, for nothing is more difficult for a woman to
+understand than a woman-hater; and from the days of mother Eve the
+unknown is rumored to have had for her sex a powerful fascination. But
+he tried to win their friendship by humbleness and kindness, and so only
+made himself the more cheap in their eyes. "Fatty Peter," as they
+jokingly called him, epitomized in two words their contempt of him.
+
+Nor did things mend when he went to Harvard. Neither his mother's
+abilities nor his choice were able to secure for him an _entr�e_ to the
+society which Cambridge and Boston dole out stintedly to certain
+privileged collegians. Every Friday afternoon he went home, to return by
+an early train Monday morning. In his first year it is to be questioned
+if he exchanged ten words with women whose names were known to him,
+except during these home-visits. That this could long continue, was
+impossible. In his second year he was several times taken by his chum,
+Watts D'Alloi, to call. But always with one result. Invariably Peter
+would be found talking to Mamma, or, better still, from his point of
+view, with Pater-familias, while Watts chatted with the presumptive
+attractions. Watts laughed at him always. Laughed still more when one of
+these calls resulted in a note, "requesting the pleasure" of Mr. Peter
+Stirling's company to dinner. It was Watts who dictated the acceptance,
+helped Peter put the finishing touches to his toilet, and eventually
+landed him safely in Mrs. Purdie's parlor. His description to the boys
+that night of what followed is worthy of quotation:
+
+"The old fellow shook hands with Mrs. P., O.K. Something was said about
+the weather, and then Mrs. P. said, 'I'll introduce you to the lady you
+are to take down, Mr. Stirling, but I shan't let you talk to her before
+dinner. Look about you and take your choice of whom you would like to
+meet?' Chum gave one agonized look round the room. There wasn't a woman
+over 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 have
+done 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 as
+pleased as could be. Well, I don't know how on earth he ever got through
+his introduction or how he ever reached the dining-room, for my
+inamorata 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 at
+chum, who was directly opposite, to see how he was getting on. Oh, you
+fellows would have died to see it! There he sat, looking straight out
+into vacancy, so plainly laboring for something to say that I nearly
+exploded. Twice he opened his lips to speak, and each time closed them
+again. The girl of course looked surprised, but she caught my eye, and
+entered into the joke, and we both waited for developments. Then she
+suddenly said to him, 'Now let's talk about something else.' It was too
+much for me. I nearly choked. I don't know what followed. Miss Jevons
+turned and asked me something. But when I looked again, I could see the
+perspiration standing on Peter's forehead, while the conversation went
+by jerks and starts as if it was riding over a ploughed field. Miss
+Callender, whom he took in, told me afterwards that she had never had a
+harder evening's work in her life. Nothing but 'yeses' and 'noes' to be
+got from him. She wouldn't believe what I said of the old fellow."
+
+Three or four such experiences ended Peter's dining out. He was
+recognized as unavailable material. He received an occasional card to a
+reception or a dance, for anything in trousers passes muster for such
+functions. He always went when invited, and was most dutiful in the
+counter-calls. In fact, society was to him a duty which he discharged
+with the same plodding determination with which he did his day's
+studies. He never dreamed of taking his social moments frivolously. He
+did not recognize that society is very much like a bee colony--stinging
+those who approached it shyly and quietly, but to be mastered by a bold
+beating of tin pans. He neither danced nor talked, and so he was shunted
+by the really pleasant girls and clever women, and passed his time with
+wall-flowers and unbearables, who, in their normal sourness, regarded
+and, perhaps, unconsciously made him feel, hardly to his encouragement,
+that his companionship was a sort of penance. If he had been asked, at
+the end of his senior year, what he thought of young women and society,
+he would probably have stigmatized them, as he himself had been
+formerly: "not nice." All of which, again to apply Mr. Pierce's theory,
+merely meant that the phases which his own characteristics had shown
+him, had re-acted on his own mind, and had led him to conclude that
+girls and society were equally unendurable.
+
+The condition was a dangerous one, and if psychology had its doctors
+they would have predicted a serious heart illness in store for him. How
+serious, would depend largely on whether the fever ran its natural
+course, or whether it was driven inwards by disappointment. If these
+doctors had ceased studying his mental condition and glanced at his
+physical appearance, they would have had double cause to shake their
+heads doubtingly.
+
+Peter was not good-looking. He was not even, in a sense, attractive. In
+spite of his taking work so hardly and life so seriously, he was
+entirely too stout. This gave a heaviness to his face that neutralized
+his really pleasant brown eyes and thick brown hair, which were his best
+features. Manly the face was, but, except when speaking in unconscious
+moments, dull and unstriking. A fellow three inches shorter, and
+two-thirds his weight would have been called tall. "Big" was the
+favorite adjective used in describing Peter, and big he was. Had he gone
+through college ten years later, he might have won unstinted fame and
+admiration as the full-back on the team, or stroke on the crew. In his
+time, athletics were but just obtaining, and were not yet approved of
+either by faculties or families. Shakespeare speaks of a tide in the
+affairs of men. Had Peter been born ten years later the probabilities
+are that his name would have been in all the papers, that he would have
+weighed fifty pounds less, have been cheered by thousands, have been the
+idol of his class, have been a hero, have married the first girl he
+loved (for heroes, curiously, either marry or die, but never remain
+bachelors) and would have--but as this is a tale of fact, we must not
+give rein to imagination. To come back to realism, Peter was a hero to
+nobody but his mother.
+
+Such was the man, who, two weeks after graduation from Harvard, was
+pacing up and down the deck of Mr. Pierce's yacht, the "Sunrise," as she
+drifted with the tide in Long Island Sound. Yet if his expression, as he
+walked, could for a moment have been revealed to those seated aft, the
+face that all thought dull and uninteresting would have riveted their
+attention, and set each one questioning whether there might not be
+something both heroic and romantic underneath. The set determination of
+his look can best be explained by telling what had given his face such
+rigid lines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+A CRAB CHAPTER.
+
+
+Mr. Pierce and those about him had clearly indicated by the
+conversation, or rather monologue, already recorded, that Peter was in a
+sense an odd number in the "Sunrise's" complement of pleasure-seekers.
+Whether or no Mr. Pierce's monologue also indicated that he was not a
+map who dealt in odd numbers, or showered hospitality on sons of
+mill-overseers, the fact was nevertheless true. "For value received," or
+"I hereby promise to pay," were favorite formulas of Mr. Pierce, and if
+not actually written in such invitations as he permitted his wife to
+write at his dictation to people whom he decided should be bidden to the
+Shrubberies, a longer or shorter time would develop the words, as if
+written in sympathetic ink. Yet Peter had had as pressing an invitation
+and as warm a welcome at Mr. Pierce's country place as had any of the
+house-party ingathered during the first week of July. Clearly something
+made him of value to the owner of the Shrubberies. That something was
+his chum, Watts D'Alloi.
+
+Peter and Watts were such absolute contrasts that it seemed impossible
+that they could have an interest or sympathy, in common. Therefore they
+had become chums. A chance in their freshman year had brought them
+together. Watts, with the refined and delicate sense of humor abounding
+in collegians, had been concerned with sundry freshmen in an attempt to
+steal (or, in collegiate terms, "rag") the chapel Bible, with a view to
+presenting it to some equally subtle humorists at Yale, expecting a
+similar courtesy in return from that college. Unfortunately for the
+joke, the college authorities had had the bad taste to guard against the
+annually attempted substitution. Two of the marauders were caught, while
+Watts 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 his
+flight, and borrowed the latter's coat, in which he reached his room
+without detection. Peter was caught by the pursuers, and summoned before
+the 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 it
+certain that he could not have been an offender. There was some talk of
+expelling him for aiding and abetting in the true culprit's escape, and
+for refusing to tell who it was. Respect for his motives, however, and
+his unimpeachable record saved him from everything but an admonition
+from the president, which changed into a discussion of cotton printing
+before that august official had delivered half of his intended rebuke.
+People might not enthuse over Peter, but no one ever quarrelled with
+him. So the interview, after travelling from cotton prints to spring
+radishes, ended with a warm handshake, and a courteous suggestion that
+he come again when there should be no charges nor admonitions to go
+through with. Watts told him that he was a "devilish lucky" fellow to
+have 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'd
+never have known me." Truly on such small chances do the greatest events
+of our life turn. Perhaps, could Peter have looked into the future, he
+would have avoided that corner. Perhaps, could he have looked even
+further, he would have found that in that chance lay the greatest
+happiness of his life. Who can tell, when the bitter comes, and we later
+see how we could have avoided it, what we should have encountered in its
+place? Who can tell, when sweet comes, how far it is sweetened by the
+bitterness that went before? Dodging the future in this world is a
+success equal to that of the old woman who triumphantly announced that
+she had borrowed money enough to pay all her debts.
+
+As a matter of course Watts was grateful for the timely assistance, and
+was not slow either to say or show it. He told his own set of fellows
+that he was "going to take that Stirling up and make him one of us," and
+Watts had a remarkable way of doing what he chose. At first Peter did
+not respond to the overtures and insistance of the handsome,
+well-dressed, free-spending, New York swell. He was too conscious of the
+difference between himself and Watts's set, to wish or seek
+identification with them. But no one who ever came under Watts's
+influence could long stand out against his sunny face and frank manner,
+and so Peter eventually allowed himself to be "taken up." Perhaps the
+resistance encountered only whetted Watts's intention. He was certainly
+aided by Peter's isolation. Whether the cause was single or multiple,
+Peter was soon in a set from which many a seemingly far more eligible
+fellow was debarred.
+
+Strangely enough, it did not change him perceptibly. He still plodded on
+conscientiously at his studies, despite laughter and attempts to drag
+him away from them. He still lived absolutely within the comfortable
+allowance that his mother gave him. He still remained the quiet, serious
+looking fellow of yore. The "gang," as they styled themselves, called
+him "kill-joy," "graveyard," or "death's head," in their evening
+festivities, but Peter only puffed at his pipe good-naturedly, making no
+retort, and if the truth had really been spoken, not a man would have
+changed him a particle. His silence and seriousness added the dash of
+contrast needed to make the evening perfect. All joked him. The most
+popular verse in a class-song Watts wrote, was devoted to burlesquing
+his 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 never
+passed unnoticed.
+
+In Sophomore year, Watts, without quite knowing why, proposed that they
+should share rooms. Nor would he take Peter's refusal, and eventually
+succeeded in reversing it.
+
+"I can't afford your style of living," Peter had said quietly, as his
+principal objection.
+
+"Oh, I'll foot the bills for the fixings, so it shan't cost you a cent
+more," said Watts, and when Peter had finally been won over to give his
+assent, 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 of
+the gang, who promptly christened them "the hermitage," and Peter had
+paid his half of the expense. And though he rarely had visitors of his
+own asking at the chambers, all cost of wine and tobacco was equally
+borne by him.
+
+The three succeeding years welded very strong bands round these two. It
+was natural that they should modify each other strongly, but in truth,
+as in most cases, when markedly different characteristics are brought in
+contact, the only effect was to accentuate each in his peculiarities.
+Peter dug at his books all the harder, by reason of Watts's neglect of
+them. Watts became the more free-handed with his money because of
+Peter's prudence. Watts talked more because of Peter's silence, and
+Peter listened more because of Watts's talk. Watts, it is true, tried to
+drag Peter into society, yet in truth, Peter was really left more alone
+than if he had been rooming with a less social fellow. Each had in truth
+become the complement of the other, and seemed as mutually necessary as
+the positive and negative wires in electricity. Peter, who had been
+taking the law lectures in addition to the regular academic course, and
+had spent his last two summers reading law in an attorney's office, in
+his native town, taking the New York examination in the previous
+January, had striven to get Watts to do the same, with the ultimate
+intention 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 the
+speeches and do the social end," said Peter, making a rather long speech
+in the ardor of his wishes.
+
+Watts laughed. "I don't know, old man. I rather fancy I shan't do
+anything. To do something requires that one shall make up one's mind
+what to do, and that's such devilish hard work. I'll wait till I've
+graduated, and had a chin with my governor about it Perhaps he'll make
+up my mind for me, and so save my brain tissue. But anyway, you'll come
+to 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, who
+had always prepared his lessons in a tenth part of the time it had taken
+Peter, buckled down in the last few weeks, and easily won an honorable
+mention. Peter had tried hard to win honors, but failed.
+
+"You did too much outside work, old man," said Watts, who would
+cheerfully have given his own triumph to his friend. "If you want
+success in anything, you've got to sacrifice other things and
+concentrate on the object. The Mention's really not worth the ink it's
+written with, in my case, but I knew it would please mammy and pappy, so
+I put on steam, and got it. If I'd hitched on a lot of freight cars
+loaded with stuff that wouldn't have told in Exams, I never could have
+been in on time."
+
+Peter shook his head rather sadly. "You outclass me in brains, Watts, as
+much as you do in other things"
+
+"Nonsense," said Watts. "I haven't one quarter of your head. But my
+ancestors--here's to the old coves--have been brain-culturing for three
+hundred years, while yours have been land-culturing; and of course my
+brain moves quicker and easier than yours. I take to a book, by
+hereditary 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, divided
+in mind by his wish to quote accurately, and his dislike of anything
+disrespectful, and then finished "to one's mother."
+
+"That's the last person it's needed for, chum," replied Watts. "If
+there's one person that doesn't need the world's or faculty's opinion to
+prove one's merit, it's one's dear, darling, doating, self-deluded and
+undisillusioned 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's
+separation. I don't see why you insist on starting in at once in New
+York? No one does any law business in the summertime. Why, I even think
+the 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 in
+great style."
+
+"We've settled that once," said Peter, who was evidently speaking
+journalistically, for he had done the settling.
+
+Watts said something in a half-articulate way, which certainly would
+have fired the blood of every dime museum-keeper in the country, had
+they been there to hear the conversation, for, as well as could be
+gathered from the mumbling, it related to a "pig-headed donkey" known of
+to the speaker. "I suppose you'll be backing out of the Pierce affair
+yet," he added, discontentedly.
+
+"No," said Peter.
+
+"An invitation to Grey-Court is worth two of the Shrubberies. My mother
+knows only the right kind of people, while Mr. Pierce--"
+
+"Is to be our host," interrupted Peter, but with no shade of correction
+in his voice.
+
+"Yes," laughed Watts, "and he is a host. He'll not let any one else get
+a word in edgewise. You are just the kind of talker he'll like. Mark my
+word, he'll be telling every one, before you've been two hours in the
+house, that you are a remarkably brilliant conversationalist."
+
+"What will he say of you?" said Peter, in a sentence which he broke up
+into reasonable lengths by a couple of pulls at his pipe in the middle
+of it.
+
+"Mr. Pierce, chum," replied Watts, with a look in his eyes which Peter
+had learned to associate with mischief on Watts's part, "has too great
+an 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 should
+have dared to ask an invitation for"--then Watts hesitated for a moment,
+seeing a half-surprised, half-anxious look come into Peter's face, "for
+myself?" he continued.
+
+"Tell truth and shame the devil," said Peter.
+
+Watts laughed. "Confound you! That's what comes of letting even such a
+stupid old beggar as you learn to read one's thoughts. It's mighty
+ungrateful of you to use them against me. Yes. I did ask to have you
+included 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. I
+couldn't do it in my name, and so Mr. Pierce told her to do it. They're
+very land of me, old man, because my governor is the largest
+stockholder, and a director in Mr. P.'s bank, and I was told I could
+bring down some fellows next week for a few days' jollity. I didn't care
+to do that, but of course I wouldn't have omitted you for any amount of
+ducats."
+
+Which explanation solves the mystery of Peter's presence at the
+Shrubberies. To understand his face we must trace the period between his
+arrival and the moment this story begins.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+BEGINNINGS.
+
+
+How far Watts was confining himself to facts in the foregoing dialogue
+is of no concern, for the only point of value was that Peter was
+invited, without regard to whether Watts first asked Mr. Pierce, or Mr.
+Pierce first asked Watts. A letter which the latter wrote to Miss
+Pierce, as soon as it was settled that Peter should go, is of more
+importance, 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 _pass�_
+    (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 encyclop�dia,
+    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 the
+train on June 29th, the effect of this letter was manifest. Watts was
+promptly bestowed on the front seat of the trap with Mr. Pierce, while
+Peter was quickly sitting beside a girl on the back seat. Of course an
+introduction had been made, but Peter had acquired a habit of not
+looking at girls, and as a consequence had yet to discover how far Miss
+Pierce came up to the pleasant word-sketch Watts had drawn of her.
+Indeed, Peter had looked longingly at the seat beside Mr. Pierce, and
+had attempted, in a very obvious manner, though one which seemed to him
+the essence of tact and most un-apparent, to have it assigned to him.
+But two people, far his superior in natural finesse and experience, had
+decided beforehand that he was to sit with Helen, and he could not
+resist their skilful manoeuvres. So he climbed into place, hoping that
+she wouldn't talk, or if that was too much to expect, that at least
+Watts would half turn and help him through.
+
+Neither of these fitted, however, with Miss Pierce's plans. She gave
+Peter a moment to fit comfortably into his seat, knowing that if she
+forced the running before he had done that, he would probably sit awry
+for the whole drive. Then: "I can't tell you how pleased we all are over
+Watts's success. We knew, of course, he could do it if he cared to, but
+he seemed to think the attempt hardly worth the making, and so we did
+not know if he would try."
+
+Peter breathed more easily. She had not asked a question, and the
+intonation of the last sentence was such as left him to infer that it
+was not his turn to say something; which, Peter had noticed, was the way
+in which girls generally ended their remarks.
+
+"Oh, look at that absurd looking cow," was her next remark, made before
+Peter had begun to worry over the pause.
+
+Peter looked at the cow and laughed. He would like to have laughed
+longer, for that would have used up time, but the moment he thought the
+laugh could be employed in place of conversation, the laugh failed.
+However, to be told to look at a cow required no rejoinder, so there was
+as yet no cause for anxiety.
+
+"We are very proud of our roads about here," said Miss Pierce. "When we
+first bought they were very bad, but papa took the matter in hand and
+got them to build with a rock foundation, as they do in Europe."
+
+Three subjects had been touched upon, and no answer or remark yet forced
+upon him. Peter thought of _rouge et noir_, and wondered what the odds
+were that he would be forced to say something by Miss Pierce's next
+speech.
+
+"I like the New England roadside," continued Miss Pierce, with an
+apparent relativeness to the last subject that delighted Peter, who was
+used by this time to much disconnection of conversation, and found not a
+little difficulty in shifting quickly from one topic to another. "There
+is a tangled finish about it that is very pleasant. And in August, when
+the golden-rod comes, I think it is glorious. It seems to me as if all
+the hot sunbeams of the summer had been gathered up in--excuse the
+expression--it's a word of Watts's--into 'gobs' of sunshine, and
+scattered along the roads and fields."
+
+Peter wondered if the request to be excused called for a response, but
+concluded that it didn't.
+
+"Papa told me the other day," continued Miss Pierce, "that there were
+nineteen distinct varieties of golden-rod. I had never noticed that
+there were any differences."
+
+Peter began to feel easy and comfortable. He made a mental note that
+Miss Pierce had a very sweet voice. It had never occurred to Peter
+before to notice if a girl had a pleasant voice. Now he distinctly
+remembered that several to whom he had talked--or rather who had talked
+to him--had not possessed that attraction.
+
+"Last year," said Miss Pierce, "when Watts was here, we had a golden-rod
+party. We had the whole house decked with it, and yellow lamps on the
+lawn."
+
+"He told me about it," said Peter.
+
+"He really was the soul of it," said Miss Pierce, "He wove himself a
+belt and chaplet of it and wore it all through the evening. He was so
+good-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 a
+question had been asked, or that he had answered it. He began to think
+that 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, after
+this self-approval. "And that reminds me that I must tell you about whom
+you meet to-day." Then the next ten minutes were consumed in naming and
+describing the two fashionable New York girls and their brother, who
+made the party then assembled.
+
+During this time Peter's eyes strayed from Watts's shapely back, and
+took a furtive glance at Miss Pierce. He found that she was looking at
+him as she talked, but for some reason it did not alarm him, as such
+observation usually did. Before the guests were properly catalogued,
+Peter was looking into her eyes as she rambled on, and forgot that he
+was 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 or
+thought. It responded quickly too, to outside influence. Many a girl of
+more real beauty was less popular. People liked to talk to Miss Pierce,
+and many could not escape from saying more than they wished, impelled
+thereto by her ready sympathy. Then her eyes were really beautiful, and
+she 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 she
+talked to them, and for some reason people felt very well satisfied when
+she did.
+
+It had this effect upon Peter. As he looked down into the large gray
+eyes, really slate-color in their natural darkness, made the darker by
+the shadows of the long lashes, he entirely forgot place and
+circumstances; ceased to think whose turn it was to speak; even forgot
+to think whether he was enjoying the moment. In short he forgot himself
+and, 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 to
+himself 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 eight
+times, and laughed twice, in the half hour that was passed between the
+station and the Shrubberies' gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MINES AND COUNTER-MINES.
+
+
+The sight of the party on the veranda of the Shrubberies brought a
+return of self-consciousness to Peter, and he braced himself, as the
+trap slowed up, for the agony of formal greetings. If Miss Pierce had
+been a less sweet, sympathetic girl, she could hardly have kept from
+smiling at the way Peter's face and figure stiffened, as the group came
+in sight. But Miss Pierce had decided, before she met Peter, that she
+should like him, and, moreover, that he was a man who needed help. Let
+any woman reach these conclusions about a man, and for some reason quite
+beyond logic or philosophy, he ceases to be ridiculous. So instead of
+smiling, she bridged over the awful greetings with feminine engineering
+skill quite equal to some great strategic movement in war. Peter was
+made to shake hands with Mrs. Pierce, but was called off to help Miss
+Pierce out of the carriage, before speech was necessary. Then a bundle
+was missing in the bottom of the carriage, and Mr. Pawling, the New York
+swell, was summoned to help Peter find it, the incident being seized
+upon to name the two to each other. Finally, he was introduced to the
+two girls, but, almost instantly, Watts and Peter were sent to their
+rooms; and Miss Pierce, nodding her head in a way which denoted
+satisfaction, remarked as she went to her own room, "Really, Helen, I
+don't think it will be so very hard, after all. He's very tractable."
+
+As Peter came downstairs, before dinner, he speculated on whether he
+should be able to talk to Miss Pierce. He rather doubted from past
+experience, if such a result was attainable, seeing that there were two
+other men, who would of course endeavor to do the same. But strangely
+enough the two men were already seated by the New York girls, and a
+vacant chair was next that holding Miss Pierce. What was more, he was at
+once summoned to fill it, and in five minutes was again entirely
+unconscious of everything but the slate-colored eyes, looking so
+pleasantly into his. Then he took Miss Pierce in to dinner, and sat
+between her and her mother again becoming absorbed in the slate-colored
+eyes, which seemed quite willing to be absorbed. After dinner, too, when
+the women had succeeded the weed, Peter in someway found it very easy to
+settle 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, and
+thinking how well he had gone through the day. He had not made a single
+slip. 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 few
+hours, had been made easy for him by a woman's tact.
+
+The following week was practically a continuation of this first day. In
+truth Peter was out of his element with the fashionables; Mr. Pierce did
+not choose to waste his power on him; and Mrs. Pierce, like the
+yielding, devoted wife she was, took her coloring from her husband.
+Watts had intended to look after him, but Watts played well on the
+piano, 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 aloud
+capitally, and, what was more, was ready at any or all times for any or
+all things. No man who can do half these had better intend seriously to
+do 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 July
+temperature makes Long Island Sound. Instinctively, Peter turned to Miss
+Pierce at every opportunity. He should have asked himself if the girl
+was really enjoying his company more than she did that of the other
+young people. Had he been to the manner born he would have known better
+than to force himself on a hostess, or to make his monopoly of a young
+girl so marked. But he was entirely oblivious of whether he was doing as
+he ought, conscious only that, for causes which he made no attempt to
+analyze, he was very happy when with her. For reasons best known to Miss
+Pierce, she allowed herself to be monopolized. She was even almost as
+devoted 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 not
+talkative, 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 on
+about 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 he
+seemed to need, and he needed a good deal. Watts jokingly said that "the
+moment 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 dual
+devotion.
+
+It was an experience full of danger to Peter. For the first time in his
+life he was seeing the really charming phases which a girl has at
+command. Attractive as these are to all men, they were trebly so to
+Peter, who had nothing to compare with them but the indifferent
+attitudes hitherto shown him by the maidens of his native town, and by
+the few Boston women who had been compelled to "endure" his society. If
+he had had more experience he would have merely thought Miss Pierce a
+girl with nice eyes, figure and manner. But as a single glass of wine is
+dangerous to the teetotaller, so this episode had an over-balancing
+influence on Peter, entirely out of proportion to its true value. Before
+the week was over he was seriously in love, and though his natural
+impassiveness and his entire lack of knowledge how to convey his
+feelings to Miss Pierce, prevented her from a suspicion of the fact, the
+more 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 to
+her views that amazed and rather frightened Mrs. Pierce, till he
+continued: "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. "Peter
+is certainly neuter. I think one might say negative, without gross
+exaggeration. Still, I should hardly stop him. He finds enough
+difficulty in getting out an occasional remark without putting a stopper
+in him. Perhaps, though, I mistake your meaning, and you want Peter
+merely to stop here a little longer."
+
+"I mean, dear," replied Mrs. Pierce, with something like a tear in her
+voice, for she was sadly wanting in a sense of humor, and her husband's
+jokes always half frightened her, and invariably made her feel inferior
+to him, "I mean his spending so much time with Helen. I'm afraid he'll
+fall in love with her."
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Pierce, "you really should be a professional
+mind-reader. Your suggestion comes as an awful revelation to me. Just
+supposing he should--aye--just supposing he has, fallen in love with
+Helen!"
+
+"I really think he has," said Mrs. Pierce, "though he is so different
+from most men, that I am not sure."
+
+"Then by all means we must stop him. By the way, how does one stop a
+man'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 humidity
+just then. He therefore concluded that since his wit was taken
+seriously, he would try a bit of seriousness, as an antidote.
+
+"I don't think there is any occasion to interfere. Whatever Peter does
+can make no difference, for it is perfectly evident that Helen is nice
+to him as a sort of duty, and, I rather suspect, to please Watts. So
+anything she may do will be a favor to him, while the fact that she is
+attractive 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 think
+things can't be going better. I was a little afraid of Mr. Pawling, and
+should have preferred to have him and his sisters later, but since it is
+policy to invite them and they could not come at any other time, it was
+a godsend to have sensible, dull old Peter to keep her busy. If he had
+been in the least dangerous, I should not have interfered, but I should
+have made him very ridiculous. That's the way for parents to treat an
+ineligible man. Next week, when all are gone but Watts, he will have his
+time, 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 delightful
+possibility supported by her husband's.
+
+"I think," said Mr. Pierce, "that the less we parents concern ourselves
+with love the better. If I have made opportunities for Helen and Watts
+to see something of each other, I have only done what was to their
+mutual interests. Any courtesy I have shown him is well enough accounted
+for on the ground of his father's interest in my institution, without
+the assumption of any matrimonial intentions. However, I am not opposed
+to a marriage. Watts is the son of a very rich man of the best social
+position in New York, besides being a nice fellow in himself. Helen will
+make 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 it
+was best for their child to marry, and see that the young people saw
+just enough of each other, before they saw too much of the world, they
+could accomplish their purpose, provided they otherwise kept their
+finger out of the pot of love. There is a certain period in a man's life
+when he must love something feminine, even if she's as old as his
+grandmother. There is a certain period in a girl's life when it is
+well-nigh impossible for her to say 'no' to a lover. He really only
+loves the sex, and she really loves the love and not the lover; but it
+is just as well, for the delusion lasts quite as long as the more
+personal love that comes later. And, being young, they need less
+breaking for double harness."
+
+Mrs. Pierce winced. Most women do wince when a man really verges on his
+true conclusions concerning love in the abstract, however satisfactory
+his love in the concrete may be to them. "I am sure they love each
+other," she affirmed.
+
+"Yes, I think they do," replied Mr. Pierce. "But five years in the world
+before meeting would have possibly brought quite a different conclusion.
+And now, my dear, if we are not going to have the young people eloping
+in the yacht by themselves, we had better leave both the subject and the
+room, 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 for
+his native town, and the thought of this, in connection with other
+thoughts, drew stern lines on his face. His conclusions were something
+to 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 so
+little of each other. How could he know her and not love her? But it's
+very fortunate for me, for I should stand no chance against him, even
+supposing 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 again
+till 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 three
+words 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 have
+your own way to make. You have no right to ask mother for more than the
+fifteen hundred she says you are to have as an allowance, for you know
+that if she gave you more, it would be only by scrimping herself. What
+is fifteen hundred a year to such a girl? Why, her father would think I
+was joking!"
+
+Then Peter looked out on the leaden waters and wished it was not
+cowardly to end the conflict by letting them close over him. The dark
+color made him think, however, of a pair of slate-colored eyes, so
+instead of jumping in, he repeated "I can't wait" a few times, and
+walked with redoubled energy. Having stimulated himself thereby, he went
+on thinking.
+
+"She has been so kind to me that--no--she can't care for me. But if
+she--if by chance--if--supposing she does! Why, the money is nothing. We
+can wait."
+
+Peter repeated this last remark several times, clearly showing that he
+made a great distinction between "I can wait" and "We can wait."
+Probably the same nice distinction has been made before, and lovers have
+good authority for the distinction, for many an editor's public "We
+think" is the exact opposite of his private "I think." Then Peter
+continued:
+
+"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 enjoy
+the prospect it conjured up. He saw Peter Stirling taking a fond
+farewell of a certain lady. He saw him entering the arena and struggling
+with the wild beasts, and of course conquering them. He saw the day when
+his successes would enable him to set up his own fireside. He saw that
+fireside made perfect by a pair of slate-colored eyes, which breakfast
+opposite him, follow him as he starts for his work, and greet him on his
+return. 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 such
+materials!
+
+From all this the fact can be gathered that Peter was really, despite
+his calm, sober nature, no more sensible in love matters than are other
+boys verging on twenty-one. He could not see that success in this love
+would be his greatest misfortune. That he could not but be distracted
+from his work. That he would almost certainly marry before he could well
+afford it, and thus overweight himself in his battle for success. He
+forgot prudence and common-sense, and that being what a lover usually
+does, he can hardly be blamed for it.
+
+Bump!
+
+Down came the air-castle. Home, fireside, and the slate-colored eyes
+dissolved into a wooden wharf. The dream was over.
+
+"Bear a hand here with these lunch-baskets, chum," called Watts. "Make
+yourself useful as well as ornamental."
+
+And so Peter's solitary tramp ceased, and he was helping lunch-baskets
+and ladies to the wharf.
+
+But the tramp had brought results which were quickly to manifest
+themselves. 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's
+liking.
+
+"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 more
+surprised 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 and
+given his reason for wishing it, in Miss Pierce's hearing, Watts would
+have formed an instant conclusion as to what it meant, not far from the
+truth. But that a man should deliberately order another away, in the
+girl's hearing, so that he might propose to her, was too great an
+absurdity for Watts to entertain for more than a second. He laughed, and
+said, "Go on yourself, if you don't like the company."
+
+"No," said Peter. "I want you to go on." Peter spoke quietly, but there
+was an inflexion in his singularly clear voice, which had more command
+in it than a much louder tone in others. Watts had learned to recognize
+it, and from past experience knew that Peter was not to be moved when he
+used it. But here the case was different. Hitherto he had been trying to
+make Peter do something. Now the boot was on the other leg, and Watts
+saw therein a chance for some fun. He therefore continued to stand
+still, 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 the
+incident.
+
+"I think," remarked Miss Pierce, "that I will leave you two to settle
+it, 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?" he
+thought to himself. Miss Pierce hesitated. She wanted to go, but
+something in Peter's voice made it very difficult. "I had no idea he
+could speak so decidedly. He's not so tractable as I thought. I think
+Watts ought to do what he asks. Though I don't see why Mr. Stirling
+wants to send him away," she said to herself.
+
+"Watts," said Peter, "this is the last chance I shall really have to
+thank Miss Pierce, for I leave before breakfast to-morrow."
+
+There was nothing appealing in the way it was said. It seemed a mere
+statement of a fact. Yet something in the voice gave it the character of
+a command.
+
+"'Nough said, chum," said Watts, feeling a little cheap at his smallness
+in having tried to rob Peter of his farewell. The next moment he was
+rapidly overtaking the advance-party.
+
+By all conventions there should have been an embarrassing pause after
+this extraordinary colloquy, but there was not. When Peter decided to do
+a thing, he never faltered in the doing. If making love or declaring it
+had been a matter of directness and plain-speaking, Peter would have
+been a successful lover. But few girls are won by lovers who carry
+business methods and habits of speech into their courtship.
+
+"Miss Pierce," said Peter, "I could not go without thanking you for your
+kindness to me. I shall never forget this week."
+
+"I am so glad you have enjoyed it," almost sang Miss Pierce, in her
+pleasure 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 a
+halt, in her surprise.
+
+"Yes," replied Peter simply, but the monosyllable meant more than the
+strongest 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 telling
+it. Why shouldn't one tell one's love as soon as one feels it? It's the
+finest thing a man can tell a woman."
+
+"Oh, please don't," begged Miss Pierce, her eyes full of tears in
+sympathy for him. "You make it so hard for me to say that--that you
+mustn'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 last
+speech. "Girls have never liked me."
+
+Miss Pierce began to sob. "It's all a mistake. A dreadful mistake," she
+cried, "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 to
+the 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 shall
+not----"
+
+"There is," interrupted Miss Pierce, the determination in Peter's voice
+frightening her info disclosing her secret.
+
+Peter said to himself, "It is Watts after all." He was tempted to say it
+aloud, and most men in the sting of the moment would have done so. But
+he 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 my
+love 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 the
+hallway together, and leaving the rest of the party, who were already
+raiding the larder for an impromptu supper, to their own devices, they
+passed upstairs, Miss Pierce to bathe her eyes and Peter to pack his
+belongings.
+
+"Where are Helen and Stirling?" inquired Mr. Pierce when the time came
+to serve out the Welsh rarebit he was tending.
+
+"They'll be along presently," said Watts. "Helen forgot something, and
+they went back after it."
+
+"They will be properly punished by the leathery condition of the
+rarebit, if they don't hurry. And as we are all agreed that Stirling is
+somewhat lacking in romance, he will not get a corresponding pleasure
+from the longer stroll to reward him for that. There, ladies and
+gentlemen, that is a rarebit that will melt in your mouth, and make the
+absent ones regret their foolishness. As the gourmand says in
+'Richelieu,' 'What's diplomacy compared to a delicious p�t�?'"
+
+
+
+
+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 or
+not. Another so nerveless, that it fights on, unconscious that it has
+been hit. A third, who, feeling the wound, goes on fighting, sustained
+by its nerve. It is over the latter sort that the surgeons shake their
+heads and look anxious.
+
+Peter did his packing quietly and quickly, not pausing for a moment in
+the task. Then he went downstairs, and joined the party, just finishing
+the supper. He refused, it is true, to eat anything, and was quiet, but
+this phase was so normal in him, that it occasioned no remark. Asked
+where Miss Pierce was, he explained briefly that he had left her in the
+hall, 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 better
+things than he had said in his whole visit, and quite surprising them
+all 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 New
+York," said Mr. Pierce, not quite knowing why, having previously decided
+that they had had enough of Peter. "We shall be in the city early in
+September, and ready to see our friends."
+
+"Thank you," replied Peter. He turned and went upstairs to his room. He
+ought to have spent the night pacing his floor, but he did not. He went
+to bed instead Whether Peter slept, we cannot say. He certainly lay very
+still, till the first ray of daylight brightened the sky. Then he rose
+and dressed. He went to the stables and explained to the groom that he
+would walk to the station, and merely asked that his trunk should be
+there in time to be checked. Then he returned to the house and told the
+cook that he would breakfast on the way. Finally he started for the
+station, diverging on the way, so as to take a roundabout road, that
+gave him a twelve-mile tramp in the time he had before the train left.
+
+Perhaps the hardest thing Peter encountered was answering his mother's
+questions about the visit. Yet he never flinched nor dodged from a true
+reply, 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. Stirling
+careful, and whatever she surmised she kept to herself, merely kissing
+him good-night with a tenderness that was unusual not merely in a
+New-Englander, but even in her. During the rest of his stay, the Pierces
+were 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 who
+rank as such, would have been as considerate or tender of Peter's
+trouble, if the power had been given them to lay it bare. Love,
+sympathy, unselfishness and forbearance are not bad equivalents for
+breeding and etiquette, and have the additional advantage of meeting new
+and unusual conditions which sometimes occur to even the most
+conventional.
+
+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 so
+set on going to New York." In this, however, she was disappointed. On
+the second day of his stay, Peter spoke of his intention to start for
+New 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," said
+Peter. "I'll try it there first, and if I don't make my way, I'll come
+back here"
+
+Few mothers hope for a son's failure, yet Mrs. Stirling allowed herself
+a moment's happiness over this possibility. Then remembering that her
+Peter could not possibly fail, she became despondent. "They say New
+York's full of temptations," she said.
+
+"I suppose it is, mother," replied Peter, "to those who want to be
+tempted."
+
+"I know I can trust you, Peter," said his mother, proudly, "but I want
+you to promise me one thing."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That if you do yield, if you do what you oughtn't to, you'll write and
+tell me about it?" Mrs. Stirling put her arms about Peter's neck, and
+looked wistfully into his face.
+
+Peter was not blind to what this world is. Perhaps, had his mother known
+it as he did, she might have seen how unfair her petition was. He did
+not like to say yes, and could not say no.
+
+"I'll try to go straight, mother," he replied, "but that's a good deal
+to 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't
+tell 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 have
+something definite to do. He tried to obtain this distraction of
+occupation, at present, in a characteristic way, by taking excessively
+long 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 working
+him free from the crushing lack of purpose that had settled upon him. He
+imagined it would be even easier when he reached New York. "There'll be
+plenty to keep me busy there," was his mental hope.
+
+All his ambitions and plans seemed in a sense to have become
+meaningless, made so by the something which but ten days before had been
+unknown to him. Like Moses he had seen the promised land. But Moses
+died. He had seen it, and must live on without it. He saw nothing in the
+future worth striving for, except a struggle to forget, if possible, the
+sweetest and dearest memory he had ever known. He thought of the
+epigram: "Most men can die well, but few can live well." Three weeks
+before he had smiled over it and set it down as a bit of French
+cynicism. Now--on the verge of giving his mental assent to the theory, a
+pair of slate-colored eyes in some way came into his mind, and even
+French wit was discarded therefrom.
+
+Peter was taking his disappointment very seriously, if quietly. Had he
+only known other girls, he might have made a safe recovery, for love's
+remedy is truly the homeopathic "similia similibus curantur," woman
+plural 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 is
+no other woman." In Peter's case there was no other woman. What was
+worse, 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 grapple
+with the future. How many such stormers have dashed themselves against
+its high ramparts, from which float the flags of "worldly success;" how
+many have fallen at the first attack; how many have been borne away,
+stricken in the assault; how many have fought on bravely, till driven
+back by pressure, sickness or hunger; how few have reached the top, and
+won their colors!
+
+As already hinted, Peter had chosen the law as his ladder to climb these
+ramparts. Like many another fellow he had but a dim comprehension of the
+struggle before him. His college mates had talked over professions, and
+agreed that law was a good one in New York. The attorney in his native
+town, "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 Lawrence
+or Lowell. If New York is bigger, then there is more to be done." So
+Peter, whose New York acquaintances were limited to Watts and four other
+collegians, the Pierces and their fashionables, and a civil engineer
+originally from his native town, had decided that the way to go about it
+was 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 and
+pricing a few rooms near the "Avenue," about Thirtieth Street, Peter saw
+that Watts had been thinking of his own purse, rather than of his
+friend's.
+
+"Can you tell me where the cheaper boarding-houses are?" he asked the
+woman who had done the honors of the last house.
+
+"If it's cheapness you want, you'd better go to Bleecker Street," said
+the 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, not
+comprehending that he had gone to the opposite extreme. It was a dull
+season, and he had no difficulty in getting such a room as suited both
+his expectations and purse. By dinner-time he had settled his simple
+household goods to his satisfaction, and slightly moderated the
+dreariness of the third floor front, so far as the few pictures and
+other furnishings from his college rooms could modify the effect of
+well-worn carpet, cheap, painted furniture, and ugly wall-paper.
+
+Descending to his dinner, in answer to a bell more suitable for a
+fire-alarm than for announcing such an ordinary occurrence as meals, he
+was introduced to the four young men who were all the boarders the
+summer season had left in the house. Two were retail dry-goods clerks,
+another filled some function in a butter and cheese store, and the
+fourth was the ticket-seller at one of the middle-grade theatres. They
+all looked at Peter's clothes before looking at his face, and though the
+greetings were civil enough, Peter's ready-made travelling suit, bought
+in his native town, and his quiet cravat, as well as his lack of
+jewelry, were proof positive to them that he did not merit any great
+consideration. It was very evident that the ticket-seller, not merely
+from his natural self-assertion but even more because of his enviable
+acquaintance with certain actresses and his occasional privileges in the
+way of free passes, was the acknowledged autocrat of the table. Under
+his guidance the conversation quickly turned to theatrical and "show"
+talk. Much of it was vulgar, and all of it was dull. It was made the
+worse by the fact that they all tried to show, off a little before the
+newcomer, to prove their superiority and extreme knowingness to him. To
+make 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 little
+place."
+
+They would like to have asked him questions about himself, but feared to
+seem to lower themselves from their fancied superiority, by showing
+interest 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 not
+conceive of any one entitled to practise law not airing his advantage.
+So they went on patronizing Peter, and glorifying themselves. When time
+had developed the facts that he was a lawyer, a college graduate, and a
+man who seemed to have plenty of money (from the standpoint of dry-goods
+clerks) their respect for him considerably increased. He could not,
+however, overcome his instinctive dislike to them. After the manly
+high-minded, cultivated Harvard classmates, every moment of their
+society was only endurable, and he neither went to their rooms nor asked
+them to his. Peter had nothing of the snob in him, but he found reading
+or writing, or a tramp about the city, much the pleasanter way of
+passing his evenings.
+
+The morning after this first day in New York, Peter called on his
+friend, the civil engineer, to consult him about an office; for Watts
+had 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 give
+you 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 you
+think of starting by yourself. You'll otherwise never get a client."
+
+Peter shook his head. "I've thought it out," he added, as if that
+settled it.
+
+Mr. Converse looked at him, and, really liking the fellow, was about to
+explain 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 the
+Battery and Canal Street." Later in the day, when he had time, he shook
+his head, and said, "Poor devil! Like all the rest."
+
+Anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street represented a fairly large
+range of territory, but Peter went at the matter directly, and for the
+next three days passed his time climbing stairs, and inspecting rooms
+and 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 with
+a desk, two chairs (for Peter as yet dreamed only of single clients) and
+a shelf containing the few law books that were the monuments of his
+Harvard law course, and his summer reading. On the following Monday,
+when Peter faced his office door he felt a glow of satisfaction at
+seeing in very black letters on the very newly scrubbed glass the sign
+of:
+
+    PETER STIRLING
+
+    ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW.
+
+He had come to his office early, not merely because at his boarding
+place they breakfasted betimes, but because he believed that early hours
+were one way of winning success. He was a little puzzled what to do with
+himself. He sat down at his desk and thrummed it for a minute. Then he
+rose, and spread his books more along the shelf, so as to leave little
+spaces between them, thinking that he could make them look more imposing
+thereby. After that he took down a book--somebody "On Torts,"--and dug
+into it. In the Harvard course, he had had two hours a week of this
+book, but Peter worked over it for nearly three hours. Then he took
+paper, and in a very clear, beautifully neat hand, made an abstract of
+what he had read. Then he compared his abstract with the book. Returning
+the book to the shelf, very much pleased with the accuracy of his
+memory, he looked at his watch. It was but half-past eleven. Peter sat
+down 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 and
+furnishing. But now? He could not read law for more than four hours a
+day, and get anything from it. What was to be done with the rest of the
+time? 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 and
+the drearier light shafts spoken of flatteringly as yards. He compressed
+his lips, and resorted once more to his book. But he found his mind
+wandering, and realized that he had done all he was equal to on a hot
+July morning. Again he looked out over the roofs. Then he rose and stood
+in the middle at his room, thinking. He looked at his watch again, to
+make sure that he was right. Then he opened his door and glanced about
+the hall. It was one blank, except for the doors. He went down the two
+flights of stairs to the street. Even that had the deserted look of
+summer. He turned and went back to his room. Sitting down once more at
+his desk, and opening somebody "On Torts" again, he took up his pen and
+began to copy the pages literally. He wrote steadily for a time, then
+with pauses. Finally, the hand ceased to follow the lines, and became
+straggly. Then he ceased to write. The words blurred, the paper faded
+from view, and all Peter saw was a pair of slate-colored eyes. He laid
+his head down on the blotter, and the erect, firm figure relaxed.
+
+There is no more terrible ordeal of courage than passive waiting. Most
+of us can be brave with something to do, but to be brave for months, for
+years, with nothing to be done and without hope of the future! So it was
+in Peter's case. It was waiting--waiting--for what? If clients came, if
+fame 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 and
+health, were a million people. Yet not a soul of that million knew that
+Peter sat at his desk, with his head on his blotter, immovable, from
+noon 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 sun
+shining dazzlingly in his eyes forced him back to a consciousness of
+things mundane. He rose, and went downstairs, to find the night
+watch-man just opening the building. Fortunately he had already met the
+man, so that he was not suspected as an intruder; and giving him a
+pleasant "good-morning," Peter passed into the street. It was a good
+morning indeed, with all that freshness and coolness which even a great
+city cannot take from a summer dawn. For some reason Peter felt more
+encouraged. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having beaten his
+loneliness and misery by mere physical endurance. Perhaps it was only
+the natural spring of twenty years. At all events, he felt dimly, that
+miserable 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 cart
+for a pint of what the poorer people of the city buy as milk, he turned
+north, and quickening his pace, walked till he had left the city proper
+and had reached the new avenue or "drive," which, by the liberality of
+Mr. Tweed with other people's money, was then just approaching
+completion. After walking the length of it, he turned back to his
+boarding-place, and after a plunge, felt as if he could face and fight
+the future to any extent.
+
+As a result of this he was for the first time late at breakfast The
+presider over the box-office had ascertained that Peter had spent the
+night out, and had concluded he would have a gird or two at him. He
+failed, however, to carry out his intention. It was not the first time
+that both he and his companions had decided to "roast" Peter, absent,
+but had done other wise with Peter, present. He had also decided to say
+to Peter, "Who's your dandy letter-writer?" But he also failed to do
+that. 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 an
+air about it. It was written on linen paper of a grade which, if now
+common enough, was not so common at that time. Then it was postmarked
+from one of the most, fashionable summer resorts of the country.
+Finally, it was sealed with wax, then very unusual, and the wax bore the
+impression of a crest. They were all rather disappointed when Peter put
+that 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
+    � 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 for
+a couple of hours, looking at the opposite wall, and seeing something
+quite 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 a
+time. Studied it till long after the hour when he should have lunched.
+The wall had three cracks in it which approximated to an outline of
+Italy, but though Peter gazed at this particular wall a good many hours
+in the next few weeks, he did not discover this interesting fact till
+long after this time of wall-gazing.
+
+In the early morning and after dinner, in spite of the summer heat, he
+took long walks. During the day he sat in his office doing nothing, with
+the exception of an occasional letter to his mother, and one or two to
+Watts in respect to the coming wedding. Two visits to the tailor's, and
+another to Tiffany's, which resulted in a pearl pin rather out of
+proportion to his purse, were almost the sole variations of this
+routine. It was really a relief to this terrible inactivity, when he
+found himself actually at the Shrubberies, the afternoon before the
+wedding.
+
+Peter was rather surprised at the ease with which he went through the
+next twenty-four hours. It is true that the house was too full, and each
+person too busy, to trouble the silent groomsman with attention, so he
+might have done pretty much what he wished, without being noticed. He
+arrived late, thus having no chance for greetings till after a hurried
+dressing for dinner, when they were made in the presence of the whole
+party, who had waited his coming to go to the meal. He went through the
+ordeal well, even that with Miss Pierce, actually showing less
+embarrassment than she did. What was more astonishing, he calmly offered
+his arm to the bridesmaid who fell to his lot, and, after seating her,
+chatted without thinking that he was talking. Indeed, he hardly heeded
+what he did say, but spoke mechanically, as a kind of refuge from
+thought and feeling.
+
+"I didn't find him a bit so," the girl said to Miss Pierce, later in the
+evening, with an indefiniteness which, if not merely feminine, must
+presuppose a previous conversation. "He isn't exactly talkative, but he
+is perfectly easy to get on with. I tried him on New York, and found he
+had gone into a good many odd places and can tell about them. He
+describes things very well, so that one sees them."
+
+"It must be your tact, then, Miss Leroy," said Mrs. Pierce, "for we
+could get nothing out of him before."
+
+"No? I had nothing to do with it, and, between ourselves, I think he
+disapproved of me. If Helen hadn't told me about him, I should have been
+very cool to him, his manner was so objectionable. He clearly talked to
+me because he felt it a duty, and not a pleasure."
+
+"That's only that unfortunate manner of his," said Helen. "I really
+think at heart he's dreadfully afraid of us. At least that's what Watts
+says. 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 remark
+doesn't seem enough to say. You try to talk up to him, and yet feel
+small all the time."
+
+"Not at all," said Helen. "You talk down to him, as if he
+were--were--your old grandfather, or some one else you admired, but
+thought very dull and old-fashioned."
+
+"But the worst is the way he looks at you. So gravely, even when you try
+to joke. Now I really think I'm passably pretty, but Mr. Stirling said
+as plainly as could be: 'I look at you occasionally because that's the
+proper thing to do, when one talks, but I much prefer looking at that
+picture over your head.' I don't believe he noticed how my hair was
+dressed, 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 not
+notice girls any more. After worrying in his school and college days,
+over what women thought of him and how they treated him, he had suddenly
+ceased to trouble himself about them. It was as if a man, after long
+striving for something, had suddenly discovered that he did not wish
+it--that to him women's opinions had become worthless. Perhaps in this
+case it was only the Fox and the Grapes over again. At all events, from
+this time on Peter cared little what women did. Courteous he tried to
+be, for he understood this to be a duty. But that was all. They might
+laugh at him, snub him, avoid him. He cared not. He had struck women out
+of his plan of life. And this disregard, as we have already suggested,
+was sure to produce a strange change, not merely in Peter, but in
+women's view and treatment of him. Peter trying to please them, by dull,
+ordinary platitudes, was one thing. Peter avoiding them and talking to
+them 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 all
+men are at weddings, finally stood up with his friend. He had not been
+asked to stay on for another night, as had most of the bridal party, so
+he slipped away as soon as his duty was done, and took a train that put
+him into New York that evening. A week later he said good-bye to the
+young couple, on the deck of a steamship.
+
+"Don't forget us, Peter," shouted Watts, after the fasts were cast off
+and 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, who
+with all the fire and impatience of his years wished to conquer the
+world quickly, "youth has many things to learn, but one of the most
+important is never to let another man beat you at waiting."
+
+Peter went back to his desk, and waited. He gave up looking at the wall
+of his office, and took to somebody "On Torts" again. When that was
+finished he went through the other law books of his collection. Those
+done, he began to buy others, and studied them with great thoroughness
+and persistence. In one of his many walks, he stumbled upon the
+Apprentices' Library. Going in, he inquired about its privileges, and
+became a regular borrower of books. Peter had always been a reader, but
+now he gave from three or four hours a day to books, aside from his law
+study. Although he was slow, the number of volumes, he not merely read,
+but really mastered was marvellous. Books which he liked, without much
+regard to their popular reputation, he at once bought; for his simple
+life left him the ability to indulge himself in most respects within
+moderation. He was particularly careful to read a classic occasionally
+to keep up his Greek and Latin, and for the same reason he read French
+and German books aloud to himself. Before the year was out, he was a
+recognized quantity in certain book-stores, and was privileged to
+browse at will both among old and new books without interference or
+suggestion from the "stock" clerks. "There isn't any good trying to sell
+him anything," remarked one. "He makes up his mind for himself."
+
+His reading was broadened out from the classic and belles-lettres
+grooves that were still almost a cult with the college graduate, by
+another recreation now become habitual with him. In his long tramps
+about the city, to vary the monotony, he would sometimes stop and chat
+with people--with a policeman, a fruit-vender, a longshoreman or a
+truckster. It mattered little who it was. Then he often entered
+manufactories and "yards" and asked if he could go through them,
+studying the methods, and talking to the overseer or workers about the
+trade. When he occasionally encountered some one who told him "your kind
+ain't got no business here" he usually found the statement "my father
+was a mill-overseer" a way to break down the barrier. He had to use it
+seldom, for he dressed plainly and met the men in a way which seldom
+failed to make them feel that he was one of them. After such inspection
+and chat, he would get books from the library, and read up about the
+business or trade, finding that in this way he could enjoy works
+otherwise too technical, and really obtain a very good knowledge of many
+subjects. Just how interesting he found such books as "Our
+Fire-Laddies," which he read from cover to cover, after an inspection
+of, and chat with, the men of the nearest fire-engine station; or
+Latham's "The Sewage Difficulty," which the piping of uptown New York
+induced him to read; and others of diverse types is questionable.
+Probably it was really due to his isolation, but it was much healthier
+than gazing at blank walls.
+
+When the courts opened, Peter kept track of the calendars, and whenever
+a case or argument promised to be interesting, or to call out the great
+lights of the profession, he attended and listened to them. He tried to
+write out the arguments used, from notes, and finally this practice
+induced him to give two evenings a week during the winter mastering
+shorthand. It was really only a mental discipline, for any case of
+importance was obtainable in print almost as soon as argued, but Peter
+was trying to put a pair of slate-colored eyes out of his thoughts, and
+employed this as one of the means.
+
+When winter came, and his long walks became less possible, he turned to
+other things. More from necessity than choice, he visited the art and
+other exhibitions as they occurred, he went to concerts, and to plays,
+all with due regard to his means, and for this reason the latter were
+the most seldom indulged in. Art and music did not come easy to him, but
+he read up on both, not merely in standard books, but in the reviews of
+the daily press, and just because there was so much in both that he
+failed to grasp, he studied the more carefully and patiently.
+
+One trait of his New England training remained to him. He had brought a
+letter from his own Congregational church in his native town, to one of
+the large churches of the same sect in New York, and when admitted,
+hired a sitting and became a regular attendant at both morning and
+evening service. In time this produced a call from his new pastor. It
+was 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 a
+point of seeing something of him." But he was pastor of a very large and
+rich congregation, and was a hard-worked and hard-entertained man, so
+his intention was not realized.
+
+Peter spent Christmastide with his mother, who worried not a little over
+his 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, knowing
+perfectly well that it was nothing of the sort. She had hoped that Peter
+would be satisfied with his six months' trial, but did not mention her
+wish. She marvelled to herself that New York had not yet discovered his
+greatness.
+
+When Peter returned to the city, he made a change in his living
+arrangements. His boarding-place had filled up with the approach of
+winter, but with the class of men he already knew too well. Even though
+he met them only at meals, their atmosphere was intolerable to him. When
+a room next his office fell vacant, and went begging at a very cheap
+price, he decided to use it as a bedroom. So he moved his few belongings
+on 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 speak
+of his leaving. Two or three affected to be pleased, but
+"Butter-and-cheese" said he "was a first-rate chap," and this seemed to
+gain the assent of the table generally.
+
+"I'm dreadfully sorry to lose him," his landlady informed her other
+boarders, availing herself, perhaps, of the chance to deliver a side hit
+at some of them. "He never has complained once, since he came here, and
+he 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 bit
+stiff; and a fellow who's best man to a big New York swell, and gets his
+name 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 so
+called) being a bath, which is not a usual fitting of a New York
+business office, consciences not yet being tubbable. He had made his
+mother show him how to make coffee, and he adopted the Continental
+system of meals, having rolls and butter sent in, and making a French
+breakfast in his own rooms. Then he lunched regularly not far from his
+office, and dined wherever his afternoon walk, or evening plans carried
+him. He found that he saved no money by the change, but he saved his
+feelings, and was far freer to come and go as he chose.
+
+He did not hear from the honeymoon party. Watts had promised to write to
+him and send his address "as soon as we decide whether we pass the
+winter in Italy or on the Nile." But no letter came. Peter called on the
+Pierces, only to find them out, and as no notice was taken of his
+pasteboard, 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 seemed
+no nearer one than the day he had first seen his own name on his office
+door. "How much longer will I have to wait? How long will my patience
+hold out?" These were the questions he asked himself, when for a moment
+he allowed himself to lose courage. Then he would take to a bit of
+wall-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 on
+was to make friends. But in this first year Peter did not made a single
+one that could be really called such. His second summer broadened his
+acquaintance materially, though in a direction which promised him little
+law practice.
+
+When the warm weather again closed the courts and galleries, and brought
+an end to the concerts and theatres, Peter found time harder to kill,
+the more, because he had pretty well explored the city. Still he walked
+much to help pass the time, and to get outside of his rooms into the
+air. For the same reason he often carried his book, after the heat of
+the day was over, to one of the parks, and did his reading there. Not
+far from his office, eastwardly, where two streets met at an angle, was
+a small open space too limited to be called a square, even if its shape
+had not been a triangle. Here, under the shade of two very sickly trees,
+surrounded by tall warehouses, were a couple of benches. Peter sat here
+many evenings smoking his pipe. Though these few square feet made
+perhaps the largest "open" within half a mile of his office, the angle
+was confined and dreary. Hence it is obvious there must have been some
+attraction to Peter, since he was such a walker, to make him prefer
+spending his time there rather than in the parks not far distant The
+attraction was the children.
+
+Only a few hundred feet away was one of the most densely crowded
+tenement districts of New York. It had no right to be there, for the
+land was wanted for business purposes, but the hollow on which it was
+built had been a swamp in the old days, and the soft land, and perhaps
+the unhealthiness, had prevented the erection of great warehouses and
+stores, which almost surrounded it. So it had been left to the storage
+of human souls instead of merchandise, for valuable goods need careful
+housing, while any place serves to pack humanity. It was not a nice
+district to go through, for there was a sense of heat and dirt, and
+smell, and crowd, and toil and sorrow throughout. It was probably no
+nicer to live in, and nothing proved it better than the overflow of the
+children therefrom into the little, hot, paved, airless angle. Here they
+could be found from five in the morning till twelve at night. Here, with
+guards set, to give notice of the approach of the children's
+joy-destroying Siva--otherwise the policeman--they played ball. Here
+"cat" and "one old cat" render bearable many a wilting hour for the
+little urchins. Here "Sally in our Alley" and "Skip-rope" made the
+little girls forget that the temperature was far above blood-heat. Here
+of an evening, Peter smoked and watched them.
+
+At first he was an object of suspicion, and the sport visibly ceased
+when he put in an appearance. But he simply sat on one of the benches
+and 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 up
+between them. One evening Peter appeared with a stick of wood, and as he
+smoked, he whittled at it with a _real_ jack-knife! He was scrutinized
+by the keen-eyed youngsters with interest at once, and before he had
+whittled long, he had fifty children sitting in the shape of a
+semicircle on the stone pavement, watching his doings with almost
+breathless Interest. When the result of his work actually developed into
+a "cat" of marvellous form and finish, a sigh of intense joy passed
+through the boy part of his audience. When the "cat" was passed over to
+their mercies, words could not be found to express their emotions.
+Another evening, the old clothes-line that served for a jump-rope, after
+having bravely rubbed against the pavement many thousand times in its
+endeavor to lighten the joyless life of the little pack, finally
+succumbed, worn through the centre and quite beyond hope of further
+knotting. Then Peter rose, and going to one of the little shops that
+supplied 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 only
+enjoyed in dreams, or at most through home-made attempts, found their
+way into the angle, and were distributed among the little imps. They
+could not resist such subtle bribery, and soon Peter was on as familiar
+and 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 all
+their troubles. They were a dirty, noisy, lawless, and godless little
+community, but they were interesting to watch, and the lonely fellow
+grew to like them much, for with all their premature sharpness, they
+were really natural, and responded warmly to his friendly overtures.
+
+After a time, Peter tried to help them a little more than by mere small
+gifts. A cheap box of carpenter's tools was bought, and under his
+superintendence, evenings were spent in the angle, in making various
+articles. A small wheel barrow, a knife-and-fork basket, a clock-bracket
+and other easy things were made, one at a time. All boys, and indeed
+some 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 to
+that line; the next would bore the holes in it; the next would screw it
+into 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 and
+watched. When the article was completed, lots were drawn for it, and
+happy was the fortunate one who drew the magnificent prize in life's
+lottery!
+
+Occasionally too, Peter brought a book with him, and read it aloud to
+them. He was rather surprised to find that they did not take to
+Sunday-school stories or fairy tales. Wild adventures in foreign lands
+were the most effective; and together they explored the heart of Africa,
+climbed the Swiss mountains, fought the Western Indians, and attempted
+to 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's
+criticism at a certain point of the narrative of a well-known African
+explorer, rather famous for his success in advertising himself. Again,
+"that's bully," was the comment uttered by another, when Peter, rather
+than refuse their request to read aloud, had been compelled to choose
+something in Macaulay's Essays, and had read the description of the
+Black Hole of Calcutta, "Say, mister," said another, "I don't believe
+that fellow wasn't there, for he never could a told it like that, if he
+wasn't."
+
+As soon as his influence was secure, Peter began to affect them in other
+ways. Every fight, every squabble, was investigated, and the blame put
+where it belonged. Then a mandate went forth that profanity was to
+cease: and, though contrary to every instinct and habit, cease it did
+after a time, except for an occasional unconscious slip. "Sporadic
+swearing," Peter called it, and explained what it meant to the children,
+and why he forgave that, while punishing the intentional swearer with
+exclusion 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 that
+which is wrong, and not the mere words or faces." He ran the risk of
+being laughed at, but they didn't laugh, for something in his way of
+talking 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 from
+his office without being greeted with yells of recognition. The elders,
+too, gave him "good-evening" pleasantly and smiled genially. The
+children had naturally told their parents about him of his wonderful
+presents, 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 their
+elders.
+
+"Oh," cried one little four-year-old girl, voicing the unanimous feeling
+of the children, "Mister Peter is just shplendid."
+
+So the elders nodded and smiled when they met him, and he was pretty
+well 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 a
+visit to her, which had left him rather discouraged, because, for the
+first time, she had pleaded with him to abandon his attempt and return
+to his native town. He had only replied that he was not yet prepared to
+acknowledge himself beaten; but the request and his mother's
+disappointment had worried him. While he wrote came a knock at the door,
+and, in response to his "come in," a plain-looking laborer entered and
+stood awkwardly before him.
+
+"What can I do for you?" asked Peter, seeing that he must assist the man
+to state his business.
+
+"If you please, sir," said the man, humbly, "it's Missy. And I hope
+you'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 a
+slight 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 and
+ask you. I hope it's no offence?"
+
+"No." Peter rose, and, passing to the next room, took his hat, and the
+two 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 dead
+already." 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 Matilda
+Blackett.--That was probably "Missy."
+
+A walk of six blocks transferred them to the centre of the tenement
+district. Two flights of stairs brought them to the Blackett's rooms. On
+the table of the first, which was evidently used both as a kitchen and
+sitting-room, already lay a coffin containing a seven-year-old girl.
+Candles burned at the four corners, adding to the bad air and heat. In
+the room beyond, in bed, with a tired-looking woman tending her, lay a
+child of five. Wan and pale as well could be, with perspiration standing
+in great drops on the poor little hot forehead, the hand of death, as it
+so often does, had put something into the face never there before.
+
+"Oh, Mister Peter," the child said, on catching sight of him, "I said
+you'd come."
+
+Peter took his handkerchief and wiped the little head. Then he took a
+newspaper, lying on a chair, twisted it into a rude fan, and began
+fanning 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 the
+little girl who went to the country, and was given a live dove and real
+flowers."
+
+Peter began telling the story as well as he could remember it, but it
+was never finished. For while he talked another little girl went to the
+country, a far country, from which there is no return--and a very
+ordinary little story ended abruptly.
+
+The father and mother took the death very calmly. Peter asked them a few
+questions, and found that there were three other children, the eldest of
+whom was an errand boy, and therefore away. The others, twin babies, had
+been cared for by a woman on the next floor. He asked about money, and
+found that they had not enough to pay the whole expenses of the double
+funeral.
+
+"But the undertaker says he'll do it handsome, and will let the part I
+haven't money for, run, me paying it off in weekly payments," the man
+explained, when Peter expressed some surprise at the evident needless
+expense 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 you
+remember 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 to
+him, "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 something
+wrong with it, the moment I smelt it, but I took some home to make
+sure." 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, not
+understanding a word of it. Peter looked too, when they had satisfied
+their 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 rather
+a strengthening and deepening of his ordinary look.
+
+"That was in the milk drunk by the children?" he asked, placing his
+finger on a particular line.
+
+"Yes," replied the doctor. "The milk was bad to start with, and was
+drugged to conceal the fact. These carbonates sometimes work very
+unevenly, and I presume this particular can of milk got more than its
+share of the doctoring.
+
+"There are almost no glycerides," remarked Peter, wishing to hold the
+doctor 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. But
+the law requires it"
+
+"Won't they investigate?"
+
+"They'll investigate too much. The trouble with them is, they
+investigate, but don't prosecute."
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. He shook hands with the parents, and went
+upstairs to the fourth floor. The crape on a door guided him to where
+Bridget Milligan lay. Here preparations had gone farther. Not merely
+were 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. Peter
+asked a few questions. There was only an elder brother and sister.
+Patrick worked as a porter. Ellen rolled cigars. They had a little money
+laid up. Enough to pay for the funeral. "Mr. Moriarty gave us the whisky
+and beer at half price," the girl explained incidentally. "Thank you,
+sir. We don't need anything." Peter rose to go. "Bridget was often
+speaking 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 this
+morning. Then I suspected the milk at once, and treated them
+accordingly. I've been forty years doing this sort of thing, and it's
+generally the milk. Dr. Sawyer, next door, is a new man, and doesn't get
+hold quite as quick. But he knows more of the science of the thing, and
+can 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 country
+to-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 shall
+all go up for a couple of weeks to my mother's in Massachusetts. They'll
+have plenty of good food there," he explained to the doctor, "grass and
+flowers 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?" Peter
+asked.
+
+"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 hard
+to 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 his
+wall. But he was not thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. He was
+thinking 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 we
+are indiscreet enough to wake, prefer to use as the preface to a further
+two to four hours' nap. He had spent his evening in a freshening of his
+knowledge in certain municipal laws, and other details which he thought
+he might need, and as early as five o clock he was at work in the
+tenement district, asking questions and taking notes. The inquiry took
+little skill The milk had come from the cart of a certain company, which
+passed daily through the locality, not to supply orders, but to peddle
+milk to whoever cared to buy. Peter had the cart pointed out that
+morning, but, beyond making a note of the exact name of the company, he
+paid no attention to it. He was aiming at bigger game than a milk cart
+or its driver.
+
+His work was interrupted only by his taking Mrs. Dooley and the two
+children to the train. That done, Peter walked northwardly and
+westwardly, till he had nearly reached the river front. It took some
+little inquiry, but after a while he stumbled on a small shanty which
+had a sign:
+
+NATIONAL MILK COMPANY.
+
+OFFICE.
+
+The place, however, was closed and no one around seemed connected with
+it, though a number of milk carts were standing about. Close to these
+was a long line of sheds, which in turn backed up against a great
+brewery. A couple of men lounged at the door of the sheds. Peter walked
+up to them, and asked if they could tell him where he could find any one
+connected with the milk company.
+
+"The boss is off for lunch," said one. "I can take an order, if that's
+what you want."
+
+Peter said it was not an order, and began chatting with the men. Before
+he 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 Milk
+Company?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," said the man, "and we have orders--"
+
+Peter usually let a little pause occur after a remark to him, but in
+this 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 what
+I'm about." Then he walked after the other two men as rapidly as the
+dimness permitted. The employee scratched his head, and then followed.
+
+Dim as the light was, Peter could discern that he was passing between
+two rows of cows, with not more than space enough for men to pass each
+other between the rows. It was filthy, and very warm, and there was a
+peculiar smell in the air which Peter did not associate with a cow
+stable. It was a kind of vapor which brought some suggestion to his
+mind, 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 the
+ground. That it was dead was plain. But what most interested Peter,
+although he felt a shudder of horror at the sight, were the rotted tail
+and 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 their
+havin' 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, and
+speaking in a voice that made the man step back. A terrible feeling was
+welling up in Peter's heart. He thought of the poor little
+fever-stricken children. He saw the poor fever-stricken cow. He would
+like 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 ringing
+very clear.
+
+The lantern was passed to him, and taking it, he walked along the line
+of cows. He saw several with sores more or less developed. One or two he
+saw in the advanced stages of the disease, where the tail had begun to
+rot away. The other men followed him on his tour of inspection, and
+whispered together nervously. It did not take Peter long to examine all
+he wanted to see. Handing back the lantern at the door, he said: "Give
+me your names."
+
+The men looked nonplussed, and shifted their weights uneasily from leg
+to 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. He
+then went to the "office" of the company, which was now opened.
+
+"Is this an incorporated company?" he asked of the man tilted back in a
+chair.
+
+"No," said the man, adding two chair legs to terra firma, and looking at
+Peter 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 criminal
+prosecution."
+
+"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 or
+your 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 run
+down, and as I'm not after the rest of you, you will only get him a few
+days 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, it
+shan't cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well, you'll
+probably 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 "coort
+case" promised to give them prestige far beyond what even these
+distinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter, and
+warrants were sworn to and issued against the "boss" as principal, and
+the driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on the
+following morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night,
+nothing else was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in the
+neighborhood. Even Mrs. Blackett and Ellen Milligan forgot their grief,
+and held a joint _soir�e_ 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" as
+could crush their way in, were in court by nine o'clock. The plaintiffs
+and their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of the
+proceedings. The examinations were purely formal except in one instance,
+when Peter asked for the "name or names of the owner or owners" of the
+National Milk Company. Here the defendant's attorney, a shrewd criminal
+lawyer, interfered, and there was a sharp passage at arms, in which an
+attempt was made to anger Peter. But he kept his head, and in the end
+carried his point. The owner turned out to be the proprietor of the
+brewery, as Peter had surmised, who thus utilized the mash from his vats
+in feeding cattle. But on Peter's asking for an additional warrant
+against him, the defendant's lawyer succeeded in proving, if the
+statement of the overseer proved it, that the brewer was quite ignorant
+that the milk sold in the "district" was what had been unsalable the day
+before to better customers, and that the skimming and doctoring of it
+was unknown to him. So an attempt to punish the rich man as a criminal
+was futile. He could afford to pay for straw men.
+
+"Arrah!" said Dooley to Peter as they passed out of the court, "Oi think
+ye moight have given them a bit av yer moind."
+
+"Wait till the trial," said Peter. "We mustn't use up our powder on the
+skirmish line."
+
+So the word was passed through the district that "theer'd be fun at the
+rale trial," and it was awaited with intense interest by five thousand
+people.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+NEW YORK JUSTICE.
+
+
+Peter saw the District Attorney the next morning for a few moments, and
+handed over to him certain memoranda of details that had not appeared in
+the committing court's record.
+
+"It shall go before the grand jury day after to-morrow," that official
+told 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 witnesses
+are away, and I want to have them back in time."
+
+"Probably a couple of weeks," yawned the man, and Peter, taking the
+hint, departed.
+
+The rest of the morning was spent in drawing up the papers in three
+civil suits against the rich brewer. Peter filed them as soon as
+completed, and took the necessary steps for their prompt service.
+
+These produced an almost immediate result, in the shape of a call the
+next morning from the same lawyer who had defended the milkmen in the
+preliminary examination. Peter, as he returned from his midday meal, met
+the 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 of
+satisfaction 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 to
+trial."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And we take it for granted that your clients will be quite willing to
+settle 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 thus
+be 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 ever
+tried, which it won't be."
+
+Peter eyed Dummer without changing a muscle. "The District Attorney
+told me that it ought to be in the courts in a couple of weeks."
+
+Dummer smiled blandly, and slowly closed one eye. "The District Attorney
+tries to tell the truth," he said, "and I have no doubt he thought that
+was what he was telling you. Now, name your figure?"
+
+"The civil suits will not be compromised till the criminal one is
+finished."
+
+"But I tell you the criminal one is dead. Squashed. Bohlmann and I have
+seen the right people, and they've seen the District Attorney. That case
+won't even go to the grand jury. So now, drop it, and say what you'll
+settle the civil suits for?"
+
+"James Coldman shall go to prison for killing those children," said
+Peter, "and till he does, it is waste time to talk of dropping or
+settling anything."
+
+"Humph," half laughed the lawyer, though with obvious disgust at the
+mulishness in Peter's face and voice. "You think you know it all. But
+you don't. You can work for ten years, and that case will be no nearer
+trial than it is to-day. I tell you, young man, you don't know New
+York."
+
+"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, and
+inquired 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 brought
+face to face with the acting official.
+
+"Mr. Nelson told me he should present the Coldman case to the grand jury
+to-day, and finding he has left the city, I wish to know who has it in
+charge?" asked Peter.
+
+"He left all the presentments with me," the deputy replied, "but there
+was 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 certain
+sections. 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 the
+eyes were sad, the heavy jaw had a rigidness and setness which gave no
+indication 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. Peter
+came 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 see
+man after man ushered into the private office, and finally to be told
+that the District Attorney had gone to lunch, and would not return that
+day. The man who told him this grinned, and evidently considered it a
+good joke, nor had Peter been unconscious that all the morning the
+clerks 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, and
+went to see him that evening. He was wise enough not to send in his
+name, 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 never
+talk business except in business hours."
+
+"I have tried to see you--" began Peter.
+
+"Try some more," interrupted the man, smiling, and going toward the
+parlor.
+
+Peter followed him, calmly. "Mr. Nelson," he said, "do you intend to
+push that case?"
+
+"Of course," smiled Nelson. "After I've finished four hundred
+indictments 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 you
+there are indictments which have been in my office for five years and
+are 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 was
+about 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 in
+politics, and so does Mr. Bohlmann. If you'll tell me what you are
+after, 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 it
+alone, 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 formal
+letter to the District Attorney, calling his attention to the case, and
+asking information as to when it would be brought to trial. Then he
+copied this, and mailed the original. Then he read the Code again. After
+that he went over the New York reports, making notes. For a second time
+the morning sun found Peter still at his desk. But this time his head
+was not bowed upon his blotter, as if he were beaten or dead. His whole
+figure 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 the
+District-Attorney, was a mere formal reiteration of that officer's
+verbal statement, that the case would be taken up in its due order,
+after those which preceded it had been dealt with. Peter knew enough of
+the numberless cases which never reach trial to understand that this
+meant in truth, the laying aside of the case, till it was killed by the
+statute of limitations.
+
+On receiving this reply, Peter made another move, by going to three
+newspapers, and trying to see their managing editors. One declined to
+see him. A second merely told Peter, after his statement, which the
+editor only allowed him partly to explain, that he was very busy and
+could not take time to look into it, but that Peter might come again in
+about a month. The third let Peter tell his story, and then shook his
+head:
+
+"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 we
+begin an attack now, it will simply fall flat. If you can get us a
+written statement from the District Attorney that he doesn't intend to
+push the case, we can do something, but I suppose he's far too shrewd to
+commit himself."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then there's no use in beginning an attack, for you really have no
+powder. Come in again a year from now, and then we may be able to say
+something, if he hasn't acted in the meantime."
+
+Peter left the office, knowing that that chance of pressure was gone. If
+the papers of the Republican party would not use it, it was idle
+spending time in seeing or trying to see the editors of the Democratic
+papers. 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 train
+for Albany. He was going to play his last card, with the odds of a
+thousand to one against his winning. But that very fact only nerved him
+the more.
+
+Promptly at ten o'clock, the morning after his arrival at the state
+capital, he sent in his card to the Governor. Fortunately for him, the
+middle of August is not a busy time with that official, and after a
+slight delay, he was ushered into the executive chamber.
+
+Peter had been planning this interview for hours, and without
+explanation or preamble, he commenced his statement. He knew that he
+must interest the Governor promptly, or there would be a good chance of
+his 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 both
+rapidly, not taking three minutes to do it, but had he been pleading for
+his 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 his
+back to Peter. And after Peter had ended his account, he remained so for
+a moment. That back was very expressive to Peter. For the first time he
+felt vanquished.
+
+But suddenly the Governor turned, and Peter saw tears on his cheek. And
+he said, after a big swallow, "What do you want of me?" in a voice that
+meant 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 his
+interviews with the District Attorney and with Dummer, in the clearest
+and 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 District
+Attorney, but it must be for cause, and I do not see that you can
+absolutely prove his non intention to prosecute those scoundrels."
+
+"That is true. After study, I did not see that you could remove him. But
+there's another remedy."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Through the State Attorney you can appoint a special counsel for this
+case."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+Peter laid one of the papers in his hands before the Governor. After
+reading it, the Governor rang a bell.
+
+"Send for Mr. Miller," he said to the boy. Then he turned, and with
+Peter went over the court papers, till Mr. Miller put in an appearance.
+
+"State the matter to Mr. Miller," said the Governor, and Peter read his
+paper again and told what he wished.
+
+"The power unquestionably exists," said the Attorney-General. "But it
+has not been used in many years. Perhaps I had better look into it a
+bit."
+
+"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 far
+more, as he shook hands. He went out with the first look of hope his
+face had worn for two years.
+
+The ground which the Attorney-General and his subordinates had to
+traverse was that over which Peter had so well travelled already, that
+he felt very much at home, while his notes indeed aided the study, and
+were doubly welcomed, because the summer season had drained the office
+of its underlings. Half as assistant, and half as principal, he worked
+till three o'clock, with pleasure that grew, as he saw that the opinion
+of the Attorney-General seemed to agree more and more with his own. Then
+they returned to the Governor, to whom the Attorney-General gave his
+opinion that his present conclusion was that the Governor could empower
+him, or some appointee, to prosecute the case.
+
+"Well," said the Governor, "I'm glad you think so. But if we find that
+it isn't possible, Mr. Stirling, I'll have a letter written to the
+District 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 Governor
+asked, "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 my
+mouth as no one has done in years. Now, I must get word to some of the
+people in New York to find out who he is, and if this case has any
+concealed boomerang in it."
+
+The dinner was a very quiet one with only the Governor and his wife. The
+former must have told his better-half something about Peter, for she
+studied him with a very kind look in her face, and prosaic and silent as
+Peter was, she did not seem bored. After the dinner was eaten, and some
+one called to talk politics with the Governor, she took Peter off to
+another room, and made him tell her about the whole case, and how he
+came to take it up, and why he had come to the Governor for help. She
+cried over it, and after Peter had gone, she went upstairs and looked at
+her own two sleeping boys, quite large enough to fight the world on
+their own account, but still little children to the mother's heart, and
+had another cry over them. She went downstairs later to the Governor's
+study, 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 scoundrels
+punished, and let him do it."
+
+The Governor only laughed; but he pushed back his work, and his wife sat
+down, and told of her admiration and sympathy for Peter's fight. There
+was a bad time ahead for the criminal and his backers. They might have
+political 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 the
+under-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 on
+the part of the State, and dreaming of nothing better. But better came,
+for only five days after his return his mail brought him a large
+envelope, and inside that envelope was a special commission, which made
+Peter a deputy of the Attorney-General, to prosecute in the Court of
+Sessions, 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 the
+purely formal instrument, he would not have called it dull or heavy. For
+Peter knew that he had won; that in place of justice blocking and
+hindering him, every barrier was crushed down; that this prosecution
+rested with no officials, but was for him to push; that that little
+piece of parchment bound every court to support him; that if necessary
+fifty thousand troops would enforce the power which granted it. Within
+three hours, the first formal steps to place the case in the courts had
+been taken, and Peter was working at the evidence and law in the matter.
+
+These steps produced a prompt call from Dummer, who showed considerably
+less assurance than hitherto, even though he tried to take Peter's
+success jauntily. He wanted Peter to drop the whole thing, and hinted at
+large sums of money, but Peter at first did not notice his hints, and
+finally told him that the case should be tried. Then Dummer pleaded for
+delay. Peter was equally obdurate. Later they had a contest in the court
+over this. But Peter argued in a quiet way, which nevertheless caught
+the attention of the judge, who ended the dispute by refusing to
+postpone. The judge hadn't intended to act in this way, and was rather
+surprised 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 the
+Governor himself--pressure which required backbone to resist. But he
+stood by his act: perhaps because he belonged to a different party than
+that in control of the city government; perhaps because of Peter's
+account, and the truthfulness in his face as he told it; perhaps because
+the Attorney-General had found it legal; perhaps because of his wife;
+perhaps it was a blending of all these. Certain it is, that all attempts
+to block failed, and in the last week in August it came before the
+court.
+
+Peter had kept his clients informed as to his struggles, and they were
+tremendously proud of the big battle and ultimate success, as indeed
+were the residents of the whole district, who felt that it was really
+their own case. Then the politicians were furious and excited over it,
+while the almost unexampled act of the Governor had created a good deal
+of public interest in the case. So the court was packed and the press
+had reporters in attendance. Since the trial was fully reported, it is
+needless to go over the testimony here. What Peter could bring out, is
+already known. The defence, by "experts," endeavored to prove that the
+cowsheds were not in a really unhygienic condition; that feeding cows on
+"mash" did not affect their milk, nor did mere "skin sores;" that the
+milk had been sold by mistake, in ignorance that it was thirty-six hours
+old, and skimmed; and that the proof of this particular milk being the
+cause of the deaths was extremely inadequate and doubtful. The only
+dramatic incident in the testimony was the putting the two little
+Dooleys (who had returned in fat and rosy condition, the day before) on
+the stand.
+
+"Did you find country milk different from what you have here?" Peter
+asked the youngest.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said. "Here it comes from a cart, but in the country it
+squirts 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 cow
+milk 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 spoke
+quietly, in the simplest language, using few adjectives and no
+invective. But as the girl at the Pierces' dinner had said, "he
+describes things so that one sees them." He told of the fever-stricken
+cows, and he told of the little fever-stricken children in such a way
+that the audience sobbed; his clients almost had to be ordered out of
+court; the man next Dummer mopped his eyes with his handkerchief; the
+judge and jury thoughtfully covered their eyes (so as to think the
+better); the reporters found difficulty (owing to the glary light), in
+writing the words despite their determination not to miss one; and even
+the prisoner wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Peter was unconscious that he
+was making a great speech; great in its simplicity, and great in its
+pathos. He afterwards said he had not given it a moment's thought and
+had merely said what he felt. Perhaps his conclusion indicated why he
+was able to speak with the feeling he did. For he said:
+
+"This is not merely the case of the State _versus_ James Goldman. It is
+the case of the tenement-house children, against the inhumanity of man's
+greed."
+
+Dummer whispered to the man next him, "There's no good. He's done for
+us." Then he rose, and made a clever defence. He knew it was wasting his
+time. The judge charged against him, and the jury gave the full verdict:
+"Man-slaughter in the first degree." Except for the desire for it, the
+sentence created little stir. Every one was still feeling and thinking
+of 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 the
+residents of it made their feelings most manifest, for they organized a
+torchlight procession that night, and went round and made Peter an
+address of thanks. Mr. Dennis Moriarty being the spokesman. The judge
+shook hands with him after the trial, and said that he had handled his
+case well. The defendant's lawyer told him he "knew his business." A
+number of the reporters sought a few words with him, and blended praise
+with questions.
+
+The reporters did far more than this, however. It was the dull newspaper
+season, and the case had turned out to be a thoroughly "journalistic"
+one. So they questioned and interviewed every one concerned, and after
+cleverly winnowing the chaff, which in this case meant the dull, from
+the gleanings, most of them gave several columns the next morning to the
+story. Peter's speech was printed in full, and proved to read almost as
+well as it had sounded. The reporters were told, and repeated the tales
+without much attempt at verification, that Peter had taken the matter up
+without hope of profit; had paid the costs out of his own pocket; had
+refused to settle "though offered nine thousand dollars:" had "saved the
+Dooley children's lives by sending them into the country;" and "had paid
+for the burials of the little victims." So all gave him a puff, and two
+of the better sort wrote really fine editorials about him. At election
+time, or any other than a dull season, the case would have had small
+attention, but August is the month, to reverse an old adage, when "any
+news is good news."
+
+The press began, too, a crusade against the swill-milk dealers, and the
+men who had allowed all this to be possible. "What is the Health Board
+about, that poison for children can be sold in the public streets?"
+"Where is the District Attorney, that prosecutions for the public good
+have to be brought by public-spirited citizens?" they demanded.
+Lynx-eyed reporters tracked the milk-supplies of the city, and though
+the alarm had been given, and many cows had been hastily sent to the
+country, they were able to show up certain companies, and print details
+which were quite lurid enough, when sufficiently "colored" by their
+skilful pens. Most residents of New York can remember the "swill-milk"
+or "stump-tail milk" exposures and prosecutions of that summer, and of
+the reformation brought about thereby in the Board of Health. As the
+details are not pleasant reading, any one who does not remember is
+referred to the daily press, and, if they want horrible pictures, to
+Frank Leslie's Illustrated Weekly. Except for the papers, it is to be
+questioned if Peter's case would have resulted in much more than the
+punishment of the man actually convicted; but by the press taking the
+matter up, the moment's indignation was deepened and intensified to a
+degree which well-nigh swept every cow-stable off the island, and drove
+the proper officials into an activity leading to great reforms.
+
+No one was more surprised than Peter, at the sudden notoriety, or at the
+far-reaching results. He collected the articles, and sent them to his
+mother. 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 every
+line of the case, and of the subsequent crusade. She read Peter's speech
+again and again, stopping to sob at intervals, and hugging the clipping
+to her bosom from time to time, as the best equivalent for Peter, while
+sobbing: "My boy, my darling boy." Every one in the mill-town knew of
+it, and the clippings were passed round among Peter's friends, beginning
+with the clergyman and ending with his school-boy companions. They all
+wondered 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 of
+hours." Mrs. Stirling herself wished it had been longer. Four columns of
+evidence, and only a little over a half column of speech! It couldn't
+have taken him twenty minutes at the most. "Even the other lawyer, who
+had nothing to say but lies, took over a column to his speech. And his
+was 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, on
+the part of the Metropolitan press. She had promptly subscribed for a
+year to the New York paper which glorified Peter the most, supposing
+that from this time on his name would appear on the front page. When she
+found it did not and that it was not mentioned in the press and Health
+Board crusade against the other "swill-milk" dealers, she became
+convinced that there was some definite attempt to rob Peter of his due
+fame. "Why, Peter began it all," she explained, "and now the papers and
+Health Board pretend it's all their doings." She wrote a letter to the
+editor of the paper--a letter which was passed round the office, and
+laughed 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 right
+evidence out of your witnesses, and not a bit of superfluous rubbish.
+That's the mistake most young men make. They bury their testimony in
+unessential details, I tell you, those two children were worth all the
+rest put together. Did you send them to the country on purpose to get
+that kind of evidence?"
+
+"No," said Peter.
+
+"Well, every man in that jury was probably a father, and that child's
+talk took right hold of them. Not but that your speech would have done
+the business. You were mighty clever in just telling what you saw, and
+not going into the testimony. You could safely trust the judge to do
+that. It was a great speech."
+
+"Thank you," said Peter.
+
+"He's not to be taffied," thought the lawyer. "Plain talking's the way
+to 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 any
+further. Mr. Bohlmann's a man of respectability, with a nice wife and
+some daughters. The newspapers are giving him quite enough music without
+your 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, and
+if you ask your clergyman--for I believe you go to Dr. Purple's
+church?--you'll find he's very charitable and generous with his money."
+
+Peter smiled curiously. "Distributing money made that way is not much of
+a charity."
+
+"He didn't know," said the lawyer. Then catching a look which came into
+Peter's face, he instantly added, "at least, he had no idea it was that
+bad. He tells me that he hadn't been inside those cow-sheds for four
+years."
+
+"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 how
+this whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling. It must be
+terrible 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 notice
+young girls--that for some reason they had not interested him
+since--since--
+
+"Where does he live?" inquired Peter.
+
+"Not ten blocks from here," replied Dr. Purple, and named the street and
+number.
+
+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 and
+carried 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 one
+of the "nice" daughters. His arrival checked the flow of conversation
+somewhat, but they went on comparing their summer experiences. When the
+butler came back and said aloud, "Mr. Bohlmann will see you in the
+library, Mr. Stirling," Peter noticed that both girls turned impulsively
+to look at him, and that the daughter flushed red.
+
+He found Mr. Bohlmann standing uneasily on the rug by the fireplace, and
+a 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 sitting
+himself.
+
+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 were
+tears 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 into
+tears. "I give you my word, Mr. Stirling," he said, "that I didn't know
+it was so. I haven't had a happy moment since you spoke that day in
+court." 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 face
+in his arms. His wife, who was also weeping, crossed to him, and tried
+to 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 a
+check-book, and filling up a check, handed it to Peter. It was dated and
+signed, but the amount was left blank. "There," he said, "I leave it to
+you what is right."
+
+"I think Mr. Dummer will feel we have not treated him fairly," said
+Peter, "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 my
+daughters--" 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 five
+thousand 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 you
+to fill in the check for eight thousand dollars. That will be two each
+for three, and one each for two."
+
+Mr. Bohlmann disengaged himself from his wife, and took his pen. "You do
+not add your fee," he said.
+
+"I forgot it," laughed Peter, and the couple laughed with him in their
+happiness. "Make it for eight thousand, two hundred and fifty."
+
+"Och," said the brewer once more resuming his English. "Dat is too
+leedle for vive cases."
+
+"No," said Peter. "It was what I had decided to charge in case I got any
+damages."
+
+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 a
+note by his morning's mail. Except for his mother's weekly letter, it
+was 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 came
+into 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 he
+tore the envelope with little interest in his face. Indeed after he had
+opened it, he looked at his wall for a moment before he fixed his mind
+on 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 hundred
+dollars. He laid it on his desk, and read the note over again. It was
+beyond question written by a lady. Every earmark showed that, from the
+delicate scent of the paper, to the fine, even handwriting. Peter wanted
+to know who she was. He looked at the check to see by whom it was
+signed; to find that it was drawn by the cashier of the bank at which it
+was payable.
+
+Half an hour later, a rapid walk had brought him to the bank the name of
+which was on the check. It was an uptown one, which made a specialty of
+family and women's accounts. Peter asked for the cashier.
+
+"I've called about this check," he said, when that official
+materialized, handing the slip of paper to him.
+
+"Yes," said the cashier kindly, though with a touch of the resigned
+sorrow in his voice which cashiers of "family's" and women's banks
+acquire. "You must sign your name on the back, on the left-hand end, and
+present it to the paying-teller, over at that window. You'll have to be
+identified if the paying-teller doesn't know you."
+
+"I don't want the money," said Peter, "I want to know who sent the check
+to me?"
+
+The cashier looked at it more carefully. "Oh!" he said. Then he looked
+up 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 to
+see 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 to
+see 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 the
+person 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 will
+not be cashed till Mr. Stirling has been able to explain something to
+her."
+
+"Certainly. She can't object to that."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"Not at all." The president rose and escorted him to the door. "That was
+a splendid speech of yours, Mr. Stirling," he added. "I'm not a bit
+ashamed 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 same
+handwriting 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 he
+was so cool over his intended call. In a few minutes he would be in the
+presence of a lady, the firmness of whose handwriting indicated that she
+was not yet decrepit. Three years ago such a prospect would have been
+replete with terror to him. Down to that--that week at the Pierce's, he
+had never gone to a place where he expected to "encounter" (for that was
+the word he formerly used) women without dread. Since that week--except
+for the twenty-four hours of the wedding, he had not "encountered" a
+lady. Yet here he was, going to meet an entire stranger without any
+conscious embarrassment or suffering. He was even in a sense curious.
+Peter was not given to self-analysis, but the change was too marked a
+one for him to be unconscious of it. Was it merely the poise of added
+years? Was it that he had ceased to care what women thought of him? Or
+was it that his discovery that a girl was lovable had made the sex less
+terrible 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 still
+shrouded in summer coverings, preventing Peter from inferring much, even
+if 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 an
+inference, the rustle of a woman's draperies was heard. Rising, Peter
+found himself facing a tall, rather slender woman of between thirty-five
+and forty. It did not need a second glance from even Peter's untrained
+eye, to realize the suggestion of breeding in the whole atmosphere about
+her. The gown was of the simplest summer material, but its very
+simplicity, and a certain lack of "latest fashion" rather than
+"old-fashionedness" gave it a quality of respectability. Every line of
+the 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 a
+low, mellow voice, by no means so common then as our women's imitation
+of the English tone and inflexion has since made it, "for suiting your
+time to mine on such short notice."
+
+"You were very kind," said Peter, "to comply with my request. Any time
+was 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. I
+thank you for both. But I think you probably sent me the latter through
+a 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 'poor
+young lawyer' as they said. My mother is comfortably off, and gives me
+an ample allowance."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And what is more," continued Peter, "while they were right in saying
+that I paid some of the expenses of the case, yet I was more than repaid
+by my fees in some civil suits I brought for the relatives of the
+children, which we settled very advantageously."
+
+"Won't you sit down, Mr. Stirling?" said Miss De Voe. "I should like to
+hear about the cases."
+
+Peter began a very simple narrative of the matter. But Miss De Voe
+interjected questions or suppositions here and there, which led to other
+explanations, and before Peter had finished, he had told not merely the
+history of the cases, but much else. His mention of the two Dooley
+children had brought out the fact of their visit to his mother, and this
+had explained incidentally her position in the world. The settlement of
+the cases involved the story of the visit to the brewer's home, and
+Peter, to justify his action, added his interview with his pastor,
+Peter's connection with the case compelled him to speak of his evenings
+in the "angle," and the solitary life that had sent him there.
+Afterwards, Peter was rather surprised at how much he had told. He did
+not realize that a woman with tact and experience can, without making it
+evident, lead a man to tell nearly anything and everything he knows, if
+she is so minded. If women ever really take to the bar seriously, may
+Providence protect the average being in trousers, when on the witness
+stand.
+
+As Peter talked, a clock struck. Stopping short, he rose. "I must ask
+your 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 see
+that I have made a very good thing out of the whole matter and do not
+need this."
+
+"One moment, Mr. Stirling," said the lady, still sitting. "Can you spare
+the time to lunch with me? We will sit down at once, and you shall be
+free to go whenever you wish."
+
+Peter hesitated. He knew that he had the time, and it did not seem easy
+to refuse without giving an excuse, which he did not have. Yet he did
+not feel that he had the right to accept an invitation which he had
+perhaps necessitated by his long call.
+
+"Thank you," said his hostess, before he had been able to frame an
+answer. "May I trouble you to pull that bell?"
+
+Peter pulled the bell, and coming back, tendered the check rather
+awkwardly 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 has
+really affected the circumstances which led me to send that check. You
+acknowledge yourself that you are the poorer for that prosecution, and
+received no fees for trying it. As I wrote you, I merely was giving a
+retaining fee in that case, and as none other has been given, I still
+wish to do it. I cannot do such things myself, but I am weal--I--I can
+well afford to aid others to do them, and I hope you will let me have
+the 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 I
+was 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 the
+one to say 'thank you,' and I am most grateful. But we will consider
+that as ended, and discuss luncheon in its place."
+
+Peter, despite his usual unconsciousness could not but notice the beauty
+of the table service. The meal itself was the simplest of summer
+luncheons, but the silver and china and glass were such as he had never
+seen before.
+
+"What wine will you have with your luncheon, Mr. Stirling?" he was asked
+by 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 is
+really no deprivation to me, while it would mean great anxiety to her if
+I drank."
+
+This started the conversation on Peter's mother and his early years, and
+before it had ended, his hostess had succeeded in learning much more
+about his origin and his New York life. The clock finally cut him short
+again, 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 other
+cause 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. I
+leave town to-morrow, Mr. Stirling, but return to the city late in
+October, and if your work and inclination favor it, I hope you will come
+to 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 me
+word that you wish to see me."
+
+Miss De Voe had slightly caught her breath while Peter hesitated. "I
+believe he is going to refuse!" she thought to herself, a sort of
+stunned amazement seizing her. She was scarcely less surprised at his
+reply.
+
+"I never ask a man twice to call on me, Mr. Stirling," she said, with a
+slight hauteur in her voice.
+
+"I'm sorry for that," said Peter quietly.
+
+Miss De Voe caught her breath again. "Good-afternoon," she said, holding
+out her hand. "I shall hope to see you."
+
+"Good-bye," said Peter, and the next moment was walking towards his
+office.
+
+Miss De Voe stood for a moment thinking. "That was curious," she
+thought, "I wonder if he intends to come?"
+
+The next evening she was dining with relatives in one of the fashionable
+summering 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 to
+be buried under a bathos of thanks, or else have my gift declined with
+the expectation that I would gush over the disinterestedness of the
+refusal. Since I couldn't well avoid seeing him, I was quite prepared to
+snub him, or to take back the money without a word. But he wasn't a bit
+that kind of creature. He isn't self-assured nor tonguey--rather the
+reverse. I liked him so, that I forced him to stay to luncheon, and made
+him tell me a good deal about himself, without his knowing I was doing
+so. He leads a very unusual life, without seeming conscious that he
+does, and he tells about it very well. Uses just the right word every
+time, so that you know exactly what he means, without taxing your own
+brain to fill up blanks. He has such a nice voice too. One that makes
+you 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 too
+heavy."
+
+"Is he a gentleman, cousin Anneke?" asked one of the party.
+
+"He is a little awkward, and over-blunt at moments, but nothing to which
+one would give a second thought. I was so pleased with him that I asked
+him 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 all
+sure that he means to come. It was really refreshing not to be truckled
+to, but it is rather startling to meet the first man who does not want
+to win his way to my visiting list. I don't think he even knows who Miss
+De Voe is."
+
+"He will find out quick enough," laughed a girl, "and then he will do
+what they all do."
+
+"No," said Miss De Voe. "I suspect it will make no difference. He isn't
+that kind, I think. I really am curious to see if I have to ask him a
+second time. It will be the only case I can remember. I'm afraid, my
+dears, your cousin is getting to be an old woman."
+
+Peter, had in truth, met, and spent over four hours in the company of a
+woman whom every one wished to know. A woman equally famous for her
+lineage, her social position, her wealth and her philanthropy. It would
+not have made any difference, probably, had he known it, though it might
+have increased his awkwardness a little. That he was not quite as
+unconscious as Miss De Voe seemed to think, is shown by a passage in a
+letter 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 of
+the cases, and told them of their good fortune. They each had a look at
+Bohlmann'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 the
+children."
+
+"That it does," said Mrs. Dooley, quite willing to deprive her husband
+of 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 put
+it in the savings bank. "Perhaps later we'll find something better."
+They all went around to a well-known institution on the Bowery, and
+Peter interviewed the cashier. It proved feasible to endorse over the
+check 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 the
+president, who had been called into the consultation.
+
+"Very well," said Peter. "I shall want some of it before long, but the
+rest will be very well off here." So a book was handed him, and the
+president shook him by the hand with all the warmth that eight thousand
+two hundred and fifty dollars of increased assets and four new
+depositors 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 spoken
+in connection with the half-price drinks for the Milligan wake, and as
+spokesman 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 not
+know Mr. Moriarty's name, never having had it given him, but he placed
+him instantly.
+
+"Thank you," said Peter, holding out his hand. Peter did not usually
+shake hands in meeting people, but he liked the man's face. It would
+never take a prize for beauty. The hair verged on a fiery red, the nose
+was a real sky-scraper and the upper lip was almost proboscidian in
+its length. But every one liked the face.
+
+"It's proud Oi'm bein' shakin' the hand av Misther Stirling," said the
+Irishman.
+
+"Sit down," said Peter.
+
+"My name's Moriarty, sir, Dinnis Moriarty, an' Oi keeps a saloon near
+Centre Street, beyant."
+
+"You were round here in the procession."
+
+"Oi was, sir. Shure, Oi'm not much at a speech, compared to the likes av
+yez, 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 Justice
+Gallagher 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 the
+caretaker really, the brewer having an assignment of the lease and a
+chattel mortgage on your fixtures and stock."
+
+"That's it," said Dennis. "It's mighty quick yez got at it. It's
+caretaker Oi am, an' a divil of a care it is. Shure, who wants to work
+seven 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's
+little 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 never
+let me sell anythin' else."
+
+"Then Edelhein is really the principal, and you are only put in to keep
+him 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 one
+sellin' his beer could help bein' fined!"
+
+"How is that?" said Peter, inferring that selling poor beer was a
+finable offence, yet ignorant of the statute.
+
+"Why yez see, sir, the b'ys don't like that beer--an' sensible they
+are--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's
+little Oi can do at the primary, an' so it's no pull Oi have in
+politics, to get the perlice an' the joodges to be easy wid me, like
+they are to the rest."
+
+Peter studied his blank wall a bit.
+
+"Shure, if it's good beer Oi had," continued Moriarty, "Oi'd be afther
+beatin' them all, for Oi was always popular wid the b'ys, on account of
+my 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' then
+Oi'd lose my influence at the primary."
+
+"What kind of beer does Mr. Bohlmann make?" asked Peter, somewhat
+irrelevantly.
+
+"Ah," said Moriarty, "that's the fine honest beer! There's never
+anythin' wrong wid his. An' he treats his keepers fair. Lets them do as
+they want about keepin' open Sundays, an' never squeezes a man when he's
+down 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 that
+clause 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 did
+not like either saloon-keepers or law-breakers, but this case seemed to
+him to have--to have--extenuating circumstances. His cogitations
+finally resulted in his going to Justice Gallagher's court. He found the
+judge rather curt.
+
+"He's been up here three times in as many months, and I intend to make
+an example of him."
+
+"But why is only he arrested, when every saloon keeper in the
+neighborhood does the same thing?"
+
+"Now, sir," said the judge, "don't waste any more of my time. What's the
+next case?"
+
+A look we have mentioned once or twice came into Peter's face. He
+started to leave the court, but encountered at the door one of the
+policemen whom he was "friends with," according to the children, which
+meant 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 had
+orders."
+
+"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 has
+the 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. Then
+he 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 to
+remit Dennis Moriarty's fine?"
+
+"Will I? No. I will not. Der's too many saloons, and one less will be
+bully."
+
+"In that case," said Peter quietly, "I suppose you won't mind my closing
+yours 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 his
+shoulders 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 fight
+on 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 telling
+him the result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made the
+other 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 between
+the 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 turn
+for 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 told
+him the story, asking his advice at the end.
+
+"Dondt you vool von minute mit dod Edelheim. I dells you vot I do. I
+harf choost a blace vacant down in Zender Streed, and your frient he
+shall it haf."
+
+So they chatted till all the details had been arranged. Dennis was to go
+in as caretaker, bound to use only Bohlmann's beer, with a percentage on
+that, and the profits on all else. He was to pay the rent, receiving a
+sub-lease from Bohlmann, who was only a lesee himself, and to give a
+chattel mortgage on the stock supplied him. Finally he was to have the
+right of redemption of stock, lease, and good-will at any time within
+five years, on making certain payments.
+
+"You draw up der babers, Misder Stirling, and send der bill to me. Ve
+vill give der yoonger a chance," the brewer said.
+
+When Dennis called the next day, he was "spacheless" at the new
+developments. He wrung Peter's hand.
+
+"Arrah, what can Oi say to yez?" he exclaimed finally. Then having found
+something, he quickly continued: "Now, Patsy Blunkers, lookout for
+yezself. 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 "celebrate
+the 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's
+myself can do the hittin', an' the b'ys know it."
+
+"My mother brought me up," Peter explained, "not to go into saloons, and
+when I came to New York I promised her, if I ever did anything she had
+taught me not to, that I would write her about it. She would hardly
+understand this visit, and it might make her very unhappy."
+
+Peter earned fifty dollars by drawing the papers, and at the end of the
+first 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, having
+recouped 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. The
+winter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadily
+growing acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July a
+new 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, with
+his 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 the
+primary?"
+
+"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 enormous
+proportions, "Oi suppose yez afther thinkin' Oi'm a dirty black
+Republican."
+
+Peter laughed, as few could help doing, when Dennis led the way. "Look
+here, Dennis," he said, "don't you run down that party. My father was a
+Democrat, but he voted for Lincoln, and fought for the blacks when the
+time came, and though I'm a Democrat like him, the Republicans are only
+black in their sympathies, and not in their acts."
+
+"An' what do yez say to the whisky frauds, an' black Friday, an' credit
+mobilier?" 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. Yet
+he's an honest man."
+
+Dennis scratched his head. "It's a convincin' way yez have wid yez," he
+said; "but it's scoundrels the Republicans are, all the same. Look at
+them in the district; there's not one a decent man would invite to drink
+wid him."
+
+"I think, Dennis," said Peter, "that when all the decent men get into
+one party, there'll be only one worth talking about."
+
+"Av course," replied Dennis. "That's the reason there's only the
+Democratic party in New York City."
+
+"Tell me about this primary," said Peter, concluding that abstract
+political philosophy was not the way to liberalize Dennis.
+
+"It's most important, it is," he was told, "it's on top Patsy Blunkers
+an' his gang av dirty spalpeens (Dennis seemed to forget that he had
+just expressed the opinion that all the "decent" men were Democrats)
+have been this two years, but we've got orders for a new enrollment at
+last, an' if we don't knock them this time, my name isn't Dinnis
+Moriarty."
+
+"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 so
+excited, sir, that it's twice Oi've had to pound the b'ys a bit in my
+saloon to keep the peace."
+
+"What do you want of me?"
+
+"Shure, every vote counts on a night like this. An' ye'd be afther
+helpin' us big, for the district likes yez."
+
+"But, Dennis, I can't vote without knowing something about the way
+things 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, are
+never nominated here. It's real things we're afther votin' for in New
+York."
+
+Peter laughed. "I've got to take you in hand, Dennis, and you've got to
+take me in hand. I think we both need each other's help. Yes, I'll come
+to the primary. Will they let me vote?"
+
+"The dirty spalpeens will never dare to stop yez! Thank yez, sir. Oi'll
+be 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 well
+packed with men, and the interstices already filled in with dense
+tobacco smoke. He looked about him curiously, and was surprised to find
+how many of the faces he knew. Blackett, Dooley, and Milligan were
+there, and shook hands with him warmly. Judge Gallagher and Blunkers
+were 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 in
+the case, and one of the jurymen in it, likewise were visible. Also many
+faces which were familiar to Peter by a former occasional friendly word
+or nod exchanged in passing. Intense excitement evidently reigned, and
+every one was whispering in a sort of breathless way, which showed how
+deeply interested they were.
+
+At Dennis's suggestion, made in walking to the room, Peter presented
+himself without guidance, at the desk. Some one behind him asked if he
+lived in the ward, and for how long, but this was the only apparent
+opposition made to the prompt entering of his name. Then Peter strolled
+round and talked to those whom he knew, and tried to find out, without
+much success, just what was the division. Every one knew that a fight
+was on, but in just what it consisted they seemed neither to know nor
+care.
+
+He noticed that hot words were constantly exchanged at the enrolling
+desk, over would-be members, but not understanding the exact nature of
+the qualifications needed, he could not follow the disputes. Finally
+these ceased, for want of applicants.
+
+"Misther Stirling," said Dennis, coming up to him hurriedly. "Will yez
+be 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, the
+enrolling officer rose and spoke.
+
+"Are there any more to be enrolled?" he called. No one came forward, so
+after a moment he said: "Will the meeting choose a presiding officer?"
+
+"Mr. Chairman," rang two voices so quickly that they in truth cut the
+presiding officer off in his suggestion.
+
+"Mr. Muldoon," said that officer.
+
+"Oi spoke first," shouted Dennis, and Peter felt that he had, and that
+he was not having fair play.
+
+Instantly a wave of protest, denials, charges, and counter-charges swept
+through the room, Peter thought there was going to be a fight, but the
+position was too critical to waste a moment on what Dennis styled "a
+diversion." It was business, not pleasure, just then.
+
+"Mr. Muldoon," said the officer again, not heeding the tempest in the
+least.
+
+"Mr. Chairman," shouted Muldoon, "I am proud to nominate Justice
+Gallagher, the pride of the bar, for chairman of this distinguished
+meeting, 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 this
+meetin' 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 the
+intelligince an' manhood av this meetin' that it will be that way for
+shure."
+
+Peter saw a hurried consultation going on between Gallagher, Muldoon,
+and two others, during the latter part of this speech, and barely had
+Dennis 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 justly
+merits the honor of presiding on this important occasion. From recent
+events too well known to need mention, I am sure we can all look to him
+for justice and fairness."
+
+"Bad cess to him!" groaned Dennis. "Oi hoped they'd be just fools enough
+to oppose yez, an' then we'd have won the first blood."
+
+Peter was chosen without dissent, and was escorted to the seat behind
+the 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," he
+was told.
+
+Peter had presided at college in debates, and was not flurried. "Will
+you stay here so as to give me the names of those I don't know?" he said
+to the enrolling officer. "The meeting will please come to order," he
+continued aloud. "The nomination of delegates to the State convention is
+the business to be acted upon."
+
+"Misther Chairman," yelled Dennis, evidently expecting to find another
+rival as before. But no one spoke.
+
+"Mr. Moriarty," said Peter.
+
+"Misther Chairman. It's my delight to nominate as delegates to the State
+convention, the Honorable Misther Schlurger, our distinguished
+representative in the Assembly, the Honorable Misther Kennedy, our noble
+Police-commissioner, an' Misther Caggs, whom it would be insult for me
+to 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 from
+such a source."
+
+"What?" shrieked Dennis, amazement and rage contesting for first place
+in voice and expression.
+
+"Mr. Chairman," said Dummer.
+
+"Mr. Dummer," said Peter.
+
+"I have the honor to nominate the Honorable Justice Gallagher, Mr. Peter
+Sweeney, and Mr. Caggs, to whom Mr. Moriarty has just paid so glowing a
+tribute, as delegates to the State convention."
+
+"Second the--" shouted some one, but the rest was drowned by another
+storm which swept through the room. Even above the tumult, Peter could
+hear Dennis challenging and beseeching Mr. Caggs to come "outside an'
+settle it like gentlemen." Caggs, from a secure retreat behind
+Blunkers'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' to
+speak av dirty, cowardly, black-hearted, treacherous snakes, wid souls
+blacker than the divil's own--"
+
+"Order!" said Peter to the crowd.
+
+"No," continued Dennis, in answer to the audible remarks of the
+opposition. "It's no names Oi'm callin'. If yez know such a beast, such
+a 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' wid
+discribin' the conduct av a beast so vile that he must be the contempt
+av every honest man. Who would have been driven out by St. Patrick, wid
+the rest av the reptiles, if he'd lived at that time. Oi only rise to
+widdraw the name av Caggs from the list Oi nominated for delegates to
+the state convention, an' to put in place av it that av a man who is as
+noble an' true, as some are false an' divilish. That of Misther Peter
+Stirling, God bless him!"
+
+Once more chaos came. Peter pounded in vain. Both sides were at fever
+heat. Finally Peter rose.
+
+"Gentlemen," he shouted, in a voice that rang through the hall above
+even the tumult, "if this meeting does not come to order, I shall
+declare it adjourned."
+
+Instant quiet fell, for all had paused a moment to hear his words, and
+they 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 to
+make?"
+
+A man next Justice Gallagher said, "Mr. Chairman," and being duly
+recognized, proceeded to talk for ten minutes in a very useless way. But
+during this time, Peter noticed first a good deal of whispering among
+Blunkers's friends, and then an interview between Gallagher and Dennis.
+The latter was apparently not reconcilable, and shook his head in a way
+that 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 orator
+was "called down" and it was voted to proceed to an election. Peter
+named one of the firemen, Dooley, and Blunkers, tellers, who, after a
+ballot, announced that Dennis had carried his nominations, Peter heading
+the list with two hundred and twelve votes, and the others getting one
+hundred 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 the
+election had been read, and slipped away in the turmoil that immediately
+followed, without a word to any one. He was in truth not
+bewildered--because he had too much natural poise and phlegm--but he was
+surprised by the suddenness of it all, and wanted to think before
+talking with others. So he took advantage of the mutual bickerings and
+recriminations which seemed the order of the day, to get back to his
+office, and there he sat, studying his wall for a time. Then he went to
+bed, and slept as quickly and as calmly as if he had spent his evening
+in reading the "Modern Cottage Architecture" or "Questions de
+Sociologie," which were on his table instead of presiding at a red-hot
+primary, 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 of
+grins, "let me salute the delegate to the State convention."
+
+"Look here, Dennis," said Peter, "you know you had no business to spring
+that on me."
+
+"Ah, sir! Shure, when that dirty little spalpeen av a Caggs went back on
+us so, what could Oi do? Oi know it's speak to yez Oi ought, but wid de
+room 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 been
+chosen, 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's
+a fight like that makes them yieldin' an' friendly. Nothin' but a little
+head-punchin' could make them in a sweeter mood, an' we'd a given them
+that 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 feels
+bad 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's
+seldom that they're not just as friendly the next day."
+
+Peter looked at his wall. He had not liked Gallagher at either time he
+had met him. "Still," he thought to himself, "I have no right to prevent
+him 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 was
+tellin' me himself that he was a poor kind av creature, wid a strong
+objection to saloons."
+
+Peter's eye lost its last suggestion of doubt. "Oh, Justice Gallagher
+told 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 own
+way."
+
+"Shure, sir, Oi'd not have yez do any thin' else. It's yezself knows
+better than me. Oi was only tellin' yez what the Justice--"
+
+A knock at the door interrupted him. It proved to be Gallagher, who
+greeted them both in a hearty, friendly way. Peter brought another chair
+from his bedroom.
+
+"Well, Mr. Stirling, that was a fine contest we had last night," said
+his honor.
+
+"It seemed to be earnest," said Peter.
+
+"It's just as well our friend here sprang your nomination on us as a
+surprise, for if we had known, we should not have put up an opposition
+candidate. You are just the sort of a man we want to represent us in the
+convention."
+
+"I have never met my colleagues," said Peter. "What kind of men are
+they?"
+
+So he got Gallagher's opinion, and Dennis's opinion. Then he wanted to
+know about the candidates, asking questions about them at considerable
+length. The intentions of the other city delegates were next introduced.
+Finally the probable planks of the platform were brought up. While they
+were still under discussion Gallagher said the sitting of his court
+compelled 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 nothing
+but 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 solid
+delegation!"
+
+"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 to
+offend. We all thought he would win."
+
+"Oh, let them have their fights," said the man crossly; "but it's your
+business to see that the right men are put up, so that it doesn't make
+any 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 this
+Stirling, and made out a strong case for Catlin, without seeming to care
+which 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 that
+case and by being friendly to people. I don't think, if he's going into
+politics, 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 one
+experience with him, which showed me that any man who picked him up for
+a fool would drop him quick." Then he told how Dennis's fine had been
+remitted.
+
+In the next few weeks Peter met a good many men who wanted to talk
+politics with him. Gallagher brought some; Dennis others; his
+fellow-ward delegates, more. But Peter could not be induced to commit
+himself. He would talk candidates and principles endlessly, but without
+expressing his own mind. Twice he was asked point blank, "Who's your
+man?" but he promptly answered that he had not yet decided. He had
+always read a Democratic paper, but now he read two, and a Republican
+organ as well. His other reading lessened markedly, and the time gained
+was spent in talking with men in the "district." He even went into the
+saloons and listened to the discussions.
+
+"I don't drink," he had to explain several times, "because my mother
+doesn't like it." For some reason this explanation seemed to be
+perfectly satisfactory. One man alone sneered at him. "Does she feed yer
+still on milk, sonny?" he asked. "No," said Peter, "but everything I
+have comes from her, and that's the kind of a mother a fellow wants to
+please; don't you think so?" The sneerer hesitated, and finally said he
+"guessed it was." So Peter was made one of them, and smoked and
+listened. 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 had
+argued over something, they often looked at Peter, rather than at their
+opponents, 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 makes
+them feel that he's just the likes av them, an' that he wants their
+minds an' opinions to help him. Shure, they'd rather smoke one pipe av
+his tobaccy than drink ten times at Gallagher's expense."
+
+After Peter had listened carefully and lengthily, he wrote to "The
+Honorable Lemuel Porter, Hudson, N.Y.," asking him if he could give him
+an hour's talk some day. The reply was prompt, and told Peter that
+Porter would be glad to see him any time that should suit his
+convenience. So Peter took a day off and ran up to Hudson.
+
+"I am trying to find out for whom I should vote," he explained to
+Porter. "I'm a new man at this sort of thing, and, not having met any of
+the men talked of, I preferred to see them before going to the
+convention."
+
+Porter found that Peter had taken the trouble to go over a back file of
+papers, and read some of his speeches.
+
+"Of course," Peter explained, "I want, as far as possible, to know what
+you think of questions likely to be matters for legislation."
+
+"The difficulty in doing that, Mr. Stirling," he was told, "is that
+every nominee is bound to surrender his opinions in a certain degree to
+the party platform, while other opinions have to be modified to new
+conditions."
+
+"I can see that," said Peter. "I do not for a moment expect that what
+you say to-day is in any sense a pledge. If a man's honest, the poorest
+thing we can do to him is to tie him fast to one course of action, when
+the conditions are constantly changing. But, of course, you have
+opinions for the present state of things?"
+
+Something in Peter's explanation or face pleased Mr. Porter. He demurred
+no more, and, for an hour before lunch, and during that meal, he talked
+with the utmost freedom.
+
+"I'm not easily fooled on men," he told his secretary afterwards, "and
+you can say what you wish to that Stirling without danger of its being
+used unfairly or to injure one. And he's the kind of man to be won by
+square dealing."
+
+Peter had spoken of his own district "I think," he said, "that some good
+can be done in the way of non-partisan legislation. I've been studying
+the food supplies of the city, and, if I can, I shall try to get a bill
+introduced this winter to have official inspections systematized."
+
+"That will receive my approval if it is properly drawn. But you'll
+probably find the Health Board fighting you. It's a nest of
+politicians."
+
+"If they won't yield, I shall have to antagonize them, but I have had
+some 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 the
+drafting, for they can make it much better through their practical
+experience."
+
+"If you do that, the opposition ought not to be troublesome. What else
+do you want?"
+
+"I've been thinking of a general Tenement-house bill, but I don't think
+I shall try for that this winter. It's a big subject, which needs very
+careful study, in which a lot of harm may be done by ignorance. There's
+no doubt that anything which hurts the landlord, hurts the tenant, and
+if you make the former spend money, the tenant pays for it in the long
+run. Yet health must be protected. I shall try to find out what can be
+done."
+
+"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 I
+shall hope to work in politics in the future."
+
+Peter took another day off, and spent a few minutes of it with the other
+most promising candidate. He did not see very much of him, for they were
+interrupted by another caller, and Peter had to leave before he could
+have a chance to continue the interview.
+
+"I had a call to-day from that fellow Stirling, who's a delegate from
+the sixth ward," the candidate told a "visiting statesman" later. "I'm
+afraid he'll give us trouble. He asks too many questions. Fortunately
+Dewilliger came to see me, and though I shouldn't have seen him
+ordinarily, I found his call very opportune as a means of putting an end
+to Stirling's cross-examination."
+
+"He's the one doubtful man on the city's delegation," said the
+statesman. "It happened through a mistake. It will be very unfortunate
+if we can't cast a solid city vote."
+
+Peter talked more in the next few days. He gave the "b'ys" his
+impressions of the two candidates, in a way which made them trust his
+conclusions. He saw his two fellow delegates, and argued long and
+earnestly with them. He went to every saloon-keeper in the district, and
+discussed the change in the liquor law which was likely to be a
+prominent issue in the campaign, telling them what he had been able to
+draw from both candidates about the subject.
+
+"Catlin seems to promise you the most," he told them, "and I don't want
+to say he isn't trying to help you. But if you get the law passed which
+he 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 it
+will tempt people to go into the business, so that it will cut your
+profits that way. Then, you may stir up a big public sentiment against
+you in the next election, and so lay yourselves open to unfriendly
+legislation. It is success, or trying to get too much, which has beaten
+every party, sooner or later, in this country. Look at slavery. If the
+Southerners had left things as they were under the Missouri Compromise,
+they never would have stirred up the popular outbreak that destroyed
+slavery. Now, Porter is said to be unfriendly to you, because he wants a
+bill to limit the number of licenses, and to increase the fee to new
+saloons. Don't you see that is all in your favor, though apparently
+against you? In the first place, you are established, and the law will
+be drawn so as to give the old dealer precedence over a new one in
+granting fresh licenses. This limit will really give the established
+saloon more trade in the future, by reducing competition. While the
+increase 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 he
+were stating a fact than reproving.
+
+Blunkers laughed good-naturedly. "Yer'll be gittin' usen to close up
+yet, Mister Stirling. Yer too good for us."
+
+Peter looked at him. "Blunkers," he said warmly, "no man is too good not
+to tell the truth to any one whom he thinks it will help."
+
+"Shake," said Blunkers. Then he turned to the men at the tables. "Step
+up, boys," he called. "I sets it up dis time to drink der health of der
+feller 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, became
+current.
+
+"What's this I hear?" said Gallagher's former interviewer to that
+gentleman. "They say Schlurger says he intends to vote for Porter, and
+Kennedy'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 delegates
+pledge themselves to vote for Porter. He said they must go unbound."
+
+The interviewer's next remark is best represented by several "blank
+its," no allusion however being intended to bed-coverings. Then he cited
+the lower regions to know what it all meant.
+
+"It means that that chap Stirling has got to be fixed, and fixed big. I
+thought I knew how to wire pull, and manage men, but he's taken hold and
+just runs it as he wants. It's he makes all the trouble."
+
+The interviewer left the court, and five minutes later was in Stirling's
+office.
+
+"My name's Green," he said. "I'm a delegate to the convention, and one
+of the committee who has the arranging of the special train and
+accommodations at Saratoga."
+
+"I'm glad you came in," said Peter. "I bought my ticket yesterday, and
+the man at headquarters said he'd see that I was assigned a room at the
+United States."
+
+"There'll be no trouble about the arrangements. What I want to see you
+for, is to ask if you won't dine with me this evening? There's to be
+several of the delegates and some big men there, to talk over the
+situation."
+
+"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 two
+interviews. "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 that
+all the guests were well-known party men, whose names and opinions were
+matters of daily notice in the papers. What was more, they talked
+convention affairs, and Peter learned in the two hours' general
+conversation 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 between
+the city and country members, and that this divided interest played a
+part in nearly every measure. "Now," said one of the best known men at
+the 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 well
+he intends by us, he can't do more than agree to such bills as we can
+get passed. But Catlin has the Monroe members of the legislature under
+his thumb, and his brother-in-law runs Onandaga. He promises they shall
+vote for all we want. With that aid, we can carry what New York City
+needs, in spite of the country members."
+
+"Would the country members refuse to vote for really good and needed
+city 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 this
+country in their hands, and threaten or throttle those interests every
+time anything is wanted."
+
+"And when it comes to taxation," added another, "the country members are
+always giving the cities the big end to carry."
+
+"I had a talk with Catlin," said Peter. "It seemed to me that he wasn't
+the right kind of man."
+
+"Catlin's a timid man, who never likes to commit himself. That's because
+he always wants to do what his backers tell him. Of course when a man
+does that, he hasn't decided views of his own, and naturally doesn't
+wish 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 a
+man who was able to do what the majority wants every time, we could
+re-elect him for the next fifty years. You must remember that in this
+country we elect a man to do what we want--not to do what he wants
+himself."
+
+"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 the
+people want than the man who sits in the governor's room, with a
+doorkeeper 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 this
+is very unusual, because it's risky. Remember, we can only do things
+when our party is in power, so it is our interest to do what will please
+the people, if we are to command majorities and remain in office.
+Individually we have got to do what the majority of our party wants
+done, or we are thrown out, and new men take our places. And it's just
+the same way with the parties."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I understand the condition better, and can see what
+I could not fathom before, why the city delegates want Catlin. But my
+own ward has come out strong for Porter. We've come to the conclusion
+that 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 and
+tenement legislation we want."
+
+"I know about that change, and want to say, Mr. Stirling, that few men
+of 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 not
+have yet considered. Any proposed restriction on the license will not
+merely scare a lot of saloon-keepers, who will only understand that it
+sounds unfriendly, but it will alienate every brewer and distiller, for
+their interest is to see saloons multiplied. Then food and tenement
+legislation always stirs up bad feeling in the dealers and owners. If
+the opposite party would play fair, we could afford to laugh at it, but
+you see the party out of power can oppose about anything, knowing that a
+minority is never held responsible, and so by winning over the
+malcontents which every piece of legislation is sure to make, before
+long it goes to the polls with a majority, though it has really been
+opposing the best interests of the whole state. We can't sit still, and
+do nothing, yet everything we do will alienate some interest."
+
+"It's as bad as the doctrine of fore-ordination," laughed another of the
+party:
+
+    "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 the
+majority wants done every time, would be re-elected. Doesn't it hold
+true as to a party?"
+
+"No. A party is seldom retained in power for such reasons. If it has a
+long tenure of office it is generally due to popular distrust of the
+other party. The natural tendency otherwise is to make office-holding a
+sort of see-saw. Let alone change of opinion in older men, there are
+enough new voters every four years to reverse majorities in almost every
+state. Of course these young men care little for what either party has
+done in the past, and being young and ardent, they want to change
+things. The minority's ready to please them, naturally. Reform they
+call it, but it's quite as often 'Deform' when they've done it."
+
+Peter smiled and said, "Then you think my views on license, and
+food-inspection, and tenement-house regulation are 'Deformities'?"
+
+"We won't say that, but a good many older and shrewder heads have worked
+over those questions, and while I don't know what you hope to do, you'll
+not 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 must
+try 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 are
+all 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 not
+been twenty and thirty years in this business for nothing."
+
+"I think you know how to run a party--but poisoned milk was peddled in
+my ward. I went to law to punish the men who sold it. Now I'm going into
+politics to try and get laws and administration which will prevent such
+evils. I've told my district what I want. I think it will support me. I
+know 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 so
+by majorities. I want you to give this city such a government that
+you'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 it
+would make clear the object of my particular endeavors. I want to have
+the Health Board help me to draft a food-inspection bill, and I want the
+legislature to pass it, without letting it be torn to pieces for the
+benefit of special interests. I don't mind fair amendments, but they
+must 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 tell
+my ward that you have done them a great service."
+
+Two of the men moved uneasily in their seats, as if not comfortable, and
+a 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." Peter
+spoke in the same tone of voice, and still looked Mr. Costell in the
+face.
+
+"And if we don't do either?"
+
+"What I shall do then will depend on whether you refuse for a good
+reason or for none. In either case I shall tell them the facts."
+
+"This is damned----" began one of the dinner-party, but the lifting of
+Mr. Costell's hand stopped the speech there.
+
+"Mr. Stirling," said Mr. Costell, rising as he spoke, "I hope when you
+come to think it over, that you will vote with us for Catlin. But
+whether you do or not, we want you to work with us. We can help you, and
+you can help us. When you are ready to begin on your bills, come and see
+me."
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. "That is just what I want." He said good-night
+to 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 with
+him 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 trial
+which 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 certain
+deep smile that was almost habitual with him, and which no one had ever
+yet been able to read. "No," he said slowly. "You might beat him, but he
+isn't the kind that stays beat. I'll agree to outwit any man in
+politics, except the man who knows how to fight and to tell the people
+the truth. I've never yet seen a man beaten in the long run who can do
+both those, unless he chose to think himself beaten. Gentlemen, that
+Stirling is a fighter and a truth-teller, and you can't beat him in his
+ward. There's no use having him against us, so it's our business to see
+that we have him with us. We may not be able to get him into line this
+time, but we must do it in the long run. For he's not the kind that lets
+go. He's beaten Nelson, and he's beaten Gallagher, both of whom are old
+hands. Mark my words, in five years he'll run the sixth ward. Drop all
+talk of fighting him. He is in politics to stay, and we must make it
+worth 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 he
+had gone through his papers, and drunk his coffee the next morning, he
+went back to wall-gazing again. He was working over two conundrums not
+very 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 than
+the 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 it
+was easy to take the right one, but he had not then discovered that it
+is often difficult to know which is the right, in order to follow it. He
+had started in to punish Bohlmann, and had compromised. He had
+disapproved of Dennis breaking the law, and had compromised his
+disapproval. He had said he should not go into saloons, and had ended by
+going. Now he was confronted with the problem whether the interests of
+his ward would be better served by the nomination of a man of good
+record, whom Peter personally liked, or by that of a colorless man, who
+would be ruled by the city's leaders. In the one case Peter feared no
+support for his measures from his own party. In the other case he saw
+aid 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 is
+much 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," both
+surrounding and filling the special train which was to carry New York's
+contribution to the collected party wisdom, about to concentrate at
+Saratoga.
+
+Peter felt like a stranger in the crowd, but on mingling in it he
+quickly found himself a marked man. He was seized upon by one of the
+diners of the evening before, and soon found himself forming part of a
+group, which constantly changed its components, but continued to talk
+convention affairs steadily. Nor did the starting of the train, with
+cheers, brass bands, flags, and other enthusing elements, make more than
+a temporary break. From the time the special started, till it rolled
+into Saratoga, six hours later, there was one long series of political
+debates and confabs. Peter listened much, and learned much, for the talk
+was very straight and plain. He had chats with Costell and Green. His
+two fellow-delegates from "de sixt" sought him and discussed intentions.
+He liked Schlurger, a simple, guileless German, who wanted only to do
+what 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's
+talk about the "best man," and about "helping the ward," and had only
+found that Peter's ideas had value after he had been visited by various
+of the saloon-keepers, seen the vast torchlight meeting, and heard the
+cheers at Peter's arguments. Still, Peter was by no means sure that
+Kennedy was not a square man, and concluded he was right in not
+condemning him, when, passing through one of the cars, he overheard the
+following:
+
+"What kind of man is that Stirling, who's raised such ---- in the
+sixth?"
+
+"I don't know him, but Kennedy told me, before he'd swung round, that he
+was a darned good sort of a cuss."
+
+This was flattery, Peter understood, however questionable the form might
+seem, and he was pleased. Very few of us do not enjoy a real compliment.
+What makes a compliment uncomfortable is either a suspicion that the
+maker 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 night
+before had robbed him. But scarcely had the colored gentleman bowed
+himself out, after the usual "can I git de gentleman a pitcher of ice
+water" (which translated means: "has de gentleman any superfluous
+change?") when a knock came at the door. Peter opened it, to find a man
+outside.
+
+"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 and
+overcoat 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 New
+York is otherwise a unit in opposing us."
+
+"No," said Peter. "My fellow-delegates from the sixth, Schlurger and
+Kennedy, 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 they
+have 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 had
+put into it. He gave a quick look at Peter's face, as if to try and find
+from it what lay behind the words. He hesitated, as if divided in mind
+over two courses of action. Finally he said:
+
+"I needn't tell you that this opposition of practically the whole of the
+New York City delegation, is the most serious set-back to Porter's
+chance. Now, we have talked it over, and it seemed to us that it would
+be 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 delegate
+have to make a speech in his favor?"
+
+"Yes. But I can give you the material to-night. Or if you prefer, we'll
+give 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 shall
+vote, and of course such an act is binding."
+
+Mr. Maguire's countenance changed again. "I'm sorry to hear that. I
+hoped 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 the
+armholes of his waistcoat. He thought he had fathomed Peter, and felt
+that the rest was plain sailing. "This is not a chap to be tolled. I'll
+give him the gaff at once," was his mental conclusion. Then he asked
+aloud:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+It was a question susceptible of many different constructions, but as
+Mr. Maguire asked it, it seemed to him to have but one, and that not
+very honest. Peter hesitated. The temptation was strong to lead the
+Senator 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 the
+managers on Porter's side would stoop to buy his support by some
+bargain. As Peter hesitated, weighing the pros and cons, Maguire spoke
+again.
+
+"What does the other side offer you?"
+
+Peter spoke quickly. "They haven't offered me anything, but advice. That
+is, 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 he
+hadn't spoken so quickly, I should have shown my hand before the call. I
+wonder if he got any inkling?" He never dreamed that Peter had spoken
+quickly to save that very disclosure.
+
+"I needn't say, Mr. Stirling, that if you can see your way to nominate
+Porter, we shall not forget it. Nor will he. He isn't the kind of man
+who forgets his friends. Many a man in to-morrow's convention would give
+anything for the privilege we offer you."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I realize the honor offered me, but I don't see my
+way to take it. It will please me better to see him nominated by some
+one who has really stood close to him, than to gain his favor by doing
+it myself."
+
+"Think twice, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"If you would rather, I will not give you my answer till to-morrow
+morning?"
+
+"I would," said Maguire rising, "Try and make it favorable. It's a great
+chance 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 on
+second 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, and
+how much Porter? Ought I, for the sake of doing my best for my ward, to
+have let him go on? Has an agent any right to refuse what will help is
+client, 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?" he
+asked.
+
+"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." Costell
+sat down on the window-ledge by Peter.
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. "I like a cigar, but it must be a good one, and
+that kind I can't afford." He lit the cigar, and leaned back to
+luxuriate in it.
+
+"You'll like that, I'm sure. Pretty sight, isn't it?" Costell pointed to
+the 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 than
+this."
+
+"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," he
+continued, as soon as he had decided that plain speaking was fair to
+Maguire.
+
+"We shall be very sorry to see you do it."
+
+"I don't think I shall. They only want me because it would give the
+impression that Porter has a city backing, and to try to give that
+amounts 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 he
+rubbed out the light, and left the room. At the office, he learned the
+number of Kennedy's room, and went to it. On knocking, the door was
+opened 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 attempt
+being made to get a city delegate to nominate Porter. It seems to me
+that is his particular friends' business."
+
+Maguire spoke so quickly that Kennedy had no chance to reply: "Kennedy's
+promised 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?" Peter
+queried 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 fear
+of 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 kind
+of a man that cries off from a promise. That's women's work."
+
+"No," said Kennedy stiffening suddenly in backbone, as he saw the outlet
+opened by Maguire, between antagonizing Peter, and retracting his
+consent. "I don't play baby. Not me."
+
+Peter stood thinking for a longer time than the others found
+comfortable. Maguire whistled to prove that he was quite at ease, but he
+would not have whistled if he had been.
+
+"I think, Mr. Kennedy, that I'll save you from the difficulty by
+nominating 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 any
+bibliography. 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 usual
+kind, 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 nominates
+Porter."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"I don't see," said Peter, "why I need say it. You know it as well as I
+do."
+
+"I know of many reasons why you should do it."
+
+"No," said Peter. "There's only one, and that has been created in the
+last ten minutes. Mr. Maguire, if you insist on the sixth ward
+nominating 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 a
+fraud, if I can help it."
+
+Kennedy had been combining things spiritual and aqueous at his
+wash-stand. But his interest in the blending seemed suddenly to cease.
+Maguire, too, took his thumbs from their havens of rest, and looked
+dissatisfied.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Stirling," he said, "it's much simpler to leave it to
+Kennedy. You think you're doing what's right, but you'll only do harm to
+us, and to yourself. If you nominate Porter, the city gang won't forgive
+you, 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 to
+do it."
+
+Maguire laughed rather a forced laugh. "I suppose we've got to satisfy
+you. 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 and
+water with us?"
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. "Mr. Costell's in my room and he must be tired
+of 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 under
+Costell's orders."
+
+"But why should he give it away to us?"
+
+"How the ---- should I know? Look here, Kennedy, you must do it, after
+all."
+
+"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 you
+can ---- your ward."
+
+"I'll do it."
+
+"That's the talk."
+
+They sat and discussed plans and whisky for nearly an hour. Then Maguire
+said good-night.
+
+"You shall have the speech the first thing in the morning," he said at
+parting. Then as he walked down the long corridor, he muttered, "Now
+then, 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 be
+nominated 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 other
+men. I don't want you to suppose we are not conscious of it. I think
+you've done us a great service to-night, although it might have been
+very profitable to you if you had done otherwise. I don't think that
+you'll lose by it in the long run, but I'm going to thank you now, for
+myself. Good-night."
+
+Peter had a good night. Perhaps it was only because he was sleepy, but a
+pleasant speech is not a bad night-cap. At least it is better than a
+mental question-mark as to whether one has done wrong. Peter did not
+know how it was coming out, but he thought he had done right, and need
+not 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 the
+next morning, and had tramped his eight miles through and around
+Saratoga, before the place gave many evidences of life. He ended his
+tramp at the Congress spring, and tasted the famous water, with
+exceeding disgust at the result. As he set down his half-finished
+tumbler, and turned to leave, he found Miss De Voe at his elbow, about
+to 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 on
+that."
+
+"Surely you are not a Democrat?" said Miss De Voe, a shade of horror
+showing itself in her face, in spite of her good breeding. In those days
+it was not, to put it mildly, a guarantee of respectability to belong to
+that party, and Miss De Voe had the strong prejudices of her social
+station, all the more because she was absolutely ignorant of political
+events.
+
+Peter said he was.
+
+"How can you be? When a man can ally himself with the best, why should
+he choose the worst?"
+
+"I think," said Peter quietly, "that a Pharisee said the same thing, in
+different words, many hundred years ago."
+
+Miss De Voe caught her breath and flushed. She also became suddenly
+conscious of the two girls who had come to the spring with her. They had
+been forgotten in the surprise over Peter, but now Miss De Voe wondered
+if they had heard his reply, and if they had enough Bible lore to enable
+them 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 I
+meant was that no one has a right to pick out the best for himself. I am
+sure, from your letter to me, that you think a man should help those not
+as well off as himself."
+
+"Oh, but that is very different. Of course we should be charitable to
+those 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, and
+good 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, I
+wish to present Mr. Stirling. My cousin, Miss Ogden, and Miss Minna
+Ogden."
+
+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 stopped
+here to try the spring, on my way to the United States."
+
+"It is hardly worth while, but if you will get into our carriage, we
+will drop you there. Or if you can spare the time, we will drive to our
+cottage, 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 one
+of the girls, as soon as they were seated.
+
+"I don't know," Peter told her. "It is my first experience at it. There
+is pretty strong feeling, and that of course makes it interesting to the
+delegates, 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 care
+to 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 interesting
+part," 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 City
+delegation room, and saw Costell. He easily secured admissions, and
+pencilling on a card, "At headquarters they tell me that the nominations
+will begin at the afternoon session, about two o'clock," he sent them
+back by the carriage. Then bearding the terrors of the colored "monarch
+of all he surveys," who guards the dining-room of every well-ordered
+Saratoga hotel, he satisfied as large an appetite as he remembered in a
+long time.
+
+The morning proceedings in the convention were purely formal. The
+election of the chairman, the roll-call, the naming of the committees,
+and other routine matter was gotten through with, but the real interest
+centred in the undertone of political talk, going on with little regard
+to the business in hand. After the committees were named, an unknown man
+came up to Peter, and introduced himself by a name which Peter at once
+recognized as that of one of the committee on the platform.
+
+"Mr. Costell thinks you might like to see this, and can perhaps suggest
+a change," explained Mr. Talcott, laying several sheets of manuscript on
+Peter'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 the
+committee-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 and
+wrote a paragraph for the platform. It pledged the party to investigate
+the food and tenement questions, and to pass such remedial legislation
+as should seem best. It pledged the party to do this, with as little
+disturbance and interference with present conditions as possible, "but
+fully recognizing the danger of State interference, we place human life
+above money profits, and human health above annual incomes, and shall
+use the law to its utmost to protect both." When it appeared in the
+platform, there was an addition that charged the failure to obtain
+legislation "which should have rendered impossible the recent terrible
+lesson in New York City" to "the obstruction in the last legislature in
+the interest of the moneyed classes and landlords, by the Republican
+party." 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. That
+was what others thought too. "Gad, that Stirling knows how to sling
+English," said one of the committee, when the paragraph was read aloud.
+"He makes it take right hold." Many an orator in that fall's campaign
+read the nineteenth section of the Democratic platform aloud, feeling
+that it was ammunition of the right kind. It is in all the New York
+papers 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 him
+up. 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 what
+we 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 few
+moments sufficed to complete the unfinished business, and then the
+chairman's gavel fell, and every one knew without his announcement that
+the crucial moment had been reached.
+
+Much to Peter's surprise, Kennedy was one of the members who was
+instantly on his feet, and was the one selected for recognition by the
+chairman. He was still more surprised when Kennedy launched at once into
+a glowing eulogium of Porter. Peter was sitting next Kennedy, and though
+he 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 deceiving
+of others. Most of all he grieved to think that a delegate of his ward,
+largely through his own interference, was acting discreditably. Peter
+wanted others to do right, and he felt that that was not what Kennedy
+was doing.
+
+The moment Kennedy finished, Peter rose, as did Maguire. The convention
+was cheering for Porter, and it took some time to quiet it to a
+condition when it was worth while recognizing any one. During this time
+the chairman leaned forward and talked with Green, who sat right below
+him, for a moment. Green in turn spoke to Costell, and a little slip of
+paper was presently handed up to the chairman, who from that moment
+became absolutely oblivious of the fact that Maguire was on his feet.
+When silence finally came, in spite of Maguire's, "Mr. Chairman," that
+individual said, "Mr. Stirling."
+
+Peter began in a low voice, "In rising, Mr. Chairman, to second the
+nomination of Mr. Porter, I feel that it would be idle in me to praise
+one so well known to all of us, even if he had not just been the subject
+of so appreciative a speech from my colleague--"
+
+Here cries of "louder" interrupted Peter, during which interruption
+Green said to Costell, "We've been tricked."
+
+"I'm not so sure," replied Costell, "Maguire's on his feet yet, and
+doesn't look happy. Something's happening which has not been slated."
+
+When Peter resumed, there were no more cries of "louder." His
+introduction had been a matter of trouble and doubt to him, for he liked
+Porter, and feared he might not show it. But now he merely had something
+to tell his audience, and that was easy work. So, his voice ringing very
+clear and distinct, he told them of the original election of the
+delegates; of the feeling of his ward; of the attempts to obtain a city
+nomination of Porter; of Maguire's promise. "Gad, he hits from the
+shoulder," said Green. As soon as the trend of his remarks was realized,
+Porter's supporters began to hiss and hoot. Peter at once stopped, but
+the moment silence came he began again, and after a repetition of this a
+few times, they saw they could neither embarrass nor anger him, so they
+let 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 I
+had made up my mind to vote for him, I made no secret of that
+intention. But he should not have been nominated by a city delegate, for
+he is not the choice of New York City, and any attempt to show that he
+is, or that he has any true backing there, is only an attempt to
+deceive. In seconding his nomination therefore, I wish it to be
+distinctly understood that both his nomination and seconding are
+personal acts, and in no sense the act of the delegates of the city of
+New York."
+
+There was a mingling of hoots and cheers as Peter sat down, though
+neither was very strong. In truth, the larger part of the delegates were
+very much in the dark as to the tendency of Peter's speech. "Was it
+friendly or unfriendly to Porter?" they wondered.
+
+"Mr. Maguire," said the chairman.
+
+"Mr. Chairman, the gentleman who has just sat down is to be complimented
+on his speech. In my whole life I have never heard so deceptive and
+blinding a narration. We know of Brutus stabbing his friend. But what
+shall we say of a pretended Brutus who caresses while he stabs?"
+
+Here the Porter adherents became absolutely sure of the character of
+Peter's speech, and hissed.
+
+"Nor is it Imperial Caesar alone," continued Maguire, "against whom he
+turns his poniard. Not content with one foul murder, he turns against
+Caesar's friends. By devilish innuendo, he charges the honorable Mr.
+Kennedy and myself with bargaining to deceive the American people. I
+call on him for proof or retraction."
+
+The convention laughed. Peter rose and said: "Mr. Chairman, I gave a
+truthful account of what actually took place last evening in the United
+States 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 my
+fault."
+
+The convention laughed. "Do you mean to charge such a bargain?" angrily
+shouted 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 now
+find it necessary to apologize."
+
+The convention roared. Maguire screamed something, but it could not be
+heard. The tenor of his remarks was indicated by his red face and
+clinched fist.
+
+Costell smiled his deep smile. "I'm very glad," he said to the man next
+him, "that we didn't pick Stirling up."
+
+Then Milton was nominated and seconded, as were also Catlin, and four
+minor 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, though
+where it started, no one knew. Evidently his adherents thought so, for
+one made a motion to adjourn. It was voted down, and once more the roll
+call started.
+
+"I shall vote for Milton," Peter told Schlurger, and the changes in the
+delegations as the call proceeded, proved that many changes were being
+made 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've
+beaten 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's
+delegates, but the moment they had begun to turn to Milton, enough New
+York City delegates had been transferred to Catlin to prevent Milton
+being chosen. Amid protests and angry words on all sides another ballot
+was 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 by
+acclamation. Half an hour served to choose the Lieutenant-Governor and
+the rest of the ticket, for the bulk of it had already been slated. The
+platform was adopted, and the convention dissolved.
+
+"Well," said Kennedy angrily to Peter, "I guess you've messed it this
+time. 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," he
+thought, "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, as
+they 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 she
+paused 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 understands
+everything 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 many
+men. So the ladies entered the carriage.
+
+"At least we know that he said he was trying to tell the truth," she
+went on, "and you just heard what that man said. I don't know why they
+all 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 was
+really 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 varies
+very much. Oliver, drive to the United States. We will take him home to
+dinner."
+
+"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. He
+turned 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 told
+him.
+
+"I am going to take the special to New York, and that leaves in half an
+hour."
+
+"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 she
+said: "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 of
+questions about the convention."
+
+"Hush, Minna," said Miss De Voe. She was nettled that Peter should
+refuse, and that her niece could stoop to beg of "a criminal lawyer and
+ward politician," as she put it mentally. But she was determined not to
+show it "We are sorry. Good-evening. Home, Oliver."
+
+So they did not learn from Peter why the convention laughed. The subject
+was brought up at dinner, and Dorothy asked the opinion of the voters of
+the 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 were
+as much at sea in regard to the Stirling-sixth-ward incident, as had
+been the rank-and-file in the convention. Three took their views from
+Maguire, 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 what
+effect it had had on the candidates none of the papers agreed in. One
+said it had killed Porter. Another, that "it was a purely personal
+matter without influence on the main question." The other papers shaded
+between these, though two called it "a laughable incident." The
+opposition press naturally saw in it an entire discrediting of both
+factions of the Democratic party, and absolute proof that the nominee
+finally selected was unfit for office.
+
+Unable to sift out the truth, the ladies again appealed to the voters of
+the 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 no
+objection," laughed the enfranchised being.
+
+"I don't think a man who made that speech about the children can be a
+scoundrel," said Dorothy.
+
+"I don't either," said Minna.
+
+"That's the way you women reason," responded he of the masculine
+intellect. "Because a man looks out for some sick kittens, ergo, he is a
+political saint. If you must take up with politicians, do take
+Republicans, for then, at least, you have a small percentage of chance
+in your favor that they are gentlemen."
+
+"Don't be a Pharisee, Lispenard," said Miss De Voe, utilizing Peter's
+rebuke.
+
+"Then don't trouble me with political questions. Politics are so vulgar
+in this country that no gentleman keeps up with them."
+
+Miss De Voe and the two girls dropped the "vulgar" subject, but Miss De
+Voe 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 both
+that he shouldn't call." Woman-like, Miss De Voe forgot that she had
+said Peter was a gentleman.
+
+If Peter had found himself a marked man in the trip up, he was doubly so
+on the return train. He sat most of the time by himself, pondering on
+what had happened, but he could not be unconscious of the number of
+people to whom he was pointed out. He was conscious too, that his course
+had not been understood, and that many of those who looked at him with
+interest, did so without approbation. He was not buoyed up either, by a
+sense that he had succeeded in doing the best. He had certainly hurt
+Porter, and had made enemies of Maguire and Kennedy. Except for the fact
+that he had tried to do right, he could see no compensating balance.
+
+Naturally the newspapers the next morning did not cheer him, though
+perhaps 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 time
+a long letter, telling her how and why he had taken this course. He
+wrote also a long letter to Porter, explaining his conduct. Porter had
+already been told that Peter was largely responsible for his defeat, but
+after reading Peter's letter, he wrote him a very kind reply, thanking
+him for his support and for his letter. "It is not always easy to do
+what one wants in politics," he wrote, "but if one tries with high
+motives, for high things, even defeat loses its bitterness. I shall not
+be 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 time
+you think my aid worth the asking, do not hesitate to call on me for
+it. 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 and
+Kennedy's course in the convention. He did not answer in kind the blame
+and criticism industriously sowed by Kennedy; but he dropped into a
+half-a-dozen saloons in the next few days, and told "the b'ys" a pretty
+full history of the "behind-the-scenes" part.
+
+"I'm afraid I made mistakes," he frankly acknowledged, "yet even now I
+don't see how I could have done differently. I certainly thought I was
+doing right."
+
+"An' so yez were," shouted Dennis. "An' if that dirty beast Kennedy
+shows his dirty face inside these doors, it's a washin' it will get wid
+the drainin' av the beer-glasses. We wants none av his dirty bargains
+here."
+
+"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 always
+makin'."
+
+"Yes," said Dennis. "It's Kennedy looks out for himself, an' we'll let
+him do it next time all by himself." It could not be traced to its
+origin, but in less than a week the consensus of opinion in the ward was
+that: "Kennedy voted for himself, but Stirling for us."
+
+The ward, too, was rather proud of the celebrity it had achieved. The
+papers had not merely paragraphed Peter, and the peculiar position of
+the "district" in the convention, but they had begun now asking
+questions as to how the ward would behave. "Would it support Catlin?"
+"Was it true that the ward machine had split, and intended to nominate
+rival tickets?" "Had one faction made a deal with the Republicans?"
+
+"Begobs," said Dennis, "it's the leaders an' the papers are just afther
+discoverin' there is a sixth ward, an' it's Misther Stirling's made them
+do it."
+
+The chief party leaders had stayed over at Saratoga, but Peter had a
+call from Costell before the week was out.
+
+"The papers gave it to you rather rough," Costell said kindly, "but they
+didn'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 course
+you 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 much
+who 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 to
+think he couldn't do much?"
+
+"I don't think he has much of a following. Even Moriarty, who was his
+strong 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 are
+settled. 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 in
+the saloons."
+
+"So I'm told. You'll never get a better place. Men listen there, as they
+never will at a mass-meeting." Costell rose. "If you are free next
+Sunday, 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's
+good enough to make my life happier, and after we've looked over my
+stables, I'll bring you back to the city behind a gray mare that will
+pass about anything there is on the road."
+
+So Peter had a half day in the country and enjoyed it very much. He
+looked over Mrs. Costell's flower-garden, in which she spent almost her
+whole 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 to
+Peter that the atmosphere had a gentle, homely tone that was very
+pleasing. 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 as
+possible. 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 with
+me, but she liked you, I could see."
+
+Peter spoke twice in the next week in small halls in his ward. He had
+good audiences, and he spoke well, if simply.
+
+"There ain't no fireworks in his stuff," said the ward satirist. "He
+don't unfurl the American flag, nor talk about liberty and the
+constitution. He don't even speak of us as noble freemen. He talks just
+as if he thought we was in a saloon. A feller that made that speech
+about the babies ought to treat us to something moving."
+
+That was what many of the ward thought. Still they went because they
+wanted to see if he wouldn't burst out suddenly. They felt that Peter
+had unlimited potentialities in the way of eloquence (for eloquence to
+them meant the ability to move the emotions) and merely saved his
+powers. Without quite knowing it they found what he had to say
+interesting. He brought the questions at issue straight back to
+elementary forms. He showed just how each paragraph in the platform
+would directly affect, not the state, but the "district."
+
+"He's thoroughly good," the party leaders were told. "If he would abuse
+the other side a little more, and stick in a little tinsel and calcium
+light he would be great."
+
+So he was called upon to speak elsewhere in the city. He worked at one
+of the polls on election day, and was pleased to find that he was able
+to prevent a little of the "trading" for which Kennedy had arranged. His
+ward went Democratic, as was a foregone conclusion, but by an unusually
+large majority, and Peter found that he and Dennis were given the credit
+for it, both in the ward, and at headquarters. Catlin was elected, and
+the Assembly had been won. So Peter felt that his three months' work had
+not been an entire failure. The proceeds of his speeches had added also
+two hundred and fifty dollars to his savings bank account, and one
+hundred 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 worried
+over 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, my
+boy, 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 not
+ask 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, you
+wouldn't mind. Here, the saloon is chiefly a loafing place for the lazy
+and shiftless, but in New York, it's very different. It's the poor man's
+club. If you could see the dark, cold, foul-aired tenements where they
+live, 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 wish
+the women could come. The bulk of the men are temperate, and only take a
+glass or two of beer or whisky, to pay for their welcome. They really go
+for the social part, and sit and talk, or read the papers. Of course a
+man gets drunk, sometimes, but usually it is not a regular customer, and
+even such cases would be fewer, it we didn't tax whisky so outrageously
+that the dishonest barkeepers are tempted to doctor their whisky with
+drugs which drive men frantic if they drink. But most of the men are too
+sensible, and too poor, to drink so as really to harm themselves."
+
+"Peter, Peter! To think that three years in New York should bring you to
+talk so! I knew New York was a sink-hole of iniquity, but I thought you
+were too good a boy to be misled."
+
+"Mother, New York has less evil in it than most places. Here, after the
+mills shut down, there's no recreation for the men, and so they amuse
+themselves with viciousness. But in a great place like New York, there
+are a thousand amusements specially planned for the evening hours.
+Exhibitions, theatres, concerts, libraries, lectures--everything to
+tempt one away from wrong-doing to fine things. And there wickedness is
+kept 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 the
+folks, while they say that in New York there isn't enough seats in
+churches for mor'n a quarter of the people. A missionary was saying only
+last week that we ought to help raise money to build churches in New
+York. Just think of there being mor'n ten saloons for every church! And
+that 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 do
+it."
+
+"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 to
+deal 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 he
+thinks best."
+
+"It's dreadful though, to have your son's first refusal be about going
+to 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. Bohlmann
+to come to a holiday festivity of which the Germans are so fond. He was
+too late to go, but he called promptly, to explain why he had not
+responded. He was very much surprised, on getting out his dress-suit,
+now donned for the first time in three years, to find how badly it
+fitted 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 the
+family room, and passed a very pleasant hour with the jolly brewer, his
+friendly wife, and the two "nice girls." They were all delighted with
+Catlin's election, and Peter had to tell them about his part in it. They
+did 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 for
+him 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 be
+taken in. That individual protested loudly on the ground that the coat
+was so old-fashioned that it would be better to make a new suit. Peter
+told him that he wore evening dress too rarely to make a new suit worth
+the having, and the tailor yielded rather than lose the job. Scarcely
+had it been put in order, when Peter was asked to dine at his
+clergyman's, and the next day came another invitation, to dine with
+Justice Gallagher. Peter began to wonder if he had decided wisely in
+vamping the old suit.
+
+He had one of the pleasantest evenings of his life at Dr. Purple's. It
+was a dinner of ten, and Peter was conscious that a real compliment had
+been paid him in being included, for the rest of the men were not merely
+older than himself, but they were the "strong" men of the church. Two
+were trustees. All were prominent in the business world. And it pleased
+Peter to find that he was not treated as the youngster of the party, but
+had his opinions asked. At one point of the meal the talk drifted to a
+Bethel church then under consideration, and this in turn brought up the
+tenement-house question. Peter had been studying this, both practically
+and in books, for the last three months. Before long, the whole table
+was listening to what he had to say. When the ladies had withdrawn,
+there was political talk, in which Peter was much more a listener, but
+it was from preference rather than ignorance. One of the men, a
+wholesale dealer in provisions, spoke of the new governor's
+recommendation 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 some
+day, 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, when
+they all joined the ladies, but Mrs. Purple took him off, and placed him
+between two women. They wanted to hear about "the case," so Peter
+patiently went over that well-worn subject. Perhaps he had his pay by
+being asked to call upon both. More probably the requests were due to
+what Mrs. Purple had said of him during the smoking time:
+
+"He seems such a nice, solid, sensible fellow. I wish some of you would
+ask 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. There
+was more to eat and drink, and the talk was fast and lively. Peter was
+very 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, breezy
+talker on her other side. After the dinner Peter had a pleasant chat
+with the Justice's seventeen-year-old daughter, who was just from a
+Catholic convent, and the two tried to talk in French. It is wonderful
+what rubbish is tolerable if only talked in a foreign tongue.
+
+"I don't see what you wanted to have that Stirling for?" said Honorable
+Mrs. 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 put
+down.
+
+"Then you see that you treat Stirling as if he was somebody. He's
+getting to be a power in the ward, and if you want to remain Mrs.
+Justice Gallagher and spend eight thousand--and pickings--a year, you
+see 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 many
+more French books than I have."
+
+Peter lunched with the wholesale provision-dealer as planned. The lunch
+hour proving insufficient for the discussion, a family dinner, a few
+days later, served to continue it. The dealer's family were not very
+enthusiastic about Peter.
+
+"He knows nothing but grub talk," grumbled the heir apparent, who from
+the proud altitude of a broker's office, had come to scorn the family
+trade.
+
+"He doesn't know any fashionable people," said one of the girls, who
+having unfulfilled ambitions concerning that class, was doubly
+interested 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 go
+on. Brilliant! Fashionable! I don't wonder marriage is a failure when I
+see 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 to
+say, 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 for
+dinners."
+
+"He talked very well at Dr. Purple's," said the mamma, whose opinion of
+Peter had undergone a change.
+
+"And he was invited to call by Mrs. Dupont and Mrs. Sizer, which is more
+than you've ever been," said Avery senior to Avery junior.
+
+"That's because of the prog," growled the son, seeing his opportunity to
+square accounts quickly.
+
+Coming out of church the next Sunday, Peter was laid hold of by the
+Bohlmanns and carried off to a mid-day dinner, at which were a lot of
+pleasant Germans, who made it very jolly with their kindly humor. He did
+not contribute much to the laughter, but every one seemed to think him
+an addition to the big table.
+
+Thus it came to pass that late in January Peter dedicated a week of
+evenings to "Society," and nightly donning his dress suit, called
+dutifully on Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Sizer, Mrs. Purple, Mrs. Avery, Mrs.
+Costell, Mrs. Gallagher and Mrs. Bohlmann. Peter was becoming very
+frivolous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+AN EVENING CALL.
+
+
+But Peter's social gadding did not end with these bread-and-butter
+calls. One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famous
+picture-dealer, to look over an exhibition then advertised, and had
+nearly finished his patient examination of each picture, which always
+involved 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: "I
+wonder why he wouldn't buy another ticket?" Aloud she said, "I want you
+to know another of my cousins. Mr. Ogden, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"Charmed," said Mr. Ogden genially. Any expression which Peter had
+thought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this passive
+participle, 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 like
+them."
+
+Miss De Voe looked puzzled.
+
+"Don't," said Mr. Ogden. "I tried once, when I first began. But it's
+much easier to notice what women say, and answer 'yes' and 'no' at the
+right points."
+
+Peter looked puzzled.
+
+"Nonsense, Lispenard," said Miss De Voe. "He's really one of the best
+connoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"There," said Lispenard. "You see. Only agree with people, and they
+think you know everything."
+
+"I suppose you have seen the pictures, and so won't care to go round
+with us?" inquired Miss De Voe.
+
+"I've looked at them, but I should like to go over again with you," said
+Peter. Then he added, "if I shan't be in the way."
+
+"Not a bit," said Lispenard heartily. "My cousin always wants a
+listener. It will be a charity to her tongue and my ears." Miss De Voe
+merely gave him a very pleasant smile. "I wonder why he wouldn't buy a
+ticket?" she thought.
+
+Peter was rather astonished at the way they looked at the pictures. They
+would pass by a dozen without giving them a second glance, and then stop
+at one, and chat about it for ten minutes. He found that Miss De Voe had
+not exaggerated her cousin's art knowledge. He talked familiarly and
+brilliantly, though making constant fun of his own opinions, and often
+jeering at the faults of the picture. Miss De Voe also talked well, so
+Peter really did supply the ears for the party. He was very much pleased
+when 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 your
+liking."
+
+"That's womanly," said Lispenard, "they are always deciding what a man
+should like."
+
+"No," denied Miss De Voe. "But I should think with your liking for
+children, that you would have preferred that piece of Brown's, rather
+than this sad, desolate sand-dune."
+
+"I cannot say why I like it, except, that I feel as if it had something
+to do with my own mood at times."
+
+"Are you very lonely?" asked Miss De Voe, in a voice too low for
+Lispenard to hear.
+
+"Sometimes," said Peter, simply.
+
+"I wish," said Miss De Voe, still speaking low, "that the next time you
+feel so you would come and see me."
+
+"I will," said Peter.
+
+When they parted at the door, Peter thanked Lispenard: "I've really
+learned a good deal, thanks to Miss De Voe and you. I've seen the
+pictures 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 search
+of listeners."
+
+"If you come and see me, Mr. Stirling," said Miss De Voe, "you shall see
+my pictures. Good-bye."
+
+"So that is your Democratic heeler?" said Lispenard, eyeing Peter's
+retreating 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. "Then
+that's your protector of sick kittens?"
+
+Miss De Voe made no reply. She was thinking of that dreary wintry
+stretch of sand and dune.
+
+Thus it came to pass that a week later, when a north-easter had met a
+south-wester overhead and both in combination had turned New York
+streets into a series of funnels, in and through which wind, sleet and
+snow fought for possession, to the almost absolute dispossession of
+humanity and horses, that Peter ended a long stare at his blank wall by
+putting on his dress-suit, and plunging into the streets. He had, very
+foolishly, decided to omit dinner, a couple of hours before, rather than
+face the storm, and a north-east wind and an empty stomach are enough to
+set any man staring at nothing, if that dangerous inclination is at all
+habitual. Peter realized this, for the opium eater is always keenly
+alive to the dangers of the drug. Usually he fought the tendency
+bravely, but this night he felt too tired to fight himself, and
+preferred to battle with a little thing like a New York storm. So he
+struggled through the deserted streets until he had reached his
+objective point in the broad Second Avenue house. Miss De Voe was at
+home, but was "still at dinner."
+
+Peter vacillated, wondering what the correct thing was under the
+circumstances. The footman, remembering him of old, and servants in
+those simple days being still open to impressions, suggested that he
+wait. Peter gladly accepted the idea. But he did not wait, for hardly
+had the footman left him than that functionary returned, to tell Peter
+that Miss De Voe would see him in the dining-room.
+
+"I asked you to come in here, because I'm sure, after venturing out such
+a 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 a
+cup of coffee decidedly better in quality than his home-brew. Blank
+walls ceased to have any particular value for the time.
+
+In a moment Miss De Voe joined him at the fire. A small table was moved
+up, 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 this
+evening. I was promising myself a very solitary time, and was dawdling
+over 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 give
+it up."
+
+"You didn't walk?"
+
+"Yes. I could have taken a solitary-car that passed, but the horses were
+so done up that I thought I was better able to walk."
+
+Miss De Voe touched the bell. "Another cup of coffee, Morden, and bring
+the cognac," she said. "I am not going to let you please your mother
+to-night," she told Peter. "I am going to make you do what I wish." So
+she 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 so
+obstinate sometimes, and so obedient at others," thought Miss De Voe. "I
+don't generally let men smoke, but I'm going to make an exception
+to-night in your case," she continued.
+
+It was a sore temptation to Peter, but he answered quickly, "Thank you
+for 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 and
+sleeted 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 to
+hear about it?"
+
+Miss De Voe looked at him curiously, but she did not seem particularly
+interested in what Peter had to tell her, in response to her "yes." It
+concerned an arrest on the streets for drunkenness.
+
+"I didn't think the fellow was half as drunk as frozen," Peter
+concluded, "and I told the policeman it was a case for an ambulance
+rather than a station-house. He didn't agree, so I had to go with them
+both 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 silent
+again.
+
+"It was coming up here," he said finally.
+
+"What is he trying to keep back?" asked Miss De Voe mentally. "I suppose
+some of the down-town places are not quite--but he wouldn't--" then she
+said out loud: "I wonder if you men do as women do, when they dine
+alone? Just live on slops. Now, what did you order to-night? Were you an
+ascetic 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 some
+conclusion from your menu." Miss De Voe laughed, so as to make it appear
+a joke, but she knew very well that she was misbehaving.
+
+"I didn't reply to your question," said Peter, "because I would have
+preferred 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 she
+was sitting up very straight in her chair. Women will do without eating
+for an indefinite period, and think nothing of it, but the thought of a
+hungry man fills them with horror--unless they have the wherewithal to
+mitigate 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 for
+nothing."
+
+"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 you
+as--"
+
+Peter interrupted again. "If that is so," he said, rising, "I had better
+go."
+
+"No," cried Miss De Voe. "Oh, won't you please? It's no trouble. I'll
+not 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 should
+be 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?" asked
+Miss 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 evening
+with me put above dinner. You know I had the feeling that you didn't
+like 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 wished
+to 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 fifty
+dollars in one month. I know men who would give that amount to dine with
+me." It was a foolish brag, but Miss De Voe felt that her usual means of
+inspiring respect were not working,--not even realized.
+
+"Very likely. But I can't afford such luxuries. I had spent more than
+usual and had to be careful."
+
+"Then it was economy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I had no idea my dinner invitations would ever be held in so little
+respect that a man would decline one to save seven dollars." Miss De Voe
+was hurt. "I had given him five hundred dollars," she told herself, "and
+he ought to have been willing to spend such a small amount of it to
+please me." Then she said; "A great many people economize in foolish
+ways."
+
+"I suppose so," said Peter. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you. I really
+didn't think I ought to spend the money."
+
+"Never mind," said Miss De Voe. "Were you pleased with the nomination
+and 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 the
+convention."
+
+"A great many people seem to have misunderstood me. I tried to make it
+clear."
+
+"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 it
+must be a mortifying subject to Peter, and knew that she ought to
+discontinue it. But she could not help saying, "Why?"
+
+"It's difficult to explain, I'm afraid. I had a feeling that a man was
+trying to do wrong, but I hoped that I was mistaken. It seemed to me
+that circumstances compelled me to tell the convention all about it, but
+I was very careful not to hint at my suspicion. Yet the moment I told
+them 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 put
+into it gave it a big meaning. "Then they were laughing at Maguire?"
+
+"At the time they were. Really, though, they were laughing at human
+weakness. 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 to
+understand. I ought to have said nothing, or charged a bargain right
+out, for then they would have understood. A friend of--a fellow I used
+to know, said I was the best chap for bungling he ever knew, and I'm
+afraid 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 Peter
+told about the little woman who hated politics and loved flowers, and
+about the cool, able manager of men, who could not restrain himself from
+putting his arms about the necks of his favorite horses, and who had
+told about the death of one of his mares with tears in his eyes. "He had
+his cheek cut open by a kick from one of his horses once, and he speaks
+of 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 something
+about you to a group of men which called my attention to him." Miss De
+Voe thought Peter would ask her what it was. "Would you like to know
+what 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 so
+absolutely without our standards." Her chair suddenly ceased to be
+comfortable. She rose, saying, "Let us go to the library. I shall not
+show you my pictures now. The gallery is too big to be pleasant such a
+night. You must come again for that. Won't you tell me about some of the
+other men you are meeting in politics?" she asked when they had sat down
+before another open fire. "It seems as if all the people I know are just
+alike--I suppose it's because we are all so conventional--and I am very
+much 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., and
+Miss Gallagher, and their dinner companions. He did not satirize in the
+least. He merely told various incidents and conversations, in a sober,
+serious way; but Miss De Voe was quietly amused by much of the narrative
+and said to herself, "I think he has humor, but is too serious-minded to
+yield to it." She must have enjoyed his talk for she would not let Peter
+go early, and he was still too ignorant of social usages to know how to
+get away, whether a woman wished or no. Finally he insisted that he must
+leave 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 me
+send 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 very
+settling kind of voice.
+
+"He's obstinate," thought Miss De Voe. "And he makes his obstinacy so
+dreadfully--dreadfully pronounced!" Aloud she said: "You will come
+again?"
+
+"If you will let me."
+
+"Do. I am very much alone too, as perhaps you know?" Miss De Voe did not
+choose to say that her rooms could be filled nightly and that
+everywhere she was welcome.
+
+"No. I really know nothing about you, except what you have told me, and
+what I have seen."
+
+Miss De Voe laughed merrily at Peter's frankness. "I feel as if I knew
+all 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 get
+accustomed to Peter. All her social experience failed to bridge the
+chasm 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 the
+pause could not continue indefinitely, and she finally said: "I have
+lived alone ever since my father's death. I have relatives, but prefer
+to stay here. I am so much more independent. I suppose I shall have to
+move some day. This part of the city is beginning to change so." Miss De
+Voe was merely talking against time, and was not sorry when Peter shook
+hands, and left her alone.
+
+"He's very different from most men," she said to the blazing logs. "He
+is 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 few
+days, in Peter's receiving a formal dinner invitation, which he accepted
+with a promptness not to be surpassed by the best-bred diner-out. He
+regretted now his vamping of the old suit. Peter understood that he was
+in for quite another affair than the Avery, the Gallagher, or even the
+Purple dinner. He did not worry, however, and if in the dressing-room he
+looked furtively at the coats of the other men, he entirely forgot the
+subject the moment he started downstairs, and thought no further of it
+till he came to take off the suit in his own room.
+
+When Peter entered the drawing-room, he found it well filled with young
+people, and for a moment a little of the bewildered feeling of four
+years before came over him. But he found himself chatting with Miss De
+Voe, and the feeling left him as quickly as it had come. In a moment he
+was introduced to a "Miss Lenox," who began talking in an easy way which
+gave Peter just as much or as little to say as he chose. Peter wondered
+if 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 other
+side. He had barely exchanged greetings with her, when he heard his name
+spoken from across the table, and looking up, he found Miss Leroy
+sitting opposite.
+
+"I hope you haven't entirely forgotten me," that girl said, the moment
+his 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 mortal
+terror 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 I
+thought 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 the
+Harvard 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 never
+before seen.
+
+"How strange. The letters must have gone astray. But you have written
+him?"
+
+"I did not know his address."
+
+"Then you really haven't heard of the little baby--why, it was born
+two--no, three years ago--and of Helen's long ill-health, and of their
+taking a villa on the Riviera, and of how they hope to come home this
+spring?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Yes. They will sail in June if Helen is well enough. I'm to be
+god-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 to
+run across him?"
+
+"I will. He and Laurence--my second brother--are old cronies, and he
+often drops in on us. I want you to know my brothers. They are both here
+this evening."
+
+"I have met the elder one, I suppose."
+
+"No. That was a cousin, Lispenard Ogden. He spoke of meeting you. You
+would 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 own
+medicine.
+
+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 De
+Voe:
+
+"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 a
+very 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 hit
+things off in epigrams, and sometimes he's very foolish." Then she
+turned 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 you
+remember. It's curious I've never heard of him since then."
+
+"You know he's the man who made that splendid speech when the poor
+children 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 in
+talking!"
+
+"Was Mrs. D'Alloi a great friend of his?"
+
+"No. She told me that Watts had brought him to see them only once. I
+don'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 a
+moment, 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 she
+exploited 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 than
+there was in the army of the Potomac. My cousin Lispenard says it's
+wrecking his nervous system to live up to the reputation she makes for
+him."
+
+"I never had a sister, but it must be rather a good thing to live up
+to."
+
+"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 same
+work. 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 few
+clients."
+
+"Fortunately it doesn't take many. Two or three rich steady clients will
+keep a fellow running. I know a man who's only got one, but he runs him
+for 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 the
+thought of making a steady living out of the Blacketts, Dooleys or
+Milligans.
+
+"It's all a matter of friends."
+
+Peter had a different theory, but he did not say so. Just at that point
+they were joined by Laurence Ogden, who was duly introduced, and in a
+moment the conversation at their end of the table became general. Peter
+listened, enjoying his Havana.
+
+When they joined the ladies, they found Lispenard Ogden there, and he
+intercepted 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. He
+hopes to have his own taste approved and flattered. I'm not a bit good
+at 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 to
+have 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 room
+together?"
+
+"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 you
+together?"
+
+"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 front
+door 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 a
+pleasanter 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 remark
+about the questions."
+
+Peter dined the next evening with Lispenard, who in the course of the
+meal turned the conversation to Miss De Voe. Lispenard was curious to
+learn 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 her
+I 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 ask
+about a friend."
+
+Lispenard laughed. "You've got a pretty bad case of conscience, I'm
+afraid. It's a poor thing to have in New York, too. Well, my cousin is
+one 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, women
+in 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 my
+escortage very convenient. But while she thinks I'm a pretty good
+companion, she is sure I'm a poor sort of a man. If she takes a shine to
+you, make the most of it. She can give you anything she pleases
+socially."
+
+"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 spell
+Society with a capital, do you?"
+
+"Possibly," said Peter, "if I had more capital, I should use some on
+society."
+
+"Good," said Lispenard. "Heavens," he said to himself, "he's made a
+joke! 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 a
+mastiff."
+
+Lispenard laughed good-naturedly. He was used to his cousin's hits at
+his do-nothingness, and rather enjoyed them. "He is a big beast, isn't
+he? But he's a nice fellow. We had such a good time over Le Grand's
+etchings last night. Didn't get away till after one. It's really a
+pleasure to find a man who can smoke and keep quiet, and yet enjoy
+things strongly. Le Grand was taken with him too. We just fitted each
+other."
+
+"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 tell
+him 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 you
+can give him."
+
+"You don't know what you are talking about."
+
+But Lispenard was right. Peter had enjoyed the dinner at Miss De Voe's
+and 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 was
+thinking 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 at
+home. He received a very pleasant letter expressing her regret at
+missing him, and a request to lunch with her two days later, and to go
+with 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, but
+business called him to Albany on that day.
+
+"I really regret it," said Miss De Voe to Dorothy. "It is getting so
+late in the season, that unless he makes his call quickly, I shall
+hardly be able to give him more than one other chance."
+
+Peter's business in Albany had been sprung on him suddenly. It was
+neither more nor less than a request sent verbally through Costell from
+Governor 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's
+hands."
+
+"I hope he'll make good appointments," said Peter, anxiously.
+
+"I think he will," said Costell, smiling quietly. "But I don't believe
+they will be able to do much. Commissions are commonly a way of staving
+off legislation."
+
+Peter went up to Albany and saw Catlin. Much to his surprise he found
+the Governor asking his advice about the bills and the personnel of the
+commissions. But after a few minutes he found that this seeking for aid
+and support in all matters was chronic, and meant nothing special in his
+own case.
+
+"Mr. Schlurger tells me, though he introduced the bills, that you
+drafted both. Do you think I had better sign them?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. Costell told me to take your advice. You really think I had
+better?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Governor evidently found something solacing in the firm voice in
+which 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. Having
+committed himself, he wrote the rest rapidly. He paused for a moment
+over the second bill, and fingered it nervously. Then he signed it
+quickly. "That's done." He shoved them both away much as if they were
+dangerous.
+
+"I wonder," thought Peter, "if he enjoys politics?"
+
+"There's been a great deal of trouble about the commissioners," said the
+Governor.
+
+"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 the
+appointments are bad."
+
+"I know I shall. Just look over those lists, and see if you think
+they'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 you
+would think of me."
+
+"That was done by Costell," said the Governor, hastening to shift the
+responsibility.
+
+"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 each
+commission."
+
+"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 take
+evidence; perhaps we can get the scientific part that way."
+
+Peter did his best to brace Catlin up; and his talk or other pressure
+seemed to have partially galvanized the backbone of that limp
+individual, for a week later the papers announced the naming of the two
+commissions. The lists had been changed, however. That on food consisted
+of Green, a wholesale grocer, and a member of the Health Board. Peter's
+name had been dropped. That on tenements, of five members, was made up
+of Peter; a very large property-owner in New York, who was a member as
+well of the Assembly; a professional labor agitator; a well-known
+politician of the better type, and a public contractor. Peter, who had
+been studying some reports of a British Royal Commission on the same
+subject, looked grave, thinking that what the trained men in England had
+failed in doing, he could hardly hope to accomplish with such
+ill-assorted instruments. The papers were rather down on the lists. "The
+appointments have destroyed any chance of possible benefit," was their
+general conclusion, and Peter feared they were right.
+
+Costell laughed when Peter spoke of the commissions. "If you want Catlin
+to do anything well, you've got to stand over him till it's done. I
+wanted you on both commissions, so that you could see how useless they
+all are, and not blame us politicians for failing in our duty. Green
+promises to get you appointed Secretary of the Food Commission, which is
+the 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 to
+examine its motley members. The big landlord was a great swell, who had
+political ambitions, but was too exclusive, and too much of a dilettante
+to be a real force. Peter took a prejudice against him before meeting
+him, for he knew just how his election to the Assembly had been
+obtained--even the size of the check--and Peter thought buying an
+election was not a very creditable business. He did not like what he
+knew of the labor agitator, for such of the latter's utterances and
+opinions 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. Then
+the naming of a secretary was discussed, each member but Peter having a
+candidate. Much to Peter's surprise, the landlord, Mr. Pell, named Ray
+Rivington.
+
+"I thought he was studying law?" Peter said.
+
+"He is," said Pell. "But he can easily arrange to get off for the few
+hours we shall meet a week, and the five dollars a day will be a very
+nice 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 every
+year. They try to live on their traditions, and traditions don't pay
+grocers. I hope you'll help him. He's a very decent fellow."
+
+"I shall vote for him," replied Peter, marvelling that he should be able
+to give a lift to the man who, in the Harvard days, had seemed so
+thoroughly the mate of Watts and the other rich fellows of the "gang."
+Rivington being the only candidate who had two votes, he was promptly
+selected.
+
+Thirty arduous minutes were spent in waiting for the arrival of the
+fifth member of the Commission, and in the election of chairman and
+secretary. A motion was then made to adjourn, on the ground that the
+Commission could not proceed without the secretary.
+
+Peter promptly objected. He had been named secretary for this particular
+meeting, and offered to act until Rivington could be notified. "I
+think," he said, "that we ought to lay out our programme."
+
+The labor agitator agreed with him, and, rising, delivered an extempore
+speech, declaring that "we must not delay. The leeches (here he looked
+at 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 the
+chairman's arm. "If you stop him," he said in a low voice, "he'll think
+we 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 an
+outline of action which he had drawn up, and having written it in
+duplicate, he passed one draft over to Mr. Pell.
+
+They all let the speech go on, Peter, Mr. Pell and the chairman chatting
+over the plan, while the contractor went to sleep. The agitator tried to
+continue, but as the inattention became more and more evident, his
+speech 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's
+outline was read aloud.
+
+"I don't move its adoption," said Peter. "I merely submit it as a
+basis."
+
+Not one of the members had come prepared with knowledge of how to go to
+work, except the chairman, who had served on other commissions. He said:
+
+"I think Mr. Stirling's scheme shows very careful thought and is
+admirable. 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 different
+conditions."
+
+Mr. Pell objected to the proposed frequent sittings. Thereupon the
+agitator praised that feature. The hour of meeting caused discussion.
+But finally the scheme was adopted, and the date of the first session
+fixed.
+
+Peter went downstairs with Mr. Pell, and the latter offered to drop him
+at his office. So they drove off together, and talked about the
+Commission.
+
+"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 the
+preliminary work, drafted the "Inquiries" and other printed papers
+necessary to be sent out before the first meeting, and told him about
+the procedure at the meetings.
+
+"I know I shall get into all kinds of pickles," said Ray. "I write such
+a bad hand that often I can't read it myself. How the deuce am I to take
+down evidence?"
+
+"I shall make notes for my own use, and you will be welcome to them, if
+they will help you."
+
+"Thanks, Peter. That's like you."
+
+The Commission began its inquiry, on the date fixed, and met three times
+a week from that time on. Peter did not try to push himself forward, but
+he was by far the best prepared on the subject, and was able to suggest
+the best sources of information. He asked good questions, too, of the
+various witnesses summoned. Finally he was the one regular attendant,
+and therefore was the one appealed to for information elicited at
+previous meetings. He found the politician his best helper. Pell was
+useful when he attended, which was not very often, and even this
+intermittent attendance ceased in June. "I'm going to Newport," he
+explained, and did not appear again till late in the fall. The
+contractor really took no part in the proceedings beyond a fairly
+frequent attendance, and an occasional fit of attention whenever the
+inquiry 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 in
+reading over the minutes of previous meetings. But he was in earnest,
+and proved to be perfectly reasonable as soon as he found that the
+commissioners' duties were to inquire and not to make speeches. Peter
+walked home with him several times, and they spent evenings together in
+Peter'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 went
+to see these persons after they had been before the Commission, and
+talked with them, finding that they were quite willing to give facts in
+private which they did not care to have put on record.
+
+He had been appointed the Secretary of the Food Commission, and spent
+much time on that work. He was glad to find that he had considerable
+influence, and that Green not merely acted on his suggestions, but
+encouraged him to make them. The two inquiries were so germane that they
+helped him reciprocally. No reports were needed till the next meeting of
+the Legislature, in the following January, and so the two commissions
+took enough evidence to swamp them. Poor Ray was reduced almost to
+despair over the mass of "rubbish" as he called it, which he would
+subsequently have to put in order.
+
+Between the two tasks, Peter's time was well-nigh used up. It was
+especially drawn upon when the taking of evidence ceased and the
+drafting of the reports began. Ray's notes proved hopeless, so Peter
+copied out his neatly, and let Ray have them, rather glad that
+irrelevant and useless evidence was thus omitted. It was left to Peter
+to draw the report, and when his draft was submitted, it was accompanied
+by a proposed General Tenement-house Bill. Both report and bill were
+slightly amended, but not in a way that Peter minded.
+
+Peter drew the Food-Commission report as well, although it went before
+the Commission as Green's. To this, too, a proposed bill was attached,
+which had undergone the scrutiny of the Health Board, and had been
+conformed to their suggestions.
+
+In November Peter carried both reports to Albany, and had a long talk
+with Catlin over them. That official would have preferred no reports,
+but since they were made, there was nothing to do but to submit them to
+the Legislature. Peter did not get much encouragement from him about the
+chances for the bills. But Costell told him that they could be "whipped
+through. The only danger is of their being amended, so as to spoil
+them."
+
+"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 believe
+in your own truthfulness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+IN THE MEANTIME.
+
+
+In spite of nine months' hard work on the two Commissions, it is not to
+be supposed that Peter's time was thus entirely monopolized. If one
+spends but seven hours of the twenty-four in sleep, and but two more on
+meals, there is considerable remaining time, and even so slow a worker
+as Peter found spare hours not merely for society and saloons, but for
+what else he chose to undertake.
+
+Socially he had an evening with Miss De Voe, just before she left the
+city for the summer; a dinner with Mr. Pell, who seemed to have taken a
+liking to Peter; a call on Lispenard; another on Le Grand; and a family
+meal at the Rivingtons, where he was made much of in return for his aid
+to Ray.
+
+In the saloons he worked hard over the coming primary, and spent
+evenings as well on doorsteps in the district, talking over objects and
+candidates. 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's
+politics. He had become a recognized quantity in the control of the
+district, and the various ward factions tried hard to gain his support.
+When the primary met, the proceedings, if exciting, were never for a
+moment doubtful, for Gallagher, Peter, Moriarty and Blunkers had been
+able to agree on both programme and candidates. An attempt had been made
+to "turn down" Schlurger, but Peter had opposed it, and had carried his
+point, to the great gratitude of the silent, honest German. What was
+more important to him, this had all been done without exciting hard
+feelings.
+
+"Stirling's a reasonable fellow," Gallagher told Costell, not knowing
+how much Peter was seeing of the big leader, "and he isn't dead set on
+carrying his own schemes. We've never had so little talk of mutiny and
+sulking 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"' visitings
+again, though not with quite the former regularity. Yet he rarely let a
+week pass without having spent a couple of evenings there. The
+spontaneous welcome accorded him was payment enough for the time, let
+alone the pleasure and enjoyment he derived from the imps. There was
+little that could raise Peter in their estimation, but they understood
+very well that he had become a man of vast importance, as it seemed to
+them. 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, who
+was about to "play ball."
+
+"Cheese it yerself. He won't dare tech me," shouted Tim, "so long as
+Mister 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 by
+that 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 that
+part 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, with
+music, 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 whisky
+cause some ---- cusses don't drink like as dey orter." Then catching a
+look in Peter's face, he laughed rather shamefacedly. "I forgits," he
+explained. "Yer see I'm so da--" he checked himself--"I swears widout
+knowin' 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. Yer
+wouldn'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 dull
+subject?"
+
+"Yer just talk what yer want. We'll listen."
+
+After Peter had thought it over for a day, he went to Blunkers's gin
+palace.
+
+"Look here," he said. "Would it be possible to hire one more barge, and
+take 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 was
+Peter's idea. So every child who went, nearly wild with delight, felt
+that the sail, the sand, the sea, and the big feed, was all owed to
+Peter.
+
+It was rather an amusing experience to Peter. He found many of his party
+friends in the district, not excluding such men as Gallagher, Kennedy
+and others of the more prominent rank. He made himself very pleasant to
+those whom he knew, chatting with them on the trip down. He went into
+the water with the men and boys, and though there were many good
+swimmers, Peter's country and river training made it possible for him to
+give 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 the
+tenement-house question for twenty minutes. The speech was very
+different from what they expected, and rather disappointed them all.
+However, he won back their good opinions in closing, for he ended with a
+very pleasant "thank you," to Blunkers, so neatly worded, and containing
+such a thoroughly apt local joke, that it put all in a good humor, and
+gave them something to tell their neighbors, on their return home. The
+advantage of seldom joking is that people remember the joke, and it gets
+repeated. Peter almost got the reputation of a wit on that one joke,
+merely because it came after a serious harangue, and happened to be
+quotable. Blunkers was so pleased with the end of the speech that he got
+Peter to write it out, and to this day the "thank you" part of the
+address, in Peter's neat handwriting, handsomely framed, is to be seen
+in Blunkers's saloon.
+
+Peter also did a little writing this summer. He had gone to see three or
+four of the reporters, whom he had met in "the case," to get them to
+write up the Food and Tenement subjects, wishing thereby to stir up
+public feeling. He was successful to a certain degree, and they not
+merely wrote articles themselves, but printed three or four which Peter
+wrote. In two cases, he was introduced to "staff" writers, and even
+wrote an editorial, for which he was paid fifteen dollars. This money
+was all he received for the time spent, but he was not working for
+shekels. All the men told him to let them know when he had more
+"stories" for them, and promised him assistance when the reports should
+go in to the legislature.
+
+Peter visited his mother as usual during August. Before going, he called
+on Dr. Plumb, and after an evening with him, went to two tenements in
+the district. As the result of these calls, he carried three children
+with him when he went home. Rather pale, thin little waifs. It is a
+serious matter to charge any one with so grave a crime as changling, but
+Peter laid himself open to it, for when he came back, after two weeks,
+he returned very different children to the parents. The fact that they
+did not prosecute for the substitution only proves how little the really
+poor care for their offspring.
+
+But this was not his only summering. He spent four days with the
+Costells, as well as two afternoons later, thoroughly enjoying, not
+merely the long, silent drives over the country behind the fast horses,
+but the pottering round the flower-garden with Mrs. Costell. He had been
+reading up a little on flowers and gardening, and he was glad to swap
+his theoretical for her practical knowledge. Candor compels the
+statement that he enjoyed the long hours stretched on the turf, or
+sitting idly on the veranda, puffing Mr. Costell's good Havanas.
+
+Twice Mr. Bohlmann stopped at Peter's office of a Saturday and took him
+out to stay over Sunday at his villa in one of the Oranges. The family
+all 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 Dummer
+id 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 a
+lawyer 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 two
+statements. He liked the two girls. They were nice-looking, sweet,
+sincere women. He knew that Mr. Bohlmann was ranked as a millionaire
+already, and was growing richer fast. Yet--Peter needed no blank walls.
+
+During this summer, Peter had a little more law practice. A small grocer
+in one of the tenements came to him about a row with his landlord. Peter
+heard 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 can
+do something," and the man agreeing, Peter went to see the landlord, a
+retail 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. Such
+material repairs could not have been foreseen when the lease was made."
+
+The tobacconist was rather obstinate at first. Finally he said, "I'll
+tell you what I'll do. I'll contribute one hundred dollars towards the
+repairs, if you'll make a tenant named Podds in the same building pay
+his rent; or dispossess him if he doesn't, so that it shan't cost me
+anything."
+
+Peter agreed, and went to see the tenant in arrears. He found that the
+man had a bad rheumatism and consequently was unable to work. The wife
+was doing what she could, and even the children had been sent on the
+streets to sell papers, or by other means, to earn what they could. They
+also owed a doctor and the above-mentioned grocer. Peter went back to
+the landlord and told him the story.
+
+"Yes," he said, "it's a hard case, I know, but, Mr. Stirling, I owe a
+mortgage on the place, and the interest falls due in September. I'm out
+four months' rent, and really can't afford any more." So Peter took
+thirty-two dollars from his "Trustee" fund, and sent it to the
+tobacconist. "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 for
+their credit, taking his chance of pay, and now got it paid in an
+equivalent of cash. He gave the nine dollars with alacrity.
+
+Peter took it upstairs and gave it to Mrs. Podds. "If things look up
+with you later," he said, "you can pay it back. If not, don't trouble
+about 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 to
+his 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 her
+self-imposed work of introducing Peter. He was twice invited to dinner
+and was twice taken with opera parties to sit in her box, besides
+receiving a number of less important attentions. Peter accepted
+dutifully all that she offered him. Even ordered a new dress-suit of a
+tailor recommended by Lispenard. He was asked by some of the people he
+met to call, probably on Miss De Voe's suggestion, and he dutifully
+called. Yet at the end of three months Miss De Voe shook her head.
+
+"He is absolutely a gentleman, and people seem to like him. Yet
+somehow--I don't understand it."
+
+"Exactly," laughed Lispenard. "You can't make a silk purse out of a
+sow's ear."
+
+"Lispenard," angrily said Miss De Voe, "Mr. Stirling is as much better
+than--"
+
+"That's it," said Lispenard. "Don't think I'm depreciating Peter. The
+trouble is that he is much too good a chap to make into a society or a
+lady'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, and
+simply 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 wants
+to know your swell friends."
+
+Either this conversation or Miss De Voe's own thoughts, led to a change
+in her course. Invitations to formal dinners and to the opera suddenly
+ceased, and instead, little family dinners, afternoons in galleries, and
+evenings at concerts took their place. Sometimes Lispenard went with
+them, sometimes one of the Ogden girls, sometimes they went alone. It
+was an unusual week when Peter's mail did not now bring at least one
+little 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 you
+about something," it said. That same evening he was shown into her
+drawing-rooms. She thanked him with warmth for coming so quickly, and
+Peter saw that only the other visitors prevented her from showing some
+strong feeling. He had stumbled in on her evening--for at that time
+people still had evenings--but knowing her wishes, he stayed till they
+were left alone together.
+
+"Come into the library," she said. As they passed across the hall she
+told Morden, "I shall not receive any more to-night."
+
+The moment they were in the smaller and cosier room, without waiting to
+sit even, she began: "Mr. Stirling, I dined at the Manfreys yesterday."
+She spoke in a voice evidently endeavoring not to break. Peter looked
+puzzled.
+
+"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 had
+used it to help--" Miss De Voe broke down, and, leaning against the
+mantel, 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 the
+good it's done. Suppose you sit down." Peter brought a chair, and Miss
+De 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 the
+things which he had been able to do:--of the surgical brace it had
+bought; of the lessons in wood-engraving it had given; of the
+sewing-machine it had helped to pay for; of the arrears in rent it had
+settled. "You see," he explained, "these people are too self-respecting
+to go to the big charities, or to rich people. But their troubles are
+talked over in the saloons and on the doorsteps, so I hear of them, and
+can 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. Miss
+De Voe's life and surroundings were not exactly weepy ones, and when
+tears came they meant much. She said little, till Peter rose to go, and
+then only:
+
+"I shall want to talk with you, to see what I can do to help you in your
+work. Please come again soon. I ought not to have brought you here this
+evening, only to see me cry like a baby. But--I had done you such
+injustice in my mind about that seven dollars, and then to find
+that--Oh!" Miss De Voe showed signs of a recurring break-down, but
+mastered herself. "Good-evening."
+
+Peter gone, Miss De Voe had another "good" cry--which is a feminine
+phrase, quite incomprehensible to men--and, going to her room, bathed
+her eyes. Then she sat before her boudoir fire, thinking. Finally she
+rose. 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, but
+Dorothy and Miss De Voe formed with him the party in the box on such
+nights. Miss De Voe took him to call on Mrs. Odgen, and sang his praises
+to both parents. She even went so far as to say frankly to them what was
+in 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 the
+politicians thought of him as a rising man."
+
+"He seems a nice steady fellow," said the mamma. "I don't suppose he has
+much practice?"
+
+"Oh, don't think of the money," said Miss De Voe. "What is that compared
+to 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. They
+need not think of money. If he and Dorothy only will care for each
+other!"
+
+Peter and Dorothy did like each other. Dorothy was very pretty, and had
+all the qualities which make a girl a strong magnet to men. Peter could
+not help liking her. As for Dorothy, she was like other women. She
+enjoyed the talking, joking, "good-time" men in society, and chatted and
+danced with them with relish. But like other women, when she thought of
+marriage, she did not find these gingerbread ornamentations so
+attractive. The average woman loves a man, aside from his love for her,
+for his physical strength, and his stiff truth-telling. The first is
+attractive to her because she has it not. Far be it from man to say why
+the second attracts. So Dorothy liked Peter. She admired many qualities
+in him which she would not have tolerated in other men. It is true that
+she laughed at him, too, for many things, but it was the laughter of
+that peculiar nature which implies admiration and approval, rather than
+the lower feelings. When the spring separation came, Miss De Voe was
+really quite hopeful.
+
+"I think things have gone very well. Now, Mr. Stirling has promised to
+spend a week with me at Newport. I shall have Dorothy there at the same
+time," she told Mrs. Ogden.
+
+Lispenard, who was present, laughed as usual. "So you are tired of your
+new plaything already?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Arn't you marrying him so as to get rid of his calls and his
+escortage?"
+
+"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 to
+Wellington 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 August
+visit to his mother. Miss De Voe had told him casually that Dorothy
+would be there, and Dorothy was there. Yet he saw wonderfully little of
+her. It is true that he could have seen more if he had tried, but Peter
+was not used to practice finesse to win minutes and hours with a girl,
+and did not feel called upon, bluntly, to take such opportunities. His
+stay was not so pleasant as he had expected. He had thought a week in
+the same house with Miss De Voe, Dorothy and Lispenard, without much
+regard 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 when
+she went home:
+
+"I can't imagine what is the matter with Cousin Anneke. All last spring
+she was nicer to me than she has ever been before, but from the moment I
+arrived at Newport, and before I could possibly have said or done
+anything to offend her, she treated me in the snippiest way. After two
+days I asked her what the matter was, but she insisted there was
+nothing, and really lost her temper at my suggesting the idea. There was
+something, I know, for when I said I was coming home sooner than I had
+at first intended, she didn't try to make me stay."
+
+"Perhaps," said Mrs. Ogden, "she was disappointed in something, and so
+vented her feeling on you."
+
+"But she wasn't cross--except when I asked her what the matter was. She
+was 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 some
+joke to himself, and kept making remarks that nobody could understand,
+and chuckling over them. I told him once that he was rude, but he said
+that '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 is
+the 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 a
+comedy, not a tragedy.' What could he mean?"
+
+Lispenard stayed on to see the "comedy," and seemed to enjoy it, if the
+amused expression on his face when he occasionally gave himself up to
+meditation was any criterion. Peter had been pressed to stay beyond the
+original 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 gone
+before, although Dorothy had departed and Peter liked Dorothy. But he
+saw much more of Miss De Voe, and Miss De Voe was in a much pleasanter
+mood. They took long drives and walks together, and had long hours of
+talk in and about the pleasant house and grounds. Miss De Voe had cut
+down her social duties for the ten days Peter was there, giving far more
+time for them to kill than usually fell to Newporters even in those
+comparitively 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 marry
+Lispenard."
+
+"Do you think cousins ought to marry?"
+
+Miss De Voe had looked at Peter when she made her remark. Peter had
+replied quietly, but his question, as Miss De Voe understood it, was
+purely scientific, not personal. Miss De Voe replied:
+
+"I suppose it is not right, but it is so much better than what may
+happen, that it really seems best. It is so hard for a girl in Dorothy's
+position 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 well
+situated to get the right kind of a husband.
+
+"It is hard to make it clear--but--I'll tell you my own story, so that
+you can understand. Since you don't ask questions, I will take the
+initiative. That is, unless your not asking them means you are not
+interested?" 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 in
+earnest?" 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 rise
+in New York real estate made them in time, much richer. They both
+belonged to old families. I was the only child--Lispenard says old
+families are so proud of themselves that they don't dare to have large
+families for fear of making the name common. Of course they lavished all
+their thought, devotion and anxiety on me. I was not spoiled; but I was
+watched and tended as if I were the most precious thing the world
+contained. When I grew up, and went into society, I question if I ever
+was a half-hour out of the sight of one or the other of my parents. I
+had plenty of society, of course, but it was restricted entirely to our
+set. None other was good enough for me! My father never had any
+business, so brought no new element into our household. It was old
+families, year in and year out! From the moment I entered society I was
+sought for. I had many suitors. I had been brought up to fear
+fortune-hunting, and suspected the motives of many men. Others did not
+seem my equals--for I had been taught pride in my birth. Those who were
+fit as regarded family were, many of them, unfit in brains or
+morals--qualities not conspicuous in old families. Perhaps I might have
+found one to love--if it had not been for the others. I was surrounded
+wherever I went and if by chance I found a pleasant man to talk to,
+_t�te-�-t�te,_ we were interrupted by other men coming up. Only a few
+even of the men whom I met could gain an _entr�e_ to our house.--They
+weren't thought good enough. If a working, serious man had ever been
+able to see enough of me to love me, he probably would have had very
+little opportunity to press his suit. But the few men I might have cared
+for were frightened off by my money, or discouraged by my popularity and
+exclusiveness. They did not even try. Of course I did not understand it
+then. 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 slightest
+inducement to marry--especially among the men I saw the most. I led
+this life for six years. Then my mother's death put me in mourning. When
+I went back into society, an almost entirely new set of men had
+appeared. Those whom I had known were many of them married--others were
+gone. Society had lost its first charm to me. So my father and I
+travelled three years. We had barely returned when he died. I did not
+take up my social duties again till I was thirty-two. Then it was as the
+spinster aunt, as you have known me. Now do you understand how hard it
+is for such a girl as Dorothy to marry rightly?"
+
+"Yes. Unless the man is in love. Let a man care enough for a woman, and
+money or position will not frighten him off."
+
+"Such men are rare. Or perhaps it is because I did not attract them. I
+did not understand men as well then as I do now. Of some whom I thought
+unlovable or dull at that time, I have learned to think better. A woman
+does 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. Even
+now, thirty-seven though I am, if I could find a true man who could love
+me as I wish to be loved, I could love him with my whole heart. It would
+be my happiness not merely to give him social position and wealth, but
+to make his every hope and wish mine also."
+
+All this had been said in the same natural manner in which they both
+usually spoke. Miss De Voe had talked without apparent emotion. But when
+she began the last remark, she had stopped looking at Peter, and had
+gazed off through the window at the green lawn, merely showing him her
+profile. 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 see
+this look pass and his face, and especially his mouth, settle into a
+rigid determination, even while the eyes remained sad.
+
+Miss De Voe ended the pause by beginning, "Don't you"--but Peter
+interrupted her there, by saying:
+
+"It is a very sad story to me--because I--I once craved love and
+sympathy."
+
+Miss De Voe turned and looked at him quickly. She saw the look of
+suffering 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," she
+said, laying her hand on Peter's shoulder, "we have both missed the
+great prize in life. Your lot is harder than the one I have told you
+about. It is very,"--Miss De Voe paused a moment,--"it is very sad to
+love--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 the
+train:
+
+"You see I go back to the city occasionally in the summer, so as to make
+the country bearable, and then I go back to the country, so as to make
+the city endurable. I shall be in Newport again in a week. When will you
+come 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 a
+question.
+
+"Perhaps," continued Lispenard, "she talked too much, and so did not
+remember 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 know
+it."
+
+The color blazed up into Lispenard's face and he rose, saying:
+
+"Did I understand you aright?" The manner and attitude were both
+threatening though repressed.
+
+"If you tell me that I misunderstood you, I will apologize. If you think
+the statement insulting, I will withdraw it. I did not speak to insult
+you; but because I wished you to know how your questions impressed me."
+
+"When a man tells another he is contemptible, he cannot expect to escape
+results. This is no place to have a scene. You may send me your apology
+when we reach New York--"
+
+Peter interrupted. "I shall, if you will tell me I wronged you in
+supposing your questions to be malicious."
+
+Lispenard paid no attention to the interjection. "Otherwise," he
+finished, "we will consider our relations ended." He walked away.
+
+Peter wrote Lispenard that evening a long letter. He did not apologize
+in 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 was
+told that Lispenard had gone west for a hunting trip, quite
+unexpectedly. "He said not to expect him back till he came. He seemed
+out of sorts at something." In September Peter had a letter from Miss De
+Voe. Merely a few lines saying that she had decided to spend the winter
+abroad, and was on the point of sailing. "I am too hurried to see my
+friends, but did not like to go without some good-byes, so I write
+them." On the whole, as in the case of most comedies, there was little
+amusement for the actual performers. A great essayist has defined
+laughter as a "feeling of superiority in the laugher over the object
+laughed at." If this is correct, it makes all humor despicable.
+Certainly much coarseness, meanness and cruelty are every day
+tolerated, because of the comic covering with which it is draped.
+
+It is not to be supposed that this comedy nor its winter prologue had
+diverted Peter from other things. In spite of Miss De Voe's demands on
+his time he had enough left to spend many days in Albany when the
+legislature took up the reports of the Commissions. He found strong
+lobbies against both bills, and had a long struggle with them. He had
+the help of the newspapers, and he had the help of Costell, yet even
+with this powerful backing, the bills were first badly mangled, and
+finally 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 be
+entirely bad. Second only to Pell, was his whilom enemy, the former
+District-Attorney, now a state senator, who battled himself into Peter's
+reluctant admiration and friendship by his devotion and loyalty to the
+bills. Peter concluded that he had not entirely done the man justice in
+the past. Curiously enough, his chief antagonist was Maguire.
+
+Peter did not give up the fight with this defeat. His work for the bills
+had revealed to him the real under-currents in the legislative body, and
+when it adjourned, making further work in Albany only a waste of time,
+he availed himself of the secret knowledge that had come to him, to
+single out the real forces which stood behind and paid the lobby, and to
+interview them. He saw the actual principals in the opposition, and
+spoke with utmost frankness. He told them that the fight would be
+renewed, on his part, at every session of the legislature till the bills
+were passed; that he was willing to consider proposed amendments, and
+would accept any that were honest. He made the fact very clear to them
+that they would have to pay yearly to keep the bills off the statute
+book. Some laughed at him, others quarrelled. But a few, after listening
+to him, stated their true objections to the bills, and Peter tried to
+meet them.
+
+When the fall elections came, Peter endeavored to further his cause in
+another way. Three of the city's assemblymen and one of her senators had
+voted against the bills. Peter now invaded their districts, and talked
+against them in saloons and elsewhere. It very quickly stirred up hard
+feeling, which resulted in attempts to down him. But Peter's blood
+warmed up as the fight thickened, and hisses, eggs, or actual attempts
+to injure him physically did not deter him. The big leaders were
+appealed to to call him off, but Costell declined to interfere.
+
+"He wouldn't stop anyway," he told Green, "so we should do no good. Let
+them fight it out by themselves." Both of which sentences showed that
+Mr. Costell understood his business.
+
+Peter had challenged his opponents to a joint debate, and when that was
+declined by them, he hired halls for evenings and spoke on the subject.
+He argued well, with much more feeling than he had shown since his
+speech in "the case." After the first attempt of this kind, he had no
+difficulty in filling his halls. The rumor came back to his own district
+that he was "talkin' foin," and many of his friends there turned out to
+hear him. The same news went through other wards of the city and drew
+men from them. People were actually excluded, for want of room, and
+therefore every one became anxious to hear his speeches. Finally, by
+subscription of a number of people who had become interested, headed by
+Mr. Pell, the Cooper Union was hired, and Peter made a really great
+speech to nearly three thousand people.
+
+The papers came to his help too, and stood by him manfully. By their
+aid, it was made very clear that this was a fight against a selfish
+lobby. By their aid, it became one of the real questions of the local
+campaign, and was carried beyond the borders of the city, so as to play
+a part in the county elections. Peter met many of the editors, and
+between his expert knowledge, acquired on the Commissions, and his
+practical knowledge, learned at Albany, proved a valuable man to them.
+They repaid his help by kind words and praise in their columns, and
+brought him forward as the chief man in the movement. Mrs. Stirling
+concluded that the conspiracy to keep Peter in the background had been
+abandoned.
+
+"Those York papers couldn't help my Peter's getting on," was the way she
+put it.
+
+The results of this fight were even better than he had hoped. One
+Assemblyman gave in and agreed no longer to oppose the bills. Another
+was defeated. The Senator had his majority so cut down that he retired
+from the opposition. The questions too had become so much more
+discussed and watched, and the blame so fastened upon the lobby that
+many members from the country no longer dared to oppose legislation on
+the subject. Hence it was that the bills, newly drawn by Peter, to
+reduce opposition as far as possible, when introduced by Schlurger soon
+after the opening of the legislature, went through with a rush, not even
+ayes and nays being taken. Aided by Mr. Costell, Peter secured their
+prompt signing by Catlin, his long fight had ended in victory.
+
+The "sixt" was wild with joy over the triumph. Whether it was because it
+was 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 voters
+got up a display of fireworks on the night when the news of the signing
+of the bills reached New York. When Peter returned to the city, he was
+called down to a hall one evening, to witness a torchlight procession
+and receive resolutions "engrossed and framed" from his admiring
+friends. Blunkers was chairman and made a plain speech which set the
+boys cheering by its combination of strong feeling and lack of grammar.
+Then Justice Gallagher made a fine-sounding, big-worded presentation. In
+the enthusiasm of the moment, Dennis broke the programme by rising and
+giving vent to a wild burst of feeling, telling his audience all that
+they owed to Peter, and though they knew already what he told them, they
+cheered 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 av
+order 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 fall
+campaign, and Dennis, who had insisted on escorting him, took him to
+task about his "physical culture."
+
+"It's thirty pounds yez are too heavy, sir," he told Peter. "An' it's
+too little intirely yez afther knowin' av hittin'."
+
+Peter asked his advice, bought Indian clubs, dumb-bells, and
+boxing-gloves, and under Dennis's tutelage began to learn the art of
+self-defence. He was rather surprised, at the end of two months, to find
+how much flesh he had taken off, how much more easily he moved, how much
+more he was eating, and how much more he was able to do, both mentally
+and 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 militia
+regiment most patronized by the "sixth," and in which Dennis was already
+a sergeant. Peter received a warm welcome from the regiment, for Dennis,
+who was extremely popular, had heralded his fame, and Peter's physical
+strength and friendly way did the rest. Ogden Ogden laughed at him for
+joining 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 friends
+dutifully, but his long visits to Albany, his evenings with Dennis, and
+his drill nights, interfered badly with his acceptance of the
+invitations sent him. He had, too, made many friends in his commission
+work and politics, so that he had relatively less time to give to his
+older ones. The absence of Miss De Voe and Lispenard somewhat reduced
+his social obligations it is true, but the demands on his time were
+multiplying fast.
+
+One of these demands was actual law work. The first real case to come to
+him was from the contractor who had served on the tenement-commission.
+He was also employed by the Health Board as special counsel in a number
+of prosecutions, to enforce clauses of his Food Bill. The papers said it
+was because of his familiarity with the subject, but Peter knew it was
+the influence of Green, who had become a member of that Board. Then he
+began to get cases from the "district," and though there was not much
+money in each case, before long the number of them made a very
+respectable total.
+
+The growth of his practice was well proven by a suggestion from Dummer
+that they should join forces. "Mr. Bohlmann wants to give you some of
+his work, and it's easier to go into partnership than to divide his
+practice."
+
+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 to
+take 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 you
+choose. I'll manage the others."
+
+"I should like to," said Peter. "I'm very grateful for the offer--but we
+could hardly do that successfully. If the firm was good for anything, we
+should be known as belonging to it, and the public could not well
+discriminate."
+
+So that chance of success was passed. But every now and then Bohlmann
+sent him something to do, and Dummer helped him to a joint case
+occasionally.
+
+So, though friends grew steadily in numbers, society saw less and less
+of Peter. Those who cared to study his tastes came to recognize that to
+force formal entertaining on him was no kindness, and left it to Peter
+to drop in when he chose, making him welcome when he came.
+
+He was pleased to get a letter from Lispenard during the winter, from
+Japan. It was long, but only the first paragraph need be quoted, for the
+rest 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 Miss
+De Voe, also, a line of Christmas greetings, and received a long letter
+from 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 case
+you again meet them." From that time on Miss De Voe and he corresponded,
+she telling him of her Italian, Greek and Egyptian wanderings, and he
+writing of his doings, especially in regard to a certain savings bank
+fund standing in the name of "Peter Stirling, trustee" to which Miss De
+Voe had, the winter before, arranged to contribute a thousand dollars
+yearly.
+
+As his practice increased he began to indulge himself a little. Through
+the instrumentality of Mr. Pell, he was put first into one and later
+into a second of the New York clubs, and his dinners became far less
+simple in consequence. He used these comforters of men, indeed, almost
+wholly 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 he
+asked Mr. Costell to pick him up a saddle-horse, whereupon that friend
+promptly 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 doorsteps
+of the district, yet candor compels us to add that he now had in his
+room a box of cigars labelled "Habana." These were creature pleasures,
+however, which he only allowed himself on rare occasions. And most of
+these luxuries did not appear till his practice had broadened beyond the
+point already noted.
+
+Broaden it did. In time many city cases were thrown in his way. As he
+became more and more a factor in politics, the judges began to send him
+very profitable referee cases. Presently a great local corporation, with
+many 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 was
+added.
+
+"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 I
+think the right is with the plaintiff." This caused demur at first, but
+eventually he was employed, and it was found that money was saved in the
+long run, for Peter was very successful in getting people to settle out
+of court.
+
+Then the savings bank, for which Peter had done his best (not merely as
+recorded, but at other times), turned over its law business to him,
+giving him many real estate transactions to look into, besides papers to
+draw. "He brings us a good many depositors," Mr. Lapham told his
+trustees, "and is getting to be a large depositor himself."
+
+Peter began to find help necessary, and took a partner. He did this at
+the suggestion of Ogden Ogden, who had concluded his clerkship, and who
+said to Peter:
+
+"I have a lot of friends who promise me their work. I don't know how
+much it will be, but I should like to try it with you. Of course, yours
+is 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--one
+of Peter's original "angle" friends, now six years older than when Peter
+and he had first met.
+
+Ogden's friends did materialize, and brought good paying cases. As the
+city, referee, corporation and bank work increased, their joint practice
+needed 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 over
+them 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 do
+all the palavering and running round very well. He's just the fellow to
+please people." This was what Ogden urged, adding, "I might as well tell
+you that I'm interested for another reason, too. He and Dorothy will
+marry, if he can ever get to the marrying point. This, of course, is to
+be between us."
+
+"I'll be very glad to have him, both for his own sake, and for what
+you'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's
+original little "ten by twelve" being left to the possession of the
+office boy. That functionary gazed long hours at the map of Italy on the
+blank wall, but it did not trouble him. He only whistled and sang street
+songs at it. As for Peter, he was too busy to need blank walls. He had
+fought two great opponents. The world and himself. He had conquered them
+both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+A RENEWAL.
+
+
+If the American people had anglicized themselves as thoroughly into
+liking three-volume stories, as they have in other things, it would be a
+pleasure to trace the next ten years of Peter's life; for his growing
+reputation makes this period a far easier matter to chronicle than the
+more obscure beginnings already recorded. If his own life did not supply
+enough material we could multiply our characters, as did Dickens, or
+journey sideways, into little essays, as did Thackeray. His life and his
+biographer's pen might fail to give interest to such devices, but the
+plea is now for "realism," which most writers take to mean microscopical
+examination of minutia. If the physical and psychical emotions of a
+heroine as she drinks a glass of water can properly be elaborated so as
+to fill two printed pages, Peter's life could be extended endlessly.
+There were big cases, political fights, globe trottings, and new
+friends, all of which have unlimited potentialities for numerous
+chapters. But Americans are peculiar people, and do not buy a pound of
+sugar any the quicker because its bulk has been raised by a skilful
+admixture of moisture and sand. So it seems best partly to take the
+advice of the Bellman, in the "Hunting of the Snark," to skip sundry
+years. 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 contents
+of 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 his
+diary calendar. After this he went to a door, and, opening it, said:
+
+"I am going uptown for the afternoon. If Mr. Murtha comes, Mr. Ogden
+will see him.".
+
+Peter went down and took a cab, giving the driver a number in Grammercy
+Park.
+
+The footman hesitated on Peter's inquiry. "Mr. D'Alloi is in, sir, but
+is having his afternoon nap, and we have orders he's not to be
+disturbed."
+
+"Take him my card. He will see me."
+
+The footman showed Peter into the drawing-room, and disappeared. Peter
+heard low voices for a moment, then the curtains of the back room were
+quickly 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'Alloi
+continued:
+
+"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 that
+you 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 as
+well since you've found us out. Only you should have asked for both of
+us."
+
+"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 warmest
+feeling 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 to
+disabuse 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 who
+it 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. Was
+it her long ill-health, or was it the mere lapse of years, which had
+wrought such changes in her? Except for the eyes, everything had
+altered. The cheeks had lost their roundness and color; the hair had
+thinned noticeably; lines of years and pain had taken away the sweet
+expression that formerly had counted for so much; the pretty roundness
+of the figure was gone, and what charm it now had was due to the
+modiste's skill. Peter felt puzzled. Was this the woman for whom he had
+so suffered? Was it this memory that had kept him, at thirty-eight,
+still a bachelor? Like many another man, he found that he had been
+loving 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 been
+loving it for many years, to the exclusion of all other womankind. Now
+he 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 many
+pretty girls, and many sweet ones since that week at the Pierces. He had
+gained 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 a
+change. His years had brought tact, if they had not made him less
+straightforward. So he merely said, "You think so?"
+
+"Ever so much. You've really grown slender, in spite of your broad
+shoulders--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 great
+change. As the roundness had left it, the eyes and the forehead had both
+become more prominent features, and both were good. The square, firm jaw
+still remained, but the heaviness of the cheek and nose had melted into
+lines which gave only strength and character, and destroyed the dulness
+which people used to comment upon. The face would never be called
+handsome, in the sense that regular features are supposed to give
+beauty, but it was strong and speaking, with lines of thought and
+feeling.
+
+"You know," laughed Mrs. D'Alloi, "you have actually become
+good-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-seventh
+Street can be put in order. It has been closed since Mrs. D'Alloi's
+death. 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 who
+have said you were getting very famous."
+
+"I spend a good deal of time in politics. I cannot say whether I have
+made myself famous, or infamous. It seems to depend on which paper I
+read."
+
+"Yes, I saw a paper on the steamer, that--" Mrs. D'Alloi hesitated,
+remembering that it had charged Peter with about every known sin of
+which man is capable. Then she continued, "But I knew it was wrong." Yet
+there was quite as much of question as of assertion in her remark. In
+truth, Mrs. D'Alloi was by no means sure that Peter was all that was
+desirable, for any charge made against a politician in this country has
+a peculiar vitality and persistence. She had been told that Peter was an
+open supporter of saloons, and that New York politics battened on all
+forms of vice. So a favorite son could hardly have retained the purity
+that women take as a standard of measurement. "Don't you find ward
+politics very hard?" she asked, dropping an experimental plummet, to see
+what depths of iniquity there might be.
+
+"I haven't yet."
+
+"But that kind of politics must be very disagreeable to gentlemen. The
+men 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 familiar
+with 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 is
+everything that is good and kind!" Mrs. D'Alloi's face lighted up with
+happiness 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't
+speak of yourself so, even if it is the truth. Leave that to me. How are
+you, Peter, old fellow? I'd apologize for keeping you waiting, but if
+you'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 better
+than I."
+
+Watts laughed. "You'll have to excuse this, old man. Will happen
+sometimes, 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 she
+prettier 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--Peter
+won't mind--and now I know you two want to talk old times, so I'll leave
+you together. Good-bye, Peter--or rather _au revoir_--for you must be a
+regular visitor now. Watts, arrange with Peter to dine with us some day
+this week."
+
+Mrs. D'Alloi disappeared through the doorway. Peter's pulse did not
+change a beat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+HELP.
+
+
+The moment she was gone, Watts held out his hand, saying: "Here, old
+man, let us shake hands again. It's almost like going back to college
+days to see my old chum. Come to the snuggery, where we shan't be
+interrupted." They went through two rooms, to one fitted up as a
+smoking-room and office. "It's papa-in-law's workshop. He can't drop his
+work 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 so
+quickly?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, the truth of it is, I'm in an awful mess. Yesterday I was so
+desperate I thought I should blow my brains out. I went round to the
+club to see if I couldn't forget or drown my trouble, just as sick as a
+man could be. Fellows talking. First thing I heard was your name. 'Just
+won a great case.' 'One of the best lawyers in New York.' Thinks I to
+myself, 'That's a special providence.' Peter always was the fellow to
+pull me through my college scrapes. I'll write him.' Did it, and played
+billiards for the rest of the evening, secure in the belief that you
+would 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 to
+you."
+
+"Is it money trou--?"
+
+"No, no!" Watts interrupted. "It isn't that. The truth is I've a great
+deal more money than is good for me, and apparently always shall have. I
+wish it were only that!"
+
+"How can I help you?" began Peter.
+
+"I knew you would," cried Watts, joyfully. "Just the same old reliable
+you always were. Here. Draw up nearer. That's it. Now then, here goes. I
+shan'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, and
+there's the devil to pay. Now you'll pull me through, old man, won't
+you?"
+
+"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, very
+quietly. "I would rather know nothing about it." Peter rose.
+
+"Don't desert me," cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting his
+hand 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 myself
+in 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 the
+doorway. He stopped and turned. "She does not know?"
+
+"Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believe
+it. She worships me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore--if you won't
+save me!"
+
+"Can they be saved?"
+
+"That's what I want to know. Here--sit down, please! I'll tell you all
+about it."
+
+Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down.
+
+"It began in Paris twelve years ago. Such affairs have a way of
+beginning in Paris, old man. It's in the atmosphere. She--"
+
+"Stop. I will ask questions. There's no good going over the whole
+story." Peter tried to speak calmly, and to keep his voice and face from
+showing what he felt. He paused a moment, and then said: "She threatens
+to expose you. Why?"
+
+"Well, after three years I tired of it and tried to end it. Then she
+used it to blackmail me for ten years, till, in desperation, I came to
+America, 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 on
+earth, 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 perfectly
+furious over my coming off without telling her--always had an awful
+temper--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 of
+fleas 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 she
+says 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 only
+temper."
+
+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 write
+letters during my infatuation. Talleyrand was right when he said only
+fools 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 one
+woman 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 I
+am. 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 his
+emotion, but it would jerk out questions.
+
+"Yes, I know. I've said that to myself over and over again. Why, look
+here." Watts pulled a small revolver from his hip pocket. "This will
+show you how close to the desperation point I have come. I've carried
+that for two days, so that if worse comes to worse--well. Phut!--_Voila
+tout_."
+
+Peter rose, speaking in a voice ringing with scorn. "You would escape
+your sin, to leave it with added disgrace for your wife and daughter to
+bear! Put up your pistol, Watts D'Alloi. If I am to help you, I want to
+help 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 further
+offers 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 give
+me 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 which
+made the man leave the room without waiting to see if Watts demurred.
+
+A complete silence followed. Then came the rustle of skirts, and a woman
+entered 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," she
+said in French, speaking very low and distinctly, "you thought it best
+not to order your groom to turn me out, as you did that last day in
+Paris, when you supposed your flight to America left you free to do as
+you pleased? But you did not escape me. Here I am."
+
+Watts sat down in an easy-chair, and striking a match, lighted a
+cigarette. "That, Celestine," he said in French, "is what in English we
+call a self-evident proposition."
+
+Celestine's foot began to tap the floor, "You needn't pretend you
+expected I would follow you. You thought you could drop me, like an old
+slipper."
+
+Watts blew a whiff of tobacco from his mouth. "It was a remark of
+Ricard's, I believe, 'that in woman, one should always expect the
+unexpected.'"
+
+"_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 in
+French, "Will you not sit down, please?"
+
+She turned in surprise, for she had been too wrought up to notice that
+Peter 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 in
+all 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 to
+you? What are you to me? I don't even know you. My mind's made up. I
+tell you--" The woman was lashing herself into a fury, and Peter
+interrupted her again:
+
+"Pardon me. We are strangers. If I ask anything of you for myself, I
+should expect a refusal. But I ask it for humanity, to which we all owe
+help. Only hear what I have to say. I do not claim it as a right, but as
+a favor."
+
+Celestine sat down. "I listen," she said. She turned her chair from
+Watts and faced Peter, as he stood at the study table.
+
+Peter paused a moment, and then said: "After what I have seen, I feel
+sure 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'Alloi
+has carried a pistol in his pocket, and if you disgrace him he will
+probably shoot himself."
+
+"Bon!"
+
+"But where is your revenge? He will be beyond your reach, and you will
+only 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 the
+cruelest acts possible. A wife, who trusts and believes in him, will
+have her faith and love shattered. His daughter--a young girl, with all
+her life before her--must ever after despise her father and blush at
+her name. Do not punish the weak and innocent for the sin of the
+guilty!" Peter spoke with an earnestness almost terrible. Tears came
+into his eyes as he made his appeal, and his two auditors both rose to
+their 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 failed
+to hear the door from the dining-room move, or notice the entrance of
+Mrs. D'Alloi as Peter ended his plea.
+
+A moment's silence followed Peter's outburst of feeling. Then the
+Frenchwoman cried:
+
+"Truly, truly. But what will you do for me and my child? Haven't we been
+ill-treated? Don't you owe us help, too? Justice? Don't we deserve
+tenderness 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 you
+talking? Whose child? Who is this woman?"
+
+Watts jumped as if he had been shot. Celestine even retreated before the
+terrible voice and face with which Mrs. D'Alloi asked her questions. A
+sad, 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 managed
+to 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's
+all 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 he
+said:
+
+"This is the mother, Mrs. D'Alloi."
+
+"Yes? Yes?"
+
+Peter raised his eyes to Helen's and looked at her. Then he said
+quietly:
+
+"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 by
+Mrs. D'Alloi, who threw her arms about Watt's neck, and cried: "Oh! my
+husband. 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 passed
+out, which she did quietly. Another moment found the two on the
+sidewalk. "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 ten
+blocks. When they reached the hotel entrance, Peter asked: "Can you see
+me for a few moments?"
+
+"Yes. Come to my private parlor." They took the elevator, and were but a
+moment in reaching that apartment.
+
+Peter spoke the moment the door was closed. "Madame," he said, "you saw
+that 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, your
+dramatic, _mon Dieu!_ your noble sacrifice? Non, non. Celestine Lacour
+could never do so. She will suffer cruelty, penury, insults, before she
+behaves so shamefully, so perfidiously."
+
+Peter did not entirely sympathize with the Frenchwoman's admiration for
+the dramatic element, but he was too good a lawyer not to accept an
+admission, no matter upon what grounds. He held out his hand promptly.
+"Madame," he said, "accept my thanks and admiration for your generous
+conduct."
+
+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--I
+leave 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 known
+only to the Latin races. Just then a side door was thrown open, and a
+boy of about twelve years of age dashed into the room, followed by a
+French poodle.
+
+"Little villain!" cried Celestine. "How dare you approach without
+knocking? 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 it
+known that I am the mother of a child of twelve. It would not be
+believed, 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, that
+for 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 did
+not have an expression of pleasure on his face as he rode down-town, nor
+was 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, and
+called on an insurance company and talked for a while with the
+president. Then he called at a steamship office. After that he spent
+twenty minutes with the head of one of the large schools for boys in the
+city. Then he returned to his office.
+
+"A Mr. D'Alloi is waiting for you in your private office, sir," he was
+told. "He said that he was an old friend and insisted on going in
+there."
+
+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, and
+interrupted him.
+
+"I have arranged it all with Madame Lacour," Peter said coldly. "She
+sails on La Bretagne on Thursday. You are to buy an annuity for three
+thousand dollars a year. In addition, you are to buy an annuity for the
+boy till he is twenty-five, of one thousand dollars a year, payable to
+me as his guardian. This will cost you between forty and fifty thousand
+dollars. I will notify you of the amount when the insurance company
+sends it to me. In return for your check, I shall send you the letters
+and 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 you
+think--?"
+
+"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 on
+his 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. I
+shan'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 long
+he would have sat will never be known, if his brown study had not been
+ended by Rivington's entrance. "The Appeals have just handed down their
+decision 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 see
+if I can't knock some of my dulness out of me." Within an hour he was at
+the Riding Club.
+
+"Hello," said the stable man. "Twice in one day! You're not often here
+at 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 not
+yourself need fear any horse. Only look out for the ice."
+
+Peter rode into the Park in ten minutes. He met Lispenard at the first
+turn.
+
+"Hello! It's not often you are here at this hour." Lispenard reined his
+horse up alongside.
+
+"No," said Peter. "I've been through a very revolt--a very disagreeable
+experience, and I've come up here to get some fresh air. I don't want to
+be sociable."
+
+"That's right. Truthful as ever. But one word before we separate. Keppel
+has just received two proofs of Haden's last job. He asks awful prices
+for them, but you ought to see them."
+
+"Thanks." And the two friends separated as only true friends can
+separate.
+
+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. He
+shook himself presently, and set Mutineer at a sharp canter round the
+larger circle of the bridle path. But before they had half swung the
+circle, he was deep in thought again, and Mutineer was taking his own
+pace. Peter deserved to get a stumble and a broken neck or leg, but he
+didn't. He was saved from it by an incident which never won any credit
+for its good results to Peter, however much credit it gained him.
+
+Peter was so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not hear
+the clutter of a horse's feet behind him, just as he struck the long
+stretch of the comparatively straight path along the Reservoir. But
+Mutineer did, and pricked up his ears. Mutineer could not talk
+articulately, but all true lovers of horses understand their language.
+Mutineer's cogitations, transmuted into human speech, were something to
+this effect:
+
+"Hello! What's that horse trying to do? He can't for a moment expect to
+pass me!"
+
+But the next moment a roan mare actually did pass him, going at a swift
+gallop.
+
+Mutineer laid his ears back, "The impudence!" he said. "Does that
+little 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 who
+are most seldom passed by their kind, object to it most when it happens.
+
+Peter suddenly came back to affairs earthly to find Mutineer just
+settling into a gait not permitted by Park regulations. He drew rein,
+and Mutineer, knowing that the fun was up, danced round the path in his
+bad temper.
+
+"Really," he said to himself, "if I wasn't so fond of you, I'd give you
+and 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 a
+groom was in view, going also at a gallop.
+
+"Hout of the way," cried the groom, to Peter, for Mutineer was waltzing
+round the path in a way that suggested "no thoroughfare." "Hi'm after
+that runaway."
+
+Peter looked after the first horse, already a hundred feet away. He said
+nothing to groom nor horse, but Mutineer understood the sudden change in
+the reins, even before he felt that maddening prick of the spurs. There
+was a moment's wild grinding of horse's feet on the slippery road and
+then Mutineer had settled to his long, tremendous stride.
+
+"Now, I'll show you," he remarked, "but if only he wouldn't hold me so
+damned tight." We must forgive Mutineer for swearing. He lived so much
+with the stablemen, that, gentleman though he was, evil communications
+could not be entirely resisted.
+
+Peter was riding "cool." He knew he could run the mare down, but he
+noticed that the woman, who formed the mount, was sitting straight, and
+he could tell from the position of her elbows that she was still pulling
+on her reins, if ineffectually. He thought it best therefore to let the
+mare wind herself before he forced himself up, lest he should only make
+the runaway horse the wilder. So after a hundred yards' run, he drew
+Mutineer down to the mare's pace, about thirty feet behind her.
+
+They ran thus for another hundred yards. Then suddenly Peter saw the
+woman drop her reins, and catch at the saddle. His quick eye told him in
+a moment what had happened. The saddle-girth had broken, or the saddle
+was turning. He dug his spurs into Mutineer, so that the horse, who had
+never had such treatment, thought that he had been touched by two
+branding irons. He gave a furious shake of his ears, and really showed
+the blood of his racing Kentucky forebears. In fifteen seconds the horse
+was running even with the mare.
+
+Peter had intended merely to catch the reins of the runaway, trusting to
+his strength to do what a woman's could not. But when he came up
+alongside, he saw that the saddle had turned so far that the rider could
+not keep her seat ten seconds longer. So he dropped his reins, bent
+over, and putting his arms about the woman lifted her off the precarious
+seat, and put her in front of him. He held her there with one arm, and
+reached for his reins. But Mutineer had tossed them over his head.
+
+"Mutineer!" said Peter, with an inflection of voice decidedly
+commanding.
+
+"I covered a hundred yards to your seventy," Mutineer told the roan
+mare. "On a mile track I could go round you twice, without getting out
+of breath. I could beat you now, even with double mount easily. But my
+Peter has dropped the reins and that puts me on my honor. Good-bye."
+Mutineer checked his great racing stride, broke to a canter; dropped to
+a trot; altered that to a walk, and stopped.
+
+Peter had been rather astonished at the weight he had lifted. Peter had
+never lifted a woman before. His chief experience in the weight of
+human-kind had been in wrestling matches at the armory, and only the
+largest and most muscular men in the regiment cared to try a bout with
+him. 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 the
+cross-buttock with two hundred pounds of bone and brawn, he marvelled
+much at the ease with which he transferred the rider. "She can't weigh
+over eighty pounds," he thought. Which was foolish, for the woman
+actually weighed one hundred and eighteen, as Peter afterwards learned.
+
+The woman also surprised Peter in another way. Scarcely had she been
+placed in front of him, than she put her arms about his neck and buried
+her face in his shoulder. She was not crying, but she was drawing her
+breath in great gasps in a manner which scared Peter terribly. Peter had
+never 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 for
+a woman's head.
+
+2. That a man's arm about a woman's waist is a very pleasant position
+for the arm.
+
+3. That a pair of woman's arms round a man's neck, with the clasped
+hands, even if gloved, just resting on the back of his neck, is very
+satisfying.
+
+Peter could not see much of the woman. His arm told him that she was
+decidedly slender, and he could just catch sight of a small ear and a
+cheek, whose roundness proved the youth of the person. Otherwise he
+could only see a head of very pretty brown hair, the smooth dressing of
+which could not entirely conceal its longing to curl.
+
+When Mutineer stopped, Peter did not quite know what to do. Of course it
+was his duty to hold the woman till she recovered herself. That was a
+plain duty--and pleasant. Peter said to himself that he really was sorry
+for her, and thought his sensations were merely the satisfaction of a
+father in aiding his daughter. We must forgive his foolishness, for
+Peter 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 ten
+seconds after, no change in the condition occurred. Then suddenly the
+woman stopped her gasps. Peter, who was looking down at her, saw the
+pale cheek redden. The next moment, the arms were taken from his neck
+and the woman was sitting up straight in front of him. He got a downward
+look at the face, and he thought it was the most charming he had ever
+seen.
+
+The girl kept her eyes lowered, while she said firmly, though with
+traces of breathlessness and tremulo in her voice, "Please help me
+down."
+
+Peter was out of his saddle in a moment, and lifted the girl down. She
+staggered slightly on reaching the ground, so that Peter said: "You had
+better lean on me."
+
+"No," said the girl, still looking down, "I will lean against the
+horse." She rested against Mutineer, who looked around to see who was
+taking this insulting liberty with a Kentucky gentleman. Having looked
+at her he said: "You're quite welcome, you pretty dear!" Peter thought
+he would like to be a horse, but then it occurred to him that equines
+could not have had what he had just had, so he became reconciled to his
+lot.
+
+The girl went on flushing, even after she was safely leaning against
+Mutineer. There was another ten seconds' pause, and then she said, still
+with downcast eyes, "I was so frightened, that I did not know what I was
+doing."
+
+"You behaved very well," said Peter, in the most comforting voice he
+could command. "You held your horse splendidly."
+
+"I wasn't a bit frightened, till the saddle began to turn." The girl
+still kept her eyes on the ground, and still blushed. She was undergoing
+almost the keenest mortification possible for a woman. She had for a
+moment been horrified by the thought that she had behaved in this way to
+a groom. But a stranger--a gentleman--was worse! She had not looked at
+Peter's face, but his irreproachable riding-rig had been noticed. "If it
+had 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 her
+something else to think about.
+
+"As soon as you feel able to walk, you had better take my arm. We can
+get a cab at the 72d Street entrance, probably. If you don't feel able
+to walk, sit down on that stone, and I'll bring a cab. It oughtn't to
+take me ten minutes."
+
+"You are very good," said the girl, raising her eyes, and taking a look
+at 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 she
+looked down after the glance, she ceased leaning against the horse, and
+said, "I behaved very foolishly, of course. Now I will do whatever you
+think best."
+
+Before Peter had recovered enough from his thrill to put what he thought
+into speech, a policeman came riding towards them, leading the roan
+mare. "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 leave
+the other entrances before it's as dark as this."
+
+"Never mind the cab," said the girl. "If you'll help me to mount, I'll
+ride 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 marvellously
+fascinating combination as was indicated by the clinging position of a
+minute ago and the erect one of the present moment. He tightened the
+girth with a pull that made the roan mare wonder if a steam-winch had
+hold of the end, and then had the pleasure of the little foot being
+placed 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 are
+required 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. "I
+beg your pardon, Mr. Stirling. It was so dark, and you are so seldom
+here afternoons that I didn't know you."
+
+"Tell the chief that this needn't go on record, nor be given to the
+reporters."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the girl in a frank yet shy way, "but will you
+tell 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. I
+didn't think I could behave so to a stranger! I must have felt it was
+you." 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 wrong
+to hold a young girl's hand. If it was wrong, it was certainly a very
+small 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 and
+complimentary, but he failed to understand anything of it, except its
+general friendliness. His manner may have suggested this, for suddenly
+the girl said:
+
+"But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I am
+Leonore 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 something
+delightful in it.
+
+"But--she's a child."
+
+"I'll be eighteen next week," said Leonore, with all the readiness of
+that number of years to proclaim its age.
+
+Peter concluded that he must accept the fact. Watts could have a child
+that old. Having reached this conclusion, he said, "I ought to have
+known you by your likeness to your mother." Which was an unintentional
+lie. Her mother's eyes she had, as well as the long lashes; and she had
+her mother's pretty figure, though she was taller. But otherwise she was
+far more like Watts. Her curly hair, her curvy mouth, the dimple, and
+the contour of the face were his. Leonore D'Alloi was a far greater
+beauty than her mother had ever been. But to Peter, it was merely a
+renewal of his dream.
+
+Just at this point the groom rode up. "Beg pardon, Miss D'Alloi," he
+said, 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 broken
+something 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 Peter
+thought. He said, "I shall ride with you, of course." So they started
+their 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 feet
+behind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could never
+overtake Fly-away. So when I felt the saddle begin to slip, I thought I
+was--was going to be dragged--as I once saw a woman in England--Oh!--and
+then suddenly I saw a horse's head, and then I felt some one take hold
+of me so firmly that I didn't have to hold myself at all, and I knew I
+was 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 in
+their strength, and Leonore and Fly-away glorified them for it. Yet in
+spite of this, as Peter looked down at the curly head, from his own and
+Mutineers altitude, he felt no superiority, and knew that the slightest
+wish expressed by that small mouth, would be as strong with him as if a
+European army obeyed its commands.
+
+"What a tremendous horse you have?" said Leonore. "Isn't he?" assented
+Peter. "He's got a bad temper, I'm sorry to say, but I'm very fond of
+him. He was given me by my regiment, and was the choice of a very dear
+friend 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--in
+1882--at Maggiore. The first time, I was only six, but she used to tell
+me stories about you and the little children in the angle. The last time
+she told me all she could remember about you. We used to drift about the
+lake moonlight nights, and talk about you."
+
+"What made that worth doing to you?"
+
+"Oh from the very beginning, that I can remember, papa was always
+talking about 'dear old Peter'"--the talker said the last three words
+in such a tone, shot such a look up at Peter, half laughing and half
+timid, that in combination they nearly made Peter reel in his
+saddle--"and you seemed almost the only one of his friends he did speak
+of, so I became very curious about you as a little girl, and then Miss
+De Voe made me more interested, so that I began questioning Americans,
+because I was really anxious to learn things concerning you. Nearly
+every 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 made
+one feel.
+
+"Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?"
+
+"Oh, nearly everybody knew something. That is, every one we've met in
+the 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 that
+time, except at the Shrubberies."
+
+"No, he hadn't seen you. But he knew a lot about you, from Mr. Lapharn
+and Mr. Avery, and some other men who had met you."
+
+"Who else?"
+
+"Miss Leroy, mamma's bridesmaid, who spent two weeks at our villa near
+Florence, and Dr. Purple, your clergyman, who was in the same house with
+us 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 all
+the rest put together."
+
+"I feel quite safe in their hands. Dorothy and I formed a mutual
+admiration 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 wedding
+journey, and probably saw everything rose-colored."
+
+"That was it. Dorothy told me about your giving Mr. Rivington a full
+partnership, in order that Mr. Ogden should give his consent."
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"Ray swore that he wouldn't tell. And Dorothy has always appeared
+ignorant. And yet she knew it on her wedding trip."
+
+"She couldn't help it. She said she must tell some one, she was so
+happy. So she told mamma and me. She showed us your photograph. Papa and
+mamma 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, had
+the same frank, fearless gaze that her mother had of yore. But she did
+not look as often nor as long, and did not seem so wrapped up in the
+man's remarks when she looked. We are afraid even at seventeen that
+Leonore had discovered that she had very fetching eyes, and did not
+intend to cheapen them, by showing them too much. During the whole of
+this 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 face
+up 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. For
+the moment Peter did not agree with Mr. Weller that "life isn't all beer
+and skittles."
+
+"I've been so anxious to meet you. I've begged papa ever since we landed
+to take me to see you. And he's promised me, over and over again, to do
+it, but something always interfered. You see, I felt very strange
+and--and queer, not knowing people of my own country, and I felt that I
+really knew you, and wouldn't have to begin new as I do with other
+people. I do so dread next winter when I'm to go into society. I don't
+know 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 next
+winter. I've shut myself up too much." This was a discovery of Peter's
+made in the last ten seconds.
+
+"How nice that will be! And will you promise to give me a great deal of
+attention?"
+
+"You'll probably want very little. I don't dance." Peter suddenly became
+conscious 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. Was
+it possible life had such richness in it? Then he said with a bitter
+note 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 men
+I've seen valsing. Young men I mean. And I've seen men seventy years old
+dancing 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 a
+stable.
+
+"Why," said Leonore, "here we are already! What a short ride it has
+been."
+
+Peter thought so too, and groaned over the end of it. But then he
+suddenly remembered that Leonore was to be lifted from her horse. He
+became cold with the thought that she might jump before he could get to
+her, and he was off his horse and by her side with the quickness of a
+military training. He put his hands up, and for a moment had--well,
+Peter could usually express himself but he could not put that moment
+into words. And it was not merely that Leonore had been in his arms for
+a 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 the
+groom. "I wish to see Miss D'Alloi home."
+
+"Thank you very much, but my maid is here in the brougham, so I need not
+trouble you. Good-bye, and thank you. Oh, thank you so much!" She stood
+very close to Peter, and looked up into his eyes with her own. "There's
+no one I would rather have had save me."
+
+She stepped into the brougham, and Peter closed the door. He mounted his
+horse 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 to
+bother 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 evening
+papers. His dinner was eaten with equal coolness. Not till he had
+reached his study did he vary his ordinary daily routine. Then, instead
+of working or reading, he rolled a comfortable chair up to the fire, put
+on 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 he
+smoked are not recorded, lest the statement should make people skeptical
+of the narrative.
+
+Of course Peter knew that life had not lost its troubles. He was not
+fooling himself as to what lay before him. He was not callous to the
+sufferings already endured. But he put them, past, and to come, from him
+for 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 did
+not seem to be thinking of that. He had just been through what he called
+a "revolting experience," but it is doubtful if he was thinking of that.
+Whatever his thoughts were, they put a very different look on his face
+than that which it used to wear while he studied blank walls.
+
+When Peter sat down, rather later than usual at his office desk the next
+morning, he took a sheet of paper, and wrote, "Dear sir," upon it. Then
+he tore it up. He took another and wrote, "My dear Mr. D'Alloi." He tore
+that up. Another he began, "Dear Watts." A moment later it was in the
+paper basket. "My dear friend," served to bring a similar fate to the
+fourth. Then Peter rose and strolled about his office aimlessly. Finally
+he went out into a gallery running along the various rooms, and, opening
+a door, put his head in.
+
+"You hypocritical scoundrel," he said. "You swore to me that you would
+never 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've
+never been on a honeymoon. Really, old fellow, I was so happy over your
+generosity in giving me a full share, when I didn't bring a tenth of the
+business, and so happy over Dorothy, that If I hadn't told her, I should
+have 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 a
+secret."
+
+"How can you expect a person to keep a secret when you can't keep it
+yourself?" Peter and Ray were both laughing.
+
+Ray said to himself, "Peter has some awfully knotty point on hand, and
+is resting the brain tissue for a moment." Ray had noticed, when Peter
+interrupted him during office hours, on matters not relating to
+business, that he had a big or complex question in hand.
+
+Peter closed the door and went back to his room. Then he took a fifth
+sheet 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 not
+hear 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 moment
+he looked up, jump he did. He jumped so that he was shaking hands
+before 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 have
+spent ten minutes palavering your boy, in order to make him let us
+surprise you, and then when we spring it on you, you don't budge. Wasn't
+it shabby treatment, Dot?"
+
+"You've disappointed us awfully, Mr. Stirling."
+
+Peter was shaking hands more deliberately with Leonore than he had with
+Watts. He had been rather clever in shaking hands with him first, so
+that he need not hurry himself over the second. So he had a very nice
+moment--all too short--while Leonore's hand lay in his. He said, in
+order to prolong the moment, without making it too marked, "It will take
+something more frightful than you, Miss D'Alloi, to make me jump." Then
+Peter was sorry he had said it, for Leonore dropped her eyes.
+
+"Now, old man, give an account of yourself." Watts was speaking
+jauntily, but not quite as easily as he usually did. "Here Leonore and I
+waited all last evening, and you never came. So she insisted that we
+come this morning."
+
+"I don't understand?" Peter was looking at Leonore as if she had made
+the remark. Leonore was calmly examining Peter's room.
+
+"Why, even a stranger would have called last night to inquire about
+Dot's health, after such an accident. But for you not to do it, was
+criminal. If you have aught to say why sentence should not now be passed
+on you, speak now or forever--no--that's the wedding ceremony, isn't it?
+Not criminal sentence--though, on second thought, there's not much
+difference."
+
+"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 his
+voice.
+
+Miss D'Alloi's interest in legal literature suddenly ceased. She turned
+and Peter had a momentary glimpse of those wonderful eyes. Either his
+words or tone had evidently pleased Miss D'Alloi. The corners of her
+mouth 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 suffered
+no serious shock from her runaway, and passed a good night. It seemed to
+Miss D'Alloi that the least return she could make for Mr. Stirling's
+kindness, was to save him the trouble of coming to inquire about Miss
+D'Alloi's health, and so leave Mr. Stirling more time to his grimy old
+law 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 my
+loss; but I can say that I'm sorry."
+
+"That's quite enough," said Leonore. "I thought perhaps you didn't want
+to be friends. And as I like to have such things right out, I made papa
+bring me down this morning so that I could see for myself." She spoke
+with a frankness that seemed to Peter heavenly, even while he grew cold
+at the thought that she should for a moment question his desire to be
+friends.
+
+"Of course you and Peter will be friends," said Watts.
+
+"But mamma told me last night--after we went upstairs, that she was sure
+Mr. Stirling would never call."
+
+"Never, Dot?" cried Watts.
+
+"Yes. And when I asked her why, she wouldn't tell me at first, but at
+last she said it was because he was so unsociable. I shan't be friends
+with any one who won't come to see me." Leonore was apparently looking
+at the floor, but from under her lashes she was looking at something
+else.
+
+Whatever Peter may have felt, he looked perfectly cool. Too cool,
+Leonore thought. "I'm not going to make any vows or protestations of
+friendship," 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 are
+to be friends, we must each leave the other to act freely."
+
+"Well," said Leonore, "that is, I suppose, a polite way of saying that
+you 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 the
+telling till the first time I call on you." Peter was smiling down at
+her.
+
+Miss D'Alloi looked up at Peter, to see what meaning his face gave his
+last remark. Then she held out her two hands. "Of course we are to be
+the best of friends," she said. Peter got a really good look down into
+those eyes as they shook hands.
+
+The moment this matter had been settled, Leonore's manner changed. "So
+this is the office of the great Peter Stirling?" she said, with the
+nicest tone of interest in her voice, as it seemed to Peter.
+
+"It doesn't look it," said Watts. "By George, with the business people
+say your firm does, you ought to do better than this. It's worse even
+than our old Harvard quarters, and those were puritanical enough."
+
+"There is a method in its plainness. If you want style, go into Ogden's
+and 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 room
+simple, to put them at their ease. I've never heard of my losing a
+client yet, because my room is as it is, while I should have frightened
+away 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 to
+frighten away. There can't be any money in their business?"
+
+"We weren't talking of money. We were talking of people. I am very glad
+to say, that with my success, there has been no change in my relations
+with 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. The
+one shelf of law books. The one cheap cabinet of drawers. The four
+simple chairs, and the plain desk. Behold the great politician! The man
+of the people."
+
+Peter made no reply. But Leonore said to him, "I'm glad you help the
+poor people still, Mr. Stirling," and gave Peter another glimpse of
+those eyes. Peter didn't mind after that.
+
+"Look here, Dot," said Watts. "You mustn't call chum Mr. Stirling. That
+won't do. Call him--um--call him Uncle Peter."
+
+"I won't," said Leonore, delighting Peter thereby. "Let me see. What
+shall I call you?" she asked of Peter.
+
+"Honey," laughed Watts.
+
+"What shall I call you?" Miss D'Alloi put her head on one side, and
+looked 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 spoke
+hesitatingly till she said his name, but that went very smoothly. Peter
+on 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 the
+law?"
+
+"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 defend
+me. A man named Peter." Leonore sat down in Peter's chair. "I'm going to
+write him at once about it." She took one of his printed letter sheets
+and his pen, and, putting the tip of the holder to her lips (Peter has
+that 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 you
+can have this note." Leonore rose with the missive in her hand.
+
+"I never answer letters till I've received them." Peter took hold of the
+slender wrist, and possessed himself of the paper. Then he sat down at
+his 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 will
+have 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 ever
+do 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 very
+deliberately proceeded to empty the contents out on his blotter. He
+handled each article. There was a crisp ten-dollar bill, evidently the
+last of those given by the bank at the beginning of the month. There
+were two one-dollar bills. There was a fifty-cent piece, two quarters
+and a dime. A gold German twenty-mark piece, about eight inches of
+narrow crimson ribbon, and a glove button, completed the contents. Peter
+returned the American money and the glove button to the purse and handed
+it 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, with
+anything but legal guardedness concerning unprovable statements. He
+folded up the ribbon neatly and put it, with the coin, in his waistcoat
+pocket.
+
+"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 his
+tone.
+
+"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 crossing
+the Ghemi. And I must have the ribbon. I need it to match for a gown it
+goes with." Miss D'Alloi put true anxiety into her voice, whatever she
+really felt.
+
+"I shall be glad to help you match it," said Peter, "and any time you
+send me word, I will go shopping with you. As for your luck, I shall
+keep that for the present."
+
+"Now I know," said Leonore crossly, "why lawyers have such a bad
+reputation. They are perfect thieves!" She looked at Peter with the
+corners of her mouth drawn down. He gazed at her with a very grave look
+on his face. They eyed each other steadily for a moment, and then the
+corners of Leonore's mouth suddenly curled upwards. She tried hard for a
+moment to keep serious. Then she gave up and laughed. Then they both
+laughed.
+
+Many people will only see an amusing side to the dialogue here so
+carefully recorded. If so, look back to the time when everything that he
+or she said was worth listening to. Or if there has never been a he or a
+she, 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 Leonore
+was not heart-whole. Leonore had merely had a few true friends, owing to
+her roving life, and at seventeen a girl craves friends. When,
+therefore, the return to America was determined upon, she had at once
+decided that Peter and she would be the closest of friends. That she
+would tell him all her confidences, and take all her troubles to him.
+Miss De Voe and Dorothy had told her about Peter, and from their
+descriptions, as well as from her father's reminiscences, Leonore had
+concluded that Peter was just the friend she had wanted for so long.
+That Leonore held her eyes down, and tried to charm yet tantalize her
+intended friend, was because Leonore could not help it, being only
+seventeen and a girl. If Leonore had felt anything but a friendly
+interest and liking, blended with much curiosity, in Peter, she never
+would have gone to see him in his office, and would never have talked
+and laughed so frankly with him.
+
+As for Peter, he did not put his feelings into good docketed shape. He
+did not attempt to label them at all. He had had a delicious half-hour
+yesterday. He had decided, the evening before, that he must see those
+slate-colored eyes again, if he had to go round the world in pursuit of
+them. How he should do it, he had not even thought out, till the next
+morning. He had understood very clearly that the owner of those
+slate-colored eyes was really an unknown quantity to him. He had
+understood, too, that the chances were very much against his caring to
+pursue those eyes after he knew them better. But he was adamant that he
+must see those eyes again, and prove for himself whether they were but
+an _ignis fatuus_, or the radiant stars that Providence had cast for the
+horoscope of Peter Stirling. He was studying those eyes, with their
+concomitants, at the present time. He was studying them very coolly, to
+judge from his appearance and conduct. Yet he was enjoying the study in
+a way that he had never enjoyed the study of somebody "On Torts."
+Somebody "On Torts," never looked like that. Somebody "On Torts," never
+had luck-pieces, and silk ribbons. Somebody "On Torts," never wrote
+letters and touched the end of pens to its lips. Somebody "On Torts,"
+never courtesied, nor looked out from under its eyelashes, nor called
+him Peter.
+
+While this investigation had been progressing, Watts had looked at the
+shelf of law books, had looked out of the window, had whistled, and had
+yawned. Finally, in sheer _ennui_ he had thrown open a door, and looked
+to 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 and
+railroads, 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 the
+unsociable old hermit bestows himself."
+
+So Leonore and Peter followed Watts's lead. The room into which they
+went 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 side
+street. It had one other door besides that by which they had entered.
+Here the ordinary quality ended. Except for the six openings already
+noted and a large fireplace, the walls were shelved from floor to
+ceiling (which was not a low one), with dusky oak shelving. The ceiling
+was panelled in dark oak, and the floor was covered with a smooth
+surface of the same wood. Yet though the shelves were filled with books,
+few could be seen, for on every upright of the shelving, were several
+frames of oak, hinged as one sees them in public galleries occasionally,
+and these frames contained etchings, engravings, and paintings. Some
+were folded back against the shelves. Others stood out at right angles
+to them and showed that the frames were double ones, both sides
+containing something. Four easy-chairs, three less easy chairs, and a
+large table desk, likewise of dusky oak were the sole other fittings of
+the room, if we except two large polar bear skins.
+
+"Oh," cried Leonore looking about, "I'm so glad to see this. People have
+told me so much about your rooms. And no two of them ever agreed."
+
+"No," said Peter. "It seems a continual bone of contention with my
+friends. They scold me because I shelved it to the ceiling, because I
+put in one-colored wood, because I framed my pictures and engravings
+this way, and because I haven't gone in for rugs, and bric-�-brac, and
+the usual furnishings. At times I have really wondered, from their
+determination to change things, whether it was for them to live in, or
+for my use?"
+
+"It is unusual," said Leonore, reluctantly, and evidently selecting a
+word 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 no
+background."
+
+"It's--it's--" Leonore hesitated. "It's not so startling, after a
+moment."
+
+"You see they had to hang this way, or go unhung. I hadn't wall space
+for 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,'" called
+Watts. "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 have
+had 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 his
+money, and I bought them of him."
+
+"That was Mr. Le Grand?" asked Leonore, ceasing her study of the "Three
+Crosses."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mrs. Rivington told me about it."
+
+"It must have been devilish hard for him to part with such a
+collection," said Watts.
+
+"He hasn't really parted with them. He comes down here constantly, and
+has a good time over them. It was partly his scheme to arrange them this
+way."
+
+"And are the paintings his, too, Peter?"
+
+Peter could have hugged her for the way she said Peter. "No," he managed
+to remark. "I bought some of them, and Miss De Voe and Lispenard Ogden
+the others. People tell me I spoil them by the flat framing, and the
+plain, broad gold mats. But it doesn't spoil them to me. I think the
+mixture of gold mats and white mats breaks the monotony. And the
+variation 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?" inquired
+Watts.
+
+"Really, papa, it is plain. Just as simple as can be."
+
+"Simple! Yes, sweet simplicity! Three-thousand-dollar-etching
+simplicity! Millet simplicity! Oh, yes. Peter's a simple old dog."
+
+"No, but the woodwork and the furniture. Isn't this an enticing chair? I
+must try it." And Leonore almost dissolved from view in its depths.
+Peter has that chair still. He would probably knock the man down who
+offered to buy it.
+
+It occurred to Peter that since Leonore was so extremely near the
+ground, and was leaning back so far, that she could hardly help but be
+looking up. So he went and stood in front of the fireplace, and looked
+down at her. He pretended that his hands were cold. Watts perhaps was
+right. Peter was not as simple as people thought.
+
+It seemed to Peter that he had never had so much to see, all at once, in
+his 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 would
+have been very restful to the eye; if it hadn't been for the distracting
+chin below it. Then there were the little feet, just sticking out from
+underneath the tailor-made gown, making Peter think of Herrick's famous
+lines. Finally there were those two hands! Leonore was very deliberately
+taking off her gloves. Peter had not seen those hands ungloved yet, and
+waited almost breathlessly for the unveiling. He decided that he must
+watch and shake hands at parting before Leonore put those gloves on
+again.
+
+"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 owns
+the building, and when it came to rebuild, it had the architect fit this
+floor for me just as I wished it. So I put our law-offices in front and
+arranged my other rooms along the side street. Would you like to see
+them?" Peter asked this last question very obviously of Leonore.
+
+"Very much."
+
+So they passed through the other door, to a little square hall, lighted
+by 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 city
+and the bay, which is very fine," Peter said. "And I have a staircase to
+the 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 my
+idiosyncracies. This is my mealing closet."
+
+It was a room nine feet square, panelled, ceiled and floored in
+mahogany, and the table and six chairs were made of the same material.
+
+"So this is what the papers call the 'Stirling political incubator?' It
+doesn'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 sit
+here blowy nights, with the candles lit, eating nuts and telling
+stories? It makes me think of the expression, 'snug as a bug.'"
+
+"Miss Leroy told me, Peter, what a reputation your dinners had, and how
+every 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 it
+contained, including its owner--Then Peter said to himself, "You really
+don't know anything about her. Stop your foolishness." Still Peter knew
+that--that foolishness was nice. He said, "People only care for my
+dinners because they are few and far between, and their being way down
+here in the city, after business hours, makes them something to talk
+about. Society wants badly something to talk about most of the time. Of
+course, my friends are invited." Peter looked down at Leonore, and she
+understood, 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. He
+looks after me generally, but his true forte is cooking. For oysters and
+fish and game I can't find his equal. And, as I never attempt very
+elaborate dinners, he cooks and serves for a party of six in very good
+shape. We are not much in haste down here after six, because it's so
+still and quiet. The hurry's gone up-town to the social slaves. Suppose
+you stay and try his skill at lunch to-day? My partners generally are
+with 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 first
+time we come." Peter and Watts tried to persuade her, but she was not
+persuadable. Leonore had no intention, no matter how good a time it
+meant, 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 of
+food matters under the pretext that she was displaying great
+housekeeping knowledge. She told Peter that he ought to keep his
+champagne 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. It
+ought to be stood on end, so that the sediment can settle." She
+criticised the fact that a brace of canvas-backs were on ice. "All your
+game should be hung," she said. She put her finger or her eyes into
+every drawer and cupboard, and found nothing to praise. She was
+absolutely grave over it, but before long Peter saw the joke and entered
+into it. It was wonderful how good some of the things that she touched
+tasted later.
+
+Then they went into Peter's sleeping-room, Leonore said it was very
+ordinary, 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 potters
+with them. She keeps all the windows full of flowers--perhaps you have
+noticed them in the other rooms, as well?"
+
+"Yes. I liked them, but I didn't think they could be yours. They grow
+too well for a man."
+
+"It seems as if Mrs. Costell had only to look at a plant, and it breaks
+out blossoming," Peter replied.
+
+"What a nice speech," said Leonore.
+
+"It's on a nice subject," Peter told her. "When you have that, it's very
+easy 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 had
+evidently been planned as an umbrella-stand.
+
+"Why do you have three swords?" she asked, taking the handsomest from
+its resting place.
+
+"So that I can kill more people."
+
+"Why, Dot, you ought to know that an officer wants a service sword and a
+dress-sword."
+
+"But these are all dress-swords. I'm afraid you are very proud of your
+majorship."
+
+Peter only smiled a reply down at her.
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, "I have found out your weakness at last. You like
+gold lace and fixings."
+
+Still Peter only smiled.
+
+"This sword is presented to Captain Peter Stirling in recognition of his
+gallant conduct at Hornellsville, July 25, 1877," Leonore read on the
+scabbard. "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 keep
+the 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 was
+subscribed for by some friends. The one you have was given me by a
+railroad."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For doing my duty."
+
+"Come, papa. We'll go home."
+
+Peter surrendered. "There were some substitutes for strikers in freight
+cars that were fitted up with bunks. The strikers fastened the doors on
+them, 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 you
+anything more to show us?"
+
+"No. I have a spare room, and Jenifer has a kitchen and sleeping place
+beyond, 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 very
+often, I like down-town New York." Leonore was making her first trip to
+it, so that she spoke from vast knowledge.
+
+"I can't tell you how pleasant it has been to me. It isn't often that
+such 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. I
+have a good mind--yes, I will--leave you these violets," Leonore took a
+little bunch that she had worn near her throat and put them and her hand
+in Peter's. And she hadn't put her glove on yet! Then she put her gloves
+on, and Peter shook hands. Then he remembered that he ought to see them
+to the elevator, so he took them out--and shook hands again. After that
+he concluded it was his duty to see them to the carriage--and he shook
+hands 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 back
+to work. "He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in the
+Hall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning over
+those awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn't make. Yet
+he came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air."
+
+When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop work
+and think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them now
+and then. He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to have a
+look at that bit of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation. He
+said: "Peter Stirling, go to work." So all the treasures were put in a
+drawer 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 and
+dumb-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 a
+box of cigars, or a bunch of violets, gold-piece, ribbon and sheet of
+paper? One thing is certain. Peter passed another evening without
+reading or working. And two such idle evenings could not be shown in
+another week of his life for the last twenty years.
+
+The next day Peter was considerably nearer earth. Not that he didn't
+think those eyes just as lovely, and had he been thrown within their
+radius, he would probably have been as strongly influenced as ever. But
+he was not thrown within their influence, and so his strong nature and
+common sense reasserted themselves. He took his coffee, his early
+morning ride, and then his work, in their due order. After dinner, that
+evening, he only smoked one cigar. When he had done that, he remarked to
+himself--apropos of the cigars, presumably--"Peter, keep to your work.
+Don't burn yourself again." Then his face grew very firm, and he read a
+frivolous book entitled: "Neun atiologische und prophylactische Satze
+... uber die Choler�pidemien in Ostindien," till nearly one o'clock.
+
+The following day was Sunday. Peter went to church, and in the afternoon
+rode out to Westchester to pass the evening there with Mrs. Costell.
+Peter thought his balance was quite recovered. Other men have said the
+same thing. The fact that they said so, proved that they were by no
+means sure of themselves.
+
+This was shown very markedly on Monday in Peter's case, for after lunch
+he did not work as steadily as he had done in the morning hours. He was
+restless. Twice he pressed his lips, and started in to work very, very
+hard--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, and
+go to work again, with a great determination in his face, only to look
+at the watch again before long. Finally he touched his bell.
+
+"Jenifer," he said, "I wish you would rub off my spurs, and clean up my
+riding 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 at
+a sharp canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden far
+when he suddenly checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple of
+riders. "I've been looking for you," he said frankly. Peter had not
+ceased to be straightforward.
+
+"Hello! This is nice," said Watts.
+
+"Don't you think it's about time?" said Leonore. Leonore had her own
+opinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry with Peter--not
+at 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'm
+here now."
+
+"How long ago did that occur to you, please?" said Leonore, with
+dignity.
+
+"About the time it occurred to me that you might ride here regularly
+afternoons."
+
+"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 those
+eyes. 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 is
+very nice, Peter," said Leonore. "If we see each other every day in the
+Park, we can tell each other everything that we are doing or thinking
+about. So we will be very good friends for sure." Leonore spoke and
+looked as if this was the pleasantest of possibilities, and Peter was
+certain it was.
+
+"I say, Peter," said Watts. "What a tremendous dude we have come out. I
+wanted to joke you on it the first time I saw you, but this afternoon
+it's positively appalling. I would have taken my Bible oath that it was
+the last thing old Peter would become. Just look at him, Dot. Doesn't he
+fill 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 man
+absolutely 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 toney
+friends?"
+
+"Of course I tried to dress correctly for my up-town friends, when I was
+with them. But it was not they who made me careful, though they helped
+me 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 the
+furnishing 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 at
+first. 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 in
+positions to a certain extent representative of it. I never thought
+much how I dressed, and it seems that sometimes at public meetings, and
+parades, and that sort of thing, I wasn't dressed quite as well as the
+other men. So when the people of my ward, who were present, were asked
+to point me out to strangers, they were mortified about the way I
+looked. It seemed to reflect on the ward. The first inkling I had of it
+was after one of these parades, in which, without thinking, I had worn a
+soft hat. I was the only man who did not wear a silk one, and my ward
+felt very badly about it. So they made up a purse, and came to me to ask
+me to buy a new suit and silk hat and gloves. Of course that set me
+asking questions, and though they didn't want to hurt my feelings, I
+wormed enough out of them to learn how they felt. Since then I've spent
+a good deal of money on tailors, and dress very carefully."
+
+"Good for 'de sixt'! Hurrah for the unwashed democracy, where one man's
+as good as another! So a 'Mick' ward wants its great man to put on all
+the frills? I tell you, chum, we may talk about equality, but the lower
+classes can't but admire and worship the tinsel and flummery of
+aristocracy."
+
+"You are mistaken. They may like to see brilliant sights. Soldiers,
+ball-rooms or the like, and who does not? Beauty is aesthetic, not
+aristocratic. But they judge people less by their dress or money than is
+usually supposed. Far less than the people up-town do. They wanted me to
+dress better, because it was appropriate. But let a man in the ward try
+to 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 hardest
+thing to forgive in this world is your equal's success. But they
+wouldn'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 told
+to get out. I don't believe you could get a drink. And you would stand a
+chance of pretty rough usage. Last week I went right from a dinner to
+Blunkers's to say a word to him. I was in evening dress, newcastle, and
+crush hat--even a bunch of lilies of the valley--yet every man there
+was willing to shake hands and have me sit down and stay. Blunkers
+couldn't have been dressed so, because it didn't belong to him. For the
+same reason, you would have no business in Blunkers's place, because you
+don't belong there. But the men know I dressed for a reason, and came to
+the saloon for a reason. I wasn't putting on airs. I wasn't intruding my
+wealth on them."
+
+"Look here, chum, will you take me into Blunkers's place some night, and
+let 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 bring
+Blunkers up to watch one of your formal dinners. He would enjoy the
+sight, 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 one
+tooth. The question arose as to which it should be. 'I'm so brave,' said
+one, 'that I can wait till to-morrow.' 'I'm such a coward,' said the
+other, '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 my
+blood tingle when I hear them talk over the 'fun' as they call it. They
+get detectives to protect them, and then go through the tenements--the
+homes of the poor--and pry into their privacy and poverty, just out of
+curiosity. Then they go home and over a chafing dish of lobster or
+terrapin, and champagne, they laugh at the funny things they saw. If the
+poor could get detectives, and look in on the luxury and comfort of the
+rich, they wouldn't see much fun in it, and there's less fun in a
+down-town tenement than there is in a Fifth Avenue palace. I heard a
+girl 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 people
+weeping and drinking whisky at the same time. Isn't it heartless?' Yet
+the dead--perhaps the bread-winner of the family, fallen in the
+struggle--perhaps the last little comer, not strong enough to fight
+this 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 over
+that body, according to their customs, or the party who looked in on
+them and laughed?" Peter had forgotten where he was, or to whom he was
+talking.
+
+Leonore had listened breathlessly. But the moment he ceased speaking,
+she bowed her head and began to sob. Peter came down from his indignant
+tirade 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 he
+had 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 the
+most intricate puzzle ever yet propounded by man or woman--that is, to
+find a woman's pocket. She complicated things even more by trying to
+talk. "I--I--know I'm ver--ver--very fooooooolish," she managed to get
+out, however much she failed in a similar result with her
+pocket-handkerchief.
+
+"Since I caused the tears, you must let me stop them," said Peter. He
+had produced his own handkerchief, and was made happy by seeing Leonore
+bury her face in it, and re-appear not quite so woe-begone.
+
+"I--only--didn't--know--you--could--talk--like--like that," explained
+Leonore.
+
+"Let this be a lesson for you," said Watts. "Don't come any more of your
+jury-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 hear
+talking about you. I tell you, when you rear your head up like that, and
+your eyes blaze so, and you put that husk in your voice, I don't wonder
+you fetch them. By George, you were really splendid to look at."
+
+That was the reason why Leonore had not cried till Peter had finished
+his speech. We don't charge women with crying whenever they wish, but we
+are 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, Watts
+saying he would go with Peter to his club. As soon as they were in the
+cab, he said:
+
+"I wanted to see you about your letter."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Everything's going as well as can be expected. Of course the little
+woman's scandalized over your supposed iniquity, but I'm working the
+heavy sentimental 'saved-our-little-girl's life' business for all it's
+worth. I had her crying last night on my shoulder over it, and no woman
+can do that and be obstinate long. She'll come round before a great
+while."
+
+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 himself
+that she was not for him, be it understood--and how could he see enough
+of her to do that--for Peter recognized that it would take a good deal
+of that charming face and figure and manner to pall on him--if he was
+excluded from her home? So he justified the continuance of the attempt
+by saying to himself: "She only excludes me because of something of
+which I am guiltless, and I've saved her from far greater suffering than
+my presence can ever give her. I have earned the privilege if ever man
+earned 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 on
+his audience. We call it "saying what the people want said." But many of
+the greatest speakers first suggest an idea to their listeners, and when
+they say it in plain English, a moment later, the audience say,
+mentally, "That's just what we thought a moment ago," and are convinced
+that the speaker is right.
+
+Peter remained silent, and Watts continued: "We get into our own house
+to-morrow, and give Leonore a birthday dinner Tuesday week as a
+combined house-warming and celebration. Save that day, for I'm
+determined you shall be asked. Only the invitation may come a little
+late. You won't mind that?"
+
+"No. But don't send me too many of these formal things. I keep out of
+them as much as I can. I'm not a society man and probably won't fit in
+with your friends."
+
+"I should know you were not _de societ�_ by that single speech. If
+there's one thing easy to talk to, or fit in with, it's a society man or
+woman. It's their business to be chatty and pleasant, and they would be
+polite and entertaining to a kangaroo, if they found one next them at
+dinner. That's what society is for. We are the yolk of the egg, which
+holds and blends all the discordant, untrained elements. The oil,
+vinegar, salt, and mustard We don't add much flavor to life, but people
+wouldn't mix without us."
+
+"I know," said Peter, "if you want to talk petty personalities and
+trivialities, that it's easy enough to get through endless hours of
+time. But I have other things to do."
+
+"Exactly. But we have a purpose, too. You mustn't think society is all
+frivolity. 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, and
+that the people who will centre their whole life on it must be the
+leaders of it? To you, the spending hours over a new _entr�e_, or over a
+cotillion figure, seems rubbish, but it's the exact equivalent of your
+spending hours over who shall be nominated for a certain office. Because
+you are willing to do that, you are one of the 'big four.' Because we
+are 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 so
+much in running it, that we don't have enough for other subjects, and so
+you think we are stupid. I remember a woman once saying she didn't like
+conversazioni, 'because they are really brain-parties, and there is
+never enough to go round, and give a second help,' Any way, how can you
+expect society to talk anything but society, when men like yourself stay
+away 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, intellectual
+men."
+
+"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 a
+dinner together, where there was a Chicago man who became irritated at
+one or two bits of ignorance displayed by some of the other guests over
+the 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 even
+know how to pronounce its name.' He turned to Miss De Voe and said, 'We
+say Chicawgo. Now, how do you pronounce it in New York?' Miss De Voe put
+on that quiet, crushing manner she has when a man displeases her, and
+said, '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, and
+could only mortify. But it does describe the position of the lower wards
+of New York towards society. I've been working in them for nearly
+sixteen years, and I've never even heard the subject mentioned."
+
+"But I thought the anarchists and socialists were always taking a whack
+at us?"
+
+"They cry out against over-rich men--not against society. Don't confuse
+the constituents with the compound. Citric acid is a deadly poison, but
+weakened down with water and sugar, it is only lemonade. They growl at
+the poison, not at the water and sugar. Before there can be hate, there
+must be strength."
+
+The next day Peter turned up in the park about four, and had a
+ride--with Watts. The day after that, he was there a little earlier, and
+had a ride--with the groom. The day following he had another ride--with
+the groom. Peter thought they were very wonderful rides. Some one told
+him a great many interesting things. About some one's European life,
+some one's thoughts, some one's hopes, and some one's feelings. Some
+one really wanted a friend to pour it all out to, and Peter listened
+well, and encouraged well.
+
+"He doesn't laugh at me, as papa does," some one told herself, "and so
+it'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 to
+be."
+
+This put some one in a very nice frame of mind, and Peter thought he had
+never met such a wonderful combination of frankness, of confluence, and
+yet of a certain girlish shyness and timidity. Some one would tell him
+something, and then appeal to him, if he didn't think that was so? Peter
+generally thought it was. Some one did not drop her little touch of
+coquetry, for that was ingrain, as it is in most pretty girls. But it
+was the most harmless kind of coquetry imaginable. Someone was not
+thinking at all of winning men's hearts. That might come later. At
+present all she wanted was that they should think her pretty, and
+delightful, so that--that they should want to be friend.
+
+When Peter joined Watts and Leonore, however, on the fourth day, there
+was a noticeable change in Leonore's manner to him. He did not get any
+welcome except a formal "Good-afternoon," and for ten minutes Watts and
+he had to sustain the conversation by firing remarks at each other past
+a very silent intermediary. Peter had no idea what was wrong, but when
+he found that she did not mollify at the end of that time, he said to
+her;
+
+"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 be
+friends."
+
+"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 a
+little. "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 would
+do it soon, because mamma said to-day she thought of asking you to my
+birthday dinner next Tuesday, but I said you oughtn't to be asked till
+you 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 her
+mouth.
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I wish you had said this evening, because that's
+nearer, 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 tell
+him 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. Do
+tell 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 I
+haven't found anybody yet who could really tell it to me. Please tell
+about it nicely, Peter." Leonore was looking at Peter with the most
+pleading of looks.
+
+"It was during the great railroad strike. The Erie had brought some men
+up from New York to fill the strikers' places. The new hands were lodged
+in freight cars, when off work, for it wasn't safe for them to pass
+outside the guard lines of soldiers. Some of the strikers applied for
+work, and were reinstated. They only did it to get inside our lines. At
+night, when the substitutes in the cars were fast asleep, tired out with
+the double work they had done, the strikers locked the car-doors. They
+pulled the two cars into a shed full of freight, broke open a petroleum
+tank, and with it wet the cars and some others loaded with jute. They
+set fire to the cars and barricaded the shed doors. Of course we didn't
+know till the flames burst through the roof of the shed, when by the
+light, one of the superintendents found the bunk cars gone. The
+fire-department was useless, for the strikers two days before, had cut
+all the hose. So we were ordered up to get the cars out. Some strikers
+had concealed themselves in buildings where they could overlook the
+shed, and while we were working at the door, they kept firing on us. We
+were in the light of the blazing shed, and they were in the dark, which
+gave them a big advantage over us, and we couldn't spare the time to
+attend 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, and
+fortunately they were the nearest to the door. We took our muskets--for
+the frames of the cars were blazing, and the metal part too hot to
+touch--and fixing bayonets, drove them into the woodwork and so pushed
+the cars out. When we were outside, we used the rails again, to smash an
+opening in the ends of the cars which were burning the least. We got the
+men 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 taking
+up the rails. I happened to know how to get a rail up quickly, without
+waiting to unscrew the bolts. I had read it, years before, in a book on
+railroad construction. I didn't think that paragraph would ever help me
+to save forty lives--for five minutes' delay would have been fatal. The
+inside 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 the
+real 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 new
+toggery out of that night's work. I've heard people say militia are no
+good. If they could have stood by me that night, and seen my company
+working over those blazing cars, in that mass of burning freight, with
+the roof liable to fall any minute, and the strikers firing every time a
+man showed himself, I think they would have altered their opinion."
+
+"Oh," said Leonore, her eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "How splendid it
+is to be a man, and be able to do real things! I wish I had known about
+it in Europe."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because the officers were always laughing about our army. I used to get
+perfectly wild at them, but I couldn't say anything in reply. If I could
+only 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't
+that 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 this
+country when you become of age. That constitutes nationality."
+
+"Oh, how lovely! I knew I was an American, really, but papa was always
+teasing me and saying I was a foreigner. I hate foreigners."
+
+"Confound you, chum, you've spoiled one of my best jokes! It's been such
+fun to see Dot bristle when I teased her. She's the hottest little
+patriot that ever lived."
+
+"I think Miss D'Alloi's nationality is akin to that of a case of which I
+once heard," said Peter, smiling. "A man was bragging about the number
+of famous men who were born in his native town. He mentioned a
+well-known personage, among others, and one of his auditors said: 'I
+didn't know he was born there,' 'Oh, yes, he was,' replied the man. 'He
+was 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 certain
+object 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 a
+syndicate, and charged eight thousand dollars."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Leonore. "I wonder if I can afford to get your opinion
+on my being an American? I should like to frame it and hang it in my
+room. Would it be expensive?"
+
+"It is usual with lawyers," said Peter gravely, "to find out how much a
+client has, and then make the bill for a little less. How much do you
+have?"
+
+"I really haven't any now. I shall have two hundred dollars on the
+first. 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 my
+property on Tuesday. I forget how much it is, but I'm sure I can afford
+to have an opinion."
+
+"Why, Dot, we must get those papers out, and you must find some one to
+put 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 all
+your work, that he does each thing cheaper, doesn't he?"
+
+"Yes. Because he divides what his client has, on several jobs, instead
+of on one," Peter told her.
+
+"Then I think I'll have you do it all. We'll come down and see you about
+it. But write out that opinion at once, so that I can prove that I'm an
+American."
+
+"Very well. But there's a safer way, even, of making sure that you're an
+American."
+
+"What is that?" said Leonore, eagerly.
+
+"Marry one," said Peter.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Leonore, "I've always intended to do that, but not for a
+great many years."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+CALLS.
+
+
+Peter dressed himself the next evening with particular care, even for
+him. As Peter dressed, he was rather down on life. He had been kept from
+his ride that afternoon by taking evidence in a referee case. "I really
+needed the exercise badly," he said. He had tried to work his
+dissatisfaction off on his clubs and dumb-bells, but whatever they had
+done 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 a
+proper meal. Still, he did not look happy, when, on rising from his
+coffee, he glanced at his watch and found that it was but ten minutes
+past 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 walked
+four blocks, and then threw open the swing door of a brilliantly lighted
+place, stepping at once into a blaze of light and warmth which was most
+attractive 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 attitudes
+denoting ease. Two, at a small table in the corner, were playing
+dominoes. Three others, in another corner, were amusing themselves with
+"High, Low, Jack." Two were reading papers. The rest were collected
+round the centre table, most of them smoking. Some beer mugs and
+tumblers were standing about, but not more than a third of the twenty
+were drinking anything. The moment Peter entered, one of the men jumped
+to his feet.
+
+"B'ys," he cried, "here's Misther Stirling. Begobs, sir, it's fine to
+see yez. It's very scarce yez been lately." He had shaken hands, and
+then put a chair in place for Peter.
+
+The cards, papers, and dominoes had been abandoned the moment Dennis
+announced Peter's advent, and when Peter had finished shaking the hands
+held out to him, and had seated himself, the men were all gathered round
+the big table.
+
+Peter laid his hat on the table, threw back his Newcastle and lit a
+cigar. "I've been very short of time, Dennis. But I had my choice this
+evening before going uptown, of smoking a cigar in my own quarters, or
+here. 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 Board
+next Tuesday. He won't vote for it, he says. I told him I thought it was
+in the interest of the city to multiply means of transit, and asked him
+why he refused. He replied that he thought the Hummel gang had been
+offering 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 Board
+to vote the rival road."
+
+"I don't think there's much doubt that money is being spent by both
+sides," said Peter. "I fear no bill could ever pass without it. But the
+Hummel crowd are really responsible people, who offer the city a good
+percentage. The other men are merely trying to get the franchise, to
+sell 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 simply
+a choice between the two. I shouldn't mind if Denton voted against both
+schemes, but to say he'll vote against Hummel for that reason, and yet
+vote for the other franchise shows that he's not square. I didn't say so
+to him, because I wanted to talk it over with the ward a little first to
+see if they stood with me."
+
+"That we do, sir," said Dennis, with a sureness which was cool, if
+nothing more. Fortunately for the boldness of the speaker, no one
+dissented, 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, or
+some 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't
+agree widus, shure, Oi'll make them."
+
+"Thank you. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night, Mr. Stirling," came a chorus, and Peter passed into the
+street by the much maligned side-door.
+
+Dennis turned to the group with his face shining with enthusiasm. "Did
+yez see him, b'ys? There was style for yez. Isn't he somethin' for the
+ward to be proud av?"
+
+Peter turned to Broadway, and fell into a long rapid stride. In spite of
+the cold he threw open his coat, and carried his outer covering on his
+arm. Peter had no intention of going into an up-town drawing-room with
+any suggestion of "sixt" ward tobacco. So he walked till he reached
+Madison 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 the
+Fifty-seventh Street house, in reply to Peter's ring. Yet he was told
+that, "The ladies are still at dinner."
+
+Peter turned and went down the stoop. He walked to the Avenue, and
+stopped at a house not far off.
+
+"Is Mrs. Pell at home?" he asked, and procured entrance for both his
+pasteboard and himself.
+
+"Welcome, little stranger," was his greeting. "And it is so nice that
+you 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 talking
+about, so that I could enlighten our legislators when I go back," said a
+man of forty.
+
+"I wrote Pope a long letter to-day, which I asked him to show you," said
+Peter. "Things are in a bad shape, and getting worse."
+
+"But, Peter," queried the woman, "if you are the leader, why do you let
+them get so?"
+
+"So as to remain the leader," said Peter, smiling quietly.
+
+"Now that's what comes of ward politics," cried Mrs. Pell, "You are
+beginning to make Irish bulls."
+
+"No," replied Peter, "I am serious, and because people don't understand
+what I mean, they don't understand American politics."
+
+"But you say in effect that the way you retain your leadership, is by
+not leading. That's absurd!"
+
+"No. Contradiction though it may seem the way to lose authority, is to
+exercise it too much. Christ enunciated the great truth of democratic
+government, 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 nominate
+Maguire?" 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't
+seen for time out of mind, and just as I think I have a red-letter
+evening before me, you begin your everlasting politics."
+
+"I merely stopped in to shake hands," said Peter. "I have a call to make
+elsewhere, and can stay but twenty minutes. For that time we choose you
+speaker, and you can make us do as it pleases you."
+
+Twenty minutes later Peter passed into the D'Alloi drawing-room. He
+shook Mrs. D'Alloi's hand steadily, which was more than she did with
+his. Then he was made happy for a moment, with that of Leonore. Then he
+was introduced to a Madame Mellerie, whom he placed at once as the
+half-governess, half-companion, who had charge of Leonore's education; a
+Mr. Maxwell, and a Marquis de somebody. They were both good-looking
+young fellows; and greeted Peter in a friendly way. But Peter did not
+like 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 see
+Madame Mellerie. But he made a virtue of necessity, and he was too
+instinctively courteous not to treat the Frenchwoman with the same touch
+of deference his manner towards women always had. After they had been
+chatting for a little on French literature, it occurred to Peter that
+her opinion of him might have some influence with Leonore, so he decided
+that he would try and please her. But this thought turned his mind to
+Leonore, and speaking of her to her governess, he at once became so
+interested in the facts she began to pour out to him, that he forgot
+entirely 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 was
+completed, Mrs. D'Alloi turned to place her puppets properly again. But
+she found a decided bar to her intentions. Peter had formed his own
+conclusions as to why he had been set to entertain Madame Mellerie, not
+merely from the fact itself, but from the manner in which it had been
+done, and most of all, from the way Mrs. D'Alloi had managed to stand
+between Leonore and himself, as if protecting the former, till she had
+been able to force her arrangements. So with the first stir Peter had
+risen, and when the little bustle had ceased he was already standing by
+Leonore, talking to her. Mrs. D'Alloi did not look happy, but for the
+moment she was helpless.
+
+Peter had had to skirt the group to get to Leonore, and so had stood
+behind her during the farewells. She apparently had not noticed his
+advent, but the moment she had done the daughter-of-the-house duty, she
+turned to him, and said: "I wondered if you would go away without seeing
+me. 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 had
+seen you. I'm rather a persistent man in some things."
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, bobbing her head in a very knowing manner, "Miss De
+Voe told me."
+
+"Mr. Stirling," said Mrs. D'Alloi, "can't you tell us the meaning of the
+Latin motto on this seal?" Mrs. D'Alloi held a letter towards him, but
+did not stir from her position across the room.
+
+Peter understood the device. He was to be drawn off, and made to sit by
+Mrs. D'Alloi, not because she wanted to see him, but because she did not
+want him to talk to Leonore. Peter had no intention of being dragooned.
+So he said: "Madame Mellerie has been telling me what a good Latin
+scholar Miss D'Alloi is. I certainly shan't display my ignorance, till
+she 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 for
+himself. Mrs. D'Alloi looked discouraged, the more when Peter and
+Leonore put their heads close together, to examine the envelope.
+
+"'_In bonam partem_,'" read Leonore. "That's easy, mamma. It's--why, she
+isn'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 then
+said in an apologetic tone--"Would you like to invite madame? I've been
+telling her about your rooms--and you--and I think it would please her
+so."
+
+"That makes five," said Peter.
+
+"Oh, goody!" said Leonore, "I mean," she said, correcting herself, "that
+that is very kind of you."
+
+"And now the sixth?"
+
+"That must be a man of course," said Leonore, wrinkling up her forehead
+in the intensity of puzzlement. "And I know so few men." She looked out
+into space, and Peter had a moment's fear lest she should see the
+marquis, and name him. "There's one friend of yours I'm very anxious to
+meet. 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 of
+him."
+
+"Oh! I haven't that feeling about him. I----"
+
+"I think you would understand him and see the fine qualities. But do you
+think 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 can
+have 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 really
+begun 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 the
+Burgundy for that day, if your mamma accedes."
+
+"Peter, I wanted to ask you the other day about that. I thought you
+didn't drink wine."
+
+"I don't. But I give my friends a glass, when they are good enough to
+come to me. I live my own life, to please myself, but for that very
+reason, I want others to live their lives to please themselves. Trying
+to live other people's lives for them, is a pretty dog-in-the-manger
+business."
+
+Just then Mrs. D'Alloi joined them. "Were you able to translate it?" she
+asked, sitting down by them.
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Leonore. "It means 'Towards the right side,' or as a
+motto it might be translated, 'For the right side.'"
+
+Mrs. D'Alloi had clearly, to use a western expression, come determined
+to "settle down and grow up with the country." So Peter broached the
+subject of the dinner, and when she hesitated, Leonore called Watts into
+the group. He threw the casting ballot in favor of the dinner, and so it
+was 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, he
+turned 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 to
+you, 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 Hall
+to-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 a
+surly tone and manner.
+
+"Sit down," said Peter. Peter had learned that, with a certain class of
+individuals, a distance and a seat have a very dampening effect on
+anger. It is curious, man's instinctive desire to stand up to and be
+near the object for which anger is felt.
+
+"You've been talking against me in the ward, and makin' them down on
+me."
+
+"No, I didn't talk against you. I've spoken with some of the people
+about the way you think of voting on the franchises."
+
+"Yes. I wasn't round, but a friend heard Dennis and Blunkers a-going
+over it last night. And it's you did it."
+
+"Yes. But you know me well enough to be sure, after my talk with you
+yesterday, 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 the
+franchises."
+
+"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 law
+business?"
+
+"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 in
+them. He did not know whether _tu quoque_ meant something about votes,
+an insulting charge, or merely a reply, and feared to make himself
+ridiculous by his response to them. He was not the first man who has
+been hampered and floored by his own ignorance. He concluded he must
+make 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 that
+kind of a man."
+
+"I takes my orders from no one."
+
+"Denton, no one wants you to vote by order. We elected you alderman to
+do what was best for the ward and city, as it seems to you. You are
+responsible for your votes to us, and no other man can be. I don't care
+who orders you or advises you; in the end, you must vote yourself, and
+you 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 game
+between 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 to
+deceive the men in talking to them. If they trust what I tell them, it's
+because 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'll
+find I've said so."
+
+"But now?"
+
+"If you vote for that franchise, I shall certainly tell the ward that I
+think 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 make
+the ward think as I do, I couldn't do anything. What would you care for
+my 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 was
+alone 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 feels
+about the franchises."
+
+"Shure. It's one man they is. An' if Denton will step down to my place
+this night, he'll find out how they think."
+
+"They never would have felt so, if Mister Stirling hadn't talked to
+them. Not one in twenty knew the question was up."
+
+"That's because they are most of them too hard working to keep track of
+all 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 with
+others. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the future
+or 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't
+know a man I would rather see at the Hall." Peter held out his hand, and
+Denton 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, and
+it'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 av
+mind this mornin', they was tellin' me, but he's all right now, an' will
+vote 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 strangely
+enough, Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, and
+after the greetings, Peter said:
+
+"Miss D'Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis, Miss
+D'Alloi has wanted to know you because she's heard of your being such a
+friend 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, av
+such 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, all
+in due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red ink
+marginal references to such solid works as "Wheaton," "Story," and
+"Cranch's" and "Wallace's" reports. Peter had taken it practically from
+a "Digest," but many apparently learned opinions come from the same
+source. And the whole was given value by the last two lines, which read,
+"Respectfully submitted, Peter Stirling." Peter's name had value at the
+bottom of a legal opinion, or a check, if nowhere else.
+
+"Look, Mr. Moriarty," cried Leonore, too full of happiness over this
+decision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to share
+it, "I've always thought I was French--though I didn't feel so a
+bit--and now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I'm so happy. I
+hate foreigners."
+
+Watts laughed. "Why, Dot. You mustn't say that to Mr. Moriarty. He's a
+foreigner 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 most
+ardent Americans I know. As far as my experience goes, to make one of
+Dennis's bulls, the hottest American we have to-day, is the
+Irish-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 finds
+a 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 old
+weak 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 Misther
+Stirling. 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 view
+and as oratory; but it isn't business. Peter, we came down this morning
+to take whatever legal steps are necessary to put Dot in possession of
+her grandmother's money, of which I have been trustee. Here is a lot of
+papers 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 of
+it, and pay me the income, I can't have the principal till I'm
+twenty-five."
+
+"You must tie it up some way, Peter, or Dot will make ducks and drakes
+of it. She has about as much idea of the value of money as she has of
+the value of foreigners. When we had our villa at Florence, she
+supported the entire pauper population of the city."
+
+Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds. But it struck him
+that this was really a chance--from a business standpoint, entirely! It
+is true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trust
+company 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 for
+his time. "Sometimes, however," said Peter to himself, "these,
+trusteeships have very handsome picking's, aside from the half per
+cent." Peter did not say that the "pickings," as they framed themselves
+in his mind, were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiable
+reason at all times for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of letters
+and other unearned increment. So Peter was not obstinate this time.
+"It's such a simple matter that I can have the papers drawn while you
+wait, if you've half an hour to spare." Peter did this, thinking it
+would keep them longer, but later it occurred to him it would have been
+better to find some other reason, and leave the papers, because then
+Leonore would have had to come again soon. Peter was not quite as cool
+and far-seeing as he was normally.
+
+He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion that
+they go into his study. Peter rang for his head clerk, and explained
+what was needed with great rapidity, and then left the latter and went
+into the study.
+
+"I wonder what he's in such a hurry for?" said the clerk, retiring with
+the papers.
+
+When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing in
+chairs, and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking. This was what
+Dennis was saying:
+
+"'Schatter, boys, an' find me a sledge.' Shure, we thought it was
+demented 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 it
+a swing, an' struck the bolts crosswise like, so that the heads flew
+off, like they was shootin' stars. Then he struck the rails sideways, so
+as to loosen them from the ties. Then says he: 'Half a dozen av yez take
+off yez belts an' strap these rails together!' Even then we didn't
+understand, but we did it All this time the dirty spal--Oi ask yez
+pardon, miss--all this time the strikers were pluggin' at us, an'
+bullets flyin' like fun. 'Drop your muskets,' says the captain, when we
+had done; 'fall in along those rails. Pick them up, and double-quick for
+the shed door,' says he, just as if he was on parade. Then we saw what
+he was afther, and double-quick we went. Begobs, that door went down as
+if it was paper. He was the first in. 'Stand back,' says he, 'till Oi
+see what's needed.' Yez should have seen him walk into that sheet av
+flame, an' stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin', an' it so hot that we at
+the door were coverin' our faces to save them from scorchin'. Then he
+says: '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,' But
+not he. He came out, an' he says: 'B'ys, it's hot in there, but, if you
+don't mind a bit av a burn, we can get the poor fellows out. Will yez
+try?' 'Yes!' we shouted. So he explained how we could push cars widout
+touchin' them. 'Fall in,' says he. 'Fix bayonets. First file to the
+right av the cars, second rank to the left. Forward, march!' An' we went
+into that hell, an' rolled them cars out just as if we was marchin' down
+Broadway, 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 divil
+himsilf. Hardly one av us but didn't have the hair burnt off the part
+his cap didn't cover; an', as for eyelashes, an' mustaches, an'
+blisters, no one thought av them the next day. Shure, the whole company
+was 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 blind
+he'd be; but he went to Paris, an' they did somethin' to him there that
+saved 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 so
+absorbing to watch Leonore's face, and its changing expression, as,
+unconscious of his presence, she listened to Dennis, that Peter had not
+the heart to do it. But now Watts spoke up.
+
+"Do you hear that, Peter? There's value for you! You're better than the
+cat."
+
+So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennis
+left. Then the necessary papers were brought in and looked over at
+Peter's study-table, and Miss D'Alloi took another of his pens. Peter
+hoped she'd stop and think a little, again, but she didn't. Just as she
+had begun an L she hesitated, however.
+
+"Why," she said, "this paper calls me 'Leonore D'Alloi, spinster!' I'm
+not going to sign that."
+
+"That is merely the legal term," Peter explained. Leonore pouted for
+some 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 on
+the blotter, "Leonore D'Alloi. Her very untidy mark." "That was what
+Madame Mellerie always made me write on my exercises."
+
+Then they said "Good-bye." "I like down-town New York better and
+better," 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, and
+make 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 young
+lady 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 decided
+to only take papa's. But I put yours up in my room, and shall keep them
+there." Then Peter had to give place to another, just as he had decided
+that 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 the
+pretty rounded figure in the dainty evening dress of French open-work
+embroidery. "I didn't think she could be lovelier than she was in her
+street and riding dresses but she is made for evening dress," was his
+thought. He knew this observation wasn't right, however, so he glanced
+round the room, and then walked up to a couple.
+
+"There, I told Mr. Beekman that I was trying to magnetize you, and
+though your back was turned, you came to me at once."
+
+"Er--really, quite wonderful, you know," said Mr. Beekman. "I positively
+sharn'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 over
+here."
+
+Peter smiled. "I go out so little now, that I have turned selfish. I
+don't go to entertain people. I go to be entertained. Tell me what you
+have 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 the
+dining-room. Miss De Voe gave her arm to Beekman calmly, but her eyes
+followed Peter. They both could have made a better arrangement. Most
+dinner guests can.
+
+It was a large dinner, and so was served in the ball-room. The sixty
+people gathered were divided into little groups, and seated at small
+tables holding six or eight. Peter knew all but one at his table, to the
+extent of having had previous meetings. They were all fashionables, and
+the talk took the usual literary-artistic-musical turn customary with
+that set. "Men, not principles" is the way society words the old cry, or
+perhaps "personalities, not generalities" is a better form. So Peter ate
+his dinner quietly, the conversation being general enough not to force
+him to do more than respond, when appealed to. He was, it is true,
+appealed to frequently. Peter had the reputation, as many quiet men
+have, of being brainy. Furthermore he knew the right kind of people, was
+known to enjoy a large income, was an eligible bachelor, and was
+"interesting and unusual." So society no longer rolled its Juggernaut
+over him regardlessly, as of yore. A man who was close friends with half
+a dozen exclusives of the exclusives, was a man not to be disregarded,
+simply because he didn't talk. Society people applied much the same test
+as did the little "angle" children, only in place of "he's frinds wid
+der perlice," they substituted "he's very intimate with Miss De Voe, and
+the Ogdens and the Pells."
+
+Peter had dimly hoped that he would find himself seated at Leonore's
+table--He had too much self depreciation to think for a moment that he
+would take her in--but hers was a young table, he saw, and he would not
+have minded so much if it hadn't been for that Marquis. Peter began to
+have a very low opinion of foreigners. Then he remembered that Leonore
+had the same prejudice, so he became more reconciled to the fact that
+the Marquis was sitting next her. And when Leonore sent him a look and a
+smile, and held up the wrist, so as to show the pearl bracelet, Peter
+suddenly thought what a delicious _rissole_ he was eating.
+
+As the dinner waned, one of the footmen brought him a card, on which
+Watts had written: "They want me to say a few words of welcome and of
+Dot. 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? Only
+one? 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 to
+hear it." Peter said, "Tell Mr. D'Alloi that I will with pleasure." Then
+he 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 may
+give me a glass," and Watts was on his feet. He gave "our friends" a
+pleasant welcome, and after apologizing for their absence, said that at
+least, "like the little wife in the children's play, 'We too have not
+been idle,' for we bring you a new friend and introduce her to you
+to-night."
+
+Then Peter rose, and told the host: "Your friends have been grieved at
+your long withdrawal from them, as the happy faces and welcome we tender
+you 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 of
+American nature, despite its life and strength and freshness; that we
+had lost you for all time. But to-night we can hardly regret even this
+long interlude, if to that circumstance we owe the happiest and most
+charming combination of American nature and European art--Miss D'Alloi."
+
+Then there was applause, and a drinking of Miss D'Alloi's health, and
+the ladies passed out of the room--to enjoy themselves, be it
+understood, leaving the men in the gloomy, quarrelsome frame of mind it
+always does.
+
+Peter apparently became much abstracted over his cigar, but the
+abstraction was not perhaps very deep, for he was on his feet the moment
+Watts 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 different
+from what I had been told to think you. Every one said you were very
+silent and very uncomplimentary, and never joked, but you are not a bit
+as they said, and I thought you had probably changed, just as you had
+about the clothes. But Mrs. Grinnell says she never heard you make a
+joke or a compliment in her life, and that at the Knickerbocker they
+call you 'Peter, the silent.' You are a great puzzle."
+
+Dorothy laughed. "Here we four women--Mrs. Grinnell, and Mrs. Winthrop
+and Leonore and myself--have been quarrelling over you, and each
+insisting you are something different. I believe you are not a bit firm
+and stable, as people say you are, but a perfect chameleon, changing
+your tint according to the color of the tree you are on. Leonore was the
+worst, though! She says that you talk and joke a great deal. We could
+have 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, do
+you 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 a
+woman-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 so
+untalkative to women. I don't like men who think badly of women. Now, I
+want 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, nor
+treated me as they do other men. And so, when I am put with a
+small-talk woman, I feel all at sea, and, try as I may, I can't please
+her. They are never friendly with me as they are with other men."
+
+"Rubbish!" said Dorothy. "It's what you do, not what she does, that
+makes the trouble. You look at a woman with those grave eyes and that
+stern jaw of yours, and we all feel that we are fools on the spot, and
+really become so. I never stopped being afraid of you till I found out
+that in reality you were afraid of me. You know you are. You are afraid
+of all women."
+
+"He isn't a bit afraid of women," affirmed Leonore.
+
+Just then Mr. Beekman came up. "Er--Mrs. Rivington. You know this
+is--er--a sort of house-warming, and they tell me we are to go over the
+house, don't you know, if we wish. May I harve the pleasure?"
+
+Dorothy conferred the boon. Peter looked down at Leonore with a laugh in
+his 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 only
+imitated so far and then they both laughed.
+
+Leonore rose. "With pleasure. I only wish Mrs. Grinnell had heard you. I
+didn't know you could mimic?"
+
+"I oughtn't. It's a small business. But I am so happy that I couldn't
+resist 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! What
+room 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. There
+were her pictures, most of them her own purchases in Europe; and her
+books and what she thought of them; and her thousand little knick-knacks
+of one kind and another. Peter wasn't at all in a hurry to see the rest
+of the house.
+
+"These are the photographs of my real friends," said Leonore, "except
+yours. 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 have
+none left."
+
+"Then you must sit."
+
+"Very well. But it must be an exchange." Peter almost trembled at his
+boldness, 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 open
+a 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, and
+let me have these four?"
+
+"Oh, you greedy!" said Leonore, laughing. "Yes, if you'll do something
+I'm going to ask you."
+
+Peter pocketed the four. "That is a bargain," he said, with a brashness
+simply disgraceful in a good business man. "Now, what is it?"
+
+"Miss De Voe told me long ago about your savings-bank fund for helping
+the poor people. Now that I have come into my money, I want to do what
+she does. Give a thousand dollars a year to it--and then you are to tell
+me just what you do with it."
+
+"Of course I'm bound to take it, if you insist. But it won't do any
+good. Even Miss De Voe has stopped giving now, and I haven't added
+anything to it for over five years."
+
+"Why is that?"
+
+"You see, I began by loaning the fund to people who were in trouble, or
+who could be boosted a little by help, and for three or four years, I
+found the money went pretty fast. But by that time people began to pay
+it back, with interest often, and there has hardly been a case when it
+hasn't been repaid. So what with Miss De Voe's contributions, and the
+return of the money, I really have more than I can properly use already.
+There's only about eight thousand loaned at present, and nearly five
+thousand 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 kill
+temporary pain. It stops the pain for the moment, but only to weaken the
+system 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 as
+it helps."
+
+"I have thought about this for five years as something I should do. I'm
+so grieved." And Leonore looked her words.
+
+Peter could not stand that look. "I've been thinking of sending a
+thousand dollars of the fund, that I didn't think there was much chance
+of using, to a Fresh Air fund and the Day Nursery. If you wish I'll send
+two thousand instead and then take your thousand? Then I can use that
+for whatever I have a chance."
+
+"That will do nicely. But I thought you didn't think regular charities
+did much good?"
+
+"Some don't. But it's different with children. They don't feel the
+stigma and are not humiliated or made indolent by help. We can't do too
+much to help them. The future of this country depends on its poor
+children. 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 food
+and 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 much
+better chance."
+
+"Oh, it's very interesting," said Leonore. "Tell me some more about the
+poor 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, trying
+to find some way to do it. I think the finest opportunity for
+benevolence, not already attempted, would be a company to lend money to
+the poor, just as I have attempted, on a small scale, in my ward. You
+see there are thousands of perfectly honest people who are living on day
+wages, and many of them can lay up little or no money. Then comes
+sickness, or loss of employment, or a fire which burns up all their
+furniture and clothes, or some other mischance, and they can turn only
+to pawnbrokers and usurers, with their fearful charges; or charity, with
+its shame. Then there are hundreds of people whom a loan of a little
+money would help wonderfully. This boy can get a place if he had a
+respectable suit of clothes. Another can obtain work by learning a
+trade, but can't live while he learns it. A woman can support herself if
+she can buy a sewing-machine, but hasn't the money to buy it. Another
+can get a job at something, but is required to make a deposit to the
+value of the goods intrusted to her. Now, if all these people could go
+to 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 of
+knowing how much would be asked for. But a hundred thousand dollars
+would do to start with."
+
+"Why, that's only a hundred people giving a thousand each," cried
+Leonore eagerly. "Peter, I'll give a thousand, and I'll make mamma and
+papa give a thousand, and I'll speak to my friends and--"
+
+"Money isn't the difficult part," said Peter, longing to a fearful
+degree to take Leonore in his arms. "If it were only money, I could do
+it myself--or if I did not choose to do it alone, Miss De Voe and Pell
+would help me."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"It's finding the right man to run such a company. I can't give the
+time, for I can do more good in other directions. It needs a good
+business man, yet one who must have many other qualities which rarely go
+with a business training. He must understand the poor, because he must
+look into every case, to see if it is a safe risk--or rather if the past
+life of the applicant indicates that he is entitled to help. Now if your
+grandfather, who is such an able banker, were to go into my ward, and
+ask about the standing of a man in it, he wouldn't get any real
+information. But if I ask, every one will tell me what he thinks. The
+man in control of such a bank must be able to draw out the truth. Unless
+the management was just what it ought to be, it would be bankrupt in a
+few months, or else would not lend to one quarter of the people who
+deserve help. Yet from my own experience, I know, that money can be
+loaned to these people, so that the legal interest more than pays for
+the occasional loss, and that most of these losses are due to
+inability, more than to dishonesty."
+
+"I wish we could go on talking," sighed Leonore. "But the people are
+beginning 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-night
+to 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 better
+not interrupt."
+
+"I didn't see you," said Leonore.
+
+"Indeed!" said Lispenard, with immense wonderment. "I can't believe
+that. You know you were cutting us." Then he turned to Peter. "You old
+scamp, 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, but
+this one has been the pleasantest of my life."
+
+"That's very nice. And thank you, Peter, for the bracelet, and the
+flowers, and the compliment. They were all lovely. Would you like a
+rose?"
+
+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 from
+Washington 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 that
+evening. 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 she
+doesn't care for money, and she isn't eaten up with ambition. She is
+absolutely untouched by the world yet. Then she is natural, yet
+reserved, with other men. She's not husband-hunting, like so many of
+them. And she's loving, not merely of those about her, but of
+everything."
+
+Musicians will take a simple theme and on it build unlimited variations.
+This was what Peter proceeded to do. From Fifty-seventh Street to
+Peter's rooms was a matter of four miles. Peter had not half finished
+his thematic treatment of Leonore when he reached his quarters. He sat
+down before his fire, however, and went on, not with hope of exhausting
+all 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 my
+best to make her love me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+A GOOD DAY.
+
+
+The next day it was raining torrents, but despite this, and to the utter
+neglect of his law business, Peter drove up-town immediately after
+lunch, to the house in Fifty-seventh Street. He asked for Watts, but
+while he was waiting for the return of the servant, he heard a light
+foot-step, and turning, he found Leonore fussing over some flowers. At
+the 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 lips
+were trembling slightly.
+
+Peter felt a great temptation to say something strong. "Why can't the
+women let such an innocent child alone?" he thought to himself. Aloud he
+said, "If any wrong was done, which I don't think, it was my fault. Can
+I do anything?"
+
+"I don't believe so," said Leonore, with a slight unsteadiness in her
+voice. "They say that men will always monopolize a girl if she will
+allow it, and that a really well-mannered one won't permit it for a
+moment."
+
+Peter longed to take her in his arms and lay the little downcast head
+against his shoulder, but he had to be content with saying: "I am so
+sorry they blame you. If I could only save you from it." He evidently
+said it in a comforting voice, for the head was raised a trifle.
+
+"You see," said Leonore, "I've always been very particular with men, but
+with you it seemed different. Yet they both say I stayed too long
+upstairs, and were dreadfully shocked about the photographs. They said I
+ought 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 this
+point.
+
+Peter turned to go, but in leaving he said: "Is there any pleasure or
+service I can do, to make up for the trouble I've caused you?"
+
+Leonore put her head on one side, and looked a little less
+grief-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 I
+would rather see her choose, or to whom I would sooner trust her."
+
+"Thank you, Watts," said Peter, gratefully. "Watts is weak, but he is a
+good fellow," was his mental remark. Peter entirely forgot his opinion
+of two weeks ago. It is marvellous what a change a different point of
+view 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 the
+little woman, and how she loves me. From no other man can she learn what
+will 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 shall
+have a clear field and every chance."
+
+"I fear not. There's something more. Mrs. D'Alloi won't pardon that
+incident--nor do I blame her. I can't force my presence here if she does
+not give her consent. It would be too cruel, even if I could hope to
+succeed in spite of her. I want to see her this morning. You can tell
+better than I whether you had best speak to her first, or whether I
+shall tell her."
+
+"H'm. That is a corker, isn't it? Don't you think you had better let
+things drift?"
+
+"No. I'm not going to try and win a girl's love behind the mother's
+back. Remember, Watts, the mother is the only one to whom a girl can go
+at 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. Watts
+put his head in. "Is my Rosebud so busy that she can't spare her lover a
+few moments?"
+
+"Watts, you know I live for you."
+
+Watts dropped down on the lounge. "Come here, then, like a loving little
+wife, 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 some
+more.
+
+"Now, I want to talk with you seriously, dear," he said. "Who do you
+think 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 face
+to her husband.
+
+"I've thought she attracted him, but he's such an impassive, cool old
+chap, 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 ranged
+themselves in Watts's mind). "I don't see what more you can ask, short
+of a title, and titles not only never have all those qualities combined,
+but they are really getting decidedly _nouveau richey_ and not
+respectable enough for a Huguenot family, who've lived two hundred and
+fifty years in New York. What a greedy mamma she is for her little
+girl."
+
+"Oh, Watts! But think!"
+
+"It's hard work, dear, with your eyes to look at. But I will, if you'll
+tell me what to think about."
+
+"My husband! You cannot have forgotten? Oh, no! It is too horrible for
+you to have forgotten that day."
+
+"You heavenly little Puritan! So you are going to refuse Peter as a
+son-in-law, because he--ah--he's not a Catholic monk. Why, Rosebud, if
+you are going to apply that rule to all Dot's lovers, you had better
+post 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 better
+than trust our little girl to Peter."
+
+"With that stain! Oh, Watts, give him our pure, innocent, spotless
+child!"
+
+"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 and
+true 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'm
+no better than I should be, and it's nothing but your love that makes
+you think I am."
+
+"I won't hear you say such things of yourself. You know you are the best
+and 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 arms
+round 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 believe
+would not be true to her, or make her happy. I know every circumstance
+of Peter's connection with that woman, and he is as blameless as man
+ever was. Such as it was, it was ended years ago, and can never give him
+more trouble. He is a strong man, and will be true to Dot. She might get
+a man who would make her life one long torture. She may be won by a man
+who only cares for her money, and will not even give her the husks of
+love. But Peter loves her, and has outgrown his mistakes. And don't
+forget that but for him we might now have nothing but some horribly
+mangled remains to remember of our little darling. Dear, I love Dot
+twenty times more than I love Peter. For her sake, and yours, I am
+trying to do my best for her."
+
+So presently Mrs. D'Alloi came into the library, where Peter sat. She
+held out her hand to him, but Peter said:
+
+"Let me say something first. Mrs. D'Alloi, I would not have had that
+occurrence happen in your home or presence if I had been able to prevent
+it. It grieves me more than I can tell you. I am not a rou�. In spite of
+appearances I have lived a clean life. I shall never live any other in
+the future. I--I love Leonore. Love her very dearly. And if you will
+give her to me, should I win her, I pledge you my word that I will give
+her the love, and tenderness, and truth which she deserves. Now, will
+you give me your hand?"
+
+"He is speaking the truth," thought Mrs. D'Alloi, as Peter spoke. She
+held 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 Leonore
+reposing in an exceedingly undignified position before the fire on a big
+tiger-skin, and stroking a Persian cat, who, in delight at this enviable
+treatment, purred and dug its claws into the rug. Peter stood for a time
+watching the pretty tableau, wishing he was a cat.
+
+"Yes, Tawney-eye," said Leonore, in heartrending tones, "it isn't a good
+day at all."
+
+"I'm going to quarrel with you on that," said Peter. "It's a glorious
+day."
+
+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 and
+the 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 dinner
+and am to monopolize you till then. Thirdly, she says we may be just as
+good friends as we please. Fourthly, she has asked me to come and stay
+for 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 forgot
+her "papas, proprieties, potatoes, prunes and prisms," and dropping down
+on the rug, buried her face in the cat's long silky hair. Then she
+reappeared 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 her
+dignity enough to rise, and say, "Now, I want to pay you for your
+niceness. 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 the
+tea-table, and we'll have afternoon tea together. It's the day of all
+others 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 the
+same."
+
+"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 you
+were 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 you
+feel that it really is. I never saw him in my life, when it wasn't 'a
+foine day.' I tell him he carries his sunshine round in his heart."
+
+"You are so different," said Leonore, "from what every one said. I never
+knew a man pay such nice compliments. That's the seventh I've heard you
+make."
+
+"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 warm
+cup of tea; perhaps it was the blazing logs; perhaps it was the shade of
+the lamp, which cast such a pleasant rosy tint over everything; perhaps
+it 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 begun
+to read the papers--the political part, I mean--and there are so many
+things I don't understand which I want to ask you to explain."
+
+"That is very nice," said Peter, "because there are a great many things
+of which I want to tell you."
+
+"Goody!" said Leonore, forgetting again she was now bound to conduct
+herself as befit a society girl. "And you'll not laugh at me if I ask
+foolish 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 a
+certain extent."
+
+"But don't they speak of a boss as something not nice?" asked Leonore, a
+little timidly, as if afraid of hurting Peter's feelings.
+
+"Usually it is used as a stigma," said Peter, smiling. "At least by the
+kind 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 are
+bosses bad, and are you a boss?"
+
+"You are asking me one of the biggest questions in American politics. I
+probably can't answer it, but I'll try to show you why I can't. Are
+there 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 abstract
+politics." Then he rallied and said: "Well, that is the condition of men
+as well, and it is that condition, which creates the so-called boss. In
+every community there are men who influence more or less the rest. It
+may be that one can only influence half a dozen other intimates. Another
+may exert power over fifty. A third may sway a thousand. One may do it
+by mere physical superiority. Another by a friendly manner. A third by
+being better informed. A fourth by a deception or bribery. A fifth by
+honesty. 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 he
+has his admirers. Sloftky is popular with the Jews, because he is of
+their 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 of
+men who are a little more marked than the rest, who have power to
+influence the opinions of men about them, and therefore have power to
+influence 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 can
+usually affect an average of twenty-five votes. But now we get to
+another rung of the ladder. Here we have Dennis, and such men as
+Blunkers, Denton, Kennedy, Schlurger and others. They not merely have
+their own set of followers, but they have more or less power to dominate
+the little bosses of whom I have already spoken. Take Dennis for
+instance. He has fifty adherents who stick to him absolutely, two
+hundred and fifty who listen to him with interest, and a dozen of the
+smaller bosses, who pass his opinions to their followers. So he can thus
+have some effect on about five hundred votes. Of course it takes more
+force and popularity to do this and in this way we have a better grade
+of men."
+
+"Yes. I like Mr. Moriarty, and can understand why others do. He is so
+ugly, 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 by
+being better informed, and by being more far-seeing. Such men as
+Gallagher 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 with
+other work have no time. They don't need the great personal popularity
+of 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 their
+intentions, must meet and try to arrange to pull together, for otherwise
+they can do nothing. Naturally, in a dozen or twenty men, there will be
+grades, 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 the
+papers call a boss of a ward. Then when these various ward bosses
+endeavor to unite for general purposes, the strongest man will sway
+them, 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 city
+without consultation with me. But of course I am more dependent on the
+voters than they are on me, for if they choose to do differently from
+what 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 right
+over 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 the
+voters. If they should defeat what I want three times running, every one
+would laugh at me, and my power would be gone. So you see that a boss is
+only 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 you
+do anything?"
+
+"There comes in the problem of practical politics. The question of who
+can affect the voters most. Take my own ward. Suppose that I want
+something done so much that I insist. And suppose that some of the other
+leaders are equally determined that it shan't be done. The ward splits
+on 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 tell
+them why and what I want to do. Then the men I have had to antagonize do
+the same, and the voters decide between us. It then is a question as to
+which side can win the majority of the voters. Because I have been very
+successful in this, I am the so-called boss. That is, I can make the
+voters feel that I am right."
+
+"How?"
+
+"For many reasons. First, I have always tried to tell the voters the
+truth, and never have been afraid to acknowledge I was wrong, when I
+found I had made a mistake, so people trust what I say. Then, unlike
+most of the leaders in politics, I am not trying to get myself office or
+profit, and so the men feel that I am disinterested. Then I try to be
+friendly with the whole ward, so that if I have to do what they don't
+like, their personal feeling for me will do what my arguments never
+could. With these simple, strong-feeling, and unreasoning folk, one can
+get ten times the influence by a warm handshake and word that one can by
+a logical argument. We are so used to believing what we read, if it
+seems reasonable, that it is hard for us to understand that men who
+spell out editorials with difficulty, and who have not been trained to
+reason from facts, are not swayed by what to us seems an obvious
+argument. But, on the contrary, if a man they trust, puts it in plain
+language to them, they see it at once. I might write a careful
+editorial, 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 the
+saloons, and tell the men just the same thing, and there isn't a man who
+wouldn'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 have
+tried very hard to be popular. I have endeavored to make a friend of
+every man in it with whom one could be friendly, because I wished to be
+as powerful as possible, so that the men would side with me whenever I
+put 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 by
+political influence. When I was able to take a hand, I felt that I could
+do 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 in
+the ward, and on election day I asked a good many men, as a personal
+favor, to vote for the Republican, and my friends asked others. Even
+Dennis 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 their
+ballots.' 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 that
+year. It was a great surprise to every one--even to myself--for the ward
+is Democratic by about four thousand majority. But I couldn't do that
+sort of thing often, for the men wouldn't stand it. In other words, I
+can 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 their
+opinions 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 of
+the old idea that great things are done by one-man power. If you will go
+over the men who are said to control--the bosses, as they are called--in
+this city, you will find that they all have worked their way into
+influence slowly, and have been many years kept in power, though they
+could be turned out in a single fight. Yet this power is obtained only
+by the wish of a majority, for the day they lose the consent of a
+majority of the voters that day their power ends. We are really more
+dependent than the representatives, for they are elected for a certain
+time, while our tenure can be ended at any moment. Why am I a power in
+my ward? Because I am supposed to represent a given number of votes,
+which are influenced by my opinions. It would be perfectly immaterial to
+my importance how I influenced those votes, so long as I could control
+them. But because I can influence them, the other leaders don't dare to
+antagonize me, and so I can have my way up to a certain point. And
+because I can control the ward I have made it a great power in city
+politics."
+
+"How did you do that?"
+
+"By keeping down the factional feeling. You see there are always more
+men struggling for power or office, than can have it, and so there
+cannot but be bad blood between the contestants. For instance, when I
+first became interested in politics, Moriarty and Blunkers were quite as
+anxious to down each other as to down the Republicans. Now they are
+sworn 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. Still
+others 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 at
+first, and from being one of the most uncertain wards in the city, the
+sixth has been known at headquarters for the last five years as 'old
+reliability' from the big majority it always polls. So at headquarters I
+am looked up to and consulted. Now do you understand why and what a boss
+is?"
+
+"Yes, Peter. Except why bosses are bad."
+
+"Don't you see that it depends on what kind of men they are, and what
+kind of voters are back of them. A good man, with honest votes back of
+him, is a good boss, and _vice versa_."
+
+"Then I know you are a good boss. It's a great pity that all the bosses
+can't be good?"
+
+"I have not found them so bad. They are quite as honest, unselfish, and
+reasonable 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, I
+have never known a man who could control a thousand votes for five
+years, who was not a better man, all in all, than the voters whom he
+influenced. More one cannot expect. The people are not quick, but they
+find 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 the
+people all of the time,'" laughed a voice.
+
+Peter took his eyes off Leonore's face, where they had been resting
+restfully, and glanced up. Watts had entered the room.
+
+"Go on," said Watts. "Don't let me interrupt your political
+disquisitions; I have only come in for a cup of tea."
+
+"Miss D'Alloi and I were merely discussing bosses," said Peter. "Miss
+D'Alloi, when women get the ballot, as I hope they will, I trust you
+will be a good boss, for I am sure you will influence a great many
+votes."
+
+"Oh!" said Leonore, laughing, "I shan't be a boss at all. You'll be my
+boss, 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, but
+instead 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 _frapp�_ the champagne?"
+
+"Yissah?"
+
+"Jenifer, don't put quite so much onion juice as usual in the Queen
+Isabella 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 broiled
+oysters, onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was becoming
+irritated at such evident doubt of his abilities.
+
+Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried. He
+glanced round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search of
+possible sources for slips, but did not see them. All he was able to say
+was, "That broth smells very nice, Jenifer."
+
+"Yissah. Dar ain't nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and de
+squeezin's of a hunerd clams, sah. Dat sup will make de angels sorry dey
+died. 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'll
+be pow'ful glad yo' didn't." To himself, Jenifer remarked: "Who he gwine
+hab dis day? He neber so anxious befoh, not even when de Presidint an
+Guv'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 that
+he looked in his glass for some minutes. Not, however, apparently with
+much pleasure, for an anxious look came into his face, and he remarked
+aloud, as he turned away, "I don't look so old, but I once heard Watts
+say that I should never take a prize for my looks, and he was right. I
+wonder if she cares for handsome men?"
+
+Peter forgot his worry in the opening of a box in the dining-room and
+the taking out of the flowers. He placed the bunches at the different
+places, raising one of the bouquets of violets to his lips, before he
+laid it down. Then he took the cut flowers, and smilax, and spread them
+loosely in the centre of the little table, which otherwise had nothing
+on it, except the furnishings placed at each seat. After that he again
+kissed a bunch of violets. History doesn't state whether it was the same
+bunch. 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?" he
+continued, 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 the
+rest. Peter, here's a letter from Muller. He's got that 'Descent' in its
+first state, in the most brilliant condition. You had better get it, and
+trash your present impression. It has always looked cheap beside the
+rest."
+
+"Very well. Will you attend to it?"
+
+Just then came the sound of voices and the rustle of draperies in the
+little hall.
+
+"Hello! Ladies?" said Le Grand. "This is to be one of what Lispenard
+calls your 'often, frequently, only once' affairs, is it?"
+
+"I'm afraid we are early," said Mrs. D'Alloi. "We did not know how much
+time to allow."
+
+"No. Such old friends cannot come too soon."
+
+"And as it is, I'm really starved," said another personage, shaking
+hands with Peter as if she had not seen him for a twelve-month instead
+of parting with him but two hours before. "What an appetite riding in
+the 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. So
+Leonore had to fight her country's battles by herself.
+
+"What's all this to-day's papers are saying, Peter?" asked Watts, as
+soon 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 nomination
+for 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 tried
+to get Peter, first and last, to talk politics, but not a fact do we
+get. They say it's his ability to hold his tongue which made Costell
+trust him and push him, and that that was the reason he was chosen to
+fill Costells place."
+
+"_I_ don't fill his place," said Peter. "No one can do that. I merely
+succeeded 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 the
+French."
+
+"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 appealed
+to the one face on which no amusement or skepticism was shown.
+
+"I think it is rather dangerous to ascribe any particular trait to any
+nationality. It is usually misleading. But most men who think much, talk
+little, and the French have many thinkers"
+
+"I always liked Von Moltke, just for it being said of him that he could
+be silent in seven languages," said Le Grand.
+
+"Yes," said Leonore. "It's so restful. We crossed on the steamer with a
+French Marquis who can speak six languages, and can't say one thing
+worth 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 never
+will 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 to
+him as to what you said about the bosses, and he told me that bosses
+could never be really good, unless the better element were allowed to
+vote, 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 the
+men and the laws which are to govern them. Aside from this, every ounce
+of 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 vote
+rightly, and if the wrong half carries the election, it is because more
+intelligent people have voted wrongly, have not voted, or have not taken
+the trouble to try and show the people the right way, but have left them
+to the mercies of the demagogue. If we grant that every man who takes
+care of himself has some brain, and some experience, his vote is of some
+value, even if not a high one. Suppose we have an eagle, and a thousand
+pennies. Are we any better off by tossing away the coppers, because each
+is worth so little. That is why I have always advocated giving the
+franchise to women. If we can add ten million voters to an election, we
+have added just so much knowledge to it, and made it just so much the
+harder to mislead or buy enough votes to change results."
+
+"You evidently believe," said Watts, "in the saying, 'Everybody knows
+more than anybody?'"
+
+Peter had forgotten all about his company in his interest over--over the
+franchise. So he started slightly at this question, and looked up
+from--from his subject.
+
+"Yes," said Le Grand. "We've been listening and longing to ask
+questions. When we see such a fit of loquacity, we want to seize the
+opportunity."
+
+"No," said Leonore, "I haven't finished. Tell me. Can't you make the men
+do 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 because
+a 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 as
+one makes a child behave without regard to its own desires. With grown
+men, such a system only results in widening the distance between the
+classes 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 him
+nearer to the more educated. He even educates himself by his own
+mistakes; for every bad man elected, and every bad law passed, make him
+suffer the results, and he can only blame himself. Of course we don't
+get as good a government or laws, but then we have other offsetting
+advantages."
+
+"What are those?"
+
+"We get men and laws which are the wish of the majority. Such are almost
+self-supporting and self-administering. It is not a mere combination of
+words, printing-ink, and white paper which makes a law. It is the
+popular sentiment back of it which enforces it, and unless a law is the
+wish of a majority of the people who are to be governed by it, it is
+either 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 by
+force, in the face of popular sentiment. Then, too, we get a stability
+almost unknown in governments which do not conform to the people. This
+country has altered its system of government less than any other great
+country in the last hundred years. And there is less socialistic
+legislation and propaganda here than anywhere else. That is, less
+discontent."
+
+"But, Peter, if the American people are as sensible as you think, how do
+you 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't
+these men elected?"
+
+"Who are as absolutely inexperienced and blind as to the way to
+influence votes, as well can be. Look at it, as a contest, without
+regard to the merit of the cause. On one side we have bosses, who know
+and understand the men in their wards, have usually made themselves
+popular, are in politics for a living, have made it a life-study, and by
+dear experience have learned that they must surrender their own opinions
+in order to produce harmony and a solid vote. The reformer, on the
+contrary, is usually a man who has other occupations, and, if I may say
+so, has usually met with only partial success in them. By that I mean
+that the really successful merchant, or banker, or professional man
+cannot take time to work in politics, and so only the less successful
+try. Each reformer, too, is sure that he himself is right, and as his
+bread and butter is not in the issue, he quarrels to his heart's content
+with his associates, so that they rarely can unite all their force. Most
+of the reform movements in this city have been attempted in a way that
+is simply laughable. What should we say if a hundred busy men were to
+get together to-morrow, and decide that they would open a great bank, to
+fight the clearing-house banks of New York? Yet this, in effect, is what
+the reformers have done over and over again in politics. They say to the
+men who have been kept in power for years by the people, 'You are
+scoundrels. The people who elected you are ignorant We know how to do
+it better. Now we'll turn you out.' In short, they tell the majority
+they are fools, but ask their votes. The average reformer endorses
+thoroughly the theory 'that every man is as good as another, and a
+little better.' And he himself always is the better man. The people
+won't stand that. The 'holier than thou' will defeat a man quicker in
+this 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 told
+that they are ignorant and wrong, and this assumption is the basis of
+most of the so-called educational campaigns. To give impetus to a new
+movement takes immense experience, shrewdness, tact, and many other
+qualities. The people are obstructive--that is conservative--in most
+things, and need plenty of time."
+
+"Unless _you_ tell them what they are to do," laughed Watts. "Then they
+know quick enough."
+
+"Well, that has taken them fifteen years to learn. Don't you see how
+absurd it is to suppose that the people are going to take the opinions
+of 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 it
+with campaign literature, which has served to light fires; their papers
+have argued, and nobody read them. But the ward knows me. There's hardly
+a voter who doesn't. They've tested me. Most of them like me. I've lived
+among them for years. I've gone on their summer excursions. I've talked
+with them all over the district. I have helped them in their troubles. I
+have said a kind word over their dead. I'm godfather to many. With
+others I've stood shoulder to shoulder when the bullets were flying.
+Why, the voters who were children when I first came here, with whom I
+use to sit in the angle, are almost numerous enough now to carry an
+election 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? That
+is the true secret of the failure of reformers. A logical argument is
+all right in a court of appeals, but when it comes to swaying five
+thousand votes, give me five thousand loving hearts rather than five
+thousand logical reasons."
+
+"Yet you have carried reforms."
+
+"I have tried, but always in a practical way. That is, by not
+antagonizing the popular men in politics, but by becoming one of them
+and making them help me. I have gained political power by recognizing
+that I could only have my own way by making it suit the voters. You see
+there are a great many methods of doing about the same thing. And the
+boss who does the most things that the people want, can do the most
+things that the people don't want. Every time I have surrendered my own
+wishes, 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 do
+not 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 of
+man as George William Curtis in office?"
+
+"Mr. Curtis probably stood for the noblest political ideas this country
+has ever produced. But he held a beacon only to a small class. A man who
+writes from an easy-chair, will only sway easy-chair people. And
+easy-chair people never carried an election in this country, and never
+will. This country cannot have a government of the best. It will always
+be a government of the average. Mr. Curtis was only a leader to his own
+grade, just as Tim Sullivan is the leader of his. Mr. Curtis, in his
+editorials, spoke the feelings of one element in America. Sullivan, in
+Germania Hall, voices another. Each is representative, the one of five
+per cent. of New York; the other of ninety-five per cent. If the
+American people have decided one thing, it is that they will not be
+taken care of, nor coercively ruled, by their better element, or
+minorities."
+
+"Yet you will acknowledge that Curtis ought to rule, rather than
+Sullivan?"
+
+"Not if our government is to be representative. I need not say that I
+wish 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 be
+a successful boss, as to be a successful merchant or banker. Yet one
+cannot tell. I myself have never been able to say what elements make a
+boss, except that he must be in sympathy with the men whom he tries to
+guide, and that he must be meeting them. Mr. Curtis had a broad, loving
+nature and sympathies, and if the people had discovered them, they would
+have liked him. But the reserve which comes with culture makes one
+largely conceal one's true feelings. Super-refinement puts a man out of
+sympathy 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 what
+Watts calls a tough, and such a man, to understand and admire one
+another."
+
+"But don't you think," said Mrs. D'Alloi, "that the people of our class
+are better and finer?"
+
+"The expression 'noblesse oblige' shows that," said madame.
+
+"My experience has led me to think otherwise," said Peter. "Of course
+there is a difference of standards, of ideals, and of education, in
+people, and therefore there are differences in conduct. But for their
+knowledge of what is right and wrong, I do not think the so-called
+better classes, which should, in truth, be called the prosperous
+classes, live up to their own standards of right any more than do the
+poor."
+
+"Oh, I say, draw it mild. At least exclude the criminal classes," cried
+Watts. "They know better."
+
+"We all know better. But we don't live up to our knowledge. I crossed on
+one of the big Atlantic liners lately, with five hundred other saloon
+passengers. They were naturally people of intelligence, and presumably
+of easy circumstances. Yet at least half of those people were plotting
+to rob our government of money by contriving plans to avoid paying
+duties truly owed. To do this all of them had to break our laws, and in
+most cases had, in addition, to lie deliberately. Many of them were
+planning to accomplish this theft by the bribery of the custom-house
+inspectors, thus not merely making thieves of themselves, but bribing
+other men to do wrong. In this city I can show you blocks so densely
+inhabited that they are election districts in themselves. Blocks in
+which 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 eat
+less and be less warm; where man and woman, old and young, must shiver
+in winter, and stifle in summer; where there is not room to bury the
+people who live in the block within the ground on which they dwell. But
+I cannot find you, in the poorest and vilest parts of this city, any
+block where the percentage of liars and thieves and bribe-givers is as
+large as was that among the first-class passengers of that floating
+palace. Each condition of society has its own mis-doings, and I believe
+varies little in the percentage of wrong-doers to the whole."
+
+"To hear Peter talk you would think the whole of us ought to be
+sentenced to life terms," laughed Watts. "I believe it's only an attempt
+on 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 call
+bad. I have met men whom I thought so, but when I knew them better I
+found the good in them more than balancing the evil. Our mistake is in
+supposing that some men are 'good' and others 'bad,' and that a sharp
+line can be drawn between them. The truth is, that every man has both
+qualities in him and in very few does the evil overbalance the good. I
+marvel at the goodness I find in humanity, when I see the temptation and
+opportunity 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 show
+it. "Let me tell you something in connection with that. A high light in
+place of a dark shadow. There was an attempt to convict some of the
+strikers, but it failed, for want of positive evidence. The moral proof,
+however, against a fellow named Connelly was so strong that there could
+be no doubt that he was guilty. Two years later that man started out in
+charge of a long express, up a seven-mile grade, where one of our
+railroads crosses the Alleghanies. By the lay of the land every inch of
+that seven miles of track can be seen throughout its entire length, and
+when he had pulled half way up, he saw a section of a freight train
+coming down the grade at a tremendous speed. A coupling had broken, and
+this part of the train was without a man to put on the brakes. To go on
+was death. To stand still was the same. No speed which he could give his
+train by backing would enable it to escape those uncontrolled cars. He
+sent his fireman back to the first car, with orders to uncouple the
+engine. He whistled 'on brakes' to his train, so that it should be held
+on the grade safely. And he, and the engine alone, went on up that
+grade, and met that flying mass of freight. He saved two hundred
+people's lives. Yet that man, two years before, had tried to burn alive
+forty 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 are
+thoroughly and wholly good things in this world, and one of them is this
+stuffing. Would it be possible for a fellow to have a second help?"
+
+Peter smiled. "Jenifer always makes the portions according to what is to
+follow, 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 gentmun
+want't sell his ap'tite foh a mess ob potash."
+
+"Never mind," said Watts. "I'm not a dyspeptic, and so don't need
+potash. But you might wrap the rest up in a piece of newspaper, and I'll
+take it home."
+
+"Peter, you must have met a great many men in politics whom you knew to
+be dishonest?" said Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"No. I have known few men whom I could call dishonest. But then I make a
+great distinction between the doer of a dishonest act and a dishonest
+man."
+
+"That is what the English call 'a fine-spun' distinction, I think," said
+madame.
+
+"I hope not. A dishonest man I hold to be one who works steadily and
+persistently with bad means and motives. But there are many men whose
+lives tell far more for good than for evil in the whole, yet who are not
+above doing wrong at moments or under certain circumstances. This man
+will lie under given conditions of temptations. Another will bribe, if
+the inducement is strong enough. A third will merely trick. Almost every
+man has a weak spot somewhere. Yet why let this one weakness--a partial
+moral obliquity or imperfection--make us cast him aside as useless and
+evil. As soon say that man physically is spoiled, because he is
+near-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 not
+hesitate which to use. But if we only have the latter, how foolish to
+refuse to employ it as we may, because we know there are in the world a
+few better ones."
+
+"Is not condoning a man's sins, by failing to blame him, direct
+encouragement to them?" said Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"One need not condone the sin. My rule has been, in politics, or
+elsewhere, to fight dishonesty wherever I found it. But I try to fight
+the act, not the man. And if I find the evil doer beyond hope of
+correction, I do not antagonize the doer of it. More can be done by
+amity and forbearance than by embittering and alienating. Man is not
+bettered by being told that he is bad. I had an alderman in here three
+or four days ago who was up to mischief. I could have called him a
+scoundrel, without telling him untruth. But I didn't. I told him what I
+thought was right, in a friendly way, and succeeded in straightening him
+out, so that he dropped his intention, yet went away my friend. If I had
+quarrelled with him, we should have parted company, he would have done
+the wrong, I should have fought him when election time came--and
+defeated him. But he, and probably fifty of his adherents in the ward
+would have become my bitter enemies, and opposed everything I tried in
+the future. If I quarrelled with enough such men, I should in time
+entirely lose my influence in the ward, or have it generally lessened.
+But by dealing as a friend with him, I actually prevented his doing what
+he intended, and we shall continue to work together. Of course a man can
+be so bad that this course is impossible, but they are as few in
+politics as they are elsewhere."
+
+"Taciturnity Stirling in his great circus feat of riding a whole ward at
+once," said Watts.
+
+"I don't claim that I'm right," said Peter. "I once thought very
+differently. 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 that
+if most people gave the energy they spend in reforming the world, or
+their friends, to reforming themselves, there would be no need of
+reformers."
+
+"The old English saying that 'people who can't mind their own business
+invariably mind some one's else,' seems applicable," said Watts.
+
+"But is it not very humiliating to you to have to be friends with such
+men?" 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 notoriously
+one of the worst influences in New York State politics. At Albany, in
+the interest of a great corporation, he was responsible for every job
+and bit of lobbying done in its behalf. I don't mean to say that he
+really bribed men himself, for he had lieutenants for the actual dirty
+work, but every dollar spent passed through his hands, and he knew for
+what purpose it was used. At the end of that time, so well had he done
+his work, that he was made president of the corporation. Because of that
+position, and because he is clever, New York society swallowed him and
+has ever since delighted to f�te him. I find it no harder to shake hands
+and associate with the men he bribed, than you do to shake hands and
+associate with the man who gave the bribe."
+
+"Even supposing the great breweries, and railroads, and other interests
+to be chiefly responsible for bribery, that makes it all the more
+necessary to elect men above the possibility of being bribed," said Le
+Grand. "Why not do as they do in Parliament? Elect only men of such high
+character and wealth, that money has no temptation for them."
+
+"The rich man is no better than the poor man, except that in place of
+being 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. The
+slave-holders' course on secession. The millionaire silver senators'
+course on silver. The one was willing to make every poor man in England
+pay a half more for his bread than need be, in order that land might
+rent for higher prices. The slave-owner was willing to destroy his own
+country, rather than see justice done. The last are willing to force a
+great commercial panic, ruining hundreds and throwing thousands out of
+employment, if they can only get a few cents more per ounce for their
+silver. 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 the
+descent, "I'm afraid the politics were rather dull to you. I lectured
+because 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 in
+the 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 trouble
+you, 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 other
+everything."
+
+When Leonore had settled back in the carriage for the long drive, she
+cogitated: "Mr. Le Grand said that he and Miss De Voe, and Mr. Ogden had
+all 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's
+very 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 limit
+to all intricacy, and after a time Leonore began to get an inkling of
+the secret. She first noticed that Peter seemed to spend an undue amount
+of time with her. He not merely turned up in the Park daily, but they
+were constantly meeting elsewhere. Leonore went to a gallery. There was
+Peter! 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 with
+nothing better to do than to see her home. At first Leonore merely
+thought these meetings were coincidences, but their frequency soon ended
+this theory, and then Leonore noticed that Peter had a habit of
+questioning her about her plans beforehand, and of evidently shaping his
+accordingly.
+
+Nor was this all. Peter seemed to be constantly trying to get her to
+spend time with him. Though the real summer was fast coming, he had
+another 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 at
+the Country Club.
+
+Flowers, too, seemed as frequent as their meetings. Peter had always
+smiled inwardly at bribing a girl's love with flowers and bon-bons, but
+he had now discovered that flowers are just the thing to send a girl, if
+you love her, and that there is no bribing about it. So none could be
+too beautiful and costly for his purse. Then Leonore wanted a dog--a
+mastiff. The legal practice of the great firm and the politics of the
+city nearly stopped till the finest of its kind had been obtained for
+her.
+
+Another incriminating fact came to her through Dorothy.
+
+"I had a great surprise to-day," she told Leonore. "One that fills me
+with delight, and that will please you."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Peter asked me at dinner, if we weren't to have Anneke's house at
+Newport for the summer, and when I said 'yes,' he told me that if I
+would save a room for him, he would come down Friday nights and stay
+over Sunday, right through the summer. He has been a simply impossible
+man hitherto to entice into a visit. Ray and I felt like giving three
+cheers."
+
+"He seemed glad enough to be invited to visit Grey-Court," thought
+Leonore.
+
+But even without all this, Peter carried the answer to the puzzle about
+with him in his own person. Leonore could not but feel the difference in
+the way he treated, and talked, and looked at her, as compared to all
+about 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, and
+later certain, that there was a shade of eagerness in his manner, a
+tenderness 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, having
+found the answer. But the solving did not bring her much apparent
+pleasure.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she remarked to herself. "I thought we were going to be such
+good friends! That we could tell each other everything. And now he's
+gone and spoiled it. Probably, too, he'll be bothering me later, and
+then he'll be disappointed, and cross, and we shan't be good friends any
+more. Oh, dear! Why do men have to behave so? Why can't they just be
+friends?"
+
+It is a question which many women have asked. The query indicates a
+degree of modesty which should make the average masculine blush at his
+own self-love. The best answer to the problem we can recommend to the
+average woman is a careful and long study of a mirror.
+
+As a result of this cogitation Leonore decided that she would nip
+Peter's troublesomeness in the bud, that she would put up a sign,
+"Trespassing forbidden;" by which he might take warning. Many women have
+done the same thing to would-be lovers, and have saved the lovers much
+trouble and needless expense. But Leonore, after planning out a dialogue
+in her room, rather messed it when she came to put it into actual public
+performance. Few girls of eighteen are cool over a love-affair. And so
+it occurred thusly:
+
+Leonore said to Peter one day, when he had dropped in for a cup of
+afternoon 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 in
+London, who has followed me over here, and is troubling me. He's
+dreadfully poor, and papa says he thinks he is after my money. Do you
+think that can be so?"
+
+So far the public performance could not have gone better if it had been
+rehearsed. 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 leaning
+back 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 on
+my eyes they sometimes misbehave themselves. It's neuralgia of the optic
+nerve. Sometimes it pains me badly. Don't mind me. It will be all right
+in 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 long
+since I have had a return of my trouble that I have stopped carrying
+it."
+
+"What causes it?"
+
+"Usually a shock. It's purely nervous."
+
+"But there was no shock now, was there?" said Leonore, feeling so guilty
+that she felt it necessary to pretend innocence.
+
+Peter pulled himself together instantly and, leaning over, began
+deliberately to gather up the fragments of the cup. Then he laid the
+pieces on the tea-table and said: "I was dreadfully frightened when I
+felt the cup slipping. It was very stupid in me. Will you try to forgive
+me 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 original
+question, saying bravely: "I don't know enough about Mr. Max ---- the
+Englishman, to speak of him, but I think I would not suspect men of
+that, even if they are poor."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because it would be much easier, to most men, to love you than to love
+your money."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'm so glad. I felt so worried over it. Not about this case, for I
+don't care for him, a bit. But I wondered if I had to suspect every man
+who came near me."
+
+Peter's eyes ceased to burn, and his second cup of tea, which a moment
+before 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 so
+dangerous 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 least
+five 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, and
+she could talk of five years! It was the clearest possible indication to
+Peter that Leonore was heart-whole. "No one, who is in love," he
+thought, "could possibly talk of five years, or five months even." When
+Peter got back to his chambers that afternoon, he was as near being
+despairing as he had been since--since--a long time ago. Even the
+obvious fact, that, if Leonore was not in love with him, she was also
+not in love with any one else, did not cheer him. There is a flag in the
+navy known as the Blue-Peter. That evening, Peter could have supplied
+our whole marine, with considerable bunting to spare.
+
+But even worse was in store for him on the morrow. When he joined
+Leonore in the Park that day, she proved to him that woman has as much
+absolute brutality as the lowest of prize-fighters. Women get the
+reputation of being less brutal, because of their dread of
+blood-letting. Yet when it comes to torturing the opposite sex in its
+feelings, they are brutes compared with their sufferers.
+
+"Do you know," said Leonore, "that this is almost our last ride
+together?"
+
+"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, I
+have at last persuaded papa to travel a little, so that I can see
+something of my own country, and not be so shamefully ignorant. We are
+going to Washington on Saturday, and from there to California, and then
+through the Yellowstone, and back by Niagara. We shan't be in Newport
+till the middle of August"
+
+Peter did not die at once. He caught at a life-preserver of a most
+delightful 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 her
+little hand softly on the wound she had herself just made, in a way
+which women have. Then she stabbed again. "But we think it pleasanter to
+have it just a party of four."
+
+"How long shall you be in Washington?" asked Peter, catching wildly at a
+straw this time.
+
+"For a week. Why?"
+
+"The President has been wanting to see me, and I thought I might run
+down 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 to
+ask.
+
+"The President wants me with him, but I may go to a hotel. It leaves one
+so much freer." Peter was a lawyer, and saw no need of committing
+himself. "If I am there when you are, I can perhaps help you enjoy
+yourself. I think I can get you a lunch at the White House, and, as I
+know most of the officials, I have an open sesame to some other nice
+things." Poor Peter! He was trying to tempt Leonore to tolerate his
+company by offering attractions in connection therewith. A chromo with
+the pound of tea. And this from the man who had thought flowers and
+bon-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 papers
+say?"
+
+"No, I would give twenty-five thousand dollars to-day if I could name
+the 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 of
+yours which I want to know."
+
+"No," said Leonore. "I don't think that's necessary. You are to tell me
+without making me promise anything." Leonore might deprecate a man's
+falling in love with her, but she had no objection to the power and
+perquisites 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's
+sudden firmness was real and how much pretence. Then she became
+unconscious of his presence.
+
+Peter said something.
+
+Silence.
+
+Peter said something else.
+
+Silence.
+
+"Are you really so anxious to know?" he asked, surrendering without
+terms.
+
+He had a glorious look at those glorious eyes. "Yes," said the dearest
+of all mouths.
+
+"The great panic," said Peter, "has led to the formation of a so-called
+Labor party, and, from present indications, they are going to nominate a
+bad man. Now, there is a great attempt on foot to get the Democratic
+convention 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 in
+something discreditable. But he's truckled himself into a kind of
+popularity and power, and, having always been 'a Democrat,' he hopes to
+get 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 country
+with 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 very
+disagreeable to myself."
+
+"How?"
+
+"This is a great secret, you understand?"
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, all interest and eagerness. "I can keep a secret
+splendidly."
+
+"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 in
+our trying to be friends. So we had better give up at once. Don't you
+think so?"
+
+"What a pretty horse Miss Winthrop has?" said Leonore. And she never
+obtained an answer to her question, nor answered Peter's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+A MUTINEER.
+
+
+After Peter's return from Washington, there was a settled gloom about
+him positively appalling. He could not be wooed, on any plea, by his
+closest friends, to journey up-town into the social world. He failed
+entirely to avail himself of the room in the Rivington's Newport villa,
+though Dorothy wrote appealingly, and cited his own words to him. Even
+to his partners he became almost silent, except on law matters. Jenifer
+found 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 moments
+that this atmosphere seemed to yield at all was when Peter took a very
+miscellaneous collection of rubbish out of a little sachet, meant for
+handkerchiefs, which he now carried in his breast-pocket, and touched
+the various articles to his lips. Then for a time he would look a little
+less suicidal.
+
+But it was astonishing the amount of work he did, the amount of reading
+he got through, the amount of politics he bossed, and the cigars he
+smoked, between the first of June, and the middle of August The
+party-leaders had come to the conclusion that Peter did not intend to
+take a hand in this campaign, but, after his return from Washington,
+they decided otherwise. "The President must have asked him to
+interfere," was their whispered conclusion, "but it's too late now. It's
+all cut and dried."
+
+Peter found, as this remark suggested, that his two months' devotion to
+the dearest of eyes and sweetest of lips, had had serious results. As
+with Mutineer once, he had dropped his bridle, but there was no use in
+uttering, as he had, then, the trisyllable which had reduced the horse
+to order. He had a very different kind of a creature with which to deal,
+than a Kentucky gentleman of lengthy lineage, a creature called
+sometimes a "tiger." Yet curiously enough, the same firm voice, and the
+same firm manner, and a "mutineer," though this time a man instead of a
+horse, was effective here. All New York knew that something had been
+done, and wanted to know what, There was not a newspaper in the city
+that would have refused to give five thousand dollars for an authentic
+stenographic report of what actually was said in a space of time not
+longer than three hours in all. Indeed, so intensely were people
+interested, that several papers felt called upon to fabricate and print
+most absurd versions of what did occur, all the accounts reaching
+conclusions as absolutely different as the press portraits of
+celebrities. From three of them it is a temptation to quote the display
+headlines 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 read
+and almost unknown by reading people, yet which had more city
+advertising than all the other papers put together, and a circulation to
+match 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 truth
+to suggest inspiration. But there is no need to reprint the article that
+followed, for now it is possible, for the first time, to tell what
+actually occurred; and this contribution should alone permit this work
+to rank, as no doubt it is otherwise fully qualified to, in the dullest
+class of all books, that of the historical novel.
+
+The facts are, that Peter alighted from a hansom one evening, in the
+middle of July, and went into the Manhattan Club. He exchanged greetings
+with a number of men in the halls, and with more who came in while he
+was reading the evening papers. A man came up to him while he still
+read, and said:
+
+"Well, Stirling. Reading about your own iniquity?"
+
+"No," said Peter, rising and shaking hands. "I gave up reading about
+that 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 caf�."
+
+Peter said nothing, but turned, and the two entered that room. Peter
+shook hands with three men who were there, and they all drew up round
+one of the little tables. A good many men who saw that group, nudged
+each other, and whispered remarks.
+
+"A reporter from the _Sun_ is in the strangers' room. Mr. Stirling, and
+asks to see you," said a servant.
+
+"I cannot see him," said Peter, quietly. "But say to him that I may
+possibly 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 imagine
+any of you, for instance, making a political mistake but perhaps you may
+some day."
+
+A pause of a curious kind came after this, which was only interrupted by
+the arrival of three more men. They all shook hands, and Peter rang a
+bell.
+
+"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 a
+bewildered way. Thomas had served the club many years, but he had never
+heard of that cocktail.
+
+"Well, Thomas," said Peter, "if you don't have that in stock, make it
+seven Blackthorns."
+
+Then presently eight men packed themselves into the elevator, and a
+moment later were sitting in one of the private dining-rooms. For an
+hour and a half they chatted over the meal, very much as if it were
+nothing more than a social dinner. But the moment the servant had passed
+the cigars and light, and had withdrawn, the chat suddenly ceased, and a
+silence 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 ratification
+meeting."
+
+"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 original
+speaker 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 first
+speaker.
+
+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 on
+our local nominations, and Maguire is not merely a Democrat, but he
+gives 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," said
+Number Two.
+
+Then they all looked at Peter, and became silent. Peter puffed his cigar
+thoughtfully.
+
+"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 we
+can'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 of
+the party. For every vote the Labor people give Maguire, the support of
+that party will lose us a Democratic vote."
+
+"But we can't win with a triangular fight. The Republicans will simply
+walk over the course."
+
+If Peter had been a hot-headed reformer, he would have said: "Better
+that than that such a scoundrel shall win." But Peter was a politician,
+and so saw no need of saying the unpleasantest thing that occurred to
+him, even if he felt it. Instead, he said: "The Labor party will get as
+many votes from the Republicans as from us, and, for every vote the
+Labor party takes from us, we shall get a Republican vote, if we put up
+the 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 his
+truckling to the lowest passions and his socialistic speeches, will
+frighten conservative men enough to make them break party lines, and
+unite 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 trade
+with or endorse the Labor party. We can elect Maguire by the aid of the
+worst votes in this city, or we can elect our own man by the aid of the
+best. The one weakens our party in the future; the other strengthens
+it."
+
+"You think that possible?" asked the man who had sought information as
+to what they "were here for."
+
+"Yes. The Labor party makes a stir, but it wouldn't give us the oyster
+and be content with the shells if it really felt strong. See what it
+offers us. All the local and State ticket except six assemblymen, two
+senators, and a governor, tied hand and foot to us, whose proudest claim
+for years has been that he's a Democrat."
+
+"But all this leaves out of sight the fact that the thing's done," said
+Number 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 Two
+cried:
+
+"Come. We've decided. Now, put up or shut up. No more beating about the
+bush."
+
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+
+"Tell us what you intend, Stirling," said Number One. "We are committed
+beyond retreat. Come in with us, or stay outside the breastworks."
+
+"Perhaps," said Peter, "since you've taken your own position, without
+consulting 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 to
+support 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 Number
+One. "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 pledged
+to 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 Stephen
+Maguire, to speak against him in every ward of this city, and ask every
+man 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. You
+insist on supporting the Labor candidate and I shall support the
+Republican 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. "How
+many 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 not
+single. Bohlmann says the brewers will back me, Hummel says he'll be
+guided by me, and the President won't interfere."
+
+"You might as well give up," continued the previous questioner. "The
+Sixth is a sure thirty-five hundred to the bad, and between Stirling's
+friends, and the Hummel crowd, and Bohlmann's people, you'll lose
+twenty-five thousand in the rest of the city, besides the Democrats
+you'll frighten off by the Labor party. You can't put it less than
+thirty-five thousand, to say nothing of the hole in the campaign fund."
+
+The beauty about a practical politician is that votes count for more
+than his own wishes. Number One said:
+
+"Well, that's ended. You've smashed our slate. What have you got in its
+place?"
+
+"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 has
+intellect. Why don't you ask us to choose a college professor, and have
+done with it."
+
+"Come, Stirling," said the previous questioner, "the thing's been messed
+so that we've got to go into convention with just the right man to rally
+the 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't
+see 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 it
+back 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," said
+Number Three, laughing and doing the same.
+
+"It's a pity Costell isn't here," added the previous questioner. "After
+you're not yielding to him, he'd never believe we had forced you to take
+it."
+
+And that was what actually took place at that very-much-talked-about
+dinner.
+
+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 he
+turned to the newcomer. "It's all right," he said, "so far as the party
+is 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 of
+the front door instantly, leaving the reporter with a disappointed look
+on 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 what
+he didn't care to tell, yet he could have helped me to pay my month's
+rent as easily as could be."
+
+As for Peter, he fell into a long stride, and his face nearly equalled
+his 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 the
+gloom in his face which had been so fixed an expression for the last
+month. But he looked as a man might look who knew he had but a few hours
+to live, yet to whom death had no terror.
+
+"I am giving up," Peter thought, "everything that has been my true life
+till now. My profession, my friends, my chance to help others, my books,
+and my quiet. I shall be misunderstood, reviled and hated. Everything I
+do will be distorted for partisan purposes. Friends will misjudge.
+Enemies will become the more bitter. I give up fifty thousand dollars a
+year in order to become a slave, with toadies, trappers, lobbyists and
+favor-seekers as my daily quota of humanity. I even sacrifice the larger
+part of my power."
+
+So ran Peter's thoughts, and they were the thoughts of a man who had not
+worked seventeen years in politics for nothing. He saw alienation of
+friends, income, peace, and independence, and the only return a mere
+title, which to him meant a loss, rather than a gain of power. Yet this
+was one of the dozen prizes thought the best worth striving for in our
+politics. Is it a wonder that our government and office-holding is left
+to the foreign element? That the native American should prefer any other
+work, rather than run the gauntlet of public opinion and press, with
+loss of income and peace, that he may hold some difficult office for a
+brief term?
+
+But finally Peter rose. "Perhaps she'll like it," he said aloud, and
+presumably, since no woman is allowed a voice in American politics, he
+was thinking of Miss Columbia. Then he looked at some photographs, a
+scrap of ribbon, a gold coin (Peter clearly was becoming a money
+worshipper), three letters, a card, a small piece of blotting-paper, a
+handkerchief (which Leonore and Peter had spent nearly ten minutes in
+trying to find one day), a glove, and some dried rose-leaves and
+violets. Yet this was the man who had grappled an angry tiger but two
+hours 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 of
+August, his mail brought him a letter from Watts, announcing that they
+had been four days installed in their Newport home, and that Peter would
+now be welcome any time. "I have purposely not filled Grey-Court this
+summer, so that you should have every chance. Between you and me and the
+post, I think there have been moments when mademoiselle missed 'her
+friend' 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 I
+come to-day by Shore line limited? P.S."
+
+"When you get back, Jenifer," said Peter, "you may pack my trunk and
+your own. We may start for Newport at two." Evidently Peter did not
+intend to run any risks of missing the train, in case the answer should
+be favorable.
+
+Peter passed into his office, and set to work to put the loose ends in
+such shape that nothing should go wrong during his absence. He had not
+worked 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 what
+business?"
+
+"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 was
+stamped "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 to
+listen 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 of
+his head.
+
+"I have a message for you, Mr. Stirling," said the man, pulling a chair
+into 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 after
+a pause.
+
+"Mr. Samuels is my confidential clerk. You can speak with perfect
+freedom before him." Peter spoke without raising his eyes from his
+writing.
+
+"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 it
+unsaid."
+
+"Well, then," said the man, "your party's been tricking us, and we won't
+stand it."
+
+Peter wrote diligently.
+
+"And we know who's back of it. It was all pie down to that dinner of
+yours."
+
+"Is that Maguire's message?" asked Peter, though with no cessation of
+his labors.
+
+"Nop," said the man. "That's the introduction. Now, we know what it
+means. You needn't deny it. You're squinting at the governorship
+yourself. And you've made the rest go back on Maguire, and work for you
+on 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 fur
+and feathers, and if you go before the convention as a candidate, we'll
+fill 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'll
+hunt down and expose every discreditable thing you've ever done."
+
+Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his hands
+on 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, that
+I think we have the message at last. Go to him, and say that I have
+received his message. That I know him, and I know his methods. That I
+understand his hopes of driving me, as he has some, from his path, by
+threats of private scandal. That, judging others by himself, he believes
+no 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 accept
+the nomination. That rather than see him the nominee of the Democratic
+party, I will take it myself. Tell him to set on his blood-hounds. They
+are welcome to all they can unearth in my life."
+
+Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he was
+not quite sure that he could sustain this altitude, if he saw more of
+the 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. We
+have proof already."
+
+Peter turned, with an amused look on his face. "I was wondering," he
+said, "if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague threats."
+
+"No siree," said Curlew with a self-assured manner, but at the same time
+putting Peter's desk between the clerk and himself, so that his flank
+could not be turned. "We've got some evidence that won't be sweet
+reading for you, and we're going to print it, if you take the
+nomination."
+
+"Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once. That
+I 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 before
+it's through with."
+
+Peter stood silent for a moment, but his hands trembled slightly, and
+any one who understood anatomy could have recognized that every muscle
+in 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, "about
+yours and some one else's goings on. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Rivington
+won't thank you for having them printed."
+
+Instantly came a cry of fright, and the crack of a revolver, which
+brought Peter's partners and the clerks crowding into the room. It was
+to find Curlew lying back on the desk, held there by Peter with one
+hand, while his other, clasping the heavy glass inkstand, was swung
+aloft. There was a look on Peter's face that did not become it. An
+insurance company would not have considered Curlew's life at that moment
+a fair risk.
+
+But when Peter's arm descended it did so gently, put the inkstand back
+on the desk, and taking a pocket-handkerchief wiped a splash of ink from
+the hand that had a moment before been throttling Curlew. That worthy
+struggled up from his back-breaking attitude and the few parts of his
+face not drenched with ink, were very white, while his hands trembled
+more 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. And
+keep this to yourselves. I don't think the other floors could have heard
+anything through the fire-proof brick, but if any one comes, refer them
+to me." As the office cleared, Peter turned to his partners and said:
+"Mr. Curlew came here with a message which he thought needed the
+protection of a revolver. He judged rightly, it seems."
+
+"Are you hit?"
+
+"I felt something strike." Peter put his hand to his side. He unbuttoned
+his coat and felt again. Then he pulled out a little sachet from his
+breast-pocket, and as e did so, a flattened bullet dropped to the floor.
+Peter looked into the sachet anxiously. The bullet had only gone through
+the lower corner of the four photographs and the glove! Peter laughed
+happily. "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 looking
+stunned.
+
+Curlew moved towards the door.
+
+"One moment," said Peter, and Curlew stopped.
+
+"Ray," Peter continued, "I am faced with a terrible question. I want
+your advice?"
+
+"What, Peter?"
+
+"A man is trying to force me to stand aside and permit a political
+wrong. To do this, he threatens to publish lying affidavits of worthless
+scoundrels, to prove a shameful intimacy between a married woman and
+me."
+
+"Bosh," laughed Ray. "He can publish a thousand and no one would believe
+them of you."
+
+"He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it would
+connect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that ever
+lived. He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloat
+over it. That the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. That
+in the heat of a political contest, the partisans will be only too glad
+to believe it and repeat it. That no criminal prosecution, no court
+vindication, will ever quite kill the story as regards her. And so he
+hopes that, rather than entail this on a woman whom I love, and on her
+husband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I know of such a case in
+Massachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such a danger, the
+man 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've
+bribed, or forged affidavits of two of the stewards of the 'Majestic.'"
+
+Ray tried to spring forward towards Curlew. But Peter's hand still
+rested on his shoulder, and held him back, "I started to kill him,"
+Peter said quietly, "but I remembered he was nothing but the miserable
+go-between."
+
+"My God, Peter! What can I say?"
+
+"Ray! The stepping aside is nothing to me. It was an office which I was
+ready to take, but only as a sacrifice and a duty. It is to prevent
+wrong that I interfered. So do not think it means a loss to me to
+retire."
+
+"Peter, do what you intended to do. We must not compromise with wrong
+even for her sake."
+
+The two shook hands, "I do not think they will ever use it, Ray," said
+Peter. "But I may be mistaken, and cannot involve you in the
+possibility, without your consent."
+
+"Of course they'll use it," cried Ogden. "Scoundrels who could think of
+such a thing, will use it without hesitation."
+
+"No," said Peter. "A man who uses a coward's weapons, is a coward at
+heart. We can prevent it, I think." Then he turned to Curlew. "Tell Mr.
+Maguire about this interview. Tell him that I spared you, because you
+are not the principal. But tell him from me, that if a word is breathed
+against Mrs. Rivington, I swear that I'll search for him till I find
+him, and when I find him I'll kill him with as little compunction as I
+would 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 to
+the Labor headquarters and told his story.
+
+"And he'll do it too, Mr. Maguire," he said. "You should have seen his
+look 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 in
+Ray's room.
+
+"I wouldn't think so if I hadn't seen his face as he stood over that
+skunk. But if ever a man looked murder he did at that moment. And quiet
+old 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 what
+you 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. Think
+of such an end to your life. No matter what that scoundrel does, don't
+end your life on a gallows. It--"
+
+Peter held up his hand. "You don't know the American people, Ray. If
+Maguire uses that lying story, I can kill him, and there isn't a jury in
+the country which, when the truth was told, wouldn't acquit me. Maguire
+knows 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 stood
+looking at the ink-stains on his desk and floor, "that people think
+politics nothing but trickery and scoundrelism. Yet such vile weapons
+and slanders would not be used if there were not people vile and mean
+enough at heart to let such things influence them. The fault is not in
+politics. It is in humanity."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+SUNSHINE.
+
+
+But just as Peter was about to continue this rather unsatisfactory train
+of thought, his eye caught sight of a flattened bullet lying on the
+floor. He picked it up, with a smile. "I knew she was my good luck," he
+said. Then he took out the sachet again, and kissed the dented and bent
+coin. Then he examined the photographs. "Not even the dress is cut
+through," he said gleefully, looking at the full length. "It couldn't
+have hit in a better place." When he came to the glove, however, he
+grieved a little over it. Even this ceased to trouble him the next
+moment, for a telegram was laid on his desk. It merely said, "Come by
+all 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 blank
+wall, and thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. But his expression
+bore no resemblance to the one formerly assumed when that particular
+practice had been habitual.
+
+Nor was this expression the only difference in this day, to mark the
+change from Peter past to Peter present. For instead of manoeuvring to
+make Watts sit on the back seat, when he was met by the trap late that
+afternoon, at Newport, he took possession of that seat in the coolest
+possible manner, leaving the one by the driver to Watts. Nor did Peter
+look away from the girl on that back seat. Quite the contrary. It did
+not 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 to
+heighten his present joy. A sort of "shadow-box."
+
+He had had the nicest kind of welcome from his "friend." If the manner
+had not been quite so absolutely frank as of yore, yet there was no
+doubt as to her pleasure in seeing Peter. "It's very nice to see you
+again," she had said while shaking hands. "I hoped you would come
+quickly." Peter was too happy to say anything in reply. He merely took
+possession of that vacant seat, and rested his eyes in silence till
+Watts, after climbing into place, asked him how the journey to Newport
+had been.
+
+"Lovelier than ever," said Peter, abstractedly. "I didn't think it was
+possible."
+
+"Eh?" said Watts, turning with surprise on his face.
+
+But Leonore did not look surprised. She only looked the other way, and
+the corners of her mouth were curving upwards.
+
+"The journey?" queried Watts.
+
+"You mean Newport, don't you?" said Leonore helpfully, when Peter said
+nothing. Leonore was looking out from under her lashes--at things in
+general, 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 deceiving
+loophole she had opened.
+
+Watts said, "Oh, of course. It improves every year. But wasn't the
+journey 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. It
+was just as maddening as could be, how hard it was to get New York
+papers way out west. I'm awfully in the dark about some things. I've
+asked 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 the
+Tennis Tournament, and thought he would tell me all about it. But he was
+horrid! His whole manner said: 'I can't waste real talk on a girl.' I
+told him I was a great friend of yours, and that you would tell me when
+you came, but he only laughed and said, he had no doubt you would, for
+you were famous for your indiscretion. I hate men who laugh at women the
+moment they try to talk as men do."
+
+"I think," said Peter, "we'll have to turn Pell down. A Congressman who
+laughs 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 for
+you to tell him, that will astonish him very much, and make him want to
+know 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 Miss
+D'Alloi, so that if it leaks beyond Pell, I shall know whom to blame for
+it."
+
+"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 take
+back what I just said."
+
+"Did you roar, and did the tiger put its tail between its legs?" asked
+Watts.
+
+"That is the last thing our friends, the enemies, have found," said
+Peter.
+
+"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 boat
+to-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 drawn
+down.
+
+"I was not dodging," said Peter. "I only was asking a preliminary
+question. If you will get up, before breakfast, and ride with me, I will
+tell you everything that actually occurred at that dinner. You will be
+the only person, I think, who wasn't there, who knows." It was shameful
+and open bribery, but bosses are shameful and open in their doings, so
+Peter was only living up to his r�le.
+
+The temptation was too strong to be resisted, Leonore said, "Of coarse I
+will," and the corners of her mouth reversed their position. But she
+said to herself: "I shall have to snub you in something else to make up
+for it." Peter was in for a bad quarter of an hour somewhere.
+
+Leonore had decided just how she was going to treat Peter. To begin
+with, she intended to accentuate that "five years" in various ways. Then
+she would be very frank and friendly, just as long as he, too, would
+keep within those limits, but if Peter even verged on anything more, she
+intended to leave him to himself, just long enough to show him that such
+remarks as his "not caring to be friends," brought instant and dire
+punishment. "And I shan't let him speak," Leonore decided, "no matter if
+he wants to. For if he does, I'll have to say 'no,' and then he'll go
+back to New York and sulk, and perhaps never come near me again, since
+he's so obstinate, while I want to stay friends." Many such campaigns
+have been planned by the party of the first part. But the trouble is
+that, usually, the party of the second part also has a plan, which
+entirely disconcerts the first. As the darkey remarked: "Yissah. My dog
+he wud a beat, if it hadn't bin foh de udder dog."
+
+Peter found as much contrast in his evening, as compared with his
+morning, 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 papa
+always beats me. I'll teach you."
+
+So there was the jolliest of hours spent in this way, all of them
+laughing 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 to
+smash it."
+
+"It's something I really must learn," said Peter, who had refused over
+and 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 the
+drawing-room, Leonore asked: "Have you been learning how to valse?"
+
+Peter smiled at so good an American using so European a word, but said
+seriously, "No. I've been too busy."
+
+"That's a shame," said Leonore, "because there are to be two dances this
+week, 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 skirts
+back 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 in
+one's arms. But he recognized that this would follow. So he set to work
+manfully to imitate that dainty little glide. It seemed easy as she did
+it. 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 feet
+and 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 all
+night, with absolute contentment, so long as Leonore, after every
+failure, would show him the right way in her own person.
+
+Finally she said, "Now take my hands. No. Way apart, so that I can see
+your 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 strength
+failed. 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 a
+girl 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 the
+shortness, 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 idea
+at 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 dances
+the other men don't ask of me. But you don't dance well enough, in case
+I can get a better partner. I love valsing too much to waste one with a
+poor dancer."
+
+A moment before Peter thought waltzing the most exquisite pleasure the
+world contained. But he suddenly changed his mind, and concluded it was
+odious.
+
+"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 listener
+to his account of that dinner. The listener, speaking from vast
+political knowledge, told him at the end. "You did just right. I
+thoroughly approve of you."
+
+"That takes a great worry off my mind," said Peter soberly. "I was
+afraid, since we were to be such friends, and you wanted my help in the
+whirligig this winter, that you might not like my possibly having to
+live 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 having
+friends if they don't live near one."
+
+"That's what I think," said Peter. "I suppose I couldn't tempt you to
+come and keep house for me?"
+
+"Now I must snub him," thought Leonore. "No," she said, "It will be bad
+enough to do that five years from now, for the man I love." She looked
+out from under her eyelashes to see if her blow had been fatal, and
+concluded from the glumness in Peter's face, that she really had been
+too cruel. So she added: "But you may give me a ball, and we'll all come
+up and stay a week with you."
+
+Peter relaxed a little, but he said dolefully, "I don't know what I
+shall do. I shall be in such need of your advice in politics and
+housekeeping."
+
+"Well," said Leonore, "if you really find that you can't get on without
+help, we'll make it two weeks. But you must get up toboggan parties, and
+other nice things."
+
+"I wonder what the papers will say," thought Peter, "if a governor gives
+toboggan parties?"
+
+After the late breakfast, Peter was taken down to see the tournament. He
+thought 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 to
+the score. Then that the men who fluttered round her would have had the
+good taste to keep away. It enraged Peter to see how perfectly willing
+she was to talk and chat about things of which he knew nothing, and how
+more 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 know
+whether he's in love or not. I suppose he thinks he is. Boys fifteen
+years old always do."
+
+Leonore forgot the score, even, in her surprise. "Why," she said, "you
+growl just like B�tise (the mastiff). Now I know what the papers mean
+when they say you roar."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "it makes me cross to see a lot of boys doing
+nothing but hit a small ball, and a lot more looking at them and
+thinking that it's worth doing." Which was a misstatement. It was not
+that 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 business
+to come. I'm a ward boss, and my place is in saloons. Don't hesitate to
+say it."
+
+All this was very foolish, but it was real to Peter for the moment, and
+he looked straight ahead with lines on his face which Leonore had never
+seen before. He ought to have been ordered to go off by himself till he
+should be in better mood.
+
+Instead Leonore turned from the tennis, and said: "Please don't talk
+that way, Peter. You know I don't think that." Leonore had understood
+the misery which lay back of the growl. "Poor fellow," she thought, "I
+must cheer him up." So she stopped looking at the tennis. "See," she
+said, "there are Miss Winthrop and Mr. Pell. Do take me over to them and
+let 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 Peter
+talked, or rather listened, to that young lady, though sighing
+internally. Then, _Laus Deo!_ up came the poor little chap, whom Peter
+had libelled in age and affections, only ten minutes before, and set
+Peter free. He turned to see how Leonore's petard was progressing, to
+find her and Pell deep in tennis. But just as he was going to expose his
+ignorance 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 the
+Democratic 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 the
+Manhattan 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 more
+airily. "I thought of course you would know about it. I'm so surprised!"
+
+Pell looked at her half quizzingly, and half questioningly. "What is the
+resolution?"
+
+"Naming a candidate for the vacancy for the Senate."
+
+"Nonsense," said Pell, laughing. "The convention has nothing to do with
+the senators. The Legislature elects them." He thought, "Why can't
+women, if they will talk politics, at least learn the ABC."
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, "but this is a new idea. The Senate has behaved so
+badly, that the party leaders think it will be better to make it a more
+popular body by having the New York convention nominate a man, and then
+they intend to make the legislature elect him. If the other states will
+only follow New York's lead, it may make the Senate respectable and open
+to 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. "The
+papers are always behind the times. But I didn't think that you would
+be, 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 you
+for next senator?" said Leonore, with both wonder and pity in her face
+and voice.
+
+"Who told you that?" said Pell, with an amount of interest blended with
+doubt that was a decided contrast to a moment ago.
+
+"That's telling," said Leonore. "You know, Mr. Pell, that one mustn't
+tell people who are outside the party councils everything."
+
+"I believe you are trying to stuff me," said Pell, "If it is so, or
+anything like it, you wouldn't know."
+
+"Oh," said Leonore, tantalizingly, "I could tell you a great deal more
+than 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, who
+had 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," said
+Peter seriously, "and she, and the President, and I, talked politics.
+Politically, Miss D'Alloi is rather a knowing person. I hope you haven't
+been saying anything indiscreet, Miss D'Alloi?"
+
+"I'm afraid I have," laughed Leonore, triumphantly, adding, "but I won't
+tell anything more."
+
+Pell looked after them as they went towards the carriage. "How
+extraordinary!" he said. "She couldn't have it from Peter. He tells
+nothing. 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 to
+have talked politics. But he'll get nothing but torture from me if he
+tries."
+
+It began to dawn on Peter that Leonore did not, despite her frank
+manner, mean all she said. He turned to her, and asked:
+
+"Are you really in earnest in saying that you'll refuse every man who
+asks you to marry him within five years?"
+
+Leonore's triumph scattered to the four winds. "What an awfully impudent
+question," she thought, "after my saying it so often. What shall I
+answer?" 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 to
+attempt it, I'll tell him frankly I don't care to listen."
+
+"She really means it," sighed Peter internally. "Why is it, that the
+best girls don't care to marry?" Peter became very cross, and, what is
+worse, looked it.
+
+Nor was Leonore much better, "There," she said, "I knew just how it
+would be. He's getting sulky already. He isn't nice any more. The best
+thing will be to let him speak, for then he'll go back to New York, and
+won't bother me." The corners of her mouth drew away down, and life
+became very gray.
+
+So "the best of friends" rode home from the Casino, without so much as
+looking 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 condition
+long. First Leonore had to be helped out of the carriage. This was
+rather pleasant, for she had to give Peter her hand, and so life became
+less unworth living to Peter. Then the footman at the door gave Peter
+two telegraphic envelopes of the bulkiest kind, and Leonore too began to
+take an interest in life again.
+
+"What are they about?" she asked.
+
+"The Convention. I came off so suddenly that some details were left
+unarranged."
+
+"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 another
+waltzing lesson after lunch?"
+
+"Don't bargain," said Leonore, disapprovingly.
+
+"Very well," said Peter, putting the telegrams in his pocket, and
+turning towards the stairs.
+
+Leonore let him go up to the first landing. But as soon as she became
+convinced that he was really going to his room, she said, "Peter."
+
+Peter turned and looked down at the pretty figure at the foot of the
+stairs. 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 read
+them to me," she said, "since we are such friends."
+
+"I do," said Peter, "And you ought to want to teach me to waltz, since
+we 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, by
+reading them to you."
+
+"Now I will teach him," said Leonore to herself.
+
+Peter unfolded the many sheets. "This is very secret, of course," he
+said.
+
+"Yes." Leonore looked round the hall as if she was a conspirator. "Come
+to the window-seat upstairs," she whispered, and led the way. When they
+had 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 for
+that, if I wasn't afraid you wouldn't read it."
+
+"You understand that you are not to repeat this to anyone." Peter was
+smiling over something.
+
+Leonore said, "Yes," half crossly and half eagerly.
+
+So Peter read:
+
+"Use Hudson knowledge counties past not belief local twenty imbecility
+certified of yet till yesterday noon whose Malta could accurately it at
+seventeen. Potomac give throw Haymarket estimated Moselle thirty-three
+to 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 to
+sit 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 not
+to 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. How
+tremendously interesting! We'll go at it right after lunch and decipher
+it 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. "I
+really must be careful," she told the enviable sponge as it passed over
+her face, "he's a man who needs very special treatment. I ought to send
+him 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 to
+live in Albany, and that will make it all right. Let me see. He said the
+governor served three years. That isn't five, but perhaps he'll have
+become sensible before then."
+
+As for Peter, he actually whistled during his ablutions, which was
+something 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 he
+danced a little. Then the two sat at the big desk in the deserted
+library and worked together over those very complex dispatches till they
+had them translated. Then they had to discuss their import. Finally they
+had to draft answers and translate them into cipher. All this with their
+heads very close together, and an utter forgetfulness on the part of a
+certain personage that snubbing rather than politics was her "plan of
+campaign." But Leonore began to feel that she was a political power
+herself, and so forgot her other schemes. When they had the answering
+dispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter and said:
+
+"I think we've done that very well," in the most approving voice. "Do
+you think they'll do as we tell them?"
+
+Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so frankly
+and with such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed was
+noble or great enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times that
+afternoon, it had seemed to him that he could not keep himself from
+leaning over and taking one. He even went so far now as to speculate on
+exactly what Leonore would do if he did. Fortunately his face was not
+given to expressing his thoughts. Leonore never dreamed how narrow an
+escape 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'll
+answer my question."
+
+"I think they'll do as we tell them," smiled Peter. "But we'll get word
+to-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we shall know better how the
+land lies, and can talk plainer."
+
+"Will there be more ciphers, to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes." To himself Peter said, "I must write Green and the rest to
+telegraph 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 the
+little tea-table.
+
+"I wouldn't live in Albany for the whole world," said Leonore, resuming
+her old self with horrible rapidity. But just then she burnt her finger
+with the match with which she was lighting the lamp, and her cruelty
+vanished 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 that
+there was a painful absence of all signs of injury, and feared Peter
+would laugh at such a burn after those he had suffered.
+
+But Peter treated it very seriously. "I'm sure it does," he said, taking
+possession of the hand. "And I know how it hurts." He leaned over and
+kissed the little thumb. Then he didn't care a scrap whether Leonore
+liked Albany or not.
+
+"I won't snub you this time," said Leonore to herself, "because you
+didn't laugh at me for it."
+
+Peter's evening was not so happy. Leonore told him as they rose from
+dinner 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 better
+dancers. If you choose to stay round I'll take you for those."
+
+"Do you ever have a dance over?" asked Peter, marvelling at such a
+possibility.
+
+"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 he
+laughed, so Leonore laughed too.
+
+After a game of billiards they all went to the dance. As they entered
+the hall, Peter heard his name called in a peculiar voice behind. He
+turned and saw Dorothy.
+
+Dorothy merely said, "Peter!" again. But Peter understood that
+explanations were in order. He made no attempt to dodge.
+
+"Dorothy," he said softly, giving a glance at Leonore, to see that she
+was out of hearing, "when you spent that summer with Miss De Voe, did
+Ray 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 at
+last!"
+
+We hope our readers can grasp the continuity of Dorothy's mental
+processes, for her verbal ones were rather inconsequent.
+
+"She's lovely," continued the verbal process. "And I'm sure I can help
+you."
+
+"I need it," groaned Peter. "She doesn't care in the least for me, and I
+can't get her to. And she says she isn't going to marry for--"
+
+"Nonsense!" interrupted Dorothy, contemptuously, and sailed into the
+ladies' dressing-room.
+
+Peter gazed after her. "I wonder what's nonsense?" he thought.
+
+Dorothy set about her self-imposed task with all the ardor for
+matchmaking, possessed by a perfectly happy married woman. But Dorothy
+evidently intended that Leonore should not marry Peter, if one can judge
+from the tenor of her remarks to Leonore in the dressing-room. Peter
+liked Dorothy, and would probably not have believed her capable of
+treachery, but it is left to masculine mind to draw any other inference
+from the dialogue which took place between the two, as they prinked
+before a cheval glass.
+
+"I'm so glad to have Peter here for this particular evening," said
+Dorothy.
+
+"Why?" asked Leonore, calmly, in the most uninterested of tones.
+
+"Because Miss Biddle is to be here. For two years I've been trying to
+bring those two together, so that they might make a match of it. They
+are made for each other."
+
+Leonore tucked a rebellious curl in behind the drawn-back lock. Then she
+said, "What a pretty pin you have."
+
+"Isn't it? Ray gave it to me," said Dorothy, giving Leonore all the line
+she wanted.
+
+"I've never met Miss Biddle," said Leonore.
+
+"She's a great beauty, and rich. And then she has that nice Philadelphia
+manner. Peter can't abide the young-girl manner. He hates giggling and
+talking 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 on
+subjects which please him. She is very much interested in politics and
+philanthropy."
+
+"I thought," said Leonore, fluffing the lace on her gown, "that Peter
+never talked politics."
+
+"He doesn't," said Dorothy. "But she has studied political economy. He's
+willing to talk abstract subjects. She's just the girl for a statesman's
+wife. Beauty, tact, very clever, and yet very discreet. I'm doubly glad
+they'll meet here, for she has given up dancing, so she can entertain
+Peter, 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 kind
+of man with whom every woman's ready to fall in love. Why, my dear, he's
+had chance after chance, if he had only cared to try. But, of course, he
+doesn't care for such women as you and me, who can't enter into his
+thoughts or sympathize with his ambitions. To him we are nothing but
+dancing, dressing, prattling flutter-birds." Then Dorothy put her head
+on one side, and seemed far more interested in the effect of her own
+frock than in Peter's fate.
+
+"He talks politics to me," Leonore could not help saying. Leonore did
+not 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, and
+he is delightfully courteous, and one would think he liked it. But, from
+little 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 ready
+during the whole of this dialogue. Watts was cross; Peter wasn't. Peter
+would willingly have waited an hour longer, impatient only for the
+moment of meeting, not to get downstairs. That is the difference between
+a husband and a lover.
+
+"Peter," said Leonore, the moment they were on the stairs, "do you ever
+tell other girls political secrets?"
+
+Dorothy was coming just behind, and she poked Peter in the back with her
+fan. Then, when Peter turned, she said with her lips as plainly as one
+can without speaking: "Say yes."
+
+Peter looked surprised. Then he turned to Leonore and said, "No. You are
+the 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 quite
+inscrutable. Peter had told the truth.
+
+But, after the greetings were over, Dorothy helped Peter greatly. She
+said to him, "Give me your arm, Peter. There is a girl here whom I want
+you to meet."
+
+"Peter's going to dance this valse with me," said Leonore. And Peter had
+two 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 a
+moment. I want to speak to Dorothy."
+
+"I knew you would be philandering after the young married women. Men of
+your age always do," said Leonore, with an absolutely incomprehensible
+cruelty.
+
+So Peter did not speak to Dorothy. He sat down by Leonore and talked,
+till a scoundrelly, wretched, villainous, dastardly, low-born, but very
+good-looking fellow carried off his treasure. Then he wended his way to
+Dorothy.
+
+"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 the
+men, and she doesn't dance. Now, if I introduce you, won't you try to
+make her have a good time?"
+
+"Certainly," said Peter, gloomily.
+
+"And don't go and desert her, just because another man comes up. It
+makes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle is
+very sensitive. I know you don't want to hurt her feelings." All this
+had been said as they crossed the room. Then: "Miss Biddle, let me
+introduce Mr. Stirling."
+
+Peter sat down to his duty. "I mustn't look at Leonore," he thought, "or
+I shan't be attentive." So he turned his face away from the room
+heroically. As for Dorothy, she walked away with a smile of contentment.
+"There, miss," she remarked, "we'll see if you can trample on dear old
+Peter!"
+
+"Who's that girl to whom Mr. Stirling is talking?" asked Leonore of her
+partner.
+
+"Ah, that's the rich Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia," replied the
+scoundrel, in very gentleman-like accents for one of his class. "They
+say she's never been able to find a man good enough for her, and so
+she's keeping herself on ice till she dies, in hopes that she'll find
+one 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 man
+unless he's clever. Look at her to-night! She got her big fish right
+off, 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't
+think any people good enough for him but the Pells, and Miss De Voe, and
+the Ogdens. What they can see in him I can't imagine. I sat opposite him
+once at dinner, this spring, at the William Pells, and he only said
+three things in the whole meal. And he was sitting next that clever Miss
+Winthrop."
+
+After the fifth dance, Dorothy came up to Leonore. "It's going
+beautifully," she said; "do you see how Peter has turned his back to the
+room? And I heard a man say that Miss Biddle was freezing to every man
+who tried to interrupt them. I must arrange some affairs this week so
+that 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 rides
+beautifully. Did Peter bring his horses?"
+
+"One," said Leonore, with a suggestion of reluctance in stating the
+fact.
+
+"I'll go and arrange it at once," said Dorothy, thinking that Peter
+might 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 Biddle
+the 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? I
+haven'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 had
+only one waltz," he told himself, "and did not really see anything else
+of 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 better
+informed one." Peter's tone of voice carried the inference that he hated
+unusual and informed women, and as this is the case with most men, his
+voice presumably reflected his true thoughts.
+
+"I should say so," said Watts. "At our little table she said the
+brightest 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 an
+Italian lesson of her."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"I have a chap who breakfasts with me three times a week, to talk
+Italian, 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 it
+was very good of her to offer, for I knew very little as yet, and don't
+think 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 so
+silent?" 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 have
+an 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 be
+disturbed 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 fell
+asleep peacefully, remarking to herself, just before she drifted into
+dreamland, "Every man in love ought to have a guardian, and I'll be
+Peter's."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+INTERFERENCE.
+
+
+When Peter returned from his ride the next day, he found Leonore reading
+the papers in the big hall. She gave him a very frigid "good-morning,"
+yet instantly relaxed a little in telling him there was another long
+telegram for him on the mantel. She said nothing of his reading the
+despatch to her, but opened a new sheet of paper, and began to read its
+columns with much apparent interest. That particular page was devoted to
+the current prices of "Cotton;" "Coffee;" "Flour;" "Molasses;" "Beans;"
+"Butter;" "Hogs;" "Naval Stores;" "Ocean Freights," and a large number
+of equally kindred and interesting subjects.
+
+Peter took the telegram, but did not read it. Instead he looked down at
+all of his pretty "friend" not sedulously hidden by the paper; He
+recognized that his friend had a distinctly "not-at-home" look, but
+after a moment's hesitation he remarked, "You don't expect me to read
+this alone?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Because," continued Peter, "it's an answer to those we wrote and sent
+yesterday, 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 could
+see 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 it
+on.
+
+But Peter said, "I caught you," and laughed. Then Leonore laughed. Then
+they filled in the space before lunch by translating and answering the
+telegram.
+
+As soon as that meal was over, Peter said, "Now will you teach me
+waltzing again?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I'm not going to spend time teaching a man to dance, who doesn't
+dance."
+
+"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 to
+one girl as to another. Since you don't like my dancing, I supposed you
+would hardly choose to dance again with me, or ropes wouldn't have held
+me."
+
+"I can talk Italian too," said Leonore, with no apparent connection.
+
+"Will you talk it with me?" said Peter eagerly. "You see, there are a
+good many Italians in the district, now, who by their ignorance and
+their not speaking English, are getting into trouble all the time. I
+want to learn, so as to help them, without calling in an interpreter."
+Peter was learning to put his requests on grounds other than his own
+wishes.
+
+"Yes," said Leonore very sweetly, "and I'll give you another lesson in
+dancing. How did you enjoy your ride?"
+
+"I like Dorothy," said Peter, "and I like Miss Biddle. But I didn't get
+the 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 was
+over, 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 to
+some other girl."
+
+Peter only smiled quietly.
+
+"Peter," said Leonore, later, as he was sipping his tea, "do you think
+I'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 a
+society 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 the
+nicest 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 telegrams
+and write the replies?"
+
+Peter was rather astonished, but said, "Yes."
+
+But he did it very badly, Leonore thought, for meeting Dorothy the next
+day at a lawn party, after the mere greetings, he said:
+
+"Dorothy, Miss D'Alloi has been helping me translate and write cipher
+telegrams."
+
+Dorothy looked startled at the announcement for a moment. Then she gave
+a glance at Leonore, who was standing by Peter, visibly holding herself
+in a very triumphant attitude. Then she burst out into the merriest of
+laughs, 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 very
+red. And when some one spoke to Dorothy, and took her attention, Leonore
+said 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 suppose
+she won't be nice for the rest of the day. If it was only law or
+politics! But women!"
+
+But Leonore didn't abuse him. She was very kind to him, despite her
+displeasure. "If Dorothy would only let me alone," thought Peter, "I
+should have a glorious time. Why can't she let me stay with her when
+she's in such a nice mood. And why does she insist on my being attentive
+to her. I don't care for her. It seems as if she was determined to break
+up 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. His
+thoughts are merely reported verbatim, as the easiest way. It certainly
+indicates that, as with most troubles, there was a woman in it.
+
+Peter said much this same thing to himself quite often during the
+following week, and always with a groan. Dorothy was continually putting
+her finger in. Yet it was in the main a happy time to Peter. His friend
+treated him very nicely for the most part, if very variably. Peter never
+knew in what mood he should find her. Sometimes he felt that Leonore
+considered him as the dirt under her little feet. Then again, she could
+not be too sweet to him. There was an evening--a dinner--at which he sat
+between Miss Biddle and Leonore when, it seemed to Peter, Leonore said
+and looked such nice things, that the millennium had come. Yet the next
+morning, she told him that: "It was a very dull dinner. I talked to
+nobody but you."
+
+Fortunately for Peter, the D'Allois were almost as new an advent in
+Newport, so Leonore was not yet in the running. But by the time Peter's
+first week had sped, he found that men were putting their fingers in, as
+well as Dorothy. Morning, noon, and night they gathered. Then lunches,
+teas, drives, yachts and innumerable other affairs also plunged their
+fingers in. Peter did not yield to the superior numbers, he went
+wherever Leonore went. But the other men went also, and understood the
+ropes far better. He fought on, but a sickening feeling began to creep
+over him of impending failure. It was soon not merely how Leonore
+treated him; it was the impossibility of getting her to treat him at
+all. Even though he was in the same house, it seemed as if there was
+always some one else calling or mealing, or taking tea, or playing
+tennis or playing billiards, or merely dropping in. And then Leonore
+took fewer and fewer meals at home, and spent fewer and fewer hours
+there. 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, he
+considered himself lucky. He understood at last what Miss De Voe had
+meant when she had spoken of the difficulty of seeing enough of a
+popular girl either to love her or to tell her of it. They prayed for
+rain 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'm
+needed in Syracuse." Peter spoke as if Syracuse was the ultimate of
+human 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 to
+Syracuse. 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 day
+and the next the wires to Newport from New York and Syracuse were kept
+hot, 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, because
+she 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 to
+his one ball-room accomplishment.
+
+"I'll give you the first," said Leonore, "and then if you'll sit near
+me, I'll give you a look every time I see a man coming whom I don't
+like, 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 I
+didn't go to Syracuse! What a shame it is there are other dances than
+waltzes."
+
+But after Peter had had two waltzes, he overheard his aged friend of
+fifteen years say something to a girl that raised him many degrees in
+his mind. "That's a very brainy fellow," said Peter admiringly. "That
+never occurred to me!"
+
+So he waited till he saw Leonore seated, and then joined her. "Won't
+you sit out this dance with me?" he asked.
+
+Leonore looked surprised. "He's getting very clever," she thought, never
+dreaming that Peter's cleverness, like so many other people's nowadays,
+consisted in a pertinent use of quotations. Parrot cleverness, we might
+term it. Leonore listened to the air which the musicians were beginning,
+and finding it the Lancers, or dreariest of dances, she made Peter happy
+by assenting.
+
+"Suppose we go out on the veranda," said Peter, still quoting.
+
+"Now of what are you going to talk?" said Leonore, when they were
+ensconced on a big wicker divan, in the soft half light of the Chinese
+lanterns.
+
+"I want to tell you of something that seems to me about a hundred years
+ago," said Peter. "But it concerns myself, and I don't want to bore
+you."
+
+"Try, and if I don't like it I'll stop you," said Leonore, opening up a
+line of retreat worthy of a German army.
+
+"I don't know what you'll think about it," said Peter, faltering a
+little. "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 could
+not see it, because Leonore sat so that her face was in shadow. But she
+could see his expression, and when he hesitated, with that drawn look on
+his face, Leonore said softly:
+
+"You mean--about--mamma?"
+
+Peter started. "Yes! You know?"
+
+"Yes," said Leonore gently. "And that was why I trusted you, without
+ever 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 been
+disappointed, so I asked mamma if she knew the girl, and then mamma told
+me. 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 I
+apologized 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 are
+paining me greatly. There is nothing in my whole life so bitter to me as
+what 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, and
+because 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. "Are
+you 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! And
+such 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 a
+despatch says your name was sprung on the Convention at nine, and that
+you 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 knew
+all about it."
+
+Every one laughed at this, except Dorothy. Dorothy had a suspicion that
+it 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 to
+take 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 my
+friends 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 this
+day holds woman to be the weaker vessel!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+OBSTINACY.
+
+
+The next morning Peter found that his prayer for a rainy day had been
+answered, 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 fortunately
+too, 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 were
+they seated at breakfast when Pell dropped in to congratulate him, and
+from that moment, despite the rain, every friend in Newport seemed to
+feel it a bounden duty to do the same, and to stay the longer because of
+the rain. Peter wished he had set the time for the Convention two days
+earlier or two days later.
+
+"I hope you won't ask any of these people to luncheon," Peter said in an
+aside to Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"Why?" he was asked.
+
+Peter looked puzzled, and finally said weakly, "I--I have a good deal to
+do."
+
+And then as proper punishment for his misdemeanor, the footman
+announced Dorothy and Miss Biddle, Ray and Ogden. Dorothy sailed into
+the 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 you
+seen this morning's 'Voice of Labor?' No? Good gracious, they've raked
+up that old verse in Watts's class-song and print it as proof that you
+were a drunkard in your college days. Here it is. Set to music and
+headed '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 other
+paper. But I wouldn't take the trouble in this case. The opposition
+would merely say that: 'Of course Mr. Stirling's intimate friends are
+bound to give such a construction to the song, and the attempt does them
+credit.'"
+
+"But why don't you deny it, Peter?" asked Leonore anxiously. "It's awful
+to think of people saying you are a drunkard!"
+
+"If I denied the untruths told of me I should have my hands full. Nobody
+believes such things, except the people who are ready to believe them.
+They wouldn't believe otherwise, no matter what I said. If you think a
+man 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 the
+newspapers, and see what they said about you, and then will misjudge
+you."
+
+"I am not afraid of that. I shall hardly be of enough account to figure
+in 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 which
+seems impossible now. The greater the man, the greater the abuse."
+
+"Why do the papers call you 'Pete'?" asked Leonore, anxiously. "I rather
+like 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 to
+convince 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 convince
+the voters who can be convinced by such arguments, that I am what they
+call me, they'll elect me."
+
+"How?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"Because intelligent people are not led astray but outraged by such
+arguments, and ignorant people, who can be made to believe all that is
+said of me, by such means, will think I am just the man for whom they
+want to vote."
+
+"How is it possible that the papers can treat you so?" said Watts. "The
+editors know you?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I have met nearly every man connected with the New York
+press."
+
+"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 Miss
+Biddle.
+
+"It's rather a puzzling matter in ethics," said Peter. "I don't think
+that the newspaper fraternity have any lower standard of morals, than
+men in other professions. In the main they stand for everything that is
+admirable, so long as it's non-partisan, and some of the men who to-day
+are 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 honorable
+statesmen of Europe and America will lie and cheat each other to their
+utmost extent, under cover of the term 'diplomacy,' and get rewarded and
+praised by their respective countries for their knavery, provided it is
+successful, I think 'dishonest' is a strong word for a merely partisan
+press. Certain it is, that the partisan press would end to-morrow, but
+for the narrowness and meanness of readers."
+
+"Which they cause," said Ogden.
+
+"Just as much," said Peter, "as the saloon makes a drunkard, food causes
+hunger, and books make readers."
+
+"But, at least, you must acknowledge they've got you, when they say you
+are 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 gross
+form of physical enjoyment as tippling shall cease entirely. But till
+that day comes, till humanity has taught itself and raised itself, I
+want 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, and
+get what he wants at any time and all times. It is not fair, because a
+man's pockets are filled with nickels instead of eagles, that he shall
+not have the same right. For that reason, I have always spoken for the
+saloon, and even for Sunday openings. You know what I think myself of
+that day. You know what I think of wine. But if I claim the right to
+spend Sunday in my way and not to drink, I must concede an equal right
+to 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, in
+proportion to the number of drinkers of each. But a man who drinks
+champagne, is sent home in a cab, and is put to bed, while the man who
+can't afford that kind of drink, and is made mad by poisoned and
+doctored whisky, doctored and poisoned because of our heavy tax on it,
+must take his chance of arrest. That is the shameful thing about all our
+so-called temperance legislation. It's based on an unfair interference
+with personal liberty, and always discriminates in favor of the man with
+money. 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 wine
+everywhere."
+
+"That is neither possible nor right. You can't strengthen humanity by
+tying its hands. It must be left free to become strong. I have thought
+much about the problem, and I see only one fair and practical means of
+bettering our present condition. But boss as the papers say I am, I am
+not 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 another
+person'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 restraining
+him, as it does thieves, or murderers, or wife-beaters. My idea is, that
+a license, something perhaps like our dog-license, shall be given to
+every one who applies for it. That before a man can have a drink, this
+license must be shown. Then if a man is before the police court a second
+time, for drunkenness, or if his family petition for it, his license
+shall be cancelled, and a heavy fine incurred by any one who gives or
+sells that man a drink thereafter."
+
+"Oh," laughed Watts, "you are heavenly! Just imagine a host saying to
+his dinner-party, 'Friends, before this wine is passed, will you please
+show me your drink licenses.'"
+
+"You may laugh, Watts," said Peter, "but such a request would have saved
+many a young fellow from ruin, and society from an occasional terrible
+occurrence which even my little social experience has shown me. And it
+would soon be so much a matter of course, that it would be no more than
+showing your ticket, to prove yourself entitled to a ride. It solves the
+problem of drunkenness. And that is all we can hope to do, till humanity
+is--" 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 his
+sentence, it would have been, "half as perfect as you are."
+
+After this last relay of callers had departed, it began to pour so nobly
+that Peter became hopeful once more. He wandered about, making a
+room-to-room canvass, in search of happiness, and to his surprise saw
+happiness 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 conversation
+had carried them, "You mustn't go out," he said.
+
+"I'm going," said Leonore, made all the more eager now that it was
+forbidden.
+
+"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 to
+walk. 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 his
+head into the two rooms. Empty. He looked out of the front door. There
+in the distance, was that prettiest of figures, distinguishable even
+when 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 take
+Peter 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," she
+thought. "We'll see who can be the most obstinate." Aloud she said, "Who
+says 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, Peter
+would have been less nonplussed by it.
+
+Leonore felt her advantage, and used it shamefully. She knew that Peter
+was helpless, and she said, "How?" again, laughing at him.
+
+Peter groped blindly. "I shall make you," he said again, for lack of
+anything better.
+
+"Perhaps," said Leonore, helping him out, though with a most insulting
+laugh 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's
+perambulator," continued that segment of the Spanish Inquisition. If
+ever an irritating, aggravating, crazing, exasperating, provoking
+fretting enraging, "I dare you," was uttered, it was in Leonore's manner
+as she said this.
+
+Peter looked about hopelessly.
+
+"Please hurry up and say how," Leonore continued, "for I want to get
+down to the cliff walk. It's very wet here on the grass. Perhaps you
+will carry me back? You evidently think me a baby in arms." "He's such
+fun to tease," was her thought, "and you can say just what you please
+without being afraid of his doing anything ungentlemanly." Many a woman
+dares to torture a man for just the same reason.
+
+She was quite right as to Peter. He had recognized that he was
+powerless; that he could not use force. He looked the picture of utter
+indecision. But as Leonore spoke, a sudden change came over his face and
+figure. "Leonore had said it was wet on the grass! Leonore would wet her
+feet! Leonore would take cold! Leonore would have pneumonia! Leonore
+would 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 for
+the moment, and he said to himself: "I must do it, even if she never
+forgives me." Then the indecision left his face, and he took a step
+forward.
+
+Leonore caught her breath with a gasp. The "dare-you" look, suddenly
+changed 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 felt
+that she must fly, however ignominious such retreat might be.
+
+Peter followed, but though he could have caught her in ten seconds, he
+did not. As on a former occasion, he thought: "I'll let her get out of
+breath. Then she will not be so angry. At least she won't be able to
+talk. How gracefully she runs!"
+
+Presently, as soon as Leonore became convinced that Peter did not intend
+to 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 to
+acknowledge that she was out of breath since Peter wasn't. So she made
+no reply.
+
+"You are walking in the wrong direction," said Peter, laying his hand on
+her arm. Then, since she made no reply, his hand encircled the arm, and
+he stopped. Leonore took two more steps. Then she too, curiously enough,
+halted.
+
+"Stop holding me," she said, not entirely without betraying her
+breathlessness.
+
+"You are to come back," said Peter.
+
+He got an awful look from those eyes. They were perfectly blazing with
+indignation.
+
+"Stop holding me," she repeated.
+
+It was a fearful moment to Peter. But he said, with an appeal in his
+voice, "You know I suffer in offending you. I did not believe that I
+could touch you without your consent. But your health is dearer to me
+than your anger is terrible. You must come home."
+
+So Leonore, realizing that helplessness in a man exists only by his own
+volition, turned, and began walking towards the now distant house. Peter
+at once released her arm, and walked beside her. Not a glimpse did he
+get of those dear eyes. Leonore was looking directly before her, and a
+grenadier could not have held himself straighter. If insulted dignity
+was to be acted in pantomime, the actor could have obtained some
+valuable points from that walk.
+
+Peter walked along, feeling semi-criminal, yet semi-happy. He had saved
+Leonore 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 made
+Leonore's cheeks blaze, as Peter's touch had made her eyes. The rain had
+condensed in little diamonds on her stray curls, and on those long
+lashes. It seemed to Peter that he had never seen her lovelier. The
+longing to take her in his arms was so strong, that he almost wished she
+had 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 day
+at least. That meant a very terrible thing to him. A whole day of
+neglect; a whole day with no glimpse of these eyes; a whole day without
+a smile from those lips!
+
+Peter had too much sense to say anything at once. He did not speak till
+they were back in the hall. Leonore had planned to go straight to her
+room, but Peter was rather clever, since she preceded him, in getting to
+the foot of the staircase so rapidly that he was there first.
+
+This secured him his moment for speech. He said simply: "Miss D'Alloi, I
+ask your forgiveness for offending you."
+
+Leonore had her choice of standing silent, of pushing passed Peter, or
+of speaking. If she had done the first, or the second, her position was
+absolutely impregnable. But a woman's instinct is to seek defence or
+attack in words rather than actions. So she said: "You had no right, and
+you 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 was
+weakening. She said, "Let me by, please."
+
+Peter with reluctance gave her just room to pass. He felt that he had
+not 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 moment
+Leonore 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 him
+without 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 very
+different," he was told. "I put on tips and a mackintosh. You didn't put
+on 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, and
+Sweden 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. "It
+isn't worth while," he said.
+
+"I never heard of such obstinacy," said Leonore. "I pity your wife, if
+you 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 his
+hope 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 may
+keep me from taking cold." It was nearly five, o'clock, and Peter was
+longing for that customary half-hour at the tea-table.
+
+Leonore said in the kindness of her heart, "When you've changed your
+clothes, I'll make you a cup." Then she went upstairs. When she had
+reached the second floor, she turned, and leaning over the balustrade of
+the gallery, said, "Peter."
+
+"Yes," said Peter, surveying her from below, and thinking how lovely she
+was.
+
+Leonore was smiling saucily. She said in triumph: "I had my way. I did
+get my walk." Then she went to her room, her head having a very
+victorious carriage.
+
+Peter went to his room, smiling. "It's a good lawyer," he told his
+mirror, "who compromises just enough to make both sides think they've
+won." Peter changed his clothes with the utmost despatch, and hurried
+downstairs to the tea-table. She was not there! Peter waited nearly five
+minutes quietly, with a patience almost colossal. Then he began to get
+restless. He wandered about the room for another two minutes. Then he
+became woe-begone. "I thought she had forgiven me," he remarked.
+
+"What?" said the loveliest of visions from the doorway. Most women would
+have told one that the beauty lay in the Parisian tea-gown. Peter knew
+better. Still, he was almost willing to forgive Leonore the delay caused
+by the donning of it, the result was so eminently satisfactory. "And it
+will 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, taking
+possession of that article.
+
+"But then I can't put any sugar in."
+
+"Fingers were made before forks," suggested Peter. "You don't want to
+give 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 five
+months--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, but
+thought you must have gone to walk after all. Here, Peter. Here's a
+special delivery letter, for which I receipted a while ago. Give me a
+cup, Dot."
+
+Peter said, "Excuse me," and, after a glance at the envelope, opened the
+letter with a sinking sensation. He read it quickly, and then reached
+over and rang the bell. When the footman came, Peter rose and said
+something 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 had
+started upstairs, Leonore said, "Peter," on the landing. When Peter
+stopped, 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 to
+her room. "He's different," she said. "He isn't a bit afraid of
+displeasing me any more. I don't know what to do with him."
+
+Peter found Jenifer waiting. "Only pack the grip," he said. "I hope to
+come back in a few days." But he looked very glum, and the glumness
+stuck 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 back
+next week."
+
+"Next week!" cried Watts. "What has been sprung on you that will take
+you that long?"
+
+"It doesn't depend on me, unfortunately," said Peter, "or I wouldn't
+go."
+
+When the carriage was announced later, Peter shook hands with Watts and
+Mrs. D'Alloi, and then held out his hand to Leonore. "Good-bye," he
+said.
+
+"Are you going to tell me why you are going?" said that young lady, with
+her 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 if
+Leonore could have looked into the future she would have seen in her
+refusal the bitterest sorrow she had ever known.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+OATHS.
+
+
+As soon as Peter was on the express he went into the smoking cabin of
+the sleeping-car, and lighting a cigar, took out a letter and read it
+over again. While he was still reading it, a voice exclaimed:
+
+"Good! Here's Peter. So you are in it too?" Ogden continued, as Ray and
+he took seats by Peter.
+
+"I always did despise Anarchists and Nihilists," sighed Ray, "since I
+was trapped into reading some of those maudlin Russian novels, with
+their 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 party
+now, and I only have a formal notification to hold my regiment in
+readiness. If it's nothing but this Socialist and Anarchist talk, there
+is no real danger in it."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"This country can never be in danger from discontent with our
+government, for it's what the majority want it to be, or if not, it is
+made so at the next election. That is the beauty of a Democracy. The
+majority always supports the government. We fight our revolutions with
+ballots, not with bullets."
+
+"Yet Most says that blood must be shed."
+
+"I suppose," said Peter, "that he has just reached the stage of
+intelligence which doctors had attained when they bled people to make
+them 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't
+express himself, but way down underneath all the absurd talk of
+'natural monopolies,' and of 'the oppression of the money-power,' there
+lies a germ of truth, without which none of their theories would have a
+corporal's guard of honest believers. We have been working towards that
+truth in an unsystematic way for centuries, but we are a long way from
+it, and till we solve how to realize it, we shall have ineffectual
+discontent."
+
+"But that makes the whole thing only the more arrant nonsense," grumbled
+Ray. "It's foolish enough in all conscience sake, if they had a chance
+of success, but when they haven't any, why the deuce do they want to
+drag us poor beggars back from Newport?"
+
+"Why did Rome insist on burning while Nero fiddled?" queried Peter
+smiling. "We should hear nothing of socialism and anarchy if Newport and
+the 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 with
+Peter'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 and
+methods, but I sympathize with them, for I see the fearful problems
+which they think their theories will solve, and though I know how
+mistaken they are, I cannot blame them, when I see how seriously and
+honestly they believe in, and how unselfishly they work for, their
+ideas. Don't blame the Socialists, for they are quite as conscientious
+as were the Abolitionists. Blame it to the lack of scientific education,
+which leaves these people to believe that theories containing a half
+truth are so wholly true that they mean the regeneration and salvation
+of society."
+
+"I suppose you are right," sighed Ray, "for you've thought of it, and I
+haven't. I don't want to, either. I thank the Lord I'm not as serious as
+you, Graveyard. But if you want to air your theory, I'll lend you my
+ears, 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-bred
+men. They seem to think they've done all the work and study of their
+life in their four years, and so can dissipate mentally ever after." But
+Peter smiled as he said this and continued, more seriously: "Society and
+personal freedom are only possible in conjunction, when law or public
+opinion interferes to the degree of repressing all individual acts that
+interfere with the freedom of others; thus securing the greatest
+individual freedom to all. So far as physical force is concerned, we
+have pretty well realized this condition. Because a man is strong he can
+no longer take advantage of the weak. But strength is not limited to
+muscle. 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 it
+attempts to repress individualism, and reduce mankind to an evenness
+opposed to all natural laws, is suicidal of the best in favor of
+mediocrity. But so far as it attempts to protect that mediocrity and
+weakness from the superior minds of the best, it is only in line with
+the laws which protect us from murder and robbery. You can't expect men
+of 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, or
+joins a regiment. What's the good of being a good citizen, when the
+other 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 I
+furnish the raw material on which the dearest of women may lavish her
+affection. Heigh-ho! I wish I was before the fire with her now. It's
+rather 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's
+before us, and may not have much after to-night. But, Ray, there's a
+harder 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 really
+matters." Peter passed out of the cabin.
+
+"By George!" said Ray, "if it wasn't Peter, I'd have sworn there was
+salt water in his eyes."
+
+"Anneke has always insisted that he was lonely. I wonder if she's
+right?" Ogden queried.
+
+"If he is, why the deuce does he get off in those solitary quarters of
+his?"
+
+"Ray," said Ogden, "I have a sovereign contempt for a man who answers
+one 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; who
+promptly went and did the same to still others. While they were doing
+this, Peter drove uptown, and went into Dickel's riding academy. As he
+passed through the office, a man came out.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning."
+
+"Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes," said Peter. "How serious is it likely to
+be?"
+
+"We can't say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle the
+Anarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall need
+you."
+
+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 in
+force at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, that
+they'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 the
+unemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have called
+in the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying of
+arms."
+
+"It's rather rough on you, Stirling," spoke up a man, "to have it come
+while you are a nominee."
+
+Peter smiled, and passed into the room beyond. "Good-morning, General
+Canfield," he said. "I have taken the necessary steps to embody my
+regiment. Are there any further orders?"
+
+"If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station," the officer
+replied; "so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had better
+familiarize yourself at once."
+
+"General Canfield," said Peter, "my regiment has probably more
+sympathizers with the strikers than has any other in the city. It could
+not 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 prevent
+trouble."
+
+The man and Peter looked each other in the eye.
+
+"You have your orders," said the man, but he didn't look pleased or
+proud.
+
+Peter turned and left the room, looking very grave. He look his cab and
+went to his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went down
+into the streets. They seemed peaceably active as he walked through
+them. A small boy was calling an extra, but it was in reference to the
+arrival of a much-expected racing-yacht. There was nothing to show that
+a great business depression rested with crushing weight on the city, and
+especially on the poor; that anarchy was lifting its head, and from
+hungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood and blaze; that
+capital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle which
+perhaps meant death and destruction.
+
+The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeeze
+through, and was guarded by a keeper. Peter passed in, however, without
+question, and heard a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy was
+gathering, so too was order. Peter called his officers together, and
+gave a few orders. Then he turned and whispered for a moment with
+Dennis.
+
+"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 for
+the 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 on
+September 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 they
+are tryin' to put yez in a hole, an' they'll stan' by yez, no matter
+what yez are told to do."
+
+As quickly as possible Peter put on his fatigue uniform. When he came
+out, it was to find that the rank and file had done the same, and were
+now standing in groups about the floor. A moment later they were lined
+up.
+
+Peter stepped forward and said in a clear, ringing voice: "Before the
+roll is called I wish to say a word. We may receive orders any moment to
+take possession of the buildings and switches at the Central Station, to
+protect the property and operators of that road. This will be hard to
+some of you, who believe the strikers are right. But we have nothing to
+do with that. We have taken our oath to preserve order and law, and we
+are interested in having it done, far more than is the capitalist, for
+he can buy protection, whether laws are enforced or not, while the
+laboring man cannot. But if any man here is not prepared to support the
+State in its duty to protect the life and property of all, by an
+enforcement 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" was
+mustered 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 later
+came the rap of the drum, and the men rose from the floor and fell in. A
+few sharp, quick words were passed from mouth to mouth. Guns rose to the
+shoulders with a click and a movement almost mechanical. The regiment
+swung 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 break
+their lines to get within the curbs. So without sound of drum or music
+they passed through street after street. A regiment is thrilling when it
+parades to music: it is more so when it marches in silence.
+
+Presently it passed into a long tunnel, where the footfall echoed in a
+startling way. But as it neared the other end, a more startling sound
+could be heard. It was a low murmur, as of many voices, and of voices
+that were not pleasant. Peter's wisdom in availing himself of the
+protection and secrecy of the tunnel as an approach became obvious.
+
+A moment later, as the regiment debouched from the tunnel's mouth, the
+scene broke upon them. A vast crowd filled Fourth Avenue and
+Forty-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 melted
+into a long-thin one again, even as the regiment went forward. It was
+greeted with yells, and bottles and bricks were hurled from above it,
+but the appearance of the regiment had taken the men too much by
+surprise for them to do more. The head entered the mob, and seemed to
+disappear. 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. The
+regiment had passed through the crowd, and was within the station. Peter
+breathed a sigh of relief. To march up Fifth Avenue, with empty guns, in
+a parade, between ten thousand admiring spectators is one thing. To
+march between ten thousand angry strikers and their sympathizers, with
+ball cartridges in the rifles, is quite another. It is all the
+difference between smoking a cigar after dinner, and smoking one in a
+powder magazine.
+
+The regiment's task had only just begun, however. Peter had orders to
+clear the streets about the station. After a consultation with the
+police captain, the companies were told off, and filing out of the
+various doors, they began work. Peter had planned his debouchments so as
+to split the mob into sections, knowing that each fragment pushed back
+rendered the remainder less formidable. First a sally was made from the
+terminal station, and after two lines of troops had been thrown across
+Forty-second Street, the second was ordered to advance. Thus a great
+tongue of the mob, which stretched towards Third Avenue, was pressed
+back, almost to that street, and held there, without a quarter of the
+mob knowing that anything was being done. Then a similar operation was
+repeated on Forty-third Street and Forty-fourth Street, and possession
+was taken of Madison Avenue. Another wedge was driven into the mob and a
+section pushed along Forty-second, nearly to Fifth Avenue. Then what was
+left of the mob was pushed back from the front of the building down Park
+Avenue. Again Peter breathed more freely.
+
+"I think the worst is done," he told his officers. "Fortunately the
+crowd did not expect us, and was not prepared to resist. If you can once
+split 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 Moriarty
+orders 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 a
+line. On one side of this line sat or reclined Company D. and eight
+policemen. 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 the
+committee. The rest were the ubiquitous reporters. From the newspaper
+report 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. looked
+astounded. Finally, however, one of the committee said, "There's no good
+wasting time here." Then a reporter said to a confr�re, "What a stunning
+headline that will make?" Then the Captain of Company D. got his mouth
+closed enough to exclaim, "Oi always thought he could swear if he tried
+hard. Begobs, b'ys, it's proud av him we should be this day. Didn't he
+swear strong an' fine like? Howly hivens! it's a delight to hear damn
+said like that."
+
+For some reason that "swear-word" pleased New York and the country
+generally, showing that even an oath has its purpose in this world, so
+long as it is properly used. Dean Swift said a lie "was too good to be
+lavished about." So it is of profanity. The crowd understood Peter's
+remark as they would have understood nothing else. They understood that
+besides those rifles and bayonets there was something else not to be
+trifled with. So in this case, it was not wasted.
+
+And Mr. Bohlmann, Christian though he was, as he read his paper that
+evening cried, "Och! Dod Beder Stirling he always does say chust der
+righd 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 gathering
+crowds. The reinforcement of the militia. The clearing and holding of
+Forty-second Street to the river. The arrival of the three barge-loads
+of "scabs." Their march through that street to the station safely,
+though at every cross street greeted with a storm of stones and other
+missiles. The struggle of the mob at the station to force back the
+troops so as to get at the "rats." The impact of the "thin line" and
+that dense seething mass of enraged, crazed men. The yielding of the
+troops 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. Then
+the dozen shots fired almost simultaneously. The great surge of the mob
+forward. The quick order, and the rattle of guns, as they rose to the
+shoulder. Another order, and the sheet of flame. The great surge of the
+mob 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 of
+wages, and were trying to settle it. At first blush capital had the best
+of it. "Only a few strikers and militia-men killed," was the apparent
+result of that struggle. The scabs were in safety inside the station,
+and trains were already making up, preparatory to a resumption of
+traffic. But capital did not go scot-free. "Firing in the streets of New
+York," was the word sent out all over the world, and on every exchange
+in the country, stocks fell. Capital paid twenty-five million dollars
+that day, for those few ounces of lead. Such a method of settlement
+seems rather crude and costly, for the last decade of the nineteenth
+century.
+
+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 on
+fences, lamp-posts, or barrels, wherever they could get an audience, and
+shrieked out invectives against police, troops, government, and
+property; and waved red flags. Orders went out to embody more regiments.
+Timid people retired indoors, and bolted their shutters. The streets
+became deserted, except where they were filled by groups of angry men
+listening to angrier speakers. It was not a calm night in New York.
+
+Yet in reality, the condition was less serious, for representatives of
+Capital, Labor, and Government were in consultation. Inside the
+station, in the Directors' room of the railroad, its officials, a
+committee of the strikers, and an officer in fatigue uniform, with a
+face to match, were seated in great leather-covered chairs, around a
+large table. When they had first gathered, there had been dark brows,
+and every sentence had been like the blow of flint on steel. At one
+moment all but the officer had risen from their seats, and the meeting
+had seemed ended. But the officer had said something quietly, and once
+more they had seated themselves. Far into the night they sat, while mobs
+yelled, and sentries marched their beats. When the gathering ended, the
+scowls were gone. Civil partings were exchanged, and the committee and
+the officer passed out together.
+
+"That Stirling is a gritty bull-dog for holding on, isn't he?" said one
+of 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 be
+the 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 hope
+you'll remember it when you're governor and we want things done."
+
+"Gentlemen," said Peter, "for every surrender of opinion you and the
+railroad officials have made to-night, I thank you. But you should have
+compromised twelve hours sooner."
+
+"So as you should not have had to make yourself unpopular?" asked
+Kurfeldt. "You needn't be afraid. You've done your best for us. Now
+we'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 all
+was as it should be. Then spreading his blanket in the passenger
+waiting-room, he fell asleep, not with a very happy look on the grave
+face.
+
+But the morning-papers announced that the strike was ended by a
+compromise, and New York and the country breathed easier.
+
+Peter did not get much sleep, for he was barely dreaming of--of a
+striker, who had destroyed his peace, by striking him in the heart with
+a 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." In
+ten 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, we
+shall have it." Then he smiled. "You'll have to have an understanding
+hereafter, before you make a man colonel, that he shan't run for
+office."
+
+"What are we in for now?"
+
+"I can't say. To-day's the time of the parade and meeting in City Hall
+Park."
+
+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 the
+bulletin boards of the newspapers, which were chiefly devoted to the
+doings about the Central Station, could be taken as such. Except for
+this, the regiment was the only indication that the universal peace had
+not come, and even this looked peaceful, as soon as it had settled down
+to hot coffee, bread and raw ham.
+
+In the park, however, was a suggestive sight. For not merely were all
+the benches filled with sleeping men, but the steps of the City Hall,
+the grass, and even the hard asphalt pavement were besprinkled with a
+dirty, ragged, hungry-looking lot of men, unlike those usually seen in
+the streets of New York. When the regiment marched into the square, a
+few of the stragglers rose from their recumbent attitudes, and looked at
+it, without much love in their faces. As the regiment breakfasted, more
+and more rose from their hard beds to their harder lives. They moved
+about restlessly, as if waiting for something. Some gathered in little
+groups and listened to men who talked and shrieked far louder than was
+necessary in order that their listeners should hear. Some came to the
+edge of the street and cursed and vituperated the breakfasting regiment.
+Some sat on the ground and ate food which they produced from their
+pockets 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 few
+scuffles occurred in attempts to get some. That crowd represented the
+slag and scum of the boiling pot of nineteenth-century conditions. And
+as the flotsam on a river always centres at its eddies, so these had
+drifted, from the country, and from the slums, to the centre of the
+whirlpool of American life. Here they were waiting. Waiting for what?
+The future only would show. But each moment is a future, till it becomes
+the present.
+
+While the regiment still breakfasted it became conscious of a monotonous
+sound, growing steadily in volume. Then came the tap of the drum, and
+the 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 ten
+minutes?"
+
+The next moment the head of another regiment swung from Chambers Street
+into the square. It was greeted by hisses and groans from the denizens
+of the park, but this lack of politeness was more than atoned for, by
+the order: "Present arms," passed down the immovable line awaiting it.
+After a return salute the commanding officers advanced and once more
+saluted.
+
+"In obedience to orders from headquarters, I have the honor to report my
+regiment to you, Colonel Stirling, and await your orders," said the
+officer 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, as
+they sliced meat off the same ham-bones and emptied the same cracker
+boxes. What was more, each was respecting and liking the other. One
+touch of danger is almost as efficacious as one touch of nature. It is
+not 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 their
+grub, much as if it was a legal rather than an illegal trouble to be
+dealt with.
+
+"Where were you?" asked Peter.
+
+"At the Sixty-third Street terminals," said Ray. "We didn't have any fun
+at all. As quiet as a cow. You always were lucky! Excuse me, Peter, I
+oughtn't to have said it," Ray continued, seeing Peter's face. "It's
+this 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 intention
+to protect the substitutes. They thought I was too much of a politician
+to dare to do it. So I swore, thinking they would understand that as
+they would not anything else. I hoped it might save actual firing. But
+they 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 to
+freedom. Freedom of life, of property, of food, of water, of air, of
+land. Destroy the money power!"
+
+"If we ever get to the freedom he wants," said Ray, "we'll utilize that
+chap 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," said
+Peter, "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't
+make 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 common
+sense, and therefore capable of thinking they can do anything, just as
+John 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 are
+comparatively few here, or else to go back to our armories, and let them
+have their meeting in peace. Our being here will only excite them."
+
+"Hear that," said Ray, as the crowd gave a great roar as another
+regiment came up Park Place, across the Park and spread out so as to
+cover Broadway.
+
+As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business. But many
+seemed to have none, and drifted into the Park. Some idlers came from
+curiosity, but most seemed to have some purpose other than the mere
+spectacle. From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twenty
+streets. As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking up
+positions, lay at ease. There was something terrible about the quiet way
+in which both crowd and troops increased. The mercury was not high, but
+it promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the car lines took off
+their cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The exchanges and the
+banks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their example.
+New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced each
+other.
+
+While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been
+yelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted
+himself, and limped towards Peter.
+
+"Mr. Stirling," he shouted, "come out from those murderers. I want to
+tell 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 want
+yours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here, quick. Hide
+yourself before the people rise in their might."
+
+Peter smiled sadly. "How are Mrs. Podds and the children?" he asked
+kindly.
+
+"What is a family at such a moment?" shrieked Podds.
+
+"The world is my family. I love the whole world, and I'm going to
+revolutionize it. I'm going to give every man his rights. The gutters
+shall reek with blood, and every plutocrat's castle shall be levelled to
+the 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 away
+from here. Get away before it's too late."
+
+Just then the sound of a horse's feet was heard, and a staff officer
+came cantering from a side street into the square. He saluted Peter and
+said, "Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamation
+forbidding the meeting and parade. General Canfield orders you to clear
+the Park, by pushing the mob towards Broadway. The regiments have been
+drawn 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. We
+claim 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 thousand
+men.
+
+"Brethren," yelled Podds, "the foot of the tyrant is on us. Rise. Rise
+in your might." Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of bayonets
+close upon him. He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing his
+arms about Peter's neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his free
+arm.
+
+"Don't push me off," shrieked Podds in his ear, "it's coming," and he
+clung with desperate energy to Peter.
+
+Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and the
+whole figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to send
+Podds flying across the street.
+
+But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then the
+earth shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers,
+rose in the air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street. Into that
+chasm a moment later, stones, rails, anarchists, and soldiers fell,
+leaving nothing but a thick cloud of overhanging dust. Underneath that
+great dun pall lay soldier and anarchist, side by side, at last at
+peace. The one died for his duty, the other died for his idea. The world
+was 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 ballad
+entitled "Happiness." She had sung it several times, and with gusto.
+
+The next morning she read the political part of the papers. "I don't see
+anything to have taken him back," she said "but I am really glad, for he
+was getting hard to manage. I couldn't send him away, but now I hope
+he'll stay there." Then Leonore fluttered all day, in the true Newport
+style, 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 was
+summoned back to New York last night, by business, quite unexpectedly,
+and Mr. Dupont telegraphed me this afternoon that he was detained
+there."
+
+"It's curious," said Dorothy. "Mr. Rivington and my brother came on
+Tuesday expecting to stay for a week, but they had special delivery
+letters yesterday, and both started for New York. They would not tell me
+what it was."
+
+"Mr. Stirling received a special delivery, too," said Leonore, "and
+started at once. And he wouldn't tell."
+
+"How extraordinary!" said the hostess. "There must be something very
+good at the roof-gardens."
+
+"It has something to do with headwears," said Leonore, not hiding her
+light 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 for
+headwear too."
+
+"They do that already," said a man, "but unlike women, they do it on the
+inside, 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 their
+carriage, Leonore said, "What a dull dinner it was?"
+
+"Oh, Leonore," cried Dorothy, "don't talk about dinners. I've kept up
+till now, bu--" and Dorothy's sentence melted into a sob.
+
+"Is it home, Mrs. Rivington?" asked the tiger, sublimely unconscious, as
+a 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 anarchist
+talk 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 her
+arm around Dorothy, and trying blindly to comfort her.
+
+"Is it a message, Mrs. Rivington?" asked the man, opening the
+carriage-door.
+
+"Ask for Mr. Melton, or Mr. Duer, and say Mrs. Rivington wishes to see
+one of them." Dorothy dried her eyes, and braced up. Before Leonore had
+time to demand an explanation, Peter's gentlemanly scoundrel was at the
+door.
+
+"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 been
+called 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 kissed
+each other in parting, not with the peck which women so often give each
+other, but with a true kiss. And when Leonore, in crossing the porch,
+encountered the mastiff which Peter had given her, she stopped and
+kissed him too, very tenderly. What is more, she brought him inside,
+which was against the rules, and put him down before the fire. Then she
+told the footman to bring her the evening-papers, and sitting down on
+the rug by B�tise, proceeded to search them, not now for the political
+outlook, but for the labor troubles. Leonore suddenly awoke to the fact
+that there were such things as commercial depressions and unemployed.
+She read it all with the utmost care. She read the outpourings of the
+Anarchists, in a combination of indignation, amazement and fear, "I
+never dreamed there could be such fearful wretches!" she said. There was
+one man--a fellow named Podds--whom the paper reported as shrieking in
+Union 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 would
+blow you in pieces!" Thereby was she proving herself not unlike Podds.
+All humanity have something of the Anarchist in them. Then Leonore
+turned to the mastiff and told him some things. Of how bad the strikers
+were, and how terrible were the Anarchists. "Yes, dear," she said, "I
+wish we had them here, and then you could treat them as they deserve,
+wouldn't you, B�tise? I'm so glad he has my luck-piece!"
+
+A moment later her father and another man came into the hall from the
+street, compelling Leonore to assume a more proper attitude.
+
+"Hello, Dot!" said Watts. "Still up? Vaughan and I are going to have a
+game of billiards. Won't you score for us?"
+
+"Yes," said Leonore.
+
+"Bad news from New York, isn't it?" said Vaughan, nonchalantly, as he
+stood back after his first play.
+
+Leonore saw her father make a grimace at Vaughan, which Vaughan did not
+see. 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's
+credit.
+
+"Yes. Eleven soldiers and twenty-two strikers."
+
+"What regiment was it?" asked Leonore.
+
+"Colonel Stirling's," said Vaughan, making a brilliant _mass�_.
+"Fortunately it's a Mick regiment, so we needn't worry over who was
+killed."
+
+Leonore thought to herself: "You are as bad every bit as Podds!" Aloud
+she 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 game
+out with that position. I think, papa, that I'll go to bed. I find I'm a
+little tired. Good-night, Mr. Vaughan." Leonore went upstairs, slowly,
+deep in thought. She did not ring for her maid. On the contrary she lay
+down on her bed in her dinner-gown, to its everlasting detriment. "I
+know he isn't hurt," she said, "because I should feel it. But I wish the
+telegram had said." She hardly believed herself, apparently, for she
+buried her head in the pillow, and began to sob quietly. "If I only had
+said 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 till
+eight o'clock."
+
+Leonore took the newspaper silently and went to the library. Then she
+opened 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, and
+because he had my luck piece." Then she stepped out of one of the
+windows, called B�tise to her, and putting her arms about his neck,
+kissed him.
+
+When the New York papers came things were even better, for they recorded
+the end of the strike. Leonore even laughed over that big, big D. "I
+can'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 hinted
+at afternoon tea, as she had a poor unfortunate who suggested tennis
+earlier 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 his
+voice.
+
+Leonore was raising a spoon to her mouth, but suddenly her hand trembled
+a little. After a glance at her father and mother, she pushed her
+tea-cup into the centre of the table as if she had finished it, though
+it had just been poured. Then she turned and began to talk and laugh
+with 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 he
+went 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 you
+to-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 I
+suffer 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 a
+bomb."
+
+"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, and
+went towards the door.
+
+"Leonore," cried her mother, "stay here with me, dear."
+
+"I'd rather be alone," said Leonore, quietly. She went upstairs to her
+room 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 before
+her at nothing, as Peter had so often done. Is it harder to lose out of
+life the man or woman whom one loves, or to see him or her happy in the
+love of another. Is the hopelessness of the impossible less or greater
+than 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 the
+library, 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 all
+over the city."
+
+"I must go to New York," said Leonore. "If you won't take me, I'll go
+with madame."
+
+"Not for a moment--" began Watts.
+
+"Papa," cried Leonore, "don't you see it's killing me? I can't bear
+it--" and Leonore stopped.
+
+"Yes, Watts, we must," said Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+Two hours later they were all three rolling towards New York. It was a
+five hours' ride, but Leonore sat the whole distance without speaking,
+or showing any consciousness of her surroundings. For every turn of
+those wheels seemed to fall into a rhythmic repetition of: "If I had
+only said 'good-bye.'"
+
+The train was late in arriving, and Watts tried to induce Leonore to go
+to a hotel for the night. She only said "No. Take me to him," but it was
+in a voice which Watts could not disregard. So after a few questions at
+the terminal, which produced no satisfactory information, Watts told the
+cabman to drive to the City Hall Park.
+
+They did not reach it, however, for at the corner of Centre Street and
+Chambers, 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 by
+Broadway."
+
+"Why?" asked Watts.
+
+"The street is impassable."
+
+Watts got out, and held a whispered dialogue with the sentry. This
+resulted in the summoning of the officer of the watch. In the mean time
+Leonore descended and joined them. Watts turned and said to her: "The
+sentry says he's here."
+
+Presently an officer came up.
+
+"An' what do the likes av yez want at this time av night?" he inquired
+crossly. "Go away wid yez."
+
+"Oh, Captain Moriarty," said Leonore, "won't you let me see him? I'm
+Miss D'Alloi."
+
+"Shure," said Dennis, "yez oughtn't to be afther disturbin' him. It's
+two nights he's had no sleep."
+
+Leonore suddenly put her hand on Dennis's arm. "He's not killed?" she
+whispered, 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 av
+a 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 eye
+if he was dead?"
+
+Leonore put her head on Dennis's shoulder, and began to sob softly. For
+a moment Dennis looked aghast at the results of his speech, but suddenly
+his face changed. "Shure," he whispered, "we all love him just like
+that, an that's why the Blessed Virgin saved him for us."
+
+Then Leonore, with tears in her eyes, said, "I felt it," in the most
+joyful 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 promise
+you."
+
+"That yez shall," said Dennis. "Will yez take my arm?" The four passed
+within the lines. "Step careful," he continued. "There's pavin' stones,
+and rails, and plate-glass everywheres. It looks like there'd been a
+primary itself."
+
+All thought that was the best of jokes and laughed. They passed round a
+great chasm in the street and sidewalk. Then they came to long rows of
+bodies stretched on the grass, or rather what was left of the grass, in
+the Park. Leonore shuddered. "Are they all dead?" she whispered. "Dead!
+Shurely not. It's the regiment sleepin'," she was told. They passed
+between these rows for a little distance. "This is him," said Dennis,
+"sleepin' like a babby." Dennis turned his back and began to describe
+the 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 down
+on the ground beside him, regardless of the proprieties or the damp. She
+listened to hear if he was breathing, and when she found that he
+actually was, her face had on it a little thanksgiving proclamation of
+its own. Then with the prettiest of motherly manners, she softly pulled
+the blanket up and tucked it in about his arms. Then she looked to see
+if there was not something else to do. But there was nothing. So she
+made more. "The poor dear oughtn't to sleep without something on his
+head. He'll take cold." She took her handkerchief and tried to fix it so
+that it should protect Peter's head. She tried four different ways, any
+one of which would have served; but each time she thought of a better
+way, and had to try once more. She probably would have thought of a
+fifth, if Peter had not suddenly opened his eyes.
+
+"Oh!" said Leonore, "what a shame? I've waked you up. And just as I had
+fixed it right."
+
+Peter studied the situation calmly, without moving a muscle. He looked
+at the kneeling figure for some time. Then he looked up at the arc light
+a little distance away. Then he looked at the City Hall clock. Then his
+eyes came back to Leonore. "Peter," he said finally, "this is getting to
+be a monomania. You must stop it."
+
+"What?" said Leonore, laughing at his manner as if it was intended as a
+joke.
+
+Peter put out his hand and touched Leonore's dress. Then he rose quickly
+to his feet. "What is the matter?" he asked.
+
+"Hello," cried Watts. "Have you come to? Well. Here we are, you see. All
+the 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. "Such
+friends 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 want
+of sleep, so the best thing we can do, since we needn't hunt for you in
+scraps, is to go to the nearest hotel. Where is that?"
+
+"You'll have to go uptown," said Peter. "Nothing down here is open at
+this time."
+
+"I'm not sleepy," said Leonore, "but I am so hungry!"
+
+"Serves you right for eating no din--" Watts started to say, but Leonore
+interjected, in an unusually loud voice. "Can't you get us something?"
+
+"Nothing; that will do for you, I'm afraid," said Peter. "I had Dennett
+send up one of his coffee-boilers so that the men should have hot coffee
+through the night, and there's a sausage-roll man close to him who's
+doing 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 the
+sidewalk, and three Newport swells, and the Democratic nominee for
+governor sat upon it, with their feet in the gutter, and drank half-bean
+coffee and ate hot sausage rolls, made all the hotter by the undue
+amount of mustard which the cook would put in. What is worse, they
+enjoyed it as much as if it was the finest of dinners. Would not society
+have been scandalized had it known of their doings?
+
+How true it is that happiness is in a mood rather than in a moment. How
+eagerly we prepare for and pursue the fickle sprite, only to find our
+preparations 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 of
+the four. The coffee might have been all beans, and yet it would have
+been better than the best served in Viennese caf�s. The rolls might have
+had even a more weepy amount of mustard, and yet the burning and the
+tears would only have been the more of a joke. The sun came up, as they
+ate, talked and laughed, touching everything about them with gold, but
+it 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 his
+friends to their cab. It had all been arranged that they were to go to
+Peter's quarters, and get some sleep. These were less than eight blocks
+away, but the parting was very terrific! However, it had to be done, and
+so it was gone through with. Hard as it was, Peter had presence of mind
+enough to say, through the carriage window.
+
+"You had better take my room, Miss D'Alloi, for the spare room is the
+largest. I give you the absolute freedom of it, minus the gold-box. Use
+anything you find."
+
+Then Peter went back to the chaotic street and the now breakfasting
+regiment, feeling that strikes, anarchists, and dynamite were only minor
+circumstances in life.
+
+About noon Leonore came back to life, and succeeded in making a very
+bewitching toilet despite the absence of her maid. Whether she peeped
+into 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 into
+some of the window flowers, she started to go to the bookshelves. As she
+walked her foot struck something which rang with a metallic sound, as it
+moved on the wood floor. The next moment, a man started out of a deep
+chair.
+
+"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 the
+hall, as if she were planning for a sudden flight.
+
+"The regiment was relieved by another from Albany this morning. So I
+came up here for a little sleep."
+
+"What a shame that I should have kept you out of your room," said
+Leonore, still eyeing the door. From Leonore's appearance, one would
+have supposed that she had purloined something of value from his
+quarters, and was meditating a sudden dash of escape with it.
+
+"I don't look at it in that light," said Peter. "But since you've
+finished 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. Then
+Leonore's anxious look left her, and she no longer looked at the door.
+One would almost have inferred that Leonore was afraid of Peter, but
+that is absurd, since they were such good friends, since Leonore had
+come all the way from Newport to see him, and since Leonore had decided
+that Peter must do as she pleased.
+
+Yet, curiously enough, when Peter returned in about twenty minutes, the
+same look came into Leonore's face.
+
+"We shall have something to eat in ten minutes," Peter said, "for I hear
+your father and mother moving."
+
+Leonore looked towards the door. She did not intend that Peter should
+see her do it, but he did.
+
+"Now what shall we do or talk about?" he said. "You know I am host and
+mustn't do anything my guests don't wish."
+
+Peter said this in the most matter-of-fact way, but Leonore, after a
+look 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," as
+well as he was able, for, despite his intentions, his mind would wander
+as 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 inflammatory
+rheumatism by the exposure, and was discharged. He suffered fearful
+pain, and saw his family suffer for bread. He grew bitter, and took up
+with these wild theories, not having enough original brain force, or
+education, 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 to
+despise me and ordered me out of his rooms. I had once done him a
+service, and felt angered at what I thought ungrateful conduct, so I
+made no attempt to keep up the friendliness. He knew yesterday that
+dynamite was in the hands of some of those men, and tried to warn me
+away. When I refused to go, he threw himself upon me, to protect me from
+the 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 driven
+off 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 a
+couple 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 door
+again, 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 you
+too." That was the way she paid Peter for his forbearance.
+
+Then they all went up on the roof, where in one corner there were pots
+of flowers about a little table, over which was spread an awning. Over
+that table, too, Jenifer had spread himself. How good that breakfast
+was! What a glorious September day it was! How beautiful the view of the
+city and the bay was! It was all so thoroughly satisfactory, that the
+three nearly missed the "limited." Of course Peter went to the station
+with them, and, short as was the time, he succeeded in obtaining for one
+of the party, "all the comic papers," "the latest novel," a small basket
+of fruit, and a bunch of flowers, not one of which, with the exception
+of the latter, the real object of these attentions wanted in the least.
+
+Just here it is of value to record an interesting scientific discovery
+of Leonore's, because women so rarely have made them. It was, that the
+distance from New York to Newport is very much less than the distance
+from Newport to New York.
+
+Curiously enough, two days later, his journey seemed to Peter the
+longest railroad ride he had ever taken. "His friend" did not meet him
+this time. His friend felt that her trip to New York must be offset
+before she could resume her proper self-respect. "He was very nice," she
+had said, in monologue, "about putting the trip down to friendship. And
+he was very nice that morning in his study. But I think his very
+niceness is suspicious, and so I must be hard on him!" A woman's
+reasoning is apt to seem defective, yet sometimes it solves problems not
+otherwise answerable.
+
+Leonore found her "hard" policy harder than she thought for. She told
+Peter the first evening that she was going to a card-party. "I can't
+take 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 the
+flowers, she remarked to some one who stood and watched her, "Miss
+Winthrop is engaged. How foolish of a girl in her first season! Before
+she'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 case
+her speech was too much for one dose, but when she glanced at him, he
+was smiling happily.
+
+"What is it?" asked Leonore, disapprovingly.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Peter. "I wasn't listening. Did you say Miss
+Winthrop 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 I
+may."
+
+In truth, Peter was not worrying any longer over what Leonore said or
+did to him. He was merely enjoying her companionship. He was at once
+absolutely happy, and absolutely miserable. Happy in his hope. Miserable
+in its non-certainty. To make a paradox, he was confident that she
+loved him, yet he was not sure. A man will be absolutely confident that
+a certain horse will win a race, or he will be certain that a profit
+will accrue from a given business transaction. Yet, until the horse has
+won, or the profit is actually made, he is not assured. So it was with
+Peter. He thought that he had but to speak, yet dared not do it. The
+present was so certain, and the future might have such agonies. So for
+two days he merely followed Leonore about, enjoying her pretty ways and
+hardly heeding her snubs and petulance. He was very silent, and often
+abstracted, but his silence and abstraction brought no relief to
+Leonore, and only frightened her the more, for he hardly let her out of
+his sight, and the silent devotion and tenderness were so obvious that
+Leonore 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 look
+in his face which really said the words: "My darling." Leonore thought
+this was a mean trick, of apparently sustaining the conventions of
+society, while in reality outraging them horribly, but she was helpless
+to better his conduct. Twice unwittingly he even called her "Leonore"
+(as he had to himself for two months), thereby terribly disconcerting
+the owner of that name. She wanted to catch him up and snub him each
+time, but she was losing her courage. She knew that she was walking on a
+mine, and could not tell what chance word or deed of hers would bring an
+explosion. "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 equipped
+as the law directs" for a cotillion. In the large hallway, he found
+Leonore, likewise in gala dress, resting her hand on the tall mantel of
+the hall, and looking down at the fire. Peter stopped on the landing to
+enjoy that pose. He went over every detail with deliberation. But girl,
+gown, and things in general, were much too tempting to make this distant
+glimpse over lengthy. So he descended to get a closer view. The pose
+said nothing, and Peter strolled to the fire, and did likewise. But if
+he 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 felt
+uneasy under that silent gaze.
+
+"It's only a little past ten," said Peter, who was quite satisfied with
+the _status quo_.
+
+Then silence came again. After this had held for a few moments, the pose
+said: "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 the
+Purdies' dressing-rooms, as standing here. Suppose we go to the library
+and 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 me
+tell 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 have
+had 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 in
+adding, "I want you to give me--a kiss."
+
+"Peter!" said Leonore, drawing back grieved and indignant. "I didn't
+think 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 obviously
+struggled to find words to say what he did mean as he had never
+struggled over the knottiest of legal points, or the hardest of
+wrestling matches. "If I thought you were a girl who would kiss a man
+for the asking, I should not care for a kiss from you." Peter strayed
+away from the fire uneasily. "But I know you are not." Peter gazed
+wildly round, as if the furnishings, of the hall might suggest the words
+for which he was blindly groping. But they didn't, and after one or two
+half-begun sentences, he continued: "I haven't watched you, and dreamed
+about you, and loved you, for all this time, without learning what you
+are." Peter roamed about the great hall restlessly. "I know that your
+lips will never give what your heart doesn't." Then his face took a
+despairing look, and he continued quite rapidly: "I ask without much
+hope. 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 have
+deceived you. I probably am what women say of me. But if I've been
+otherwise with you it is because you are different from any other woman
+in the world." Here the sudden flow of words ended, and Peter paced up
+and down, trying to find what to say. If any one had seen Peter as he
+paced, without his present environment, he would have thought him a man
+meditating suicide. Suddenly his voice and face became less wild, and he
+said tenderly: "There is no use in my telling you how I love you. You
+know it now, or will never learn it from anything I can say." Peter
+strode back to the fire. "It is my love which asks for a kiss. And I
+want 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 the
+whole of this monologue. But she must have seen something of Peter's
+uneasy wanderings about the room, for she had said to herself: "Poor
+dear! He must be fearfully in earnest, I never knew him so restless. He
+prowls 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 the
+words, "Give me what I ask, my darling."
+
+"Yes," said Leonore softly. "On your birthday." Then Leonore shrank back
+a little, as if afraid that her gift would be sought sooner. No young
+girl, 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 previous
+training to make them an unalloyed pleasure. The girl who is over-ready
+for her lover's first kiss, has tasted the forbidden fruit already, or
+has waited over-long for it.
+
+Peter saw the little shrinking and understood it. What was more, he
+heeded it as many men would not have done. Perhaps there was something
+selfish in his self-denial, for the purity and girlishness which it
+indicated were very dear to him, and he hated to lessen them by anything
+he did. He stood quietly by her, and merely said, "I needn't tell you
+how happy I am!"
+
+Leonore looked up into Peter's face. If Leonore had seen there any lack
+of desire to take her in his arms and kiss her, she would never have
+forgiven him. But since his face showed beyond doubt that he was longing
+to 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's
+confidingly, and said, "So am I." It means a good deal when a girl does
+not wish to run away from her lover the moment after she has confessed
+her love.
+
+So they stood for some time, Leonore looking down into the fire, and
+Peter 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 me
+what 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, and
+I want to see what my dream is like in reality."
+
+"That's a very funny request," said Leonore perversely. "You ought to
+have 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 a
+thoroughly satisfying look at them."
+
+"You look at them every time I look at you," said Leonore. "Sometimes it
+was very embarrassing. Just supposing that I showed them to you now, and
+that you find they aren't what you like?"
+
+"I never waste time discussing impossibilities," said Peter. "Are you
+going 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, still
+perversely, though smiling a look of contentment down into the fire.
+
+Peter said nothing for a moment, wishing to give Leonore's conscience a
+chance to begin to prick. Then be ended the silence by saying: "If I had
+anything that would give you pleasure, I wouldn't make you ask for it
+twice."
+
+"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 did
+not find that steady look altogether easy to bear, and yet was not
+willing to confess herself stared out of countenance, asked: "Do you
+like them?"
+
+"Yes," said Peter.
+
+"Is that all you can say? Other people have said very complimentary
+things!" 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 your
+eyes, 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 that
+Peter still held the hand given him some time before. To use a poker
+term, Peter was standing "pat," and wished no change. Once or twice the
+little hand had hinted that it had been held long enough, but Peter did
+not think so, and the hand had concluded that it was safest to let well
+alone. If it was too cruel It might rouse the sleeping lion which the
+owner of that hand knew to exist behind that firm, quiet face.
+
+Presently Peter put his unoccupied hand in his breast-pocket, and
+produced a small sachet. "I did something twice," he said, "that I have
+felt very meanly about at times. Perhaps you'll forgive me now?" He took
+from the sachet, a glove, and a small pocket-handkerchief, and without a
+word 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 your
+second 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 was
+cross-examining them.
+
+"I knew you had them all the time," said Leonore laughing. "It was
+dreadfully funny to see you pretend to hunt, when the guilty look on
+your own face was enough to show you had them. That's why I was so
+determined 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 in
+your room?" Leonore suddenly looked as worried as had Peter the moment
+before.
+
+Peter put his hand in the sachet, and produced a bent coin. "Look at
+that," he said.
+
+"Why, it's my luck-piece!" exclaimed Leonore. "And you've spoiled that
+too. What a careless boy!"
+
+"No," said Peter. "They are not spoiled to me. Do you know what cut
+these 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 the
+news of the shooting came, because I knew you had it. I was so glad you
+had 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 to
+have my luck."
+
+"I shall have it just the same even after I've given it to you," said
+Peter.
+
+"How?"
+
+"I'm going to have it made into a plain gold ring," replied Peter, "and
+when 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 talking
+about five years!"
+
+"Oh! Really, Peter," Leonore hastened to explain, in an anxious way, as
+if Peter had charged her with murder or some other heinous crime. "I did
+think so. I didn't find it out till--till that night. Really! Won't you
+believe 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 prick
+of conscience. She said: "Well--Peter--I mean--that is--at least, I did
+sometimes think before then--that when I married, I'd marry you--but I
+didn't think it would come so soon. Did you? I thought we'd wait. It
+would 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, which
+held hers.
+
+Peter enjoyed this exquisite pleasure in silence for a time, but the
+enjoyment 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 say
+it 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 absence
+of words. How long the absence would have continued is a debatable
+point. 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 stairs
+hurriedly.
+
+"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 he
+forgot the cigar and Watts. He went to his room, and thought of--of his
+birthday gift.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+"GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY."
+
+
+If Peter had roamed about the hall that evening, he was still more
+restless the next morning. He was down early, though for no apparent
+reason, 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's
+seeing her was a question which puzzled him not a little, when, by a
+chance glance out of a window, he saw that personage clipping roses off
+the bushes. He did not have time to spare, however, to reason out an
+explanation. He merely stopped roaming, and went out to--to the roses.
+
+"Good-morning," said Leonore pleasantly, though not looking at Peter, as
+she 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 its
+enormous weight. "Let me help you carry it," he said.
+
+"Very well," said Leonore. "But there's no occasion to carry my hand
+too. 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 hold
+something."
+
+"Very well," said Peter meekly.
+
+"Do you know," said Leonore, as she snipped, and dropped roses into the
+basket, "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 be
+gained by so doing. To that extent I am not at all obstinate."
+
+"Suppose," said Leonore, "that you go and cut the roses on those
+furthest 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't
+have any more roses for a week. You've cut twice as many roses as you
+usually do."
+
+"Then I'll go in and arrange them. I wish you would give B�tise a run
+across 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 arranging
+the 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. You
+can't do less than pin it in my button-hole, considering that it is my
+birthday."
+
+"If I have a duty to do, I always get through with it at once," said
+Leonore. She picked out a rose, arranged the leaves as only womankind
+can, and, turning to Peter, pinned it in his button-hole. But when she
+went to take her hands away, she found them held against the spot so
+firmly that she could feel the heart-beats underneath.
+
+"Oh, please," was all she said, appealingly, while Peter's rose seemed
+to 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 I
+dreamed 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 so
+long!"
+
+Then Leonore, with very red cheeks, and a very timid manner, held her
+lips 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 it
+when you did get it."
+
+"I'm sorry I did it so badly," said Peter, contritely. "I always was
+slow! 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 take
+so long! I shan't be able to give you more than one a day. It takes so
+much 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 not
+profitable to write what they said. It is idle to write of the week
+that followed. To all others what they said and did could only be the
+sayings and doings of two very intolerable people. But to them it was
+what 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 lingered
+brought letter and telegraphic appeals to him from the party-leaders,
+over which Peter only laughed, and which he not infrequently failed even
+to answer. But Mr. Pell told Leonore something one day which made her
+say 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 forgive
+myself if I defeat you."
+
+"But a whole week," groaned Peter.
+
+"We shall break up here on the eighteenth, and of course you would have
+to 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 I
+shall lose before I go."
+
+"Dear me, Peter," sighed Leonore, "you oughtn't to ask them, since it's
+for your own sake. I can't keep you contented. You do nothing but
+encroach."
+
+"I should get them if I was here," said Peter, "And one a day is little
+enough! I think, if I oblige you by going away, I shouldn't be made to
+suffer 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 just
+as hard for me."
+
+So Peter buckled on his armor and descended into the arena. Whether he
+spoke well or ill, we leave it to those to say who care to turn back to
+the files of the papers of that campaign. Perhaps, however, it may be
+well to add that an entirely unbiassed person, after reading his opening
+speeches, delivered in the Cooper Union and the Metropolitan Opera
+House, in New York City, wrote him: "It is libel to call you
+Taciturnity. They are splendid! How I wish I could hear you--and see
+you, dear. I'm very lonely, and so are B�tise and Tawney-eye. We do
+nothing but wander round the house all day, waiting for your letter, and
+the papers." Three thousand people in the Brooklyn Rink were kept
+waiting for nearly ten minutes by Peter's perusal of that letter. But
+when he had finished it, and had reached the Rink, he out-Stirlinged
+Stirling. A speaker nowadays speaks far more to the people absent than
+to the people present. Peter did this that evening. He spoke, it is
+true, to only one person that night, but it was the best speech of the
+campaign.
+
+A week later, Peter rang the bell of the Fifty-seventh Street house. He
+was 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 went
+through the hall, but his hurry suddenly came to an end, when a young
+lady, carrying her napkin, added herself to the vista. "I knew it must
+be you," she said, offering her hand very properly--(on what grounds
+Leonore surmised that a ring at the door-bell at nine o'clock meant
+Peter, history does not state)--"I wondered if you knew enough to come
+to breakfast. Mamma sent me out to say that you are to come right in."
+
+Peter was rather longer over the handshake than convention demands, but
+he asked very politely, "How are your father and--?" But just then the
+footman closed a door behind him, and Peter's interest in parents
+suddenly ceased.
+
+"How could you be so late?" said some one presently. "I watched out of
+the 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 this
+particular 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 after
+breakfast, so I dressed for it."
+
+"Suppose the disagreeable girl should break her engagement--or declare
+there never was one?"
+
+"She won't," said Peter. "It may not have been put in the contract, but
+the common law settles it beyond question."
+
+Leonore laughed a happy laugh. Then she asked: "For whom are those
+violets?"
+
+"I had to go to four places before I could get any at this season," said
+Peter. "Ugly girls are just troublesome enough to have preferences. What
+will you give me for them?"
+
+"Some of them," said Leonore, and obtained the bunch. Who dares to say
+after that that women have no business ability nor shrewdness? It is
+true that she kissed the fraction returned before putting it in Peter's
+button-hole, which raises the question which had the best of the
+bargain.
+
+"I'm behind the curtain, so I can't see anything," said a voice from a
+doorway, "and therefore you needn't jump; but I wish to inquire if you
+two want any breakfast?"
+
+A few days later Peter again went up the steps of the Fifty-seventh
+Street house. This practice was becoming habitual with Peter; in fact,
+so habitual that his cabby had said to him this very day, "The old
+place, sir?" Where Peter got the time it is difficult to understand,
+considering that his law practice was said to be large, and his
+political 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 a
+hall; from a hall he passed into a room; from a room he passed into a
+pair of arms.
+
+"Thank the Lord, you've come," Watts remarked. "Leonore has up and down
+refused to make the tea till you arrived."
+
+"I was at headquarters, and they would talk, talk, talk," said Peter. "I
+get out of patience with them. One would think the destinies of the
+human race depended on this campaign!"
+
+"So the Growley should have his tea," said a vision, now seated on the
+lounge at the tea-table. "Then Growley will feel better."
+
+"I'm doing that already," said Growley, sitting down on the delightfully
+short lounge--now such a fashionable and deservedly popular drawing-room
+article. "May I tell you how you can make me absolutely contented?"
+
+"I suppose that will mean some favor from me," said Leonore. "I don't
+like children who want to be bribed out of their bad temper. Nice little
+boys are never bad-tempered."
+
+"I was only bad-tempered," whispered Peter, "because I was kept from
+being with you. That's cause enough to make the best-tempered man in the
+universe 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 I
+thought 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 ten
+thousand, the 'Tribune' three thousand, and the 'Voice of Labor' 'a
+handful.' Oh! by the way, I brought you a 'Voice'." He handed Leonore a
+paper, which he took from his pocket.
+
+Now this was simply shameful of him! Peter had found, whenever the
+papers really abused him, that Leonore was doubly tender to him, the
+more, if he pretended that the attacks and abuse pained him. So he
+brought her regularly now that organ of the Labor party which was most
+vituperative of him, and looked sad over it just as long as was
+possible, 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 Peter
+coughed, suddenly looked sad, and continued--"the parts that do not
+speak 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-time
+straightforwardness.
+
+"After its saying that you had deceived your clients into settling those
+suits against Mr. Bohlmann, upon his promise to help you in politics, I
+don't believe they can say anything worse," said Leonore, putting two
+lumps of sugar (with her fingers) into a cup of tea. Then she stirred
+the tea, and tasted it. Then she touched the edge of the cup with her
+lips. "Is that right?" she asked, as she passed it to Peter.
+
+"Absolutely," said Peter, looking the picture of bliss. But then he
+remembered that this wasn't his r�le, so he looked sad and said: "That
+hurt me, I confess. It is so unkind."
+
+"Poor dear," whispered a voice. "You shall have an extra one to-day, and
+you 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 indefinite
+thing. Perhaps Leonore merely meant another cup of tea. Whatever she
+meant, Peter never learned, for, barely had he tasted his tea when the
+girl 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 the
+suffering 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 the
+stain great enough, but you must make my poor child suffer for it?" She
+shoved Peter away, and clasped Leonore wildly in her arms.
+
+"Mamma!" cried Leonore. "Don't talk so! Don't! I know he didn't! He
+couldn'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 so
+worded as to convey everything vile by innuendo and inference, yet in
+truth saying nothing.
+
+"Oh, my darling!" continued Mrs. D'Alloi. "You have a right to kill me
+for 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 only
+said "Watts?" but it was a cry for help and mercy as terrible as
+Leonore's had been the moment before.
+
+"Of course, chum," cried Watts. "Leonore, dear, it's all right. You
+mustn't mind. Peter's a good man. Better than most of us. You mustn't
+mind."
+
+"Don't," cried Leonore. "Let me speak. Mamma, did Peter tell you it was
+so?"
+
+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 to
+see us? Oh! I see it all! This is what mamma knew. This is what pained
+you. 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 threw
+herself upon the rug weeping. It was fearful the way those sobs shook
+her.
+
+"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's
+nothing to be done."
+
+Peter leaned over and picked up the prostrate figure, and laid it
+tenderly on the sofa. Then he kissed the edge of her skirt. "Yes. That's
+all I can do," he said quietly. "Good-bye, sweetheart. I'll go away." He
+looked 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 down
+them, staggering a little as if dizzy, and tried to walk towards the
+Avenue. Presently he ran into something. "Clumsy," said a lady's voice.
+"I beg your pardon," said Peter mechanically. A moment later he ran into
+something again. "I beg your pardon," said Peter, and two well-dressed
+girls laughed to see a bareheaded man apologize to a lamp-post. He
+walked on once more, but had not gone ten paces when a hand was rested
+on his shoulder.
+
+"Now then, my beauty," said a voice. "You want to get a cab, or I shall
+have 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. Then
+he gave Peter's office address, and also got in. He was fined the next
+day for being off his beat "without adequate reasons," but he never told
+where he had been. When they reached the building, he helped Peter into
+the 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 been
+told that Peter would dine up-town, had departed on his own leave of
+absence. The policeman had already gone through Peter's pockets to get
+money for cabby, and now he repeated the operation, taking possession
+of Peter's keys. He opened the door and, putting him into a deep chair
+in the study, laid the purse and keys on Peter's desk, writing on a
+scrap of paper with much difficulty: "mr. stirling $2.50 I took to pay
+the carriage. John Motty policeman 22 precinct," he laid it beside the
+keys and purse. Then he went back to his beat.
+
+And what was Peter doing all this time? Just what he now did. He tried
+to 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 stumbling
+over the desk and chairs. As he stumbled he thought, sometimes to
+himself, sometimes aloud: "If I could only think! I can't see. What was
+it Dr. Pilcere said about her eyes? Or was it my eyes? Did he give me
+some medicine? I can't remember. And it wouldn't help her. Why can't I
+think? What is this pain in her head and eyes? Why does everything look
+so dark, except when those pains go through her head? They feel like
+flashes of lightning, and then I can see. Why can't I think? Her eyes
+get in the way. He gave me something to put on them. But I can't give it
+to 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 the
+petroleum! Be quick, boys. Can't you hear my darling scream? It's
+terrible. If I could only think. What was it the French doctor said to
+do, if it came back? No. We want to get some rails." Peter dashed
+himself against a window. "Once more, men, together. Can't you hear her
+scream? Break down the door!" Peter caught up and hurled a pot of
+flowers at the window, and the glass shattered and fell to the floor and
+street "If I could see. But it's all dark. Are those lights? No. It's
+too late. I can't save her from it."
+
+So he wandered physically and mentally. Wandered till sounds of martial
+music came up through the broken window. "Fall in," cried Peter. "The
+Anarchists are after her. It's dynamite, not lightning. Podds, Don't let
+them hurt her. Save her. Oh! save her I Why can't I get to her? Don't
+try to hold me," he cried, as he came in contact with a chair. He caught
+it up and hurled it across the room, so that it crashed into the
+picture-frames, smashing chair and frames into fragments. "I can't be
+the 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 to
+see 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, will
+you stand by me, and help me to save her?"
+
+The band of music stopped. A moment's silence fell and then up from the
+street, came the air of: "Marching through Georgia," five thousand
+voices 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't
+shoot them. No! I only gave the order. It hurt me, but I didn't mean to
+hurt her. She's all I have. Do you think I intended to kill her? No! No
+sacrifice would be too great. And you can talk to me of votes! Two
+hundred thousand votes! I did my best for her. I didn't mean to hurt
+her. And I went to see the families. I went to see them all. If I only
+could think. But she is suffering too much. I can't think as long as she
+lies on the rug, and trembles so. See the flashes of lightning pass
+through her head. Don't bury your face in the rug. No wonder it's all
+dark. Try to think, and then it will be all right."
+
+Up from the street came the air of: "There were three crows," and the
+words:
+
+    "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've
+killed her. Now!" And another chair went flying across the room with
+such force, that the door to the hall flew off its hinges, and fell with
+a crash. "I've killed him" screamed Peter. "I've--No, I've killed my
+darling. All I have in the world!"
+
+And so he raved, and roamed, and stumbled, and fell; and rose, and
+roamed, and raved, and stumbled, and fell, while the great torchlight
+procession sang and cheered him from below.
+
+He was wildly fighting his pain still when two persons, who, after
+ringing and ringing, had finally been let in by Jenifer's key, stood
+where 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 that
+wild-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 on
+the 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 nothing
+but burn. It's the petroleum!" He started forward, but a slender arm
+arrested his attempt to rise, and he sank back again as if it had some
+power over him.
+
+"Hyah, miss. Foh de lub ub heaben, put some ub dis yar on he eyes," said
+Jenifer, who had appeared with a bottle, and was blubbering enough to
+supply a whole whaling fleet. "De doctor he done give dis yar foh de
+Aspic 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 the
+wash, began rubbing it softly over his eyes. It has always been a
+problem whether it was the remedy or the ends of those fingers which
+took those lines of suffering out of Peter's face and made him sit
+quietly in that chain Those having little faith in medicines, and much
+faith in a woman's hands, will opine the latter. Doctors will not.
+
+Sufficeth it to say, after ten minutes of this treatment, during which
+Peter's face had slowly changed, first to a look of rest, and then to
+one which denoted eagerness, doubt and anxiety, but not pain, that he
+finally 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?" He
+opened his eyes wildly and would have risen, only Leonore was kneeling
+in front of the chair still.
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Peter," begged Leonore. "We'll not talk of that
+now. 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 from
+Leonore's look than by what she said.
+
+"Oh, Peter. I made papa bring me--because--Oh! I wanted to ask you to do
+something. For my sake!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I wanted to ask you," sobbed Leonore, "to marry her. Then I shall
+always think you were what I--I--have been loving, and not--" Leonore
+laid her head down on his knee, and sobbed bitterly.
+
+Peter raised Leonore in his arms, and laid the little head on his
+shoulder.
+
+"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 his
+mother."
+
+"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 in
+her eyes, as well as of doubt.
+
+"Because it was better at that time than the truth. But Watts will tell
+you 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 you
+believe me?"
+
+"I do," cried Leonore. "I know you speak the truth. It's in your face
+and voice." And the next moment her arms were about Peter's neck, and
+her 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 listeners
+only, and for quite a time in the last three hours Mr. Pierce had been
+compelled to be silent. But at last Mr. Pierce believed his moment had
+come. Mr. Pierce thought he had an audience, and a plastic audience at
+that. And these three circumstances in combination made Mr. Pierce
+fairly bubbling with words. No longer would he have to waste his
+precious wit and wisdom, _t�te-�-t�te,_ or on himself.
+
+At first blush Mr. Pierce seemed right in his conjecture. Seated--in
+truth, collapsed, on chairs and lounges, in a disarranged and
+untidy-looking drawing-room, were nearly twenty very tired-looking
+people. 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 the
+multitude of flowers and the gay dresses proved beyond question that
+something else had made the disorder of the room and had put that
+exhausted look upon the faces.
+
+Experienced observers would have understood it at a glimpse. From the
+work and fatigues of this world, people had gathered for a little
+enjoyment of what we call society. It is true that both the room and its
+occupants did not indicate that there had been much recreation. But,
+then, one can lay it down as an axiom that the people who work for
+pleasure are the hardest-working people in the world; and, as it is that
+for which society labors, this scene is but another proof that they get
+very much fatigued over their pursuit of happiness and enjoyment,
+considering that they hunt for it in packs, and entirely exclude the
+most delicious intoxicant known--usually called oxygen--from their list
+of supplies from the caterer. Certainly this particular group did look
+exhausted far beyond the speech-making point. But this, too, was a
+deception. These limp-looking individuals had only remained in this
+drawing-room for the sole purpose of "talking it over," and Mr. Pierce
+had no walk-over before him.
+
+Mr. Pierce cleared his throat and remarked: "The development of marriage
+customs and ceremonies from primeval days is one of the most curious
+and--"
+
+"What a lovely wedding it has been!" said Dorothy, heaving a sigh of
+fatigue 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's
+hard it would be to find the equal av that tureen!' He was right! Its
+equal for ugliness is inconceivable."
+
+"Yet the poor beggars spent eight hundred dollars on it" sighed
+Lispenard, wearily.
+
+"Relative to the subject--" said Mr. Pierce.
+
+"And Leonore told me," said a charmingly-dressed girl, "that she liked
+it 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. We
+weren't in it at all with the Micks. She has come out as much a
+worshipper 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 worship
+him."
+
+"Well," sighed Lispenard, "that's the way things go in life. There's
+that fellow gets worshipped by every one, from the Irish saloon-keeper
+up to Leonore. While look at me! I'm a clever, sweet-tempered, friendly
+sort of a chap, but nobody worships me. There isn't any one who gives a
+second thought for yours truly. I seem good for nothing, except being
+best man to much luckier chaps. While look at Peter! He's won the love
+of a lovely girl, who worships him to a degree simply inconceivable. I
+never saw such idealization."
+
+"Then you haven't been watching Peter," said Mrs. D'Alloi, who, as a
+mother, had no intention of having it supposed that Leonore was not more
+loved 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 very
+proud 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 cast
+reflection on my statement."
+
+"He's the only one who dares," said Ogden.
+
+"Well, I did. Leonore would never have cared for such a silent, serious
+man if I hadn't shown her that other women did, and--"
+
+"Nonsense," laughed Ogden. "It was Podds did it. Dynamite is famous for
+the uncertainty of the direction in which it will expend its force, and
+in this case it blew in a circle, and carried Leonore's heart clear from
+Newport to Peter."
+
+"Or, to put it scientifically," said Lispenard, "along the line of least
+resistance."
+
+"It seems to me that Peter was the one who did it," said Le Grand. "But
+of course, as a bachelor, I can't expect my opinion to be accepted."
+
+"No," said Dorothy. "He nearly spoiled it by cheapening himself. No girl
+will think a man is worth much who lets her tramp on him."
+
+"Still," said Lispenard, "few girls can resist the flattery of being
+treated by a man as if she is the only woman worth considering in the
+world, and Peter did that to an extent which was simply disgraceful. It
+was laughable to see the old hermit become social the moment she
+appeared, and to see how his eyes and attention followed her. And his
+learning to dance! That showed how things were."
+
+"He began long before any of you dreamed," said Mrs. D'Alloi. "Didn't
+he, Watts?"
+
+"Undoubtedly," laughed Watts. "And so did she. I really think Leonore
+did quite as much in her way, as Peter did. I never saw her treat any
+one quite as she behaved to Peter from the very first. I remember her
+coming in after her runaway, wild with enthusiasm over him, and saying
+to me 'Oh, I'm so happy. I've got a new friend, and we are going to be
+such friends always!'"
+
+"That raises the same question," laughed Ogden, "that the Irishman did
+about the street-fight, when he asked 'Who throwed that last brick
+first?'"
+
+"Really, if it didn't seem too absurd," said Watts, "I should say they
+began it the moment they met."
+
+"I don't think that at all absurd," said a gray-haired, refined looking
+woman who was the least collapsed of the group, or was perhaps so well
+bred as to conceal her feelings. "I myself think it began before they
+even 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 who
+imagines 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. He
+is not at all the kind of man who allows himself to be controlled by an
+ideal."
+
+"I do not feel that I have ever known Peter. He does not let people
+perceive what is underneath," said Miss De Voe. "But of one thing I am
+sure. Nearly everything he does is done from sentiment. At heart he is
+an idealist."
+
+"Oh!" cried several.
+
+"That is a most singular statement," said Mr. Pierce. "There is not a
+man I know who has less of the sentimental and ideal in him. An idealist
+is a man of dreams and romance. Peter is far too sensible a fellow to
+be that. There is nothing heroic or romantic in him."
+
+"Nonsense, _Paternus_," said Watts. "You don't know anything about the
+old chap. You've only seen him as a cool clever lawyer. If your old
+definition of romance is right: that it is 'Love, and the battle between
+good and evil,' Peter has had more true romance than all the rest of us
+put together."
+
+"No," said Mr. Pierce. "You have merely seen Peter in love, and so you
+all think he is romantic. He isn't. He is a cool man, who never acts
+without weighing his actions, and therein has lain the secret of his
+success. He calmly marks out his line of life, and, regardless of
+everything else, pursues it. He disregards everything not to his
+purpose, and utilizes everything that serves. I predicted great success
+for him many years ago when he was fresh from college, simply from a
+study of his mental characteristics and I have proved myself a prophet.
+He has never made a slip, legally, politically, or socially. To use a
+yachting expression, he has 'made everything draw.' An idealist, or a
+man 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 her
+collapse as if galvanized into life and speech by Mr. Pierce's
+monologue. "You don't understand Peter. He is a man of great feeling.
+Think of that speech of his about those children! Think of his conduct
+to his mother as long as she lived! Think of the goodness and kindness
+he showed to the poor! Why, Ray says he has refused case after case for
+want of time in recent years, while doing work for people in his ward
+which was worth nothing. If--"
+
+"They were worth votes," interjected Mr. Pierce.
+
+"Look at his buying the Costell place in Westchester when Mr. Costell
+died so poor, and giving it to Mrs. Costell," continued Dorothy, warming
+with her subject. "Look at his going to those strikers' families, and
+arranging to help them. Were those things done for votes? If I could
+only tell you of something he once did for me, you would not say that he
+was a man without feeling."
+
+"I have no doubt," said Mr. Pierce blandly, "that he did many things
+which, on their face, seemed admirable and to indicate feeling. But if
+carefully examined, they would be found to have been advantageous to
+him. Any service he could have done to Mrs. Rivington surely did not
+harm him. His purchase of Costell's place pleased the political friends
+of the dead leader. His aiding the strikers' families placated the men,
+and gained him praise from the press. I dislike greatly to oppose this
+rose-colored view of Peter, but, from my own knowledge of the man, I
+must. He is without feeling, and necessarily makes no mistakes, nor is
+he led off from his own ambitions by sentiment of any kind. When we had
+that meeting with the strikers, he sat there, while all New York was
+seething, with mobs and dead just outside the walls, as cool and
+impassive as a machine. He was simply determined that we should
+compromise, because his own interests demanded it, and he carried his
+point merely because he was the one cool man at that meeting. If he had
+had feeling he could not have been cool. That one incident shows the
+key-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 to
+make friends. It was simply marvellous. I've seen it, over and over
+again, both in politics and society. He never seemed to excite envy or
+bitterness. He had a way of doing things which made people like him.
+Every one he meets trusts him. Yet nobody understands him. So he
+interests people, without exciting hostility. I've heard person after
+person say that he was an uninteresting, ordinary man, and yet nobody
+ever seemed to forget him. Every one of us feels, I am sure, that, as
+Miss De Voe says, he had within something he never showed people. I have
+never been able to see why he did or did not do hundreds of things. Yet
+it always turned out that what he did was right. He makes me think of
+the 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 by
+Peter's own explanation of his success. I spoke to him once of a rather
+curious line of argument, as it seemed to me, which he was taking in a
+case, and he said: 'Ogden, I take that course because it is the way
+Judge Potter's mind acts. If you want to convince yourself, take the
+arguments which do that best, but when you have to deal with judges or
+juries, take the lines which fit their capacities. People talk about my
+unusual success in winning cases. It's simply because I am not certain
+that my way and my argument are the only way and the only argument. I've
+studied the judges closely, so that I know what lines to take, and I
+always notice what seems to interest the jury most, in each case. But,
+more important than this study, is the fact that I can comprehend about
+how the average man will look at a certain thing. You see I am the son
+of plain people. Then I am meeting all grades of mankind, and hearing
+what they say, and getting their points of view. I have never sat in a
+closet 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 have
+succeeded, because I am merely the normal or average man, and therefore
+am understood by normal or average people, or by majorities, to put it
+in another way.'"
+
+"But Mr. Stirling isn't a commonplace man," said another of the
+charmingly dressed girls. "He is very silent, and what he says isn't at
+all clever, but he's very unusual and interesting."
+
+"Nevertheless," said Ogden, "I believe he was right. He has a way of
+knowing what the majority of people think or feel about things. And that
+is the secret of his success, and not his possession or lack of
+feeling."
+
+"You none of you have got at the true secret of Peter's success," said
+Ray. "It was his wonderful capacity for work. To a lazy beggar like
+myself it is marvellous. I've known that man to work from nine in the
+morning till one at night, merely stopping for meals."
+
+"Yet he did not seem an ambitious man," said Le Grand. "He cared nothing
+for social success, he never has accepted office till now, and he has
+refused over and over again law work which meant big money."
+
+"No," said Ray. "Peter worked hard in law and politics. Yet he didn't
+want office or money. He could more than once have been a judge, and
+Costell wanted him governor six years ago. He took the nomination this
+year against his own wishes. He cared as little for money or reputation
+in law, as he cared for society, and would compromise cases which would
+have added greatly to his reputation if he had let them go to trial. He
+might have been worth double what he is to-day, if he had merely
+invested his money, instead of letting it lie in savings banks or trust
+companies. I've spoken about it repeatedly to him, but he only said that
+he wasn't going to spend time taking care of money, for money ceased to
+be valuable when it had to be taken care of; its sole use to him being
+to 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," said
+Miss De Voe. "He had no desire for reputation or money, and so did not
+care to increase either."
+
+"And mark my words," said Lispenard. "From this day, he'll set no limit
+to his endeavors to obtain both."
+
+"He can't work harder than he has to get political power," said an
+usher. "Think of how anxious he must have been to get it, when he would
+spend so much time in the slums and saloons! He couldn't have liked the
+men he met there."
+
+"I've taken him to task about that, and told him he had no business to
+waste his time so," said Ogden; "but he said that he was not taking care
+of other people's money or trying to build up a great business, and that
+if he chose to curtail his practice, so as to have some time to work in
+politics, it was a matter of personal judgment."
+
+"I once asked Peter," said Miss De Voe, "how he could bear, with his
+tastes and feelings, to go into saloons, and spend so much time with
+politicians, and with the low, uneducated people of his district. He
+said, 'That is my way of trying to do good, and it is made enjoyable to
+me by helping men over rough spots, or by preventing political wrong. I
+have taken the world and humanity as it is, and have done what I could,
+without stopping to criticise or weep over shortcomings and sins. I
+admire men who stand for noble impossibilities. But I have given my own
+life to the doing of small possibilities. I don't say the way is the
+best. But it is my way, for I am a worker, not a preacher. And just
+because I have been willing to do things as the world is willing to have
+them done, power and success have come to me to do more.' I believe it
+was 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 love
+my own kin, with due apology to those of it who are present, but I must
+say that his whole career has been the worst case of sheer, downright
+luck of which I ever saw or heard."
+
+"Luck!" exclaimed Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, luck!" said Lispenard. "Look at it. He starts in like all the rest
+of us. And Miss Luck calls him in to look at a sick kitten die. Very
+ordinary occurrence that! Health-board report several hundred every
+week. But Miss Luck knew what she was about and called him in to just
+the right kind of a kitten to make a big speech about. Thereupon he
+makes it, blackguarding and wiping the floor up with a millionaire
+brewer. Does the brewer wait for his turn to get even with him? Not a
+bit. Miss Luck takes a hand in and the brewer falls on Peter's
+breast-bone, and loves him ever afterwards. My cousin writes him, and he
+snubs her. Does she annihilate him as she would have other men? No. Miss
+Luck has arranged all that, and they become the best of friends."
+
+"Lispenard--" Miss De Voe started to interrupt indignantly, but
+Lispenard continued, "Hold on till I finish. One at a time. Well. Miss
+Luck gets him chosen to a convention by a fluke and Peter votes against
+Costell's wishes. What happens? Costell promptly takes him up and pushes
+him for all he's worth. He snubs society, and society concludes that a
+man who is more snubby and exclusive than itself must be a man to
+cultivate. He refuses to talk, and every one promptly says: 'How
+interesting he is!' He gets in the way of a dynamite bomb. Does it kill
+him? 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 one
+breathes easier, and likes him the better. He enrages and shoots the
+strikers. Does he lose votes? Not one. Miss Luck arranges that the
+directors shall yield things which they had sworn not to yield; and the
+strikers are reconciled and print a card in praise of him. He runs for
+office. Do the other parties make a good fight of it? No. They promptly
+nominate a scoundrelly demagogue and a nonentity who thinks votes are
+won by going about in shirtsleeves. So he is elected by the biggest
+plurality the State has ever given. Has Miss Luck done enough? No. She
+at once sets every one predicting that he'll get the presidential
+nomination two years from now, if he cares for it. Be it friend or
+enemy, intentional or unintentional, every one with whom he comes in
+contact gives him a boost. While look at me! There isn't a soul who ever
+gave 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 Peter
+would never marry, because he would insist on taking women seriously,
+and because at heart he was afraid of them to a woeful degree, and
+showed it in such a way, as simply to make women think he didn't like
+them individually. But Miss Luck wouldn't allow that. Oh, no! Miss Luck
+isn'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. So
+she takes the loveliest of girls and trots her all over Europe, so that
+she shan't have friends, or even know men well. She arranges too, that
+the young girl shall have her head filled with Peter by a lot of
+admiring women, who are determined to make him into a sad, unfortunate
+hero, instead of the successful man he is. A regular conspiracy to
+delude a young girl. Then before the girl has seen anything of the
+world, she trots her over here. Does she introduce them at a dance, so
+that Peter shall be awkward and silent? Not she! She puts him where he
+looks his best--on a horse. She starts the thing off romantically, so
+that he begins on the most intimate footing, before another man has left
+his pasteboard. So he's way ahead of the pack when they open cry. Is
+that enough? No! At the critical moment he is called to the aid of his
+country. Gets lauded for his pluck. Gets blown up. Gets everything to
+make a young girl worship him. Pure luck! It doesn't matter what Peter
+says or does. Miss Luck always arranges that it turn up the winning
+card."
+
+"There is no luck in it," cried Mr. Pierce. "It was all due to his
+foresight and shrewdness. He plans things beforehand, and merely presses
+the button. Why, look at his marriage alone? Does he fall in love early
+in life, and hamper himself with a Miss Nobody? Not he! He waits till
+he has achieved a position where he can pick from the best, and then he
+does exactly that, if you'll pardon a doating grandfather's saying it."
+
+"Well," said Watts, "we have all known Peter long enough to have found
+out 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," said
+Dorothy. "It's terrible. What do you think she had the face to say to me
+to-day?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"She was speaking of their plans after returning from the wedding
+journey, and she said: 'I am going to have Peter keep up his bachelor
+quarters.' 'Does he say he'll do it?' I asked. 'I haven't spoken to
+him,' she replied, 'but of course he will.' I said: 'Leonore, all women
+think they rule their husbands, but they don't in reality, and Peter
+will be less ruled than any man I know.' Then what do you think she
+said?"
+
+"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 that
+I'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 women
+till this one appeared on the scene, develop into a regulation lover, I
+am quite prepared to believe that every one knows more than I do. At the
+same time, I can't afford to risk my reputation for discrimination and
+insight over such a simple thing as Peter's character. You've all tried
+to say what Peter is. Now I'll tell you in two words and you'll all find
+you 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, yet
+who 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 Peters
+wedding-day grasped his character? How clearly do we ever gain an
+insight into the feelings and motives which induce conduct even in those
+whom we best know and love? Each had found something in Peter that no
+other had discovered. We speak of rose-colored glasses, and Shakespeare
+wrote, "All things are yellow to a jaundiced eye." When we take a bit of
+blue glass, and place it with yellow, it becomes green. When we put it
+with red, it becomes purple. Yet blue it is all the time. Is not each
+person responsible for the tint he seems to produce in others? Can we
+ever learn that the thing is blue, and that the green or purple aspect
+is only the tinge which we ourselves help to give? Can we ever learn
+that we love and are loved entirely as we give ourselves colors which
+may harmonize with those about us? That love, wins love; kindness,
+kindness; hate, hate. That just such elements as we give to the
+individual, the individual gives back to us? That the sides we show are
+the sides seen by the world. There were people who could truly believe
+that 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 a
+compromiser of many of his own strongest principles. Yet there were
+people who could, say other things of him.
+
+But more important than the opinion of Peter's friends, and of the
+world, was the opinion of Peter's wife. Was she right in her theory that
+she was the only one who understood him? Or had she, as he had once
+done, reared an ideal, and given that ideal the love which she supposed
+she was giving Peter? It is always a problem in love to say whether we
+love people most for the qualities they actually possess, or for those
+with which our own love endows them. Here was a young girl,
+inexperienced in world and men, joyfully sinking her own life in that of
+a man whom, but a few months before, had been only a matter of hearsay
+to her. Yet she had apparently taken him, as women will, for better, for
+worse, till death, as trustfully as if he and men generally were as
+knowable as A B C, instead of as unknown as the algebraic X. Only once
+had she faltered in her trust of him, and then but for a moment. How far
+had her love, and the sight of Peter's misery, led her blindly to renew
+that trust? And would it hold? She had seen how little people thought of
+that scurrilous article, and how the decent papers had passed it over
+without a word. But she had also seen, the scandal harped upon by
+partisans and noted that Peter failed to vindicate himself publicly, or
+vouchsafe an explanation to her. Had she taken Peter with trust or
+doubt, knowledge or blindness?
+
+Perhaps a conversation between the two, a week later, will answer these
+questions. It occurred on the deck of a vessel. Yet this parting glimpse
+of Peter is very different from that which introduced him. The vessel is
+not drifting helplessly, but its great screw is whirling it towards the
+island of Martinique, as if itself anxious to reach that fairy land of
+fairy lands. Though the middle of November, the soft warmth of the
+tropics is in the air. Nor are the sea and sky now leaden. The first is
+turned into liquid gold by the phosphorescence, and the full moon
+silvers everything else. Neither is Peter pacing the deck with lines of
+pain and endurance on his face. He is up in the bow, where the vessel's
+forefoot throws up the white foam in silver drops in the moonlight. And
+he does not look miserable. Anything but that. He is sitting on an
+anchor stock, with his back comfortably braced against the rail. Another
+person is not far distant. What that person sits upon and leans against
+is 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 his
+words.
+
+"Will you if I bite off the end?" asked Eve, Jr., placing temptation
+most temptingly.
+
+"I like the idea exceedingly," said Peter. "But my right arm is so very
+pleasantly 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 to
+enjoy the sensation of that small hand rummaging in his waistcoat
+pockets. "You see, dear, that I am learning your ways," Leonore
+continued, in a tone of voice which suggested that that was the chief
+end of woman. Perhaps it is. The Westminster catechism only tells us the
+chief 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 I
+want 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 three
+years, 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 love
+them. I don't think I shall ever feel the same for any other place. It
+will be very convenient to have them whenever, we want to run down from
+Albany. 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 stay
+down there, with you uptown?"
+
+"Oh, no! Of course not. Peter! How absurd you are! But I shall go down
+very often. Sometimes we'll give little dinners to real friends. And
+sometimes, when we want to get away from people, we'll dine by ourselves
+and spend the night there. Then whenever you want to be at the saloons
+or primaries we'll dine together there and I'll wait for you. And then I
+think 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'll
+amuse myself with your flowers, and books, till you are ready to go
+uptown. 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 politics
+entirely, 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. I
+shall 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 speech
+for 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! Every
+word of it, and to prove it to you I shall never speak of it again. But
+when I've shown you that I trust you entirely, some stormy evening, when
+we've had the nicest little dinner together at your rooms, and I've
+given you some coffee, and bitten your cigar for you, I shall put you
+down before the fire, and sit down in your lap, as I am doing now, and
+put my arms about your neck so, and put my cheek so. And then I want
+you, without my asking to tell me why you told mamma that lie, and all
+about 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 of
+friends, 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 by
+myself I shall cry over it. Not because I doubt you, dear, but because
+you won't give me your confidence."
+
+"Do you know, Dear-heart, that I can't bear the thought of your doing
+that!"
+
+"Of course not, dear. That's the reason I tell you. I knew you couldn't
+bear it."
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+"Because I understand you, dear. I know just what you are. I'm the only
+person who does."
+
+"Tell me what I am."
+
+"I think, dear, that something once came into your life that made you
+very miserable, and took away all your hope and ambition. So, instead of
+trying to make a great position or fortune, you tried to do good to
+others. 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 you
+worked hard to get that. Then you found that you could help most by
+working in politics, so you did that. And you have tried to gain power
+so as to increase your power for good. I know you haven't liked a great
+deal you have had to do. I know that you much prefer to sit before your
+study fire and read than sit in saloons. I know that you would rather
+keep away from tricky people than to ask or take their help. But you
+have sacrificed your own feelings and principles because you felt that
+they were not to be considered if you could help others. And, because
+people have laughed at you or misunderstood, you have become silent and
+unsocial, except as you have believed your mixing with the world to be
+necessary to accomplish good."
+
+"What a little idealist we are!"
+
+"Well, dear, that isn't all the little idealist has found out. She knows
+something else. She knows that all his life her ideal has been waiting
+and longing for some one who did understand him, so that he can tell her
+all his hopes and feelings, and that at last he has found her, and she
+will try to make up for all the misery and sacrifice he has endured She
+knows, 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 felt
+that you didn't tell other people your real thoughts and feelings, and
+so, whenever you told me, it was really getting you to say that you
+loved me. You wanted me to know what you really are. And that was why I
+knew that you told me the truth that night. And that is the reason why I
+know that some day you will tell me about that lie."
+
+Peter, whatever he might think, did not deny the correctness of
+Leonore's theories concerning his motives in the past or his conduct in
+the 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 a
+fine subject it was always easy to make a fine speech. It's true, too,
+of thoughts, dear."
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING AND
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People
+Thought of Him, by Paul Leicester Ford
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him
+
+Author: Paul Leicester Ford
+
+Release Date: December 30, 2004  [eBook #14532]
+Most recently updated: December 22, 2008
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING AND
+WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING and WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM
+
+by
+
+PAUL LEICESTER FORD
+
+Stitt Publishing Company New York
+Henry 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 day
+that his proud mamma had given him a sweetmeat for a very inarticulate
+"goo" which she translated into "papa," Mr. Pierce had found speech
+profitable. He had been able to talk his nurse into granting him every
+indulgence. He had talked his way through school and college. He had
+talked his wife into marrying him. He had talked himself to the head of
+a large financial institution. He had talked his admission into society.
+Conversationally, Mr. Pierce was a success. He could discuss
+Schopenhauer or cotillion favors; St. Paul, the apostle, or St. Paul,
+the railroad. He had cultivated the art as painstakingly as a
+professional musician. He had countless anecdotes, which he introduced
+to his auditors by a "that reminds me of." He had endless quotations,
+with the quotation marks omitted. Finally he had an idea on every
+subject, 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. Conversation
+must take his course, or he would none of it. Generally he controlled.
+If an upstart endeavored to turn the subject, Mr. Pierce waited till the
+intruder had done speaking, and then quietly, but firmly would remark:
+"Relative to the subject we were discussing a moment ago--" If any one
+ventured to speak, even _sotto voce_, before Mr. Pierce had finished all
+he had to say, he would at once cease his monologue, wait till the
+interloper had finished, and then resume his lecture just where he had
+been interrupted. Only once had Mr. Pierce found this method to fail in
+quelling even the sturdiest of rivals. The recollection of that day is
+still a mortification to him. It had happened on the deck of an ocean
+steamer. For thirty minutes he had fought his antagonist bravely. Then,
+humbled and vanquished, he had sought the smoking-room, to moisten his
+parched throat, and solace his wounded spirit, with a star cocktail. He
+had 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 own
+way. Seated in the standing-room of a small yacht, were some eight
+people. With a leaden sky overhead, and a leaden sea about it, the boat
+gently rose and fell with the ground swell. Three miles away could be
+seen the flash-light marking the entrance to the harbor. But though
+slowly gathering clouds told that wind was coming, the yacht now lay
+becalmed, drifting with the ebb tide. The pleasure-seekers had been
+together all day, and were decidedly talked out. For the last hour they
+had been singing songs--always omitting Mr. Pierce, who never so trifled
+with his vocal organs. During this time he had been restless. At one
+point he had attempted to deliver his opinion on the relation of verse
+to music, but an unfeeling member of the party had struck up "John
+Brown's Body," and his lecture had ended, in the usual serial style, at
+the most interesting point, without even the promise of a "continuation
+in our next." Finally, however, the singers had sung themselves hoarse
+in the damp night air, the last "Spanish Cavalier" had been safely
+restored to his inevitable true-love, and the sound of voices and banjo
+floated 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 and
+unromantic. Clearing his throat, quite as much to pre-empt the pause as
+to articulate the better, Mr. Pierce spoke:
+
+"That modern times are less romantic and interesting than bygone
+centuries is a fallacy. From time immemorial, love and the battle
+between evil and good are the two things which have given the world
+romance and interest. Every story, whether we find it in the myths of
+the East, the folklore of Europe, the poems of the Troubadours, or in
+our newspaper of this morning, is based on one or the other of these
+factors, or on both combined. Now it is a truism that love never played
+so 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 partial
+divorce from worldly and parental influences. Moreover the great battle
+of society, to crush wrong and elevate right, was never before so
+bravely fought, on so many fields, by so many people as to-day. But
+because our lovers and heroes no longer brag to the world of their
+doings; no longer stand in the moonlight, and sing of their 'dering
+does,' the world assumes that the days of tourneys and guitars were the
+only days of true love and noble deeds. Even our professed writers of
+romance join in the cry. 'Draw life as it is,' they say. 'We find
+nothing in it but mediocrity, selfishness, and money-loving.' By all
+means 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 a
+dinner of corned-beef and cabbage. But perhaps one of them at the same
+moment was fighting his way through smoke and flame, to save life at the
+risk of his own. Boiled dinner and burned firemen are equally true. Are
+they equally worthy of description? What would the age of chivalry be,
+if the chronicles had recorded only the brutality, filthiness and
+coarseness of their contemporaries? The wearing of underclothing
+unwashed till it fell to pieces; the utter lack of soap; the eating with
+fingers; the drunkenness and foul-mouthedness that drove women from the
+table at a certain point, and so inaugurated the custom, now continued
+merely as an excuse for a cigar? Some one said once that a man finds in
+a great city just the qualities he takes to it. That's true of romance
+as well. Modern novelists don't find beauty and nobility in life,
+because they don't look for them. They predicate from their inner souls
+that 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 in
+a baron's tower--braver battles, truer love, nobler sacrifices. Romance
+is 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 go
+through life look for the fine things--not for the despicable. It won't
+make you any richer. It won't make you famous. It won't better you in a
+worldly way. But it will make your lives happier, for by the time you
+are my age, you'll love humanity, and look upon the world and call it
+good. And you will have found romance enough to satisfy all longings for
+mediaeval times."
+
+"But, dear, one cannot imagine some people ever finding anything
+romantic in life," said a voice, which, had it been translated into
+words would have said, "I know you are right, of course, and you will
+convince me at once, but in my present state of unenlightenment it seems
+to me that--" the voice, already low, became lower. "Now"--a moment's
+hesitation--"there is--Peter Stirling."
+
+"Exactly," said Mr. Pierce. "That is a very case in point, and proves
+just what I've been saying. Peter is like the novelists of whom I've
+been talking. I don't suppose we ought to blame him for it. What can you
+expect of a son of a mill-foreman, who lives the first sixteen years of
+his life in a mill-village? If his hereditary tendencies gave him a
+chance, 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 is
+developed and stimulated by art, music, literature, and contact with
+clever people. But a mill-village is one vast expanse of mediocrity and
+prosaicness, and it would take a bigger nature than Peter's to recognize
+the beautiful in such a life. In truth, he is as limited, as exact, and
+as unimaginative as the machines of his own village. Peter has no
+romance in him; hence he will never find it, nor increase it in this
+world. This very case only proves my point; that to meet romance one
+must 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 dozen
+and never dream it. They would not interest him even if he did notice
+them. And I'll prove it to you." Mr. Pierce raised his voice. "We are
+discussing romance, Peter. Won't you stop that unsocial tramp of yours
+long enough to give us your opinion on the subject?"
+
+A moment's silence followed, and then a singularly clear voice, coming
+from the forward part of the yacht, replied: "I never read them, Mr.
+Pierce."
+
+Mr. Pierce laughed quietly. "See," he said, "that fellow never dreams of
+there being romance outside of novels. He is so prosaic that he is
+unconscious of anything bigger than his own little sphere of life. Peter
+may obtain what he wants in this world, for his desires will be of the
+kind to be won by work and money. But he will never be controlled by a
+great idea, nor be the hero of a true romance."
+
+Steele once wrote that the only difference between the Catholic Church
+and the Church of England was, that the former was infallible and the
+latter never wrong. Mr. Pierce would hardly have claimed for himself
+either of these qualities. He was too accustomed in his business to
+writing, "E. and O.E." above his initials, to put much faith in human
+dicta. But in the present instance he felt sure of what he said, and the
+little group clearly agreed. If they were right, this story is like that
+recounted in Mother Goose, which was ended before it was begun. But Mr.
+Pierce had said that romance is everywhere to those who have the spirit
+of it in them. Perhaps in this case the spirit was lacking in his
+judges--not in Peter Stirling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+APPEARANCES.
+
+
+The unconscious illustration of Mr. Pierce's theory was pacing backwards
+and forwards on the narrow space between the cuddy-roof and the gunwale,
+which custom dignifies with the name of deck. Six strides forward and
+turn. Six strides aft and turn. That was the extent of the beat. Yet had
+Peter been on sentry duty, he could not have continued it more regularly
+or persistently. If he were walking off his supper, as most of those
+seated aft would have suggested, the performance was not particularly
+interesting. The limit and rapidity of the walk resembled the tramp of a
+confined animal, exercising its last meal. But when one stands in front
+of the lion's cage, and sees that restless and tireless stride, one
+cannot but wonder how much of it is due to the last shin-bone, and how
+much to the wild and powerful nature under the tawny skin. The question
+occurs because the nature and antecedents of the lion are known. For
+this same reason the yachters were a unit in agreeing that Stirling's
+unceasing walk was merely a digestive promenade. The problem was whether
+they were right? Or whether, to apply Mr. Pierce's formula, they merely
+imposed their own frame of mind in place of Stirling's, and decided,
+since their sole reason for walking at the moment would be entirely
+hygienic, that he too must be striding from the same cause?
+
+Dr. Holmes tells us that when James and Thomas converse there are really
+six talkers. First, James as James thinks he is, and Thomas as Thomas
+thinks he is. Second James as Thomas thinks him, and Thomas as James
+thinks him. Finally, there are James and Thomas as they really are.
+Since this is neither an autobiography nor an inspired story, the
+world's view of Peter Stirling must be adopted without regard to its
+accuracy. And because this view was the sum of his past and personal,
+these elements must be computed before we can know on what the world
+based its conclusions concerning him.
+
+His story was as ordinary and prosaic as Mr. and Mrs. Pierce seemed to
+think his character. Neither riches nor poverty had put a shaping hand
+to it. The only child of his widowed mother, he had lived in one of the
+smaller manufacturing cities of New England a life such as falls to most
+lads. Unquestionably he had been rather more shielded from several forms
+of temptation than had most of his playmates, for his mother's isolation
+had made him not merely her son, but very largely her companion. In
+certain ways this had tended to make him more manly than the average
+fellow of his age, but in others it had retarded his development; and
+this backwardness had been further accentuated by a deliberate mind,
+which hardly kept pace with his physical growth. His school record was
+fair: "Painstaking, but slow," was the report in studies. "Exemplary,"
+in conduct. He was not a leader among the boys, but he was very
+generally liked. A characteristic fact, for good or bad, was that he had
+no enemies. From the clergyman to the "hired help," everybody had a
+kind 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 girls
+of the High School never liked him. If they had been called upon for
+reasons, few could have given a tangible one. At their age, everything
+this world contains, be it the Falls of Niagara, or a stick of chewing
+gum, is positively or negatively "nice." For some crime of commission or
+omission, Peter had been weighed and found wanting. "He isn't nice," was
+the universal verdict of the scholars who daily filed through the door,
+which the town selectmen, with the fine contempt of the narrow man for
+his unpaid "help," had labelled, "For Females." If they had said that he
+was "perfectly horrid," there might have been a chance for him. But the
+subject was begun and ended with these three words. Such terseness in
+the sex was remarkable and would have deserved a psychological
+investigation had it been based on any apparent data. But women's
+opinions are so largely a matter of instinct and feeling, and so little
+of judgment and induction, that an analysis of the mental processes of
+the hundred girls who had reached this one conclusion, would probably
+have revealed in each a different method of obtaining this product. The
+important point is to recognize this consensus of opinion, and to note
+its bearing on the development of the lad.
+
+That Peter could remain ignorant of this feeling was not conceivable. It
+puzzled 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 worst
+way. Had he avoided the girls persistently and obviously, he might have
+interested them intensely, for nothing is more difficult for a woman to
+understand than a woman-hater; and from the days of mother Eve the
+unknown is rumored to have had for her sex a powerful fascination. But
+he tried to win their friendship by humbleness and kindness, and so only
+made himself the more cheap in their eyes. "Fatty Peter," as they
+jokingly called him, epitomized in two words their contempt of him.
+
+Nor did things mend when he went to Harvard. Neither his mother's
+abilities nor his choice were able to secure for him an _entree_ to the
+society which Cambridge and Boston dole out stintedly to certain
+privileged collegians. Every Friday afternoon he went home, to return by
+an early train Monday morning. In his first year it is to be questioned
+if he exchanged ten words with women whose names were known to him,
+except during these home-visits. That this could long continue, was
+impossible. In his second year he was several times taken by his chum,
+Watts D'Alloi, to call. But always with one result. Invariably Peter
+would be found talking to Mamma, or, better still, from his point of
+view, with Pater-familias, while Watts chatted with the presumptive
+attractions. Watts laughed at him always. Laughed still more when one of
+these calls resulted in a note, "requesting the pleasure" of Mr. Peter
+Stirling's company to dinner. It was Watts who dictated the acceptance,
+helped Peter put the finishing touches to his toilet, and eventually
+landed him safely in Mrs. Purdie's parlor. His description to the boys
+that night of what followed is worthy of quotation:
+
+"The old fellow shook hands with Mrs. P., O.K. Something was said about
+the weather, and then Mrs. P. said, 'I'll introduce you to the lady you
+are to take down, Mr. Stirling, but I shan't let you talk to her before
+dinner. Look about you and take your choice of whom you would like to
+meet?' Chum gave one agonized look round the room. There wasn't a woman
+over 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 have
+done 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 as
+pleased as could be. Well, I don't know how on earth he ever got through
+his introduction or how he ever reached the dining-room, for my
+inamorata 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 at
+chum, who was directly opposite, to see how he was getting on. Oh, you
+fellows would have died to see it! There he sat, looking straight out
+into vacancy, so plainly laboring for something to say that I nearly
+exploded. Twice he opened his lips to speak, and each time closed them
+again. The girl of course looked surprised, but she caught my eye, and
+entered into the joke, and we both waited for developments. Then she
+suddenly said to him, 'Now let's talk about something else.' It was too
+much for me. I nearly choked. I don't know what followed. Miss Jevons
+turned and asked me something. But when I looked again, I could see the
+perspiration standing on Peter's forehead, while the conversation went
+by jerks and starts as if it was riding over a ploughed field. Miss
+Callender, whom he took in, told me afterwards that she had never had a
+harder evening's work in her life. Nothing but 'yeses' and 'noes' to be
+got from him. She wouldn't believe what I said of the old fellow."
+
+Three or four such experiences ended Peter's dining out. He was
+recognized as unavailable material. He received an occasional card to a
+reception or a dance, for anything in trousers passes muster for such
+functions. He always went when invited, and was most dutiful in the
+counter-calls. In fact, society was to him a duty which he discharged
+with the same plodding determination with which he did his day's
+studies. He never dreamed of taking his social moments frivolously. He
+did not recognize that society is very much like a bee colony--stinging
+those who approached it shyly and quietly, but to be mastered by a bold
+beating of tin pans. He neither danced nor talked, and so he was shunted
+by the really pleasant girls and clever women, and passed his time with
+wall-flowers and unbearables, who, in their normal sourness, regarded
+and, perhaps, unconsciously made him feel, hardly to his encouragement,
+that his companionship was a sort of penance. If he had been asked, at
+the end of his senior year, what he thought of young women and society,
+he would probably have stigmatized them, as he himself had been
+formerly: "not nice." All of which, again to apply Mr. Pierce's theory,
+merely meant that the phases which his own characteristics had shown
+him, had re-acted on his own mind, and had led him to conclude that
+girls and society were equally unendurable.
+
+The condition was a dangerous one, and if psychology had its doctors
+they would have predicted a serious heart illness in store for him. How
+serious, would depend largely on whether the fever ran its natural
+course, or whether it was driven inwards by disappointment. If these
+doctors had ceased studying his mental condition and glanced at his
+physical appearance, they would have had double cause to shake their
+heads doubtingly.
+
+Peter was not good-looking. He was not even, in a sense, attractive. In
+spite of his taking work so hardly and life so seriously, he was
+entirely too stout. This gave a heaviness to his face that neutralized
+his really pleasant brown eyes and thick brown hair, which were his best
+features. Manly the face was, but, except when speaking in unconscious
+moments, dull and unstriking. A fellow three inches shorter, and
+two-thirds his weight would have been called tall. "Big" was the
+favorite adjective used in describing Peter, and big he was. Had he gone
+through college ten years later, he might have won unstinted fame and
+admiration as the full-back on the team, or stroke on the crew. In his
+time, athletics were but just obtaining, and were not yet approved of
+either by faculties or families. Shakespeare speaks of a tide in the
+affairs of men. Had Peter been born ten years later the probabilities
+are that his name would have been in all the papers, that he would have
+weighed fifty pounds less, have been cheered by thousands, have been the
+idol of his class, have been a hero, have married the first girl he
+loved (for heroes, curiously, either marry or die, but never remain
+bachelors) and would have--but as this is a tale of fact, we must not
+give rein to imagination. To come back to realism, Peter was a hero to
+nobody but his mother.
+
+Such was the man, who, two weeks after graduation from Harvard, was
+pacing up and down the deck of Mr. Pierce's yacht, the "Sunrise," as she
+drifted with the tide in Long Island Sound. Yet if his expression, as he
+walked, could for a moment have been revealed to those seated aft, the
+face that all thought dull and uninteresting would have riveted their
+attention, and set each one questioning whether there might not be
+something both heroic and romantic underneath. The set determination of
+his look can best be explained by telling what had given his face such
+rigid lines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+A CRAB CHAPTER.
+
+
+Mr. Pierce and those about him had clearly indicated by the
+conversation, or rather monologue, already recorded, that Peter was in a
+sense an odd number in the "Sunrise's" complement of pleasure-seekers.
+Whether or no Mr. Pierce's monologue also indicated that he was not a
+map who dealt in odd numbers, or showered hospitality on sons of
+mill-overseers, the fact was nevertheless true. "For value received," or
+"I hereby promise to pay," were favorite formulas of Mr. Pierce, and if
+not actually written in such invitations as he permitted his wife to
+write at his dictation to people whom he decided should be bidden to the
+Shrubberies, a longer or shorter time would develop the words, as if
+written in sympathetic ink. Yet Peter had had as pressing an invitation
+and as warm a welcome at Mr. Pierce's country place as had any of the
+house-party ingathered during the first week of July. Clearly something
+made him of value to the owner of the Shrubberies. That something was
+his chum, Watts D'Alloi.
+
+Peter and Watts were such absolute contrasts that it seemed impossible
+that they could have an interest or sympathy, in common. Therefore they
+had become chums. A chance in their freshman year had brought them
+together. Watts, with the refined and delicate sense of humor abounding
+in collegians, had been concerned with sundry freshmen in an attempt to
+steal (or, in collegiate terms, "rag") the chapel Bible, with a view to
+presenting it to some equally subtle humorists at Yale, expecting a
+similar courtesy in return from that college. Unfortunately for the
+joke, the college authorities had had the bad taste to guard against the
+annually attempted substitution. Two of the marauders were caught, while
+Watts 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 his
+flight, and borrowed the latter's coat, in which he reached his room
+without detection. Peter was caught by the pursuers, and summoned before
+the 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 it
+certain that he could not have been an offender. There was some talk of
+expelling him for aiding and abetting in the true culprit's escape, and
+for refusing to tell who it was. Respect for his motives, however, and
+his unimpeachable record saved him from everything but an admonition
+from the president, which changed into a discussion of cotton printing
+before that august official had delivered half of his intended rebuke.
+People might not enthuse over Peter, but no one ever quarrelled with
+him. So the interview, after travelling from cotton prints to spring
+radishes, ended with a warm handshake, and a courteous suggestion that
+he come again when there should be no charges nor admonitions to go
+through with. Watts told him that he was a "devilish lucky" fellow to
+have 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'd
+never have known me." Truly on such small chances do the greatest events
+of our life turn. Perhaps, could Peter have looked into the future, he
+would have avoided that corner. Perhaps, could he have looked even
+further, he would have found that in that chance lay the greatest
+happiness of his life. Who can tell, when the bitter comes, and we later
+see how we could have avoided it, what we should have encountered in its
+place? Who can tell, when sweet comes, how far it is sweetened by the
+bitterness that went before? Dodging the future in this world is a
+success equal to that of the old woman who triumphantly announced that
+she had borrowed money enough to pay all her debts.
+
+As a matter of course Watts was grateful for the timely assistance, and
+was not slow either to say or show it. He told his own set of fellows
+that he was "going to take that Stirling up and make him one of us," and
+Watts had a remarkable way of doing what he chose. At first Peter did
+not respond to the overtures and insistance of the handsome,
+well-dressed, free-spending, New York swell. He was too conscious of the
+difference between himself and Watts's set, to wish or seek
+identification with them. But no one who ever came under Watts's
+influence could long stand out against his sunny face and frank manner,
+and so Peter eventually allowed himself to be "taken up." Perhaps the
+resistance encountered only whetted Watts's intention. He was certainly
+aided by Peter's isolation. Whether the cause was single or multiple,
+Peter was soon in a set from which many a seemingly far more eligible
+fellow was debarred.
+
+Strangely enough, it did not change him perceptibly. He still plodded on
+conscientiously at his studies, despite laughter and attempts to drag
+him away from them. He still lived absolutely within the comfortable
+allowance that his mother gave him. He still remained the quiet, serious
+looking fellow of yore. The "gang," as they styled themselves, called
+him "kill-joy," "graveyard," or "death's head," in their evening
+festivities, but Peter only puffed at his pipe good-naturedly, making no
+retort, and if the truth had really been spoken, not a man would have
+changed him a particle. His silence and seriousness added the dash of
+contrast needed to make the evening perfect. All joked him. The most
+popular verse in a class-song Watts wrote, was devoted to burlesquing
+his 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 never
+passed unnoticed.
+
+In Sophomore year, Watts, without quite knowing why, proposed that they
+should share rooms. Nor would he take Peter's refusal, and eventually
+succeeded in reversing it.
+
+"I can't afford your style of living," Peter had said quietly, as his
+principal objection.
+
+"Oh, I'll foot the bills for the fixings, so it shan't cost you a cent
+more," said Watts, and when Peter had finally been won over to give his
+assent, 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 of
+the gang, who promptly christened them "the hermitage," and Peter had
+paid his half of the expense. And though he rarely had visitors of his
+own asking at the chambers, all cost of wine and tobacco was equally
+borne by him.
+
+The three succeeding years welded very strong bands round these two. It
+was natural that they should modify each other strongly, but in truth,
+as in most cases, when markedly different characteristics are brought in
+contact, the only effect was to accentuate each in his peculiarities.
+Peter dug at his books all the harder, by reason of Watts's neglect of
+them. Watts became the more free-handed with his money because of
+Peter's prudence. Watts talked more because of Peter's silence, and
+Peter listened more because of Watts's talk. Watts, it is true, tried to
+drag Peter into society, yet in truth, Peter was really left more alone
+than if he had been rooming with a less social fellow. Each had in truth
+become the complement of the other, and seemed as mutually necessary as
+the positive and negative wires in electricity. Peter, who had been
+taking the law lectures in addition to the regular academic course, and
+had spent his last two summers reading law in an attorney's office, in
+his native town, taking the New York examination in the previous
+January, had striven to get Watts to do the same, with the ultimate
+intention 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 the
+speeches and do the social end," said Peter, making a rather long speech
+in the ardor of his wishes.
+
+Watts laughed. "I don't know, old man. I rather fancy I shan't do
+anything. To do something requires that one shall make up one's mind
+what to do, and that's such devilish hard work. I'll wait till I've
+graduated, and had a chin with my governor about it Perhaps he'll make
+up my mind for me, and so save my brain tissue. But anyway, you'll come
+to 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, who
+had always prepared his lessons in a tenth part of the time it had taken
+Peter, buckled down in the last few weeks, and easily won an honorable
+mention. Peter had tried hard to win honors, but failed.
+
+"You did too much outside work, old man," said Watts, who would
+cheerfully have given his own triumph to his friend. "If you want
+success in anything, you've got to sacrifice other things and
+concentrate on the object. The Mention's really not worth the ink it's
+written with, in my case, but I knew it would please mammy and pappy, so
+I put on steam, and got it. If I'd hitched on a lot of freight cars
+loaded with stuff that wouldn't have told in Exams, I never could have
+been in on time."
+
+Peter shook his head rather sadly. "You outclass me in brains, Watts, as
+much as you do in other things"
+
+"Nonsense," said Watts. "I haven't one quarter of your head. But my
+ancestors--here's to the old coves--have been brain-culturing for three
+hundred years, while yours have been land-culturing; and of course my
+brain moves quicker and easier than yours. I take to a book, by
+hereditary 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, divided
+in mind by his wish to quote accurately, and his dislike of anything
+disrespectful, and then finished "to one's mother."
+
+"That's the last person it's needed for, chum," replied Watts. "If
+there's one person that doesn't need the world's or faculty's opinion to
+prove one's merit, it's one's dear, darling, doating, self-deluded and
+undisillusioned 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's
+separation. I don't see why you insist on starting in at once in New
+York? No one does any law business in the summertime. Why, I even think
+the 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 in
+great style."
+
+"We've settled that once," said Peter, who was evidently speaking
+journalistically, for he had done the settling.
+
+Watts said something in a half-articulate way, which certainly would
+have fired the blood of every dime museum-keeper in the country, had
+they been there to hear the conversation, for, as well as could be
+gathered from the mumbling, it related to a "pig-headed donkey" known of
+to the speaker. "I suppose you'll be backing out of the Pierce affair
+yet," he added, discontentedly.
+
+"No," said Peter.
+
+"An invitation to Grey-Court is worth two of the Shrubberies. My mother
+knows only the right kind of people, while Mr. Pierce--"
+
+"Is to be our host," interrupted Peter, but with no shade of correction
+in his voice.
+
+"Yes," laughed Watts, "and he is a host. He'll not let any one else get
+a word in edgewise. You are just the kind of talker he'll like. Mark my
+word, he'll be telling every one, before you've been two hours in the
+house, that you are a remarkably brilliant conversationalist."
+
+"What will he say of you?" said Peter, in a sentence which he broke up
+into reasonable lengths by a couple of pulls at his pipe in the middle
+of it.
+
+"Mr. Pierce, chum," replied Watts, with a look in his eyes which Peter
+had learned to associate with mischief on Watts's part, "has too great
+an 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 should
+have dared to ask an invitation for"--then Watts hesitated for a moment,
+seeing a half-surprised, half-anxious look come into Peter's face, "for
+myself?" he continued.
+
+"Tell truth and shame the devil," said Peter.
+
+Watts laughed. "Confound you! That's what comes of letting even such a
+stupid old beggar as you learn to read one's thoughts. It's mighty
+ungrateful of you to use them against me. Yes. I did ask to have you
+included 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. I
+couldn't do it in my name, and so Mr. Pierce told her to do it. They're
+very land of me, old man, because my governor is the largest
+stockholder, and a director in Mr. P.'s bank, and I was told I could
+bring down some fellows next week for a few days' jollity. I didn't care
+to do that, but of course I wouldn't have omitted you for any amount of
+ducats."
+
+Which explanation solves the mystery of Peter's presence at the
+Shrubberies. To understand his face we must trace the period between his
+arrival and the moment this story begins.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+BEGINNINGS.
+
+
+How far Watts was confining himself to facts in the foregoing dialogue
+is of no concern, for the only point of value was that Peter was
+invited, without regard to whether Watts first asked Mr. Pierce, or Mr.
+Pierce first asked Watts. A letter which the latter wrote to Miss
+Pierce, as soon as it was settled that Peter should go, is of more
+importance, 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 _passe_
+    (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 encyclopaedia,
+    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 the
+train on June 29th, the effect of this letter was manifest. Watts was
+promptly bestowed on the front seat of the trap with Mr. Pierce, while
+Peter was quickly sitting beside a girl on the back seat. Of course an
+introduction had been made, but Peter had acquired a habit of not
+looking at girls, and as a consequence had yet to discover how far Miss
+Pierce came up to the pleasant word-sketch Watts had drawn of her.
+Indeed, Peter had looked longingly at the seat beside Mr. Pierce, and
+had attempted, in a very obvious manner, though one which seemed to him
+the essence of tact and most un-apparent, to have it assigned to him.
+But two people, far his superior in natural finesse and experience, had
+decided beforehand that he was to sit with Helen, and he could not
+resist their skilful manoeuvres. So he climbed into place, hoping that
+she wouldn't talk, or if that was too much to expect, that at least
+Watts would half turn and help him through.
+
+Neither of these fitted, however, with Miss Pierce's plans. She gave
+Peter a moment to fit comfortably into his seat, knowing that if she
+forced the running before he had done that, he would probably sit awry
+for the whole drive. Then: "I can't tell you how pleased we all are over
+Watts's success. We knew, of course, he could do it if he cared to, but
+he seemed to think the attempt hardly worth the making, and so we did
+not know if he would try."
+
+Peter breathed more easily. She had not asked a question, and the
+intonation of the last sentence was such as left him to infer that it
+was not his turn to say something; which, Peter had noticed, was the way
+in which girls generally ended their remarks.
+
+"Oh, look at that absurd looking cow," was her next remark, made before
+Peter had begun to worry over the pause.
+
+Peter looked at the cow and laughed. He would like to have laughed
+longer, for that would have used up time, but the moment he thought the
+laugh could be employed in place of conversation, the laugh failed.
+However, to be told to look at a cow required no rejoinder, so there was
+as yet no cause for anxiety.
+
+"We are very proud of our roads about here," said Miss Pierce. "When we
+first bought they were very bad, but papa took the matter in hand and
+got them to build with a rock foundation, as they do in Europe."
+
+Three subjects had been touched upon, and no answer or remark yet forced
+upon him. Peter thought of _rouge et noir_, and wondered what the odds
+were that he would be forced to say something by Miss Pierce's next
+speech.
+
+"I like the New England roadside," continued Miss Pierce, with an
+apparent relativeness to the last subject that delighted Peter, who was
+used by this time to much disconnection of conversation, and found not a
+little difficulty in shifting quickly from one topic to another. "There
+is a tangled finish about it that is very pleasant. And in August, when
+the golden-rod comes, I think it is glorious. It seems to me as if all
+the hot sunbeams of the summer had been gathered up in--excuse the
+expression--it's a word of Watts's--into 'gobs' of sunshine, and
+scattered along the roads and fields."
+
+Peter wondered if the request to be excused called for a response, but
+concluded that it didn't.
+
+"Papa told me the other day," continued Miss Pierce, "that there were
+nineteen distinct varieties of golden-rod. I had never noticed that
+there were any differences."
+
+Peter began to feel easy and comfortable. He made a mental note that
+Miss Pierce had a very sweet voice. It had never occurred to Peter
+before to notice if a girl had a pleasant voice. Now he distinctly
+remembered that several to whom he had talked--or rather who had talked
+to him--had not possessed that attraction.
+
+"Last year," said Miss Pierce, "when Watts was here, we had a golden-rod
+party. We had the whole house decked with it, and yellow lamps on the
+lawn."
+
+"He told me about it," said Peter.
+
+"He really was the soul of it," said Miss Pierce, "He wove himself a
+belt and chaplet of it and wore it all through the evening. He was so
+good-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 a
+question had been asked, or that he had answered it. He began to think
+that 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, after
+this self-approval. "And that reminds me that I must tell you about whom
+you meet to-day." Then the next ten minutes were consumed in naming and
+describing the two fashionable New York girls and their brother, who
+made the party then assembled.
+
+During this time Peter's eyes strayed from Watts's shapely back, and
+took a furtive glance at Miss Pierce. He found that she was looking at
+him as she talked, but for some reason it did not alarm him, as such
+observation usually did. Before the guests were properly catalogued,
+Peter was looking into her eyes as she rambled on, and forgot that he
+was 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 or
+thought. It responded quickly too, to outside influence. Many a girl of
+more real beauty was less popular. People liked to talk to Miss Pierce,
+and many could not escape from saying more than they wished, impelled
+thereto by her ready sympathy. Then her eyes were really beautiful, and
+she 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 she
+talked to them, and for some reason people felt very well satisfied when
+she did.
+
+It had this effect upon Peter. As he looked down into the large gray
+eyes, really slate-color in their natural darkness, made the darker by
+the shadows of the long lashes, he entirely forgot place and
+circumstances; ceased to think whose turn it was to speak; even forgot
+to think whether he was enjoying the moment. In short he forgot himself
+and, 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 to
+himself 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 eight
+times, and laughed twice, in the half hour that was passed between the
+station and the Shrubberies' gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MINES AND COUNTER-MINES.
+
+
+The sight of the party on the veranda of the Shrubberies brought a
+return of self-consciousness to Peter, and he braced himself, as the
+trap slowed up, for the agony of formal greetings. If Miss Pierce had
+been a less sweet, sympathetic girl, she could hardly have kept from
+smiling at the way Peter's face and figure stiffened, as the group came
+in sight. But Miss Pierce had decided, before she met Peter, that she
+should like him, and, moreover, that he was a man who needed help. Let
+any woman reach these conclusions about a man, and for some reason quite
+beyond logic or philosophy, he ceases to be ridiculous. So instead of
+smiling, she bridged over the awful greetings with feminine engineering
+skill quite equal to some great strategic movement in war. Peter was
+made to shake hands with Mrs. Pierce, but was called off to help Miss
+Pierce out of the carriage, before speech was necessary. Then a bundle
+was missing in the bottom of the carriage, and Mr. Pawling, the New York
+swell, was summoned to help Peter find it, the incident being seized
+upon to name the two to each other. Finally, he was introduced to the
+two girls, but, almost instantly, Watts and Peter were sent to their
+rooms; and Miss Pierce, nodding her head in a way which denoted
+satisfaction, remarked as she went to her own room, "Really, Helen, I
+don't think it will be so very hard, after all. He's very tractable."
+
+As Peter came downstairs, before dinner, he speculated on whether he
+should be able to talk to Miss Pierce. He rather doubted from past
+experience, if such a result was attainable, seeing that there were two
+other men, who would of course endeavor to do the same. But strangely
+enough the two men were already seated by the New York girls, and a
+vacant chair was next that holding Miss Pierce. What was more, he was at
+once summoned to fill it, and in five minutes was again entirely
+unconscious of everything but the slate-colored eyes, looking so
+pleasantly into his. Then he took Miss Pierce in to dinner, and sat
+between her and her mother again becoming absorbed in the slate-colored
+eyes, which seemed quite willing to be absorbed. After dinner, too, when
+the women had succeeded the weed, Peter in someway found it very easy to
+settle 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, and
+thinking how well he had gone through the day. He had not made a single
+slip. 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 few
+hours, had been made easy for him by a woman's tact.
+
+The following week was practically a continuation of this first day. In
+truth Peter was out of his element with the fashionables; Mr. Pierce did
+not choose to waste his power on him; and Mrs. Pierce, like the
+yielding, devoted wife she was, took her coloring from her husband.
+Watts had intended to look after him, but Watts played well on the
+piano, 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 aloud
+capitally, and, what was more, was ready at any or all times for any or
+all things. No man who can do half these had better intend seriously to
+do 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 July
+temperature makes Long Island Sound. Instinctively, Peter turned to Miss
+Pierce at every opportunity. He should have asked himself if the girl
+was really enjoying his company more than she did that of the other
+young people. Had he been to the manner born he would have known better
+than to force himself on a hostess, or to make his monopoly of a young
+girl so marked. But he was entirely oblivious of whether he was doing as
+he ought, conscious only that, for causes which he made no attempt to
+analyze, he was very happy when with her. For reasons best known to Miss
+Pierce, she allowed herself to be monopolized. She was even almost as
+devoted 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 not
+talkative, 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 on
+about 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 he
+seemed to need, and he needed a good deal. Watts jokingly said that "the
+moment 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 dual
+devotion.
+
+It was an experience full of danger to Peter. For the first time in his
+life he was seeing the really charming phases which a girl has at
+command. Attractive as these are to all men, they were trebly so to
+Peter, who had nothing to compare with them but the indifferent
+attitudes hitherto shown him by the maidens of his native town, and by
+the few Boston women who had been compelled to "endure" his society. If
+he had had more experience he would have merely thought Miss Pierce a
+girl with nice eyes, figure and manner. But as a single glass of wine is
+dangerous to the teetotaller, so this episode had an over-balancing
+influence on Peter, entirely out of proportion to its true value. Before
+the week was over he was seriously in love, and though his natural
+impassiveness and his entire lack of knowledge how to convey his
+feelings to Miss Pierce, prevented her from a suspicion of the fact, the
+more 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 to
+her views that amazed and rather frightened Mrs. Pierce, till he
+continued: "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. "Peter
+is certainly neuter. I think one might say negative, without gross
+exaggeration. Still, I should hardly stop him. He finds enough
+difficulty in getting out an occasional remark without putting a stopper
+in him. Perhaps, though, I mistake your meaning, and you want Peter
+merely to stop here a little longer."
+
+"I mean, dear," replied Mrs. Pierce, with something like a tear in her
+voice, for she was sadly wanting in a sense of humor, and her husband's
+jokes always half frightened her, and invariably made her feel inferior
+to him, "I mean his spending so much time with Helen. I'm afraid he'll
+fall in love with her."
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Pierce, "you really should be a professional
+mind-reader. Your suggestion comes as an awful revelation to me. Just
+supposing he should--aye--just supposing he has, fallen in love with
+Helen!"
+
+"I really think he has," said Mrs. Pierce, "though he is so different
+from most men, that I am not sure."
+
+"Then by all means we must stop him. By the way, how does one stop a
+man'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 humidity
+just then. He therefore concluded that since his wit was taken
+seriously, he would try a bit of seriousness, as an antidote.
+
+"I don't think there is any occasion to interfere. Whatever Peter does
+can make no difference, for it is perfectly evident that Helen is nice
+to him as a sort of duty, and, I rather suspect, to please Watts. So
+anything she may do will be a favor to him, while the fact that she is
+attractive 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 think
+things can't be going better. I was a little afraid of Mr. Pawling, and
+should have preferred to have him and his sisters later, but since it is
+policy to invite them and they could not come at any other time, it was
+a godsend to have sensible, dull old Peter to keep her busy. If he had
+been in the least dangerous, I should not have interfered, but I should
+have made him very ridiculous. That's the way for parents to treat an
+ineligible man. Next week, when all are gone but Watts, he will have his
+time, 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 delightful
+possibility supported by her husband's.
+
+"I think," said Mr. Pierce, "that the less we parents concern ourselves
+with love the better. If I have made opportunities for Helen and Watts
+to see something of each other, I have only done what was to their
+mutual interests. Any courtesy I have shown him is well enough accounted
+for on the ground of his father's interest in my institution, without
+the assumption of any matrimonial intentions. However, I am not opposed
+to a marriage. Watts is the son of a very rich man of the best social
+position in New York, besides being a nice fellow in himself. Helen will
+make 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 it
+was best for their child to marry, and see that the young people saw
+just enough of each other, before they saw too much of the world, they
+could accomplish their purpose, provided they otherwise kept their
+finger out of the pot of love. There is a certain period in a man's life
+when he must love something feminine, even if she's as old as his
+grandmother. There is a certain period in a girl's life when it is
+well-nigh impossible for her to say 'no' to a lover. He really only
+loves the sex, and she really loves the love and not the lover; but it
+is just as well, for the delusion lasts quite as long as the more
+personal love that comes later. And, being young, they need less
+breaking for double harness."
+
+Mrs. Pierce winced. Most women do wince when a man really verges on his
+true conclusions concerning love in the abstract, however satisfactory
+his love in the concrete may be to them. "I am sure they love each
+other," she affirmed.
+
+"Yes, I think they do," replied Mr. Pierce. "But five years in the world
+before meeting would have possibly brought quite a different conclusion.
+And now, my dear, if we are not going to have the young people eloping
+in the yacht by themselves, we had better leave both the subject and the
+room, 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 for
+his native town, and the thought of this, in connection with other
+thoughts, drew stern lines on his face. His conclusions were something
+to 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 so
+little of each other. How could he know her and not love her? But it's
+very fortunate for me, for I should stand no chance against him, even
+supposing 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 again
+till 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 three
+words 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 have
+your own way to make. You have no right to ask mother for more than the
+fifteen hundred she says you are to have as an allowance, for you know
+that if she gave you more, it would be only by scrimping herself. What
+is fifteen hundred a year to such a girl? Why, her father would think I
+was joking!"
+
+Then Peter looked out on the leaden waters and wished it was not
+cowardly to end the conflict by letting them close over him. The dark
+color made him think, however, of a pair of slate-colored eyes, so
+instead of jumping in, he repeated "I can't wait" a few times, and
+walked with redoubled energy. Having stimulated himself thereby, he went
+on thinking.
+
+"She has been so kind to me that--no--she can't care for me. But if
+she--if by chance--if--supposing she does! Why, the money is nothing. We
+can wait."
+
+Peter repeated this last remark several times, clearly showing that he
+made a great distinction between "I can wait" and "We can wait."
+Probably the same nice distinction has been made before, and lovers have
+good authority for the distinction, for many an editor's public "We
+think" is the exact opposite of his private "I think." Then Peter
+continued:
+
+"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 enjoy
+the prospect it conjured up. He saw Peter Stirling taking a fond
+farewell of a certain lady. He saw him entering the arena and struggling
+with the wild beasts, and of course conquering them. He saw the day when
+his successes would enable him to set up his own fireside. He saw that
+fireside made perfect by a pair of slate-colored eyes, which breakfast
+opposite him, follow him as he starts for his work, and greet him on his
+return. 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 such
+materials!
+
+From all this the fact can be gathered that Peter was really, despite
+his calm, sober nature, no more sensible in love matters than are other
+boys verging on twenty-one. He could not see that success in this love
+would be his greatest misfortune. That he could not but be distracted
+from his work. That he would almost certainly marry before he could well
+afford it, and thus overweight himself in his battle for success. He
+forgot prudence and common-sense, and that being what a lover usually
+does, he can hardly be blamed for it.
+
+Bump!
+
+Down came the air-castle. Home, fireside, and the slate-colored eyes
+dissolved into a wooden wharf. The dream was over.
+
+"Bear a hand here with these lunch-baskets, chum," called Watts. "Make
+yourself useful as well as ornamental."
+
+And so Peter's solitary tramp ceased, and he was helping lunch-baskets
+and ladies to the wharf.
+
+But the tramp had brought results which were quickly to manifest
+themselves. 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's
+liking.
+
+"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 more
+surprised 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 and
+given his reason for wishing it, in Miss Pierce's hearing, Watts would
+have formed an instant conclusion as to what it meant, not far from the
+truth. But that a man should deliberately order another away, in the
+girl's hearing, so that he might propose to her, was too great an
+absurdity for Watts to entertain for more than a second. He laughed, and
+said, "Go on yourself, if you don't like the company."
+
+"No," said Peter. "I want you to go on." Peter spoke quietly, but there
+was an inflexion in his singularly clear voice, which had more command
+in it than a much louder tone in others. Watts had learned to recognize
+it, and from past experience knew that Peter was not to be moved when he
+used it. But here the case was different. Hitherto he had been trying to
+make Peter do something. Now the boot was on the other leg, and Watts
+saw therein a chance for some fun. He therefore continued to stand
+still, 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 the
+incident.
+
+"I think," remarked Miss Pierce, "that I will leave you two to settle
+it, 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?" he
+thought to himself. Miss Pierce hesitated. She wanted to go, but
+something in Peter's voice made it very difficult. "I had no idea he
+could speak so decidedly. He's not so tractable as I thought. I think
+Watts ought to do what he asks. Though I don't see why Mr. Stirling
+wants to send him away," she said to herself.
+
+"Watts," said Peter, "this is the last chance I shall really have to
+thank Miss Pierce, for I leave before breakfast to-morrow."
+
+There was nothing appealing in the way it was said. It seemed a mere
+statement of a fact. Yet something in the voice gave it the character of
+a command.
+
+"'Nough said, chum," said Watts, feeling a little cheap at his smallness
+in having tried to rob Peter of his farewell. The next moment he was
+rapidly overtaking the advance-party.
+
+By all conventions there should have been an embarrassing pause after
+this extraordinary colloquy, but there was not. When Peter decided to do
+a thing, he never faltered in the doing. If making love or declaring it
+had been a matter of directness and plain-speaking, Peter would have
+been a successful lover. But few girls are won by lovers who carry
+business methods and habits of speech into their courtship.
+
+"Miss Pierce," said Peter, "I could not go without thanking you for your
+kindness to me. I shall never forget this week."
+
+"I am so glad you have enjoyed it," almost sang Miss Pierce, in her
+pleasure 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 a
+halt, in her surprise.
+
+"Yes," replied Peter simply, but the monosyllable meant more than the
+strongest 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 telling
+it. Why shouldn't one tell one's love as soon as one feels it? It's the
+finest thing a man can tell a woman."
+
+"Oh, please don't," begged Miss Pierce, her eyes full of tears in
+sympathy for him. "You make it so hard for me to say that--that you
+mustn'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 last
+speech. "Girls have never liked me."
+
+Miss Pierce began to sob. "It's all a mistake. A dreadful mistake," she
+cried, "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 to
+the 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 shall
+not----"
+
+"There is," interrupted Miss Pierce, the determination in Peter's voice
+frightening her info disclosing her secret.
+
+Peter said to himself, "It is Watts after all." He was tempted to say it
+aloud, and most men in the sting of the moment would have done so. But
+he 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 my
+love 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 the
+hallway together, and leaving the rest of the party, who were already
+raiding the larder for an impromptu supper, to their own devices, they
+passed upstairs, Miss Pierce to bathe her eyes and Peter to pack his
+belongings.
+
+"Where are Helen and Stirling?" inquired Mr. Pierce when the time came
+to serve out the Welsh rarebit he was tending.
+
+"They'll be along presently," said Watts. "Helen forgot something, and
+they went back after it."
+
+"They will be properly punished by the leathery condition of the
+rarebit, if they don't hurry. And as we are all agreed that Stirling is
+somewhat lacking in romance, he will not get a corresponding pleasure
+from the longer stroll to reward him for that. There, ladies and
+gentlemen, that is a rarebit that will melt in your mouth, and make the
+absent ones regret their foolishness. As the gourmand says in
+'Richelieu,' 'What's diplomacy compared to a delicious pate?'"
+
+
+
+
+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 or
+not. Another so nerveless, that it fights on, unconscious that it has
+been hit. A third, who, feeling the wound, goes on fighting, sustained
+by its nerve. It is over the latter sort that the surgeons shake their
+heads and look anxious.
+
+Peter did his packing quietly and quickly, not pausing for a moment in
+the task. Then he went downstairs, and joined the party, just finishing
+the supper. He refused, it is true, to eat anything, and was quiet, but
+this phase was so normal in him, that it occasioned no remark. Asked
+where Miss Pierce was, he explained briefly that he had left her in the
+hall, 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 better
+things than he had said in his whole visit, and quite surprising them
+all 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 New
+York," said Mr. Pierce, not quite knowing why, having previously decided
+that they had had enough of Peter. "We shall be in the city early in
+September, and ready to see our friends."
+
+"Thank you," replied Peter. He turned and went upstairs to his room. He
+ought to have spent the night pacing his floor, but he did not. He went
+to bed instead Whether Peter slept, we cannot say. He certainly lay very
+still, till the first ray of daylight brightened the sky. Then he rose
+and dressed. He went to the stables and explained to the groom that he
+would walk to the station, and merely asked that his trunk should be
+there in time to be checked. Then he returned to the house and told the
+cook that he would breakfast on the way. Finally he started for the
+station, diverging on the way, so as to take a roundabout road, that
+gave him a twelve-mile tramp in the time he had before the train left.
+
+Perhaps the hardest thing Peter encountered was answering his mother's
+questions about the visit. Yet he never flinched nor dodged from a true
+reply, 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. Stirling
+careful, and whatever she surmised she kept to herself, merely kissing
+him good-night with a tenderness that was unusual not merely in a
+New-Englander, but even in her. During the rest of his stay, the Pierces
+were 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 who
+rank as such, would have been as considerate or tender of Peter's
+trouble, if the power had been given them to lay it bare. Love,
+sympathy, unselfishness and forbearance are not bad equivalents for
+breeding and etiquette, and have the additional advantage of meeting new
+and unusual conditions which sometimes occur to even the most
+conventional.
+
+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 so
+set on going to New York." In this, however, she was disappointed. On
+the second day of his stay, Peter spoke of his intention to start for
+New 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," said
+Peter. "I'll try it there first, and if I don't make my way, I'll come
+back here"
+
+Few mothers hope for a son's failure, yet Mrs. Stirling allowed herself
+a moment's happiness over this possibility. Then remembering that her
+Peter could not possibly fail, she became despondent. "They say New
+York's full of temptations," she said.
+
+"I suppose it is, mother," replied Peter, "to those who want to be
+tempted."
+
+"I know I can trust you, Peter," said his mother, proudly, "but I want
+you to promise me one thing."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That if you do yield, if you do what you oughtn't to, you'll write and
+tell me about it?" Mrs. Stirling put her arms about Peter's neck, and
+looked wistfully into his face.
+
+Peter was not blind to what this world is. Perhaps, had his mother known
+it as he did, she might have seen how unfair her petition was. He did
+not like to say yes, and could not say no.
+
+"I'll try to go straight, mother," he replied, "but that's a good deal
+to 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't
+tell 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 have
+something definite to do. He tried to obtain this distraction of
+occupation, at present, in a characteristic way, by taking excessively
+long 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 working
+him free from the crushing lack of purpose that had settled upon him. He
+imagined it would be even easier when he reached New York. "There'll be
+plenty to keep me busy there," was his mental hope.
+
+All his ambitions and plans seemed in a sense to have become
+meaningless, made so by the something which but ten days before had been
+unknown to him. Like Moses he had seen the promised land. But Moses
+died. He had seen it, and must live on without it. He saw nothing in the
+future worth striving for, except a struggle to forget, if possible, the
+sweetest and dearest memory he had ever known. He thought of the
+epigram: "Most men can die well, but few can live well." Three weeks
+before he had smiled over it and set it down as a bit of French
+cynicism. Now--on the verge of giving his mental assent to the theory, a
+pair of slate-colored eyes in some way came into his mind, and even
+French wit was discarded therefrom.
+
+Peter was taking his disappointment very seriously, if quietly. Had he
+only known other girls, he might have made a safe recovery, for love's
+remedy is truly the homeopathic "similia similibus curantur," woman
+plural 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 is
+no other woman." In Peter's case there was no other woman. What was
+worse, 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 grapple
+with the future. How many such stormers have dashed themselves against
+its high ramparts, from which float the flags of "worldly success;" how
+many have fallen at the first attack; how many have been borne away,
+stricken in the assault; how many have fought on bravely, till driven
+back by pressure, sickness or hunger; how few have reached the top, and
+won their colors!
+
+As already hinted, Peter had chosen the law as his ladder to climb these
+ramparts. Like many another fellow he had but a dim comprehension of the
+struggle before him. His college mates had talked over professions, and
+agreed that law was a good one in New York. The attorney in his native
+town, "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 Lawrence
+or Lowell. If New York is bigger, then there is more to be done." So
+Peter, whose New York acquaintances were limited to Watts and four other
+collegians, the Pierces and their fashionables, and a civil engineer
+originally from his native town, had decided that the way to go about it
+was 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 and
+pricing a few rooms near the "Avenue," about Thirtieth Street, Peter saw
+that Watts had been thinking of his own purse, rather than of his
+friend's.
+
+"Can you tell me where the cheaper boarding-houses are?" he asked the
+woman who had done the honors of the last house.
+
+"If it's cheapness you want, you'd better go to Bleecker Street," said
+the 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, not
+comprehending that he had gone to the opposite extreme. It was a dull
+season, and he had no difficulty in getting such a room as suited both
+his expectations and purse. By dinner-time he had settled his simple
+household goods to his satisfaction, and slightly moderated the
+dreariness of the third floor front, so far as the few pictures and
+other furnishings from his college rooms could modify the effect of
+well-worn carpet, cheap, painted furniture, and ugly wall-paper.
+
+Descending to his dinner, in answer to a bell more suitable for a
+fire-alarm than for announcing such an ordinary occurrence as meals, he
+was introduced to the four young men who were all the boarders the
+summer season had left in the house. Two were retail dry-goods clerks,
+another filled some function in a butter and cheese store, and the
+fourth was the ticket-seller at one of the middle-grade theatres. They
+all looked at Peter's clothes before looking at his face, and though the
+greetings were civil enough, Peter's ready-made travelling suit, bought
+in his native town, and his quiet cravat, as well as his lack of
+jewelry, were proof positive to them that he did not merit any great
+consideration. It was very evident that the ticket-seller, not merely
+from his natural self-assertion but even more because of his enviable
+acquaintance with certain actresses and his occasional privileges in the
+way of free passes, was the acknowledged autocrat of the table. Under
+his guidance the conversation quickly turned to theatrical and "show"
+talk. Much of it was vulgar, and all of it was dull. It was made the
+worse by the fact that they all tried to show, off a little before the
+newcomer, to prove their superiority and extreme knowingness to him. To
+make 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 little
+place."
+
+They would like to have asked him questions about himself, but feared to
+seem to lower themselves from their fancied superiority, by showing
+interest 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 not
+conceive of any one entitled to practise law not airing his advantage.
+So they went on patronizing Peter, and glorifying themselves. When time
+had developed the facts that he was a lawyer, a college graduate, and a
+man who seemed to have plenty of money (from the standpoint of dry-goods
+clerks) their respect for him considerably increased. He could not,
+however, overcome his instinctive dislike to them. After the manly
+high-minded, cultivated Harvard classmates, every moment of their
+society was only endurable, and he neither went to their rooms nor asked
+them to his. Peter had nothing of the snob in him, but he found reading
+or writing, or a tramp about the city, much the pleasanter way of
+passing his evenings.
+
+The morning after this first day in New York, Peter called on his
+friend, the civil engineer, to consult him about an office; for Watts
+had 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 give
+you 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 you
+think of starting by yourself. You'll otherwise never get a client."
+
+Peter shook his head. "I've thought it out," he added, as if that
+settled it.
+
+Mr. Converse looked at him, and, really liking the fellow, was about to
+explain 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 the
+Battery and Canal Street." Later in the day, when he had time, he shook
+his head, and said, "Poor devil! Like all the rest."
+
+Anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street represented a fairly large
+range of territory, but Peter went at the matter directly, and for the
+next three days passed his time climbing stairs, and inspecting rooms
+and 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 with
+a desk, two chairs (for Peter as yet dreamed only of single clients) and
+a shelf containing the few law books that were the monuments of his
+Harvard law course, and his summer reading. On the following Monday,
+when Peter faced his office door he felt a glow of satisfaction at
+seeing in very black letters on the very newly scrubbed glass the sign
+of:
+
+    PETER STIRLING
+
+    ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW.
+
+He had come to his office early, not merely because at his boarding
+place they breakfasted betimes, but because he believed that early hours
+were one way of winning success. He was a little puzzled what to do with
+himself. He sat down at his desk and thrummed it for a minute. Then he
+rose, and spread his books more along the shelf, so as to leave little
+spaces between them, thinking that he could make them look more imposing
+thereby. After that he took down a book--somebody "On Torts,"--and dug
+into it. In the Harvard course, he had had two hours a week of this
+book, but Peter worked over it for nearly three hours. Then he took
+paper, and in a very clear, beautifully neat hand, made an abstract of
+what he had read. Then he compared his abstract with the book. Returning
+the book to the shelf, very much pleased with the accuracy of his
+memory, he looked at his watch. It was but half-past eleven. Peter sat
+down 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 and
+furnishing. But now? He could not read law for more than four hours a
+day, and get anything from it. What was to be done with the rest of the
+time? 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 and
+the drearier light shafts spoken of flatteringly as yards. He compressed
+his lips, and resorted once more to his book. But he found his mind
+wandering, and realized that he had done all he was equal to on a hot
+July morning. Again he looked out over the roofs. Then he rose and stood
+in the middle at his room, thinking. He looked at his watch again, to
+make sure that he was right. Then he opened his door and glanced about
+the hall. It was one blank, except for the doors. He went down the two
+flights of stairs to the street. Even that had the deserted look of
+summer. He turned and went back to his room. Sitting down once more at
+his desk, and opening somebody "On Torts" again, he took up his pen and
+began to copy the pages literally. He wrote steadily for a time, then
+with pauses. Finally, the hand ceased to follow the lines, and became
+straggly. Then he ceased to write. The words blurred, the paper faded
+from view, and all Peter saw was a pair of slate-colored eyes. He laid
+his head down on the blotter, and the erect, firm figure relaxed.
+
+There is no more terrible ordeal of courage than passive waiting. Most
+of us can be brave with something to do, but to be brave for months, for
+years, with nothing to be done and without hope of the future! So it was
+in Peter's case. It was waiting--waiting--for what? If clients came, if
+fame 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 and
+health, were a million people. Yet not a soul of that million knew that
+Peter sat at his desk, with his head on his blotter, immovable, from
+noon 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 sun
+shining dazzlingly in his eyes forced him back to a consciousness of
+things mundane. He rose, and went downstairs, to find the night
+watch-man just opening the building. Fortunately he had already met the
+man, so that he was not suspected as an intruder; and giving him a
+pleasant "good-morning," Peter passed into the street. It was a good
+morning indeed, with all that freshness and coolness which even a great
+city cannot take from a summer dawn. For some reason Peter felt more
+encouraged. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having beaten his
+loneliness and misery by mere physical endurance. Perhaps it was only
+the natural spring of twenty years. At all events, he felt dimly, that
+miserable 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 cart
+for a pint of what the poorer people of the city buy as milk, he turned
+north, and quickening his pace, walked till he had left the city proper
+and had reached the new avenue or "drive," which, by the liberality of
+Mr. Tweed with other people's money, was then just approaching
+completion. After walking the length of it, he turned back to his
+boarding-place, and after a plunge, felt as if he could face and fight
+the future to any extent.
+
+As a result of this he was for the first time late at breakfast The
+presider over the box-office had ascertained that Peter had spent the
+night out, and had concluded he would have a gird or two at him. He
+failed, however, to carry out his intention. It was not the first time
+that both he and his companions had decided to "roast" Peter, absent,
+but had done other wise with Peter, present. He had also decided to say
+to Peter, "Who's your dandy letter-writer?" But he also failed to do
+that. 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 an
+air about it. It was written on linen paper of a grade which, if now
+common enough, was not so common at that time. Then it was postmarked
+from one of the most, fashionable summer resorts of the country.
+Finally, it was sealed with wax, then very unusual, and the wax bore the
+impression of a crest. They were all rather disappointed when Peter put
+that 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
+    a 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 for
+a couple of hours, looking at the opposite wall, and seeing something
+quite 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 a
+time. Studied it till long after the hour when he should have lunched.
+The wall had three cracks in it which approximated to an outline of
+Italy, but though Peter gazed at this particular wall a good many hours
+in the next few weeks, he did not discover this interesting fact till
+long after this time of wall-gazing.
+
+In the early morning and after dinner, in spite of the summer heat, he
+took long walks. During the day he sat in his office doing nothing, with
+the exception of an occasional letter to his mother, and one or two to
+Watts in respect to the coming wedding. Two visits to the tailor's, and
+another to Tiffany's, which resulted in a pearl pin rather out of
+proportion to his purse, were almost the sole variations of this
+routine. It was really a relief to this terrible inactivity, when he
+found himself actually at the Shrubberies, the afternoon before the
+wedding.
+
+Peter was rather surprised at the ease with which he went through the
+next twenty-four hours. It is true that the house was too full, and each
+person too busy, to trouble the silent groomsman with attention, so he
+might have done pretty much what he wished, without being noticed. He
+arrived late, thus having no chance for greetings till after a hurried
+dressing for dinner, when they were made in the presence of the whole
+party, who had waited his coming to go to the meal. He went through the
+ordeal well, even that with Miss Pierce, actually showing less
+embarrassment than she did. What was more astonishing, he calmly offered
+his arm to the bridesmaid who fell to his lot, and, after seating her,
+chatted without thinking that he was talking. Indeed, he hardly heeded
+what he did say, but spoke mechanically, as a kind of refuge from
+thought and feeling.
+
+"I didn't find him a bit so," the girl said to Miss Pierce, later in the
+evening, with an indefiniteness which, if not merely feminine, must
+presuppose a previous conversation. "He isn't exactly talkative, but he
+is perfectly easy to get on with. I tried him on New York, and found he
+had gone into a good many odd places and can tell about them. He
+describes things very well, so that one sees them."
+
+"It must be your tact, then, Miss Leroy," said Mrs. Pierce, "for we
+could get nothing out of him before."
+
+"No? I had nothing to do with it, and, between ourselves, I think he
+disapproved of me. If Helen hadn't told me about him, I should have been
+very cool to him, his manner was so objectionable. He clearly talked to
+me because he felt it a duty, and not a pleasure."
+
+"That's only that unfortunate manner of his," said Helen. "I really
+think at heart he's dreadfully afraid of us. At least that's what Watts
+says. 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 remark
+doesn't seem enough to say. You try to talk up to him, and yet feel
+small all the time."
+
+"Not at all," said Helen. "You talk down to him, as if he
+were--were--your old grandfather, or some one else you admired, but
+thought very dull and old-fashioned."
+
+"But the worst is the way he looks at you. So gravely, even when you try
+to joke. Now I really think I'm passably pretty, but Mr. Stirling said
+as plainly as could be: 'I look at you occasionally because that's the
+proper thing to do, when one talks, but I much prefer looking at that
+picture over your head.' I don't believe he noticed how my hair was
+dressed, 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 not
+notice girls any more. After worrying in his school and college days,
+over what women thought of him and how they treated him, he had suddenly
+ceased to trouble himself about them. It was as if a man, after long
+striving for something, had suddenly discovered that he did not wish
+it--that to him women's opinions had become worthless. Perhaps in this
+case it was only the Fox and the Grapes over again. At all events, from
+this time on Peter cared little what women did. Courteous he tried to
+be, for he understood this to be a duty. But that was all. They might
+laugh at him, snub him, avoid him. He cared not. He had struck women out
+of his plan of life. And this disregard, as we have already suggested,
+was sure to produce a strange change, not merely in Peter, but in
+women's view and treatment of him. Peter trying to please them, by dull,
+ordinary platitudes, was one thing. Peter avoiding them and talking to
+them 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 all
+men are at weddings, finally stood up with his friend. He had not been
+asked to stay on for another night, as had most of the bridal party, so
+he slipped away as soon as his duty was done, and took a train that put
+him into New York that evening. A week later he said good-bye to the
+young couple, on the deck of a steamship.
+
+"Don't forget us, Peter," shouted Watts, after the fasts were cast off
+and 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, who
+with all the fire and impatience of his years wished to conquer the
+world quickly, "youth has many things to learn, but one of the most
+important is never to let another man beat you at waiting."
+
+Peter went back to his desk, and waited. He gave up looking at the wall
+of his office, and took to somebody "On Torts" again. When that was
+finished he went through the other law books of his collection. Those
+done, he began to buy others, and studied them with great thoroughness
+and persistence. In one of his many walks, he stumbled upon the
+Apprentices' Library. Going in, he inquired about its privileges, and
+became a regular borrower of books. Peter had always been a reader, but
+now he gave from three or four hours a day to books, aside from his law
+study. Although he was slow, the number of volumes, he not merely read,
+but really mastered was marvellous. Books which he liked, without much
+regard to their popular reputation, he at once bought; for his simple
+life left him the ability to indulge himself in most respects within
+moderation. He was particularly careful to read a classic occasionally
+to keep up his Greek and Latin, and for the same reason he read French
+and German books aloud to himself. Before the year was out, he was a
+recognized quantity in certain book-stores, and was privileged to
+browse at will both among old and new books without interference or
+suggestion from the "stock" clerks. "There isn't any good trying to sell
+him anything," remarked one. "He makes up his mind for himself."
+
+His reading was broadened out from the classic and belles-lettres
+grooves that were still almost a cult with the college graduate, by
+another recreation now become habitual with him. In his long tramps
+about the city, to vary the monotony, he would sometimes stop and chat
+with people--with a policeman, a fruit-vender, a longshoreman or a
+truckster. It mattered little who it was. Then he often entered
+manufactories and "yards" and asked if he could go through them,
+studying the methods, and talking to the overseer or workers about the
+trade. When he occasionally encountered some one who told him "your kind
+ain't got no business here" he usually found the statement "my father
+was a mill-overseer" a way to break down the barrier. He had to use it
+seldom, for he dressed plainly and met the men in a way which seldom
+failed to make them feel that he was one of them. After such inspection
+and chat, he would get books from the library, and read up about the
+business or trade, finding that in this way he could enjoy works
+otherwise too technical, and really obtain a very good knowledge of many
+subjects. Just how interesting he found such books as "Our
+Fire-Laddies," which he read from cover to cover, after an inspection
+of, and chat with, the men of the nearest fire-engine station; or
+Latham's "The Sewage Difficulty," which the piping of uptown New York
+induced him to read; and others of diverse types is questionable.
+Probably it was really due to his isolation, but it was much healthier
+than gazing at blank walls.
+
+When the courts opened, Peter kept track of the calendars, and whenever
+a case or argument promised to be interesting, or to call out the great
+lights of the profession, he attended and listened to them. He tried to
+write out the arguments used, from notes, and finally this practice
+induced him to give two evenings a week during the winter mastering
+shorthand. It was really only a mental discipline, for any case of
+importance was obtainable in print almost as soon as argued, but Peter
+was trying to put a pair of slate-colored eyes out of his thoughts, and
+employed this as one of the means.
+
+When winter came, and his long walks became less possible, he turned to
+other things. More from necessity than choice, he visited the art and
+other exhibitions as they occurred, he went to concerts, and to plays,
+all with due regard to his means, and for this reason the latter were
+the most seldom indulged in. Art and music did not come easy to him, but
+he read up on both, not merely in standard books, but in the reviews of
+the daily press, and just because there was so much in both that he
+failed to grasp, he studied the more carefully and patiently.
+
+One trait of his New England training remained to him. He had brought a
+letter from his own Congregational church in his native town, to one of
+the large churches of the same sect in New York, and when admitted,
+hired a sitting and became a regular attendant at both morning and
+evening service. In time this produced a call from his new pastor. It
+was 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 a
+point of seeing something of him." But he was pastor of a very large and
+rich congregation, and was a hard-worked and hard-entertained man, so
+his intention was not realized.
+
+Peter spent Christmastide with his mother, who worried not a little over
+his 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, knowing
+perfectly well that it was nothing of the sort. She had hoped that Peter
+would be satisfied with his six months' trial, but did not mention her
+wish. She marvelled to herself that New York had not yet discovered his
+greatness.
+
+When Peter returned to the city, he made a change in his living
+arrangements. His boarding-place had filled up with the approach of
+winter, but with the class of men he already knew too well. Even though
+he met them only at meals, their atmosphere was intolerable to him. When
+a room next his office fell vacant, and went begging at a very cheap
+price, he decided to use it as a bedroom. So he moved his few belongings
+on 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 speak
+of his leaving. Two or three affected to be pleased, but
+"Butter-and-cheese" said he "was a first-rate chap," and this seemed to
+gain the assent of the table generally.
+
+"I'm dreadfully sorry to lose him," his landlady informed her other
+boarders, availing herself, perhaps, of the chance to deliver a side hit
+at some of them. "He never has complained once, since he came here, and
+he 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 bit
+stiff; and a fellow who's best man to a big New York swell, and gets his
+name 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 so
+called) being a bath, which is not a usual fitting of a New York
+business office, consciences not yet being tubbable. He had made his
+mother show him how to make coffee, and he adopted the Continental
+system of meals, having rolls and butter sent in, and making a French
+breakfast in his own rooms. Then he lunched regularly not far from his
+office, and dined wherever his afternoon walk, or evening plans carried
+him. He found that he saved no money by the change, but he saved his
+feelings, and was far freer to come and go as he chose.
+
+He did not hear from the honeymoon party. Watts had promised to write to
+him and send his address "as soon as we decide whether we pass the
+winter in Italy or on the Nile." But no letter came. Peter called on the
+Pierces, only to find them out, and as no notice was taken of his
+pasteboard, 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 seemed
+no nearer one than the day he had first seen his own name on his office
+door. "How much longer will I have to wait? How long will my patience
+hold out?" These were the questions he asked himself, when for a moment
+he allowed himself to lose courage. Then he would take to a bit of
+wall-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 on
+was to make friends. But in this first year Peter did not made a single
+one that could be really called such. His second summer broadened his
+acquaintance materially, though in a direction which promised him little
+law practice.
+
+When the warm weather again closed the courts and galleries, and brought
+an end to the concerts and theatres, Peter found time harder to kill,
+the more, because he had pretty well explored the city. Still he walked
+much to help pass the time, and to get outside of his rooms into the
+air. For the same reason he often carried his book, after the heat of
+the day was over, to one of the parks, and did his reading there. Not
+far from his office, eastwardly, where two streets met at an angle, was
+a small open space too limited to be called a square, even if its shape
+had not been a triangle. Here, under the shade of two very sickly trees,
+surrounded by tall warehouses, were a couple of benches. Peter sat here
+many evenings smoking his pipe. Though these few square feet made
+perhaps the largest "open" within half a mile of his office, the angle
+was confined and dreary. Hence it is obvious there must have been some
+attraction to Peter, since he was such a walker, to make him prefer
+spending his time there rather than in the parks not far distant The
+attraction was the children.
+
+Only a few hundred feet away was one of the most densely crowded
+tenement districts of New York. It had no right to be there, for the
+land was wanted for business purposes, but the hollow on which it was
+built had been a swamp in the old days, and the soft land, and perhaps
+the unhealthiness, had prevented the erection of great warehouses and
+stores, which almost surrounded it. So it had been left to the storage
+of human souls instead of merchandise, for valuable goods need careful
+housing, while any place serves to pack humanity. It was not a nice
+district to go through, for there was a sense of heat and dirt, and
+smell, and crowd, and toil and sorrow throughout. It was probably no
+nicer to live in, and nothing proved it better than the overflow of the
+children therefrom into the little, hot, paved, airless angle. Here they
+could be found from five in the morning till twelve at night. Here, with
+guards set, to give notice of the approach of the children's
+joy-destroying Siva--otherwise the policeman--they played ball. Here
+"cat" and "one old cat" render bearable many a wilting hour for the
+little urchins. Here "Sally in our Alley" and "Skip-rope" made the
+little girls forget that the temperature was far above blood-heat. Here
+of an evening, Peter smoked and watched them.
+
+At first he was an object of suspicion, and the sport visibly ceased
+when he put in an appearance. But he simply sat on one of the benches
+and 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 up
+between them. One evening Peter appeared with a stick of wood, and as he
+smoked, he whittled at it with a _real_ jack-knife! He was scrutinized
+by the keen-eyed youngsters with interest at once, and before he had
+whittled long, he had fifty children sitting in the shape of a
+semicircle on the stone pavement, watching his doings with almost
+breathless Interest. When the result of his work actually developed into
+a "cat" of marvellous form and finish, a sigh of intense joy passed
+through the boy part of his audience. When the "cat" was passed over to
+their mercies, words could not be found to express their emotions.
+Another evening, the old clothes-line that served for a jump-rope, after
+having bravely rubbed against the pavement many thousand times in its
+endeavor to lighten the joyless life of the little pack, finally
+succumbed, worn through the centre and quite beyond hope of further
+knotting. Then Peter rose, and going to one of the little shops that
+supplied 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 only
+enjoyed in dreams, or at most through home-made attempts, found their
+way into the angle, and were distributed among the little imps. They
+could not resist such subtle bribery, and soon Peter was on as familiar
+and 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 all
+their troubles. They were a dirty, noisy, lawless, and godless little
+community, but they were interesting to watch, and the lonely fellow
+grew to like them much, for with all their premature sharpness, they
+were really natural, and responded warmly to his friendly overtures.
+
+After a time, Peter tried to help them a little more than by mere small
+gifts. A cheap box of carpenter's tools was bought, and under his
+superintendence, evenings were spent in the angle, in making various
+articles. A small wheel barrow, a knife-and-fork basket, a clock-bracket
+and other easy things were made, one at a time. All boys, and indeed
+some 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 to
+that line; the next would bore the holes in it; the next would screw it
+into 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 and
+watched. When the article was completed, lots were drawn for it, and
+happy was the fortunate one who drew the magnificent prize in life's
+lottery!
+
+Occasionally too, Peter brought a book with him, and read it aloud to
+them. He was rather surprised to find that they did not take to
+Sunday-school stories or fairy tales. Wild adventures in foreign lands
+were the most effective; and together they explored the heart of Africa,
+climbed the Swiss mountains, fought the Western Indians, and attempted
+to 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's
+criticism at a certain point of the narrative of a well-known African
+explorer, rather famous for his success in advertising himself. Again,
+"that's bully," was the comment uttered by another, when Peter, rather
+than refuse their request to read aloud, had been compelled to choose
+something in Macaulay's Essays, and had read the description of the
+Black Hole of Calcutta, "Say, mister," said another, "I don't believe
+that fellow wasn't there, for he never could a told it like that, if he
+wasn't."
+
+As soon as his influence was secure, Peter began to affect them in other
+ways. Every fight, every squabble, was investigated, and the blame put
+where it belonged. Then a mandate went forth that profanity was to
+cease: and, though contrary to every instinct and habit, cease it did
+after a time, except for an occasional unconscious slip. "Sporadic
+swearing," Peter called it, and explained what it meant to the children,
+and why he forgave that, while punishing the intentional swearer with
+exclusion 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 that
+which is wrong, and not the mere words or faces." He ran the risk of
+being laughed at, but they didn't laugh, for something in his way of
+talking 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 from
+his office without being greeted with yells of recognition. The elders,
+too, gave him "good-evening" pleasantly and smiled genially. The
+children had naturally told their parents about him of his wonderful
+presents, 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 their
+elders.
+
+"Oh," cried one little four-year-old girl, voicing the unanimous feeling
+of the children, "Mister Peter is just shplendid."
+
+So the elders nodded and smiled when they met him, and he was pretty
+well 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 a
+visit to her, which had left him rather discouraged, because, for the
+first time, she had pleaded with him to abandon his attempt and return
+to his native town. He had only replied that he was not yet prepared to
+acknowledge himself beaten; but the request and his mother's
+disappointment had worried him. While he wrote came a knock at the door,
+and, in response to his "come in," a plain-looking laborer entered and
+stood awkwardly before him.
+
+"What can I do for you?" asked Peter, seeing that he must assist the man
+to state his business.
+
+"If you please, sir," said the man, humbly, "it's Missy. And I hope
+you'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 a
+slight 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 and
+ask you. I hope it's no offence?"
+
+"No." Peter rose, and, passing to the next room, took his hat, and the
+two 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 dead
+already." 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 Matilda
+Blackett.--That was probably "Missy."
+
+A walk of six blocks transferred them to the centre of the tenement
+district. Two flights of stairs brought them to the Blackett's rooms. On
+the table of the first, which was evidently used both as a kitchen and
+sitting-room, already lay a coffin containing a seven-year-old girl.
+Candles burned at the four corners, adding to the bad air and heat. In
+the room beyond, in bed, with a tired-looking woman tending her, lay a
+child of five. Wan and pale as well could be, with perspiration standing
+in great drops on the poor little hot forehead, the hand of death, as it
+so often does, had put something into the face never there before.
+
+"Oh, Mister Peter," the child said, on catching sight of him, "I said
+you'd come."
+
+Peter took his handkerchief and wiped the little head. Then he took a
+newspaper, lying on a chair, twisted it into a rude fan, and began
+fanning 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 the
+little girl who went to the country, and was given a live dove and real
+flowers."
+
+Peter began telling the story as well as he could remember it, but it
+was never finished. For while he talked another little girl went to the
+country, a far country, from which there is no return--and a very
+ordinary little story ended abruptly.
+
+The father and mother took the death very calmly. Peter asked them a few
+questions, and found that there were three other children, the eldest of
+whom was an errand boy, and therefore away. The others, twin babies, had
+been cared for by a woman on the next floor. He asked about money, and
+found that they had not enough to pay the whole expenses of the double
+funeral.
+
+"But the undertaker says he'll do it handsome, and will let the part I
+haven't money for, run, me paying it off in weekly payments," the man
+explained, when Peter expressed some surprise at the evident needless
+expense 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 you
+remember 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 to
+him, "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 something
+wrong with it, the moment I smelt it, but I took some home to make
+sure." 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, not
+understanding a word of it. Peter looked too, when they had satisfied
+their 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 rather
+a strengthening and deepening of his ordinary look.
+
+"That was in the milk drunk by the children?" he asked, placing his
+finger on a particular line.
+
+"Yes," replied the doctor. "The milk was bad to start with, and was
+drugged to conceal the fact. These carbonates sometimes work very
+unevenly, and I presume this particular can of milk got more than its
+share of the doctoring.
+
+"There are almost no glycerides," remarked Peter, wishing to hold the
+doctor 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. But
+the law requires it"
+
+"Won't they investigate?"
+
+"They'll investigate too much. The trouble with them is, they
+investigate, but don't prosecute."
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. He shook hands with the parents, and went
+upstairs to the fourth floor. The crape on a door guided him to where
+Bridget Milligan lay. Here preparations had gone farther. Not merely
+were 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. Peter
+asked a few questions. There was only an elder brother and sister.
+Patrick worked as a porter. Ellen rolled cigars. They had a little money
+laid up. Enough to pay for the funeral. "Mr. Moriarty gave us the whisky
+and beer at half price," the girl explained incidentally. "Thank you,
+sir. We don't need anything." Peter rose to go. "Bridget was often
+speaking 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 this
+morning. Then I suspected the milk at once, and treated them
+accordingly. I've been forty years doing this sort of thing, and it's
+generally the milk. Dr. Sawyer, next door, is a new man, and doesn't get
+hold quite as quick. But he knows more of the science of the thing, and
+can 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 country
+to-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 shall
+all go up for a couple of weeks to my mother's in Massachusetts. They'll
+have plenty of good food there," he explained to the doctor, "grass and
+flowers 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?" Peter
+asked.
+
+"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 hard
+to 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 his
+wall. But he was not thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. He was
+thinking 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 we
+are indiscreet enough to wake, prefer to use as the preface to a further
+two to four hours' nap. He had spent his evening in a freshening of his
+knowledge in certain municipal laws, and other details which he thought
+he might need, and as early as five o clock he was at work in the
+tenement district, asking questions and taking notes. The inquiry took
+little skill The milk had come from the cart of a certain company, which
+passed daily through the locality, not to supply orders, but to peddle
+milk to whoever cared to buy. Peter had the cart pointed out that
+morning, but, beyond making a note of the exact name of the company, he
+paid no attention to it. He was aiming at bigger game than a milk cart
+or its driver.
+
+His work was interrupted only by his taking Mrs. Dooley and the two
+children to the train. That done, Peter walked northwardly and
+westwardly, till he had nearly reached the river front. It took some
+little inquiry, but after a while he stumbled on a small shanty which
+had a sign:
+
+NATIONAL MILK COMPANY.
+
+OFFICE.
+
+The place, however, was closed and no one around seemed connected with
+it, though a number of milk carts were standing about. Close to these
+was a long line of sheds, which in turn backed up against a great
+brewery. A couple of men lounged at the door of the sheds. Peter walked
+up to them, and asked if they could tell him where he could find any one
+connected with the milk company.
+
+"The boss is off for lunch," said one. "I can take an order, if that's
+what you want."
+
+Peter said it was not an order, and began chatting with the men. Before
+he 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 Milk
+Company?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," said the man, "and we have orders--"
+
+Peter usually let a little pause occur after a remark to him, but in
+this 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 what
+I'm about." Then he walked after the other two men as rapidly as the
+dimness permitted. The employee scratched his head, and then followed.
+
+Dim as the light was, Peter could discern that he was passing between
+two rows of cows, with not more than space enough for men to pass each
+other between the rows. It was filthy, and very warm, and there was a
+peculiar smell in the air which Peter did not associate with a cow
+stable. It was a kind of vapor which brought some suggestion to his
+mind, 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 the
+ground. That it was dead was plain. But what most interested Peter,
+although he felt a shudder of horror at the sight, were the rotted tail
+and 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 their
+havin' 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, and
+speaking in a voice that made the man step back. A terrible feeling was
+welling up in Peter's heart. He thought of the poor little
+fever-stricken children. He saw the poor fever-stricken cow. He would
+like 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 ringing
+very clear.
+
+The lantern was passed to him, and taking it, he walked along the line
+of cows. He saw several with sores more or less developed. One or two he
+saw in the advanced stages of the disease, where the tail had begun to
+rot away. The other men followed him on his tour of inspection, and
+whispered together nervously. It did not take Peter long to examine all
+he wanted to see. Handing back the lantern at the door, he said: "Give
+me your names."
+
+The men looked nonplussed, and shifted their weights uneasily from leg
+to 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. He
+then went to the "office" of the company, which was now opened.
+
+"Is this an incorporated company?" he asked of the man tilted back in a
+chair.
+
+"No," said the man, adding two chair legs to terra firma, and looking at
+Peter 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 criminal
+prosecution."
+
+"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 or
+your 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 run
+down, and as I'm not after the rest of you, you will only get him a few
+days 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, it
+shan't cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well, you'll
+probably 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 "coort
+case" promised to give them prestige far beyond what even these
+distinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter, and
+warrants were sworn to and issued against the "boss" as principal, and
+the driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on the
+following morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night,
+nothing else was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in the
+neighborhood. Even Mrs. Blackett and Ellen Milligan forgot their grief,
+and held a joint _soiree_ 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" as
+could crush their way in, were in court by nine o'clock. The plaintiffs
+and their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of the
+proceedings. The examinations were purely formal except in one instance,
+when Peter asked for the "name or names of the owner or owners" of the
+National Milk Company. Here the defendant's attorney, a shrewd criminal
+lawyer, interfered, and there was a sharp passage at arms, in which an
+attempt was made to anger Peter. But he kept his head, and in the end
+carried his point. The owner turned out to be the proprietor of the
+brewery, as Peter had surmised, who thus utilized the mash from his vats
+in feeding cattle. But on Peter's asking for an additional warrant
+against him, the defendant's lawyer succeeded in proving, if the
+statement of the overseer proved it, that the brewer was quite ignorant
+that the milk sold in the "district" was what had been unsalable the day
+before to better customers, and that the skimming and doctoring of it
+was unknown to him. So an attempt to punish the rich man as a criminal
+was futile. He could afford to pay for straw men.
+
+"Arrah!" said Dooley to Peter as they passed out of the court, "Oi think
+ye moight have given them a bit av yer moind."
+
+"Wait till the trial," said Peter. "We mustn't use up our powder on the
+skirmish line."
+
+So the word was passed through the district that "theer'd be fun at the
+rale trial," and it was awaited with intense interest by five thousand
+people.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+NEW YORK JUSTICE.
+
+
+Peter saw the District Attorney the next morning for a few moments, and
+handed over to him certain memoranda of details that had not appeared in
+the committing court's record.
+
+"It shall go before the grand jury day after to-morrow," that official
+told 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 witnesses
+are away, and I want to have them back in time."
+
+"Probably a couple of weeks," yawned the man, and Peter, taking the
+hint, departed.
+
+The rest of the morning was spent in drawing up the papers in three
+civil suits against the rich brewer. Peter filed them as soon as
+completed, and took the necessary steps for their prompt service.
+
+These produced an almost immediate result, in the shape of a call the
+next morning from the same lawyer who had defended the milkmen in the
+preliminary examination. Peter, as he returned from his midday meal, met
+the 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 of
+satisfaction 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 to
+trial."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And we take it for granted that your clients will be quite willing to
+settle 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 thus
+be 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 ever
+tried, which it won't be."
+
+Peter eyed Dummer without changing a muscle. "The District Attorney
+told me that it ought to be in the courts in a couple of weeks."
+
+Dummer smiled blandly, and slowly closed one eye. "The District Attorney
+tries to tell the truth," he said, "and I have no doubt he thought that
+was what he was telling you. Now, name your figure?"
+
+"The civil suits will not be compromised till the criminal one is
+finished."
+
+"But I tell you the criminal one is dead. Squashed. Bohlmann and I have
+seen the right people, and they've seen the District Attorney. That case
+won't even go to the grand jury. So now, drop it, and say what you'll
+settle the civil suits for?"
+
+"James Coldman shall go to prison for killing those children," said
+Peter, "and till he does, it is waste time to talk of dropping or
+settling anything."
+
+"Humph," half laughed the lawyer, though with obvious disgust at the
+mulishness in Peter's face and voice. "You think you know it all. But
+you don't. You can work for ten years, and that case will be no nearer
+trial than it is to-day. I tell you, young man, you don't know New
+York."
+
+"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, and
+inquired 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 brought
+face to face with the acting official.
+
+"Mr. Nelson told me he should present the Coldman case to the grand jury
+to-day, and finding he has left the city, I wish to know who has it in
+charge?" asked Peter.
+
+"He left all the presentments with me," the deputy replied, "but there
+was 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 certain
+sections. 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 the
+eyes were sad, the heavy jaw had a rigidness and setness which gave no
+indication 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. Peter
+came 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 see
+man after man ushered into the private office, and finally to be told
+that the District Attorney had gone to lunch, and would not return that
+day. The man who told him this grinned, and evidently considered it a
+good joke, nor had Peter been unconscious that all the morning the
+clerks 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, and
+went to see him that evening. He was wise enough not to send in his
+name, 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 never
+talk business except in business hours."
+
+"I have tried to see you--" began Peter.
+
+"Try some more," interrupted the man, smiling, and going toward the
+parlor.
+
+Peter followed him, calmly. "Mr. Nelson," he said, "do you intend to
+push that case?"
+
+"Of course," smiled Nelson. "After I've finished four hundred
+indictments 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 you
+there are indictments which have been in my office for five years and
+are 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 was
+about 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 in
+politics, and so does Mr. Bohlmann. If you'll tell me what you are
+after, 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 it
+alone, 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 formal
+letter to the District Attorney, calling his attention to the case, and
+asking information as to when it would be brought to trial. Then he
+copied this, and mailed the original. Then he read the Code again. After
+that he went over the New York reports, making notes. For a second time
+the morning sun found Peter still at his desk. But this time his head
+was not bowed upon his blotter, as if he were beaten or dead. His whole
+figure 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 the
+District-Attorney, was a mere formal reiteration of that officer's
+verbal statement, that the case would be taken up in its due order,
+after those which preceded it had been dealt with. Peter knew enough of
+the numberless cases which never reach trial to understand that this
+meant in truth, the laying aside of the case, till it was killed by the
+statute of limitations.
+
+On receiving this reply, Peter made another move, by going to three
+newspapers, and trying to see their managing editors. One declined to
+see him. A second merely told Peter, after his statement, which the
+editor only allowed him partly to explain, that he was very busy and
+could not take time to look into it, but that Peter might come again in
+about a month. The third let Peter tell his story, and then shook his
+head:
+
+"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 we
+begin an attack now, it will simply fall flat. If you can get us a
+written statement from the District Attorney that he doesn't intend to
+push the case, we can do something, but I suppose he's far too shrewd to
+commit himself."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then there's no use in beginning an attack, for you really have no
+powder. Come in again a year from now, and then we may be able to say
+something, if he hasn't acted in the meantime."
+
+Peter left the office, knowing that that chance of pressure was gone. If
+the papers of the Republican party would not use it, it was idle
+spending time in seeing or trying to see the editors of the Democratic
+papers. 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 train
+for Albany. He was going to play his last card, with the odds of a
+thousand to one against his winning. But that very fact only nerved him
+the more.
+
+Promptly at ten o'clock, the morning after his arrival at the state
+capital, he sent in his card to the Governor. Fortunately for him, the
+middle of August is not a busy time with that official, and after a
+slight delay, he was ushered into the executive chamber.
+
+Peter had been planning this interview for hours, and without
+explanation or preamble, he commenced his statement. He knew that he
+must interest the Governor promptly, or there would be a good chance of
+his 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 both
+rapidly, not taking three minutes to do it, but had he been pleading for
+his 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 his
+back to Peter. And after Peter had ended his account, he remained so for
+a moment. That back was very expressive to Peter. For the first time he
+felt vanquished.
+
+But suddenly the Governor turned, and Peter saw tears on his cheek. And
+he said, after a big swallow, "What do you want of me?" in a voice that
+meant 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 his
+interviews with the District Attorney and with Dummer, in the clearest
+and 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 District
+Attorney, but it must be for cause, and I do not see that you can
+absolutely prove his non intention to prosecute those scoundrels."
+
+"That is true. After study, I did not see that you could remove him. But
+there's another remedy."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Through the State Attorney you can appoint a special counsel for this
+case."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+Peter laid one of the papers in his hands before the Governor. After
+reading it, the Governor rang a bell.
+
+"Send for Mr. Miller," he said to the boy. Then he turned, and with
+Peter went over the court papers, till Mr. Miller put in an appearance.
+
+"State the matter to Mr. Miller," said the Governor, and Peter read his
+paper again and told what he wished.
+
+"The power unquestionably exists," said the Attorney-General. "But it
+has not been used in many years. Perhaps I had better look into it a
+bit."
+
+"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 far
+more, as he shook hands. He went out with the first look of hope his
+face had worn for two years.
+
+The ground which the Attorney-General and his subordinates had to
+traverse was that over which Peter had so well travelled already, that
+he felt very much at home, while his notes indeed aided the study, and
+were doubly welcomed, because the summer season had drained the office
+of its underlings. Half as assistant, and half as principal, he worked
+till three o'clock, with pleasure that grew, as he saw that the opinion
+of the Attorney-General seemed to agree more and more with his own. Then
+they returned to the Governor, to whom the Attorney-General gave his
+opinion that his present conclusion was that the Governor could empower
+him, or some appointee, to prosecute the case.
+
+"Well," said the Governor, "I'm glad you think so. But if we find that
+it isn't possible, Mr. Stirling, I'll have a letter written to the
+District 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 Governor
+asked, "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 my
+mouth as no one has done in years. Now, I must get word to some of the
+people in New York to find out who he is, and if this case has any
+concealed boomerang in it."
+
+The dinner was a very quiet one with only the Governor and his wife. The
+former must have told his better-half something about Peter, for she
+studied him with a very kind look in her face, and prosaic and silent as
+Peter was, she did not seem bored. After the dinner was eaten, and some
+one called to talk politics with the Governor, she took Peter off to
+another room, and made him tell her about the whole case, and how he
+came to take it up, and why he had come to the Governor for help. She
+cried over it, and after Peter had gone, she went upstairs and looked at
+her own two sleeping boys, quite large enough to fight the world on
+their own account, but still little children to the mother's heart, and
+had another cry over them. She went downstairs later to the Governor's
+study, 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 scoundrels
+punished, and let him do it."
+
+The Governor only laughed; but he pushed back his work, and his wife sat
+down, and told of her admiration and sympathy for Peter's fight. There
+was a bad time ahead for the criminal and his backers. They might have
+political 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 the
+under-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 on
+the part of the State, and dreaming of nothing better. But better came,
+for only five days after his return his mail brought him a large
+envelope, and inside that envelope was a special commission, which made
+Peter a deputy of the Attorney-General, to prosecute in the Court of
+Sessions, 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 the
+purely formal instrument, he would not have called it dull or heavy. For
+Peter knew that he had won; that in place of justice blocking and
+hindering him, every barrier was crushed down; that this prosecution
+rested with no officials, but was for him to push; that that little
+piece of parchment bound every court to support him; that if necessary
+fifty thousand troops would enforce the power which granted it. Within
+three hours, the first formal steps to place the case in the courts had
+been taken, and Peter was working at the evidence and law in the matter.
+
+These steps produced a prompt call from Dummer, who showed considerably
+less assurance than hitherto, even though he tried to take Peter's
+success jauntily. He wanted Peter to drop the whole thing, and hinted at
+large sums of money, but Peter at first did not notice his hints, and
+finally told him that the case should be tried. Then Dummer pleaded for
+delay. Peter was equally obdurate. Later they had a contest in the court
+over this. But Peter argued in a quiet way, which nevertheless caught
+the attention of the judge, who ended the dispute by refusing to
+postpone. The judge hadn't intended to act in this way, and was rather
+surprised 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 the
+Governor himself--pressure which required backbone to resist. But he
+stood by his act: perhaps because he belonged to a different party than
+that in control of the city government; perhaps because of Peter's
+account, and the truthfulness in his face as he told it; perhaps because
+the Attorney-General had found it legal; perhaps because of his wife;
+perhaps it was a blending of all these. Certain it is, that all attempts
+to block failed, and in the last week in August it came before the
+court.
+
+Peter had kept his clients informed as to his struggles, and they were
+tremendously proud of the big battle and ultimate success, as indeed
+were the residents of the whole district, who felt that it was really
+their own case. Then the politicians were furious and excited over it,
+while the almost unexampled act of the Governor had created a good deal
+of public interest in the case. So the court was packed and the press
+had reporters in attendance. Since the trial was fully reported, it is
+needless to go over the testimony here. What Peter could bring out, is
+already known. The defence, by "experts," endeavored to prove that the
+cowsheds were not in a really unhygienic condition; that feeding cows on
+"mash" did not affect their milk, nor did mere "skin sores;" that the
+milk had been sold by mistake, in ignorance that it was thirty-six hours
+old, and skimmed; and that the proof of this particular milk being the
+cause of the deaths was extremely inadequate and doubtful. The only
+dramatic incident in the testimony was the putting the two little
+Dooleys (who had returned in fat and rosy condition, the day before) on
+the stand.
+
+"Did you find country milk different from what you have here?" Peter
+asked the youngest.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said. "Here it comes from a cart, but in the country it
+squirts 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 cow
+milk 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 spoke
+quietly, in the simplest language, using few adjectives and no
+invective. But as the girl at the Pierces' dinner had said, "he
+describes things so that one sees them." He told of the fever-stricken
+cows, and he told of the little fever-stricken children in such a way
+that the audience sobbed; his clients almost had to be ordered out of
+court; the man next Dummer mopped his eyes with his handkerchief; the
+judge and jury thoughtfully covered their eyes (so as to think the
+better); the reporters found difficulty (owing to the glary light), in
+writing the words despite their determination not to miss one; and even
+the prisoner wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Peter was unconscious that he
+was making a great speech; great in its simplicity, and great in its
+pathos. He afterwards said he had not given it a moment's thought and
+had merely said what he felt. Perhaps his conclusion indicated why he
+was able to speak with the feeling he did. For he said:
+
+"This is not merely the case of the State _versus_ James Goldman. It is
+the case of the tenement-house children, against the inhumanity of man's
+greed."
+
+Dummer whispered to the man next him, "There's no good. He's done for
+us." Then he rose, and made a clever defence. He knew it was wasting his
+time. The judge charged against him, and the jury gave the full verdict:
+"Man-slaughter in the first degree." Except for the desire for it, the
+sentence created little stir. Every one was still feeling and thinking
+of 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 the
+residents of it made their feelings most manifest, for they organized a
+torchlight procession that night, and went round and made Peter an
+address of thanks. Mr. Dennis Moriarty being the spokesman. The judge
+shook hands with him after the trial, and said that he had handled his
+case well. The defendant's lawyer told him he "knew his business." A
+number of the reporters sought a few words with him, and blended praise
+with questions.
+
+The reporters did far more than this, however. It was the dull newspaper
+season, and the case had turned out to be a thoroughly "journalistic"
+one. So they questioned and interviewed every one concerned, and after
+cleverly winnowing the chaff, which in this case meant the dull, from
+the gleanings, most of them gave several columns the next morning to the
+story. Peter's speech was printed in full, and proved to read almost as
+well as it had sounded. The reporters were told, and repeated the tales
+without much attempt at verification, that Peter had taken the matter up
+without hope of profit; had paid the costs out of his own pocket; had
+refused to settle "though offered nine thousand dollars:" had "saved the
+Dooley children's lives by sending them into the country;" and "had paid
+for the burials of the little victims." So all gave him a puff, and two
+of the better sort wrote really fine editorials about him. At election
+time, or any other than a dull season, the case would have had small
+attention, but August is the month, to reverse an old adage, when "any
+news is good news."
+
+The press began, too, a crusade against the swill-milk dealers, and the
+men who had allowed all this to be possible. "What is the Health Board
+about, that poison for children can be sold in the public streets?"
+"Where is the District Attorney, that prosecutions for the public good
+have to be brought by public-spirited citizens?" they demanded.
+Lynx-eyed reporters tracked the milk-supplies of the city, and though
+the alarm had been given, and many cows had been hastily sent to the
+country, they were able to show up certain companies, and print details
+which were quite lurid enough, when sufficiently "colored" by their
+skilful pens. Most residents of New York can remember the "swill-milk"
+or "stump-tail milk" exposures and prosecutions of that summer, and of
+the reformation brought about thereby in the Board of Health. As the
+details are not pleasant reading, any one who does not remember is
+referred to the daily press, and, if they want horrible pictures, to
+Frank Leslie's Illustrated Weekly. Except for the papers, it is to be
+questioned if Peter's case would have resulted in much more than the
+punishment of the man actually convicted; but by the press taking the
+matter up, the moment's indignation was deepened and intensified to a
+degree which well-nigh swept every cow-stable off the island, and drove
+the proper officials into an activity leading to great reforms.
+
+No one was more surprised than Peter, at the sudden notoriety, or at the
+far-reaching results. He collected the articles, and sent them to his
+mother. 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 every
+line of the case, and of the subsequent crusade. She read Peter's speech
+again and again, stopping to sob at intervals, and hugging the clipping
+to her bosom from time to time, as the best equivalent for Peter, while
+sobbing: "My boy, my darling boy." Every one in the mill-town knew of
+it, and the clippings were passed round among Peter's friends, beginning
+with the clergyman and ending with his school-boy companions. They all
+wondered 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 of
+hours." Mrs. Stirling herself wished it had been longer. Four columns of
+evidence, and only a little over a half column of speech! It couldn't
+have taken him twenty minutes at the most. "Even the other lawyer, who
+had nothing to say but lies, took over a column to his speech. And his
+was 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, on
+the part of the Metropolitan press. She had promptly subscribed for a
+year to the New York paper which glorified Peter the most, supposing
+that from this time on his name would appear on the front page. When she
+found it did not and that it was not mentioned in the press and Health
+Board crusade against the other "swill-milk" dealers, she became
+convinced that there was some definite attempt to rob Peter of his due
+fame. "Why, Peter began it all," she explained, "and now the papers and
+Health Board pretend it's all their doings." She wrote a letter to the
+editor of the paper--a letter which was passed round the office, and
+laughed 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 right
+evidence out of your witnesses, and not a bit of superfluous rubbish.
+That's the mistake most young men make. They bury their testimony in
+unessential details, I tell you, those two children were worth all the
+rest put together. Did you send them to the country on purpose to get
+that kind of evidence?"
+
+"No," said Peter.
+
+"Well, every man in that jury was probably a father, and that child's
+talk took right hold of them. Not but that your speech would have done
+the business. You were mighty clever in just telling what you saw, and
+not going into the testimony. You could safely trust the judge to do
+that. It was a great speech."
+
+"Thank you," said Peter.
+
+"He's not to be taffied," thought the lawyer. "Plain talking's the way
+to 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 any
+further. Mr. Bohlmann's a man of respectability, with a nice wife and
+some daughters. The newspapers are giving him quite enough music without
+your 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, and
+if you ask your clergyman--for I believe you go to Dr. Purple's
+church?--you'll find he's very charitable and generous with his money."
+
+Peter smiled curiously. "Distributing money made that way is not much of
+a charity."
+
+"He didn't know," said the lawyer. Then catching a look which came into
+Peter's face, he instantly added, "at least, he had no idea it was that
+bad. He tells me that he hadn't been inside those cow-sheds for four
+years."
+
+"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 how
+this whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling. It must be
+terrible 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 notice
+young girls--that for some reason they had not interested him
+since--since--
+
+"Where does he live?" inquired Peter.
+
+"Not ten blocks from here," replied Dr. Purple, and named the street and
+number.
+
+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 and
+carried 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 one
+of the "nice" daughters. His arrival checked the flow of conversation
+somewhat, but they went on comparing their summer experiences. When the
+butler came back and said aloud, "Mr. Bohlmann will see you in the
+library, Mr. Stirling," Peter noticed that both girls turned impulsively
+to look at him, and that the daughter flushed red.
+
+He found Mr. Bohlmann standing uneasily on the rug by the fireplace, and
+a 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 sitting
+himself.
+
+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 were
+tears 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 into
+tears. "I give you my word, Mr. Stirling," he said, "that I didn't know
+it was so. I haven't had a happy moment since you spoke that day in
+court." 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 face
+in his arms. His wife, who was also weeping, crossed to him, and tried
+to 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 a
+check-book, and filling up a check, handed it to Peter. It was dated and
+signed, but the amount was left blank. "There," he said, "I leave it to
+you what is right."
+
+"I think Mr. Dummer will feel we have not treated him fairly," said
+Peter, "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 my
+daughters--" 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 five
+thousand 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 you
+to fill in the check for eight thousand dollars. That will be two each
+for three, and one each for two."
+
+Mr. Bohlmann disengaged himself from his wife, and took his pen. "You do
+not add your fee," he said.
+
+"I forgot it," laughed Peter, and the couple laughed with him in their
+happiness. "Make it for eight thousand, two hundred and fifty."
+
+"Och," said the brewer once more resuming his English. "Dat is too
+leedle for vive cases."
+
+"No," said Peter. "It was what I had decided to charge in case I got any
+damages."
+
+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 a
+note by his morning's mail. Except for his mother's weekly letter, it
+was 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 came
+into 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 he
+tore the envelope with little interest in his face. Indeed after he had
+opened it, he looked at his wall for a moment before he fixed his mind
+on 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 hundred
+dollars. He laid it on his desk, and read the note over again. It was
+beyond question written by a lady. Every earmark showed that, from the
+delicate scent of the paper, to the fine, even handwriting. Peter wanted
+to know who she was. He looked at the check to see by whom it was
+signed; to find that it was drawn by the cashier of the bank at which it
+was payable.
+
+Half an hour later, a rapid walk had brought him to the bank the name of
+which was on the check. It was an uptown one, which made a specialty of
+family and women's accounts. Peter asked for the cashier.
+
+"I've called about this check," he said, when that official
+materialized, handing the slip of paper to him.
+
+"Yes," said the cashier kindly, though with a touch of the resigned
+sorrow in his voice which cashiers of "family's" and women's banks
+acquire. "You must sign your name on the back, on the left-hand end, and
+present it to the paying-teller, over at that window. You'll have to be
+identified if the paying-teller doesn't know you."
+
+"I don't want the money," said Peter, "I want to know who sent the check
+to me?"
+
+The cashier looked at it more carefully. "Oh!" he said. Then he looked
+up 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 to
+see 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 to
+see 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 the
+person 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 will
+not be cashed till Mr. Stirling has been able to explain something to
+her."
+
+"Certainly. She can't object to that."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"Not at all." The president rose and escorted him to the door. "That was
+a splendid speech of yours, Mr. Stirling," he added. "I'm not a bit
+ashamed 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 same
+handwriting 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 he
+was so cool over his intended call. In a few minutes he would be in the
+presence of a lady, the firmness of whose handwriting indicated that she
+was not yet decrepit. Three years ago such a prospect would have been
+replete with terror to him. Down to that--that week at the Pierce's, he
+had never gone to a place where he expected to "encounter" (for that was
+the word he formerly used) women without dread. Since that week--except
+for the twenty-four hours of the wedding, he had not "encountered" a
+lady. Yet here he was, going to meet an entire stranger without any
+conscious embarrassment or suffering. He was even in a sense curious.
+Peter was not given to self-analysis, but the change was too marked a
+one for him to be unconscious of it. Was it merely the poise of added
+years? Was it that he had ceased to care what women thought of him? Or
+was it that his discovery that a girl was lovable had made the sex less
+terrible 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 still
+shrouded in summer coverings, preventing Peter from inferring much, even
+if 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 an
+inference, the rustle of a woman's draperies was heard. Rising, Peter
+found himself facing a tall, rather slender woman of between thirty-five
+and forty. It did not need a second glance from even Peter's untrained
+eye, to realize the suggestion of breeding in the whole atmosphere about
+her. The gown was of the simplest summer material, but its very
+simplicity, and a certain lack of "latest fashion" rather than
+"old-fashionedness" gave it a quality of respectability. Every line of
+the 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 a
+low, mellow voice, by no means so common then as our women's imitation
+of the English tone and inflexion has since made it, "for suiting your
+time to mine on such short notice."
+
+"You were very kind," said Peter, "to comply with my request. Any time
+was 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. I
+thank you for both. But I think you probably sent me the latter through
+a 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 'poor
+young lawyer' as they said. My mother is comfortably off, and gives me
+an ample allowance."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And what is more," continued Peter, "while they were right in saying
+that I paid some of the expenses of the case, yet I was more than repaid
+by my fees in some civil suits I brought for the relatives of the
+children, which we settled very advantageously."
+
+"Won't you sit down, Mr. Stirling?" said Miss De Voe. "I should like to
+hear about the cases."
+
+Peter began a very simple narrative of the matter. But Miss De Voe
+interjected questions or suppositions here and there, which led to other
+explanations, and before Peter had finished, he had told not merely the
+history of the cases, but much else. His mention of the two Dooley
+children had brought out the fact of their visit to his mother, and this
+had explained incidentally her position in the world. The settlement of
+the cases involved the story of the visit to the brewer's home, and
+Peter, to justify his action, added his interview with his pastor,
+Peter's connection with the case compelled him to speak of his evenings
+in the "angle," and the solitary life that had sent him there.
+Afterwards, Peter was rather surprised at how much he had told. He did
+not realize that a woman with tact and experience can, without making it
+evident, lead a man to tell nearly anything and everything he knows, if
+she is so minded. If women ever really take to the bar seriously, may
+Providence protect the average being in trousers, when on the witness
+stand.
+
+As Peter talked, a clock struck. Stopping short, he rose. "I must ask
+your 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 see
+that I have made a very good thing out of the whole matter and do not
+need this."
+
+"One moment, Mr. Stirling," said the lady, still sitting. "Can you spare
+the time to lunch with me? We will sit down at once, and you shall be
+free to go whenever you wish."
+
+Peter hesitated. He knew that he had the time, and it did not seem easy
+to refuse without giving an excuse, which he did not have. Yet he did
+not feel that he had the right to accept an invitation which he had
+perhaps necessitated by his long call.
+
+"Thank you," said his hostess, before he had been able to frame an
+answer. "May I trouble you to pull that bell?"
+
+Peter pulled the bell, and coming back, tendered the check rather
+awkwardly 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 has
+really affected the circumstances which led me to send that check. You
+acknowledge yourself that you are the poorer for that prosecution, and
+received no fees for trying it. As I wrote you, I merely was giving a
+retaining fee in that case, and as none other has been given, I still
+wish to do it. I cannot do such things myself, but I am weal--I--I can
+well afford to aid others to do them, and I hope you will let me have
+the 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 I
+was 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 the
+one to say 'thank you,' and I am most grateful. But we will consider
+that as ended, and discuss luncheon in its place."
+
+Peter, despite his usual unconsciousness could not but notice the beauty
+of the table service. The meal itself was the simplest of summer
+luncheons, but the silver and china and glass were such as he had never
+seen before.
+
+"What wine will you have with your luncheon, Mr. Stirling?" he was asked
+by 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 is
+really no deprivation to me, while it would mean great anxiety to her if
+I drank."
+
+This started the conversation on Peter's mother and his early years, and
+before it had ended, his hostess had succeeded in learning much more
+about his origin and his New York life. The clock finally cut him short
+again, 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 other
+cause 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. I
+leave town to-morrow, Mr. Stirling, but return to the city late in
+October, and if your work and inclination favor it, I hope you will come
+to 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 me
+word that you wish to see me."
+
+Miss De Voe had slightly caught her breath while Peter hesitated. "I
+believe he is going to refuse!" she thought to herself, a sort of
+stunned amazement seizing her. She was scarcely less surprised at his
+reply.
+
+"I never ask a man twice to call on me, Mr. Stirling," she said, with a
+slight hauteur in her voice.
+
+"I'm sorry for that," said Peter quietly.
+
+Miss De Voe caught her breath again. "Good-afternoon," she said, holding
+out her hand. "I shall hope to see you."
+
+"Good-bye," said Peter, and the next moment was walking towards his
+office.
+
+Miss De Voe stood for a moment thinking. "That was curious," she
+thought, "I wonder if he intends to come?"
+
+The next evening she was dining with relatives in one of the fashionable
+summering 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 to
+be buried under a bathos of thanks, or else have my gift declined with
+the expectation that I would gush over the disinterestedness of the
+refusal. Since I couldn't well avoid seeing him, I was quite prepared to
+snub him, or to take back the money without a word. But he wasn't a bit
+that kind of creature. He isn't self-assured nor tonguey--rather the
+reverse. I liked him so, that I forced him to stay to luncheon, and made
+him tell me a good deal about himself, without his knowing I was doing
+so. He leads a very unusual life, without seeming conscious that he
+does, and he tells about it very well. Uses just the right word every
+time, so that you know exactly what he means, without taxing your own
+brain to fill up blanks. He has such a nice voice too. One that makes
+you 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 too
+heavy."
+
+"Is he a gentleman, cousin Anneke?" asked one of the party.
+
+"He is a little awkward, and over-blunt at moments, but nothing to which
+one would give a second thought. I was so pleased with him that I asked
+him 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 all
+sure that he means to come. It was really refreshing not to be truckled
+to, but it is rather startling to meet the first man who does not want
+to win his way to my visiting list. I don't think he even knows who Miss
+De Voe is."
+
+"He will find out quick enough," laughed a girl, "and then he will do
+what they all do."
+
+"No," said Miss De Voe. "I suspect it will make no difference. He isn't
+that kind, I think. I really am curious to see if I have to ask him a
+second time. It will be the only case I can remember. I'm afraid, my
+dears, your cousin is getting to be an old woman."
+
+Peter, had in truth, met, and spent over four hours in the company of a
+woman whom every one wished to know. A woman equally famous for her
+lineage, her social position, her wealth and her philanthropy. It would
+not have made any difference, probably, had he known it, though it might
+have increased his awkwardness a little. That he was not quite as
+unconscious as Miss De Voe seemed to think, is shown by a passage in a
+letter 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 of
+the cases, and told them of their good fortune. They each had a look at
+Bohlmann'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 the
+children."
+
+"That it does," said Mrs. Dooley, quite willing to deprive her husband
+of 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 put
+it in the savings bank. "Perhaps later we'll find something better."
+They all went around to a well-known institution on the Bowery, and
+Peter interviewed the cashier. It proved feasible to endorse over the
+check 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 the
+president, who had been called into the consultation.
+
+"Very well," said Peter. "I shall want some of it before long, but the
+rest will be very well off here." So a book was handed him, and the
+president shook him by the hand with all the warmth that eight thousand
+two hundred and fifty dollars of increased assets and four new
+depositors 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 spoken
+in connection with the half-price drinks for the Milligan wake, and as
+spokesman 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 not
+know Mr. Moriarty's name, never having had it given him, but he placed
+him instantly.
+
+"Thank you," said Peter, holding out his hand. Peter did not usually
+shake hands in meeting people, but he liked the man's face. It would
+never take a prize for beauty. The hair verged on a fiery red, the nose
+was a real sky-scraper and the upper lip was almost proboscidian in
+its length. But every one liked the face.
+
+"It's proud Oi'm bein' shakin' the hand av Misther Stirling," said the
+Irishman.
+
+"Sit down," said Peter.
+
+"My name's Moriarty, sir, Dinnis Moriarty, an' Oi keeps a saloon near
+Centre Street, beyant."
+
+"You were round here in the procession."
+
+"Oi was, sir. Shure, Oi'm not much at a speech, compared to the likes av
+yez, 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 Justice
+Gallagher 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 the
+caretaker really, the brewer having an assignment of the lease and a
+chattel mortgage on your fixtures and stock."
+
+"That's it," said Dennis. "It's mighty quick yez got at it. It's
+caretaker Oi am, an' a divil of a care it is. Shure, who wants to work
+seven 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's
+little 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 never
+let me sell anythin' else."
+
+"Then Edelhein is really the principal, and you are only put in to keep
+him 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 one
+sellin' his beer could help bein' fined!"
+
+"How is that?" said Peter, inferring that selling poor beer was a
+finable offence, yet ignorant of the statute.
+
+"Why yez see, sir, the b'ys don't like that beer--an' sensible they
+are--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's
+little Oi can do at the primary, an' so it's no pull Oi have in
+politics, to get the perlice an' the joodges to be easy wid me, like
+they are to the rest."
+
+Peter studied his blank wall a bit.
+
+"Shure, if it's good beer Oi had," continued Moriarty, "Oi'd be afther
+beatin' them all, for Oi was always popular wid the b'ys, on account of
+my 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' then
+Oi'd lose my influence at the primary."
+
+"What kind of beer does Mr. Bohlmann make?" asked Peter, somewhat
+irrelevantly.
+
+"Ah," said Moriarty, "that's the fine honest beer! There's never
+anythin' wrong wid his. An' he treats his keepers fair. Lets them do as
+they want about keepin' open Sundays, an' never squeezes a man when he's
+down 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 that
+clause 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 did
+not like either saloon-keepers or law-breakers, but this case seemed to
+him to have--to have--extenuating circumstances. His cogitations
+finally resulted in his going to Justice Gallagher's court. He found the
+judge rather curt.
+
+"He's been up here three times in as many months, and I intend to make
+an example of him."
+
+"But why is only he arrested, when every saloon keeper in the
+neighborhood does the same thing?"
+
+"Now, sir," said the judge, "don't waste any more of my time. What's the
+next case?"
+
+A look we have mentioned once or twice came into Peter's face. He
+started to leave the court, but encountered at the door one of the
+policemen whom he was "friends with," according to the children, which
+meant 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 had
+orders."
+
+"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 has
+the 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. Then
+he 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 to
+remit Dennis Moriarty's fine?"
+
+"Will I? No. I will not. Der's too many saloons, and one less will be
+bully."
+
+"In that case," said Peter quietly, "I suppose you won't mind my closing
+yours 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 his
+shoulders 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 fight
+on 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 telling
+him the result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made the
+other 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 between
+the 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 turn
+for 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 told
+him the story, asking his advice at the end.
+
+"Dondt you vool von minute mit dod Edelheim. I dells you vot I do. I
+harf choost a blace vacant down in Zender Streed, and your frient he
+shall it haf."
+
+So they chatted till all the details had been arranged. Dennis was to go
+in as caretaker, bound to use only Bohlmann's beer, with a percentage on
+that, and the profits on all else. He was to pay the rent, receiving a
+sub-lease from Bohlmann, who was only a lesee himself, and to give a
+chattel mortgage on the stock supplied him. Finally he was to have the
+right of redemption of stock, lease, and good-will at any time within
+five years, on making certain payments.
+
+"You draw up der babers, Misder Stirling, and send der bill to me. Ve
+vill give der yoonger a chance," the brewer said.
+
+When Dennis called the next day, he was "spacheless" at the new
+developments. He wrung Peter's hand.
+
+"Arrah, what can Oi say to yez?" he exclaimed finally. Then having found
+something, he quickly continued: "Now, Patsy Blunkers, lookout for
+yezself. 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 "celebrate
+the 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's
+myself can do the hittin', an' the b'ys know it."
+
+"My mother brought me up," Peter explained, "not to go into saloons, and
+when I came to New York I promised her, if I ever did anything she had
+taught me not to, that I would write her about it. She would hardly
+understand this visit, and it might make her very unhappy."
+
+Peter earned fifty dollars by drawing the papers, and at the end of the
+first 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, having
+recouped 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. The
+winter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadily
+growing acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July a
+new 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, with
+his 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 the
+primary?"
+
+"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 enormous
+proportions, "Oi suppose yez afther thinkin' Oi'm a dirty black
+Republican."
+
+Peter laughed, as few could help doing, when Dennis led the way. "Look
+here, Dennis," he said, "don't you run down that party. My father was a
+Democrat, but he voted for Lincoln, and fought for the blacks when the
+time came, and though I'm a Democrat like him, the Republicans are only
+black in their sympathies, and not in their acts."
+
+"An' what do yez say to the whisky frauds, an' black Friday, an' credit
+mobilier?" 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. Yet
+he's an honest man."
+
+Dennis scratched his head. "It's a convincin' way yez have wid yez," he
+said; "but it's scoundrels the Republicans are, all the same. Look at
+them in the district; there's not one a decent man would invite to drink
+wid him."
+
+"I think, Dennis," said Peter, "that when all the decent men get into
+one party, there'll be only one worth talking about."
+
+"Av course," replied Dennis. "That's the reason there's only the
+Democratic party in New York City."
+
+"Tell me about this primary," said Peter, concluding that abstract
+political philosophy was not the way to liberalize Dennis.
+
+"It's most important, it is," he was told, "it's on top Patsy Blunkers
+an' his gang av dirty spalpeens (Dennis seemed to forget that he had
+just expressed the opinion that all the "decent" men were Democrats)
+have been this two years, but we've got orders for a new enrollment at
+last, an' if we don't knock them this time, my name isn't Dinnis
+Moriarty."
+
+"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 so
+excited, sir, that it's twice Oi've had to pound the b'ys a bit in my
+saloon to keep the peace."
+
+"What do you want of me?"
+
+"Shure, every vote counts on a night like this. An' ye'd be afther
+helpin' us big, for the district likes yez."
+
+"But, Dennis, I can't vote without knowing something about the way
+things 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, are
+never nominated here. It's real things we're afther votin' for in New
+York."
+
+Peter laughed. "I've got to take you in hand, Dennis, and you've got to
+take me in hand. I think we both need each other's help. Yes, I'll come
+to the primary. Will they let me vote?"
+
+"The dirty spalpeens will never dare to stop yez! Thank yez, sir. Oi'll
+be 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 well
+packed with men, and the interstices already filled in with dense
+tobacco smoke. He looked about him curiously, and was surprised to find
+how many of the faces he knew. Blackett, Dooley, and Milligan were
+there, and shook hands with him warmly. Judge Gallagher and Blunkers
+were 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 in
+the case, and one of the jurymen in it, likewise were visible. Also many
+faces which were familiar to Peter by a former occasional friendly word
+or nod exchanged in passing. Intense excitement evidently reigned, and
+every one was whispering in a sort of breathless way, which showed how
+deeply interested they were.
+
+At Dennis's suggestion, made in walking to the room, Peter presented
+himself without guidance, at the desk. Some one behind him asked if he
+lived in the ward, and for how long, but this was the only apparent
+opposition made to the prompt entering of his name. Then Peter strolled
+round and talked to those whom he knew, and tried to find out, without
+much success, just what was the division. Every one knew that a fight
+was on, but in just what it consisted they seemed neither to know nor
+care.
+
+He noticed that hot words were constantly exchanged at the enrolling
+desk, over would-be members, but not understanding the exact nature of
+the qualifications needed, he could not follow the disputes. Finally
+these ceased, for want of applicants.
+
+"Misther Stirling," said Dennis, coming up to him hurriedly. "Will yez
+be 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, the
+enrolling officer rose and spoke.
+
+"Are there any more to be enrolled?" he called. No one came forward, so
+after a moment he said: "Will the meeting choose a presiding officer?"
+
+"Mr. Chairman," rang two voices so quickly that they in truth cut the
+presiding officer off in his suggestion.
+
+"Mr. Muldoon," said that officer.
+
+"Oi spoke first," shouted Dennis, and Peter felt that he had, and that
+he was not having fair play.
+
+Instantly a wave of protest, denials, charges, and counter-charges swept
+through the room, Peter thought there was going to be a fight, but the
+position was too critical to waste a moment on what Dennis styled "a
+diversion." It was business, not pleasure, just then.
+
+"Mr. Muldoon," said the officer again, not heeding the tempest in the
+least.
+
+"Mr. Chairman," shouted Muldoon, "I am proud to nominate Justice
+Gallagher, the pride of the bar, for chairman of this distinguished
+meeting, 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 this
+meetin' 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 the
+intelligince an' manhood av this meetin' that it will be that way for
+shure."
+
+Peter saw a hurried consultation going on between Gallagher, Muldoon,
+and two others, during the latter part of this speech, and barely had
+Dennis 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 justly
+merits the honor of presiding on this important occasion. From recent
+events too well known to need mention, I am sure we can all look to him
+for justice and fairness."
+
+"Bad cess to him!" groaned Dennis. "Oi hoped they'd be just fools enough
+to oppose yez, an' then we'd have won the first blood."
+
+Peter was chosen without dissent, and was escorted to the seat behind
+the 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," he
+was told.
+
+Peter had presided at college in debates, and was not flurried. "Will
+you stay here so as to give me the names of those I don't know?" he said
+to the enrolling officer. "The meeting will please come to order," he
+continued aloud. "The nomination of delegates to the State convention is
+the business to be acted upon."
+
+"Misther Chairman," yelled Dennis, evidently expecting to find another
+rival as before. But no one spoke.
+
+"Mr. Moriarty," said Peter.
+
+"Misther Chairman. It's my delight to nominate as delegates to the State
+convention, the Honorable Misther Schlurger, our distinguished
+representative in the Assembly, the Honorable Misther Kennedy, our noble
+Police-commissioner, an' Misther Caggs, whom it would be insult for me
+to 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 from
+such a source."
+
+"What?" shrieked Dennis, amazement and rage contesting for first place
+in voice and expression.
+
+"Mr. Chairman," said Dummer.
+
+"Mr. Dummer," said Peter.
+
+"I have the honor to nominate the Honorable Justice Gallagher, Mr. Peter
+Sweeney, and Mr. Caggs, to whom Mr. Moriarty has just paid so glowing a
+tribute, as delegates to the State convention."
+
+"Second the--" shouted some one, but the rest was drowned by another
+storm which swept through the room. Even above the tumult, Peter could
+hear Dennis challenging and beseeching Mr. Caggs to come "outside an'
+settle it like gentlemen." Caggs, from a secure retreat behind
+Blunkers'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' to
+speak av dirty, cowardly, black-hearted, treacherous snakes, wid souls
+blacker than the divil's own--"
+
+"Order!" said Peter to the crowd.
+
+"No," continued Dennis, in answer to the audible remarks of the
+opposition. "It's no names Oi'm callin'. If yez know such a beast, such
+a 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' wid
+discribin' the conduct av a beast so vile that he must be the contempt
+av every honest man. Who would have been driven out by St. Patrick, wid
+the rest av the reptiles, if he'd lived at that time. Oi only rise to
+widdraw the name av Caggs from the list Oi nominated for delegates to
+the state convention, an' to put in place av it that av a man who is as
+noble an' true, as some are false an' divilish. That of Misther Peter
+Stirling, God bless him!"
+
+Once more chaos came. Peter pounded in vain. Both sides were at fever
+heat. Finally Peter rose.
+
+"Gentlemen," he shouted, in a voice that rang through the hall above
+even the tumult, "if this meeting does not come to order, I shall
+declare it adjourned."
+
+Instant quiet fell, for all had paused a moment to hear his words, and
+they 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 to
+make?"
+
+A man next Justice Gallagher said, "Mr. Chairman," and being duly
+recognized, proceeded to talk for ten minutes in a very useless way. But
+during this time, Peter noticed first a good deal of whispering among
+Blunkers's friends, and then an interview between Gallagher and Dennis.
+The latter was apparently not reconcilable, and shook his head in a way
+that 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 orator
+was "called down" and it was voted to proceed to an election. Peter
+named one of the firemen, Dooley, and Blunkers, tellers, who, after a
+ballot, announced that Dennis had carried his nominations, Peter heading
+the list with two hundred and twelve votes, and the others getting one
+hundred 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 the
+election had been read, and slipped away in the turmoil that immediately
+followed, without a word to any one. He was in truth not
+bewildered--because he had too much natural poise and phlegm--but he was
+surprised by the suddenness of it all, and wanted to think before
+talking with others. So he took advantage of the mutual bickerings and
+recriminations which seemed the order of the day, to get back to his
+office, and there he sat, studying his wall for a time. Then he went to
+bed, and slept as quickly and as calmly as if he had spent his evening
+in reading the "Modern Cottage Architecture" or "Questions de
+Sociologie," which were on his table instead of presiding at a red-hot
+primary, 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 of
+grins, "let me salute the delegate to the State convention."
+
+"Look here, Dennis," said Peter, "you know you had no business to spring
+that on me."
+
+"Ah, sir! Shure, when that dirty little spalpeen av a Caggs went back on
+us so, what could Oi do? Oi know it's speak to yez Oi ought, but wid de
+room 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 been
+chosen, 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's
+a fight like that makes them yieldin' an' friendly. Nothin' but a little
+head-punchin' could make them in a sweeter mood, an' we'd a given them
+that 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 feels
+bad 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's
+seldom that they're not just as friendly the next day."
+
+Peter looked at his wall. He had not liked Gallagher at either time he
+had met him. "Still," he thought to himself, "I have no right to prevent
+him 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 was
+tellin' me himself that he was a poor kind av creature, wid a strong
+objection to saloons."
+
+Peter's eye lost its last suggestion of doubt. "Oh, Justice Gallagher
+told 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 own
+way."
+
+"Shure, sir, Oi'd not have yez do any thin' else. It's yezself knows
+better than me. Oi was only tellin' yez what the Justice--"
+
+A knock at the door interrupted him. It proved to be Gallagher, who
+greeted them both in a hearty, friendly way. Peter brought another chair
+from his bedroom.
+
+"Well, Mr. Stirling, that was a fine contest we had last night," said
+his honor.
+
+"It seemed to be earnest," said Peter.
+
+"It's just as well our friend here sprang your nomination on us as a
+surprise, for if we had known, we should not have put up an opposition
+candidate. You are just the sort of a man we want to represent us in the
+convention."
+
+"I have never met my colleagues," said Peter. "What kind of men are
+they?"
+
+So he got Gallagher's opinion, and Dennis's opinion. Then he wanted to
+know about the candidates, asking questions about them at considerable
+length. The intentions of the other city delegates were next introduced.
+Finally the probable planks of the platform were brought up. While they
+were still under discussion Gallagher said the sitting of his court
+compelled 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 nothing
+but 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 solid
+delegation!"
+
+"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 to
+offend. We all thought he would win."
+
+"Oh, let them have their fights," said the man crossly; "but it's your
+business to see that the right men are put up, so that it doesn't make
+any 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 this
+Stirling, and made out a strong case for Catlin, without seeming to care
+which 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 that
+case and by being friendly to people. I don't think, if he's going into
+politics, 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 one
+experience with him, which showed me that any man who picked him up for
+a fool would drop him quick." Then he told how Dennis's fine had been
+remitted.
+
+In the next few weeks Peter met a good many men who wanted to talk
+politics with him. Gallagher brought some; Dennis others; his
+fellow-ward delegates, more. But Peter could not be induced to commit
+himself. He would talk candidates and principles endlessly, but without
+expressing his own mind. Twice he was asked point blank, "Who's your
+man?" but he promptly answered that he had not yet decided. He had
+always read a Democratic paper, but now he read two, and a Republican
+organ as well. His other reading lessened markedly, and the time gained
+was spent in talking with men in the "district." He even went into the
+saloons and listened to the discussions.
+
+"I don't drink," he had to explain several times, "because my mother
+doesn't like it." For some reason this explanation seemed to be
+perfectly satisfactory. One man alone sneered at him. "Does she feed yer
+still on milk, sonny?" he asked. "No," said Peter, "but everything I
+have comes from her, and that's the kind of a mother a fellow wants to
+please; don't you think so?" The sneerer hesitated, and finally said he
+"guessed it was." So Peter was made one of them, and smoked and
+listened. 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 had
+argued over something, they often looked at Peter, rather than at their
+opponents, 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 makes
+them feel that he's just the likes av them, an' that he wants their
+minds an' opinions to help him. Shure, they'd rather smoke one pipe av
+his tobaccy than drink ten times at Gallagher's expense."
+
+After Peter had listened carefully and lengthily, he wrote to "The
+Honorable Lemuel Porter, Hudson, N.Y.," asking him if he could give him
+an hour's talk some day. The reply was prompt, and told Peter that
+Porter would be glad to see him any time that should suit his
+convenience. So Peter took a day off and ran up to Hudson.
+
+"I am trying to find out for whom I should vote," he explained to
+Porter. "I'm a new man at this sort of thing, and, not having met any of
+the men talked of, I preferred to see them before going to the
+convention."
+
+Porter found that Peter had taken the trouble to go over a back file of
+papers, and read some of his speeches.
+
+"Of course," Peter explained, "I want, as far as possible, to know what
+you think of questions likely to be matters for legislation."
+
+"The difficulty in doing that, Mr. Stirling," he was told, "is that
+every nominee is bound to surrender his opinions in a certain degree to
+the party platform, while other opinions have to be modified to new
+conditions."
+
+"I can see that," said Peter. "I do not for a moment expect that what
+you say to-day is in any sense a pledge. If a man's honest, the poorest
+thing we can do to him is to tie him fast to one course of action, when
+the conditions are constantly changing. But, of course, you have
+opinions for the present state of things?"
+
+Something in Peter's explanation or face pleased Mr. Porter. He demurred
+no more, and, for an hour before lunch, and during that meal, he talked
+with the utmost freedom.
+
+"I'm not easily fooled on men," he told his secretary afterwards, "and
+you can say what you wish to that Stirling without danger of its being
+used unfairly or to injure one. And he's the kind of man to be won by
+square dealing."
+
+Peter had spoken of his own district "I think," he said, "that some good
+can be done in the way of non-partisan legislation. I've been studying
+the food supplies of the city, and, if I can, I shall try to get a bill
+introduced this winter to have official inspections systematized."
+
+"That will receive my approval if it is properly drawn. But you'll
+probably find the Health Board fighting you. It's a nest of
+politicians."
+
+"If they won't yield, I shall have to antagonize them, but I have had
+some 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 the
+drafting, for they can make it much better through their practical
+experience."
+
+"If you do that, the opposition ought not to be troublesome. What else
+do you want?"
+
+"I've been thinking of a general Tenement-house bill, but I don't think
+I shall try for that this winter. It's a big subject, which needs very
+careful study, in which a lot of harm may be done by ignorance. There's
+no doubt that anything which hurts the landlord, hurts the tenant, and
+if you make the former spend money, the tenant pays for it in the long
+run. Yet health must be protected. I shall try to find out what can be
+done."
+
+"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 I
+shall hope to work in politics in the future."
+
+Peter took another day off, and spent a few minutes of it with the other
+most promising candidate. He did not see very much of him, for they were
+interrupted by another caller, and Peter had to leave before he could
+have a chance to continue the interview.
+
+"I had a call to-day from that fellow Stirling, who's a delegate from
+the sixth ward," the candidate told a "visiting statesman" later. "I'm
+afraid he'll give us trouble. He asks too many questions. Fortunately
+Dewilliger came to see me, and though I shouldn't have seen him
+ordinarily, I found his call very opportune as a means of putting an end
+to Stirling's cross-examination."
+
+"He's the one doubtful man on the city's delegation," said the
+statesman. "It happened through a mistake. It will be very unfortunate
+if we can't cast a solid city vote."
+
+Peter talked more in the next few days. He gave the "b'ys" his
+impressions of the two candidates, in a way which made them trust his
+conclusions. He saw his two fellow delegates, and argued long and
+earnestly with them. He went to every saloon-keeper in the district, and
+discussed the change in the liquor law which was likely to be a
+prominent issue in the campaign, telling them what he had been able to
+draw from both candidates about the subject.
+
+"Catlin seems to promise you the most," he told them, "and I don't want
+to say he isn't trying to help you. But if you get the law passed which
+he 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 it
+will tempt people to go into the business, so that it will cut your
+profits that way. Then, you may stir up a big public sentiment against
+you in the next election, and so lay yourselves open to unfriendly
+legislation. It is success, or trying to get too much, which has beaten
+every party, sooner or later, in this country. Look at slavery. If the
+Southerners had left things as they were under the Missouri Compromise,
+they never would have stirred up the popular outbreak that destroyed
+slavery. Now, Porter is said to be unfriendly to you, because he wants a
+bill to limit the number of licenses, and to increase the fee to new
+saloons. Don't you see that is all in your favor, though apparently
+against you? In the first place, you are established, and the law will
+be drawn so as to give the old dealer precedence over a new one in
+granting fresh licenses. This limit will really give the established
+saloon more trade in the future, by reducing competition. While the
+increase 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 he
+were stating a fact than reproving.
+
+Blunkers laughed good-naturedly. "Yer'll be gittin' usen to close up
+yet, Mister Stirling. Yer too good for us."
+
+Peter looked at him. "Blunkers," he said warmly, "no man is too good not
+to tell the truth to any one whom he thinks it will help."
+
+"Shake," said Blunkers. Then he turned to the men at the tables. "Step
+up, boys," he called. "I sets it up dis time to drink der health of der
+feller 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, became
+current.
+
+"What's this I hear?" said Gallagher's former interviewer to that
+gentleman. "They say Schlurger says he intends to vote for Porter, and
+Kennedy'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 delegates
+pledge themselves to vote for Porter. He said they must go unbound."
+
+The interviewer's next remark is best represented by several "blank
+its," no allusion however being intended to bed-coverings. Then he cited
+the lower regions to know what it all meant.
+
+"It means that that chap Stirling has got to be fixed, and fixed big. I
+thought I knew how to wire pull, and manage men, but he's taken hold and
+just runs it as he wants. It's he makes all the trouble."
+
+The interviewer left the court, and five minutes later was in Stirling's
+office.
+
+"My name's Green," he said. "I'm a delegate to the convention, and one
+of the committee who has the arranging of the special train and
+accommodations at Saratoga."
+
+"I'm glad you came in," said Peter. "I bought my ticket yesterday, and
+the man at headquarters said he'd see that I was assigned a room at the
+United States."
+
+"There'll be no trouble about the arrangements. What I want to see you
+for, is to ask if you won't dine with me this evening? There's to be
+several of the delegates and some big men there, to talk over the
+situation."
+
+"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 two
+interviews. "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 that
+all the guests were well-known party men, whose names and opinions were
+matters of daily notice in the papers. What was more, they talked
+convention affairs, and Peter learned in the two hours' general
+conversation 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 between
+the city and country members, and that this divided interest played a
+part in nearly every measure. "Now," said one of the best known men at
+the 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 well
+he intends by us, he can't do more than agree to such bills as we can
+get passed. But Catlin has the Monroe members of the legislature under
+his thumb, and his brother-in-law runs Onandaga. He promises they shall
+vote for all we want. With that aid, we can carry what New York City
+needs, in spite of the country members."
+
+"Would the country members refuse to vote for really good and needed
+city 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 this
+country in their hands, and threaten or throttle those interests every
+time anything is wanted."
+
+"And when it comes to taxation," added another, "the country members are
+always giving the cities the big end to carry."
+
+"I had a talk with Catlin," said Peter. "It seemed to me that he wasn't
+the right kind of man."
+
+"Catlin's a timid man, who never likes to commit himself. That's because
+he always wants to do what his backers tell him. Of course when a man
+does that, he hasn't decided views of his own, and naturally doesn't
+wish 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 a
+man who was able to do what the majority wants every time, we could
+re-elect him for the next fifty years. You must remember that in this
+country we elect a man to do what we want--not to do what he wants
+himself."
+
+"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 the
+people want than the man who sits in the governor's room, with a
+doorkeeper 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 this
+is very unusual, because it's risky. Remember, we can only do things
+when our party is in power, so it is our interest to do what will please
+the people, if we are to command majorities and remain in office.
+Individually we have got to do what the majority of our party wants
+done, or we are thrown out, and new men take our places. And it's just
+the same way with the parties."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I understand the condition better, and can see what
+I could not fathom before, why the city delegates want Catlin. But my
+own ward has come out strong for Porter. We've come to the conclusion
+that 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 and
+tenement legislation we want."
+
+"I know about that change, and want to say, Mr. Stirling, that few men
+of 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 not
+have yet considered. Any proposed restriction on the license will not
+merely scare a lot of saloon-keepers, who will only understand that it
+sounds unfriendly, but it will alienate every brewer and distiller, for
+their interest is to see saloons multiplied. Then food and tenement
+legislation always stirs up bad feeling in the dealers and owners. If
+the opposite party would play fair, we could afford to laugh at it, but
+you see the party out of power can oppose about anything, knowing that a
+minority is never held responsible, and so by winning over the
+malcontents which every piece of legislation is sure to make, before
+long it goes to the polls with a majority, though it has really been
+opposing the best interests of the whole state. We can't sit still, and
+do nothing, yet everything we do will alienate some interest."
+
+"It's as bad as the doctrine of fore-ordination," laughed another of the
+party:
+
+    "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 the
+majority wants done every time, would be re-elected. Doesn't it hold
+true as to a party?"
+
+"No. A party is seldom retained in power for such reasons. If it has a
+long tenure of office it is generally due to popular distrust of the
+other party. The natural tendency otherwise is to make office-holding a
+sort of see-saw. Let alone change of opinion in older men, there are
+enough new voters every four years to reverse majorities in almost every
+state. Of course these young men care little for what either party has
+done in the past, and being young and ardent, they want to change
+things. The minority's ready to please them, naturally. Reform they
+call it, but it's quite as often 'Deform' when they've done it."
+
+Peter smiled and said, "Then you think my views on license, and
+food-inspection, and tenement-house regulation are 'Deformities'?"
+
+"We won't say that, but a good many older and shrewder heads have worked
+over those questions, and while I don't know what you hope to do, you'll
+not 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 must
+try 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 are
+all 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 not
+been twenty and thirty years in this business for nothing."
+
+"I think you know how to run a party--but poisoned milk was peddled in
+my ward. I went to law to punish the men who sold it. Now I'm going into
+politics to try and get laws and administration which will prevent such
+evils. I've told my district what I want. I think it will support me. I
+know 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 so
+by majorities. I want you to give this city such a government that
+you'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 it
+would make clear the object of my particular endeavors. I want to have
+the Health Board help me to draft a food-inspection bill, and I want the
+legislature to pass it, without letting it be torn to pieces for the
+benefit of special interests. I don't mind fair amendments, but they
+must 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 tell
+my ward that you have done them a great service."
+
+Two of the men moved uneasily in their seats, as if not comfortable, and
+a 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." Peter
+spoke in the same tone of voice, and still looked Mr. Costell in the
+face.
+
+"And if we don't do either?"
+
+"What I shall do then will depend on whether you refuse for a good
+reason or for none. In either case I shall tell them the facts."
+
+"This is damned----" began one of the dinner-party, but the lifting of
+Mr. Costell's hand stopped the speech there.
+
+"Mr. Stirling," said Mr. Costell, rising as he spoke, "I hope when you
+come to think it over, that you will vote with us for Catlin. But
+whether you do or not, we want you to work with us. We can help you, and
+you can help us. When you are ready to begin on your bills, come and see
+me."
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. "That is just what I want." He said good-night
+to 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 with
+him 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 trial
+which 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 certain
+deep smile that was almost habitual with him, and which no one had ever
+yet been able to read. "No," he said slowly. "You might beat him, but he
+isn't the kind that stays beat. I'll agree to outwit any man in
+politics, except the man who knows how to fight and to tell the people
+the truth. I've never yet seen a man beaten in the long run who can do
+both those, unless he chose to think himself beaten. Gentlemen, that
+Stirling is a fighter and a truth-teller, and you can't beat him in his
+ward. There's no use having him against us, so it's our business to see
+that we have him with us. We may not be able to get him into line this
+time, but we must do it in the long run. For he's not the kind that lets
+go. He's beaten Nelson, and he's beaten Gallagher, both of whom are old
+hands. Mark my words, in five years he'll run the sixth ward. Drop all
+talk of fighting him. He is in politics to stay, and we must make it
+worth 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 he
+had gone through his papers, and drunk his coffee the next morning, he
+went back to wall-gazing again. He was working over two conundrums not
+very 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 than
+the 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 it
+was easy to take the right one, but he had not then discovered that it
+is often difficult to know which is the right, in order to follow it. He
+had started in to punish Bohlmann, and had compromised. He had
+disapproved of Dennis breaking the law, and had compromised his
+disapproval. He had said he should not go into saloons, and had ended by
+going. Now he was confronted with the problem whether the interests of
+his ward would be better served by the nomination of a man of good
+record, whom Peter personally liked, or by that of a colorless man, who
+would be ruled by the city's leaders. In the one case Peter feared no
+support for his measures from his own party. In the other case he saw
+aid 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 is
+much 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," both
+surrounding and filling the special train which was to carry New York's
+contribution to the collected party wisdom, about to concentrate at
+Saratoga.
+
+Peter felt like a stranger in the crowd, but on mingling in it he
+quickly found himself a marked man. He was seized upon by one of the
+diners of the evening before, and soon found himself forming part of a
+group, which constantly changed its components, but continued to talk
+convention affairs steadily. Nor did the starting of the train, with
+cheers, brass bands, flags, and other enthusing elements, make more than
+a temporary break. From the time the special started, till it rolled
+into Saratoga, six hours later, there was one long series of political
+debates and confabs. Peter listened much, and learned much, for the talk
+was very straight and plain. He had chats with Costell and Green. His
+two fellow-delegates from "de sixt" sought him and discussed intentions.
+He liked Schlurger, a simple, guileless German, who wanted only to do
+what 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's
+talk about the "best man," and about "helping the ward," and had only
+found that Peter's ideas had value after he had been visited by various
+of the saloon-keepers, seen the vast torchlight meeting, and heard the
+cheers at Peter's arguments. Still, Peter was by no means sure that
+Kennedy was not a square man, and concluded he was right in not
+condemning him, when, passing through one of the cars, he overheard the
+following:
+
+"What kind of man is that Stirling, who's raised such ---- in the
+sixth?"
+
+"I don't know him, but Kennedy told me, before he'd swung round, that he
+was a darned good sort of a cuss."
+
+This was flattery, Peter understood, however questionable the form might
+seem, and he was pleased. Very few of us do not enjoy a real compliment.
+What makes a compliment uncomfortable is either a suspicion that the
+maker 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 night
+before had robbed him. But scarcely had the colored gentleman bowed
+himself out, after the usual "can I git de gentleman a pitcher of ice
+water" (which translated means: "has de gentleman any superfluous
+change?") when a knock came at the door. Peter opened it, to find a man
+outside.
+
+"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 and
+overcoat 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 New
+York is otherwise a unit in opposing us."
+
+"No," said Peter. "My fellow-delegates from the sixth, Schlurger and
+Kennedy, 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 they
+have 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 had
+put into it. He gave a quick look at Peter's face, as if to try and find
+from it what lay behind the words. He hesitated, as if divided in mind
+over two courses of action. Finally he said:
+
+"I needn't tell you that this opposition of practically the whole of the
+New York City delegation, is the most serious set-back to Porter's
+chance. Now, we have talked it over, and it seemed to us that it would
+be 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 delegate
+have to make a speech in his favor?"
+
+"Yes. But I can give you the material to-night. Or if you prefer, we'll
+give 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 shall
+vote, and of course such an act is binding."
+
+Mr. Maguire's countenance changed again. "I'm sorry to hear that. I
+hoped 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 the
+armholes of his waistcoat. He thought he had fathomed Peter, and felt
+that the rest was plain sailing. "This is not a chap to be tolled. I'll
+give him the gaff at once," was his mental conclusion. Then he asked
+aloud:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+It was a question susceptible of many different constructions, but as
+Mr. Maguire asked it, it seemed to him to have but one, and that not
+very honest. Peter hesitated. The temptation was strong to lead the
+Senator 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 the
+managers on Porter's side would stoop to buy his support by some
+bargain. As Peter hesitated, weighing the pros and cons, Maguire spoke
+again.
+
+"What does the other side offer you?"
+
+Peter spoke quickly. "They haven't offered me anything, but advice. That
+is, 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 he
+hadn't spoken so quickly, I should have shown my hand before the call. I
+wonder if he got any inkling?" He never dreamed that Peter had spoken
+quickly to save that very disclosure.
+
+"I needn't say, Mr. Stirling, that if you can see your way to nominate
+Porter, we shall not forget it. Nor will he. He isn't the kind of man
+who forgets his friends. Many a man in to-morrow's convention would give
+anything for the privilege we offer you."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I realize the honor offered me, but I don't see my
+way to take it. It will please me better to see him nominated by some
+one who has really stood close to him, than to gain his favor by doing
+it myself."
+
+"Think twice, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"If you would rather, I will not give you my answer till to-morrow
+morning?"
+
+"I would," said Maguire rising, "Try and make it favorable. It's a great
+chance 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 on
+second 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, and
+how much Porter? Ought I, for the sake of doing my best for my ward, to
+have let him go on? Has an agent any right to refuse what will help is
+client, 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?" he
+asked.
+
+"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." Costell
+sat down on the window-ledge by Peter.
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. "I like a cigar, but it must be a good one, and
+that kind I can't afford." He lit the cigar, and leaned back to
+luxuriate in it.
+
+"You'll like that, I'm sure. Pretty sight, isn't it?" Costell pointed to
+the 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 than
+this."
+
+"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," he
+continued, as soon as he had decided that plain speaking was fair to
+Maguire.
+
+"We shall be very sorry to see you do it."
+
+"I don't think I shall. They only want me because it would give the
+impression that Porter has a city backing, and to try to give that
+amounts 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 he
+rubbed out the light, and left the room. At the office, he learned the
+number of Kennedy's room, and went to it. On knocking, the door was
+opened 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 attempt
+being made to get a city delegate to nominate Porter. It seems to me
+that is his particular friends' business."
+
+Maguire spoke so quickly that Kennedy had no chance to reply: "Kennedy's
+promised 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?" Peter
+queried 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 fear
+of 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 kind
+of a man that cries off from a promise. That's women's work."
+
+"No," said Kennedy stiffening suddenly in backbone, as he saw the outlet
+opened by Maguire, between antagonizing Peter, and retracting his
+consent. "I don't play baby. Not me."
+
+Peter stood thinking for a longer time than the others found
+comfortable. Maguire whistled to prove that he was quite at ease, but he
+would not have whistled if he had been.
+
+"I think, Mr. Kennedy, that I'll save you from the difficulty by
+nominating 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 any
+bibliography. 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 usual
+kind, 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 nominates
+Porter."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"I don't see," said Peter, "why I need say it. You know it as well as I
+do."
+
+"I know of many reasons why you should do it."
+
+"No," said Peter. "There's only one, and that has been created in the
+last ten minutes. Mr. Maguire, if you insist on the sixth ward
+nominating 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 a
+fraud, if I can help it."
+
+Kennedy had been combining things spiritual and aqueous at his
+wash-stand. But his interest in the blending seemed suddenly to cease.
+Maguire, too, took his thumbs from their havens of rest, and looked
+dissatisfied.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Stirling," he said, "it's much simpler to leave it to
+Kennedy. You think you're doing what's right, but you'll only do harm to
+us, and to yourself. If you nominate Porter, the city gang won't forgive
+you, 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 to
+do it."
+
+Maguire laughed rather a forced laugh. "I suppose we've got to satisfy
+you. 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 and
+water with us?"
+
+"Thank you," said Peter. "Mr. Costell's in my room and he must be tired
+of 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 under
+Costell's orders."
+
+"But why should he give it away to us?"
+
+"How the ---- should I know? Look here, Kennedy, you must do it, after
+all."
+
+"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 you
+can ---- your ward."
+
+"I'll do it."
+
+"That's the talk."
+
+They sat and discussed plans and whisky for nearly an hour. Then Maguire
+said good-night.
+
+"You shall have the speech the first thing in the morning," he said at
+parting. Then as he walked down the long corridor, he muttered, "Now
+then, 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 be
+nominated 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 other
+men. I don't want you to suppose we are not conscious of it. I think
+you've done us a great service to-night, although it might have been
+very profitable to you if you had done otherwise. I don't think that
+you'll lose by it in the long run, but I'm going to thank you now, for
+myself. Good-night."
+
+Peter had a good night. Perhaps it was only because he was sleepy, but a
+pleasant speech is not a bad night-cap. At least it is better than a
+mental question-mark as to whether one has done wrong. Peter did not
+know how it was coming out, but he thought he had done right, and need
+not 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 the
+next morning, and had tramped his eight miles through and around
+Saratoga, before the place gave many evidences of life. He ended his
+tramp at the Congress spring, and tasted the famous water, with
+exceeding disgust at the result. As he set down his half-finished
+tumbler, and turned to leave, he found Miss De Voe at his elbow, about
+to 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 on
+that."
+
+"Surely you are not a Democrat?" said Miss De Voe, a shade of horror
+showing itself in her face, in spite of her good breeding. In those days
+it was not, to put it mildly, a guarantee of respectability to belong to
+that party, and Miss De Voe had the strong prejudices of her social
+station, all the more because she was absolutely ignorant of political
+events.
+
+Peter said he was.
+
+"How can you be? When a man can ally himself with the best, why should
+he choose the worst?"
+
+"I think," said Peter quietly, "that a Pharisee said the same thing, in
+different words, many hundred years ago."
+
+Miss De Voe caught her breath and flushed. She also became suddenly
+conscious of the two girls who had come to the spring with her. They had
+been forgotten in the surprise over Peter, but now Miss De Voe wondered
+if they had heard his reply, and if they had enough Bible lore to enable
+them 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 I
+meant was that no one has a right to pick out the best for himself. I am
+sure, from your letter to me, that you think a man should help those not
+as well off as himself."
+
+"Oh, but that is very different. Of course we should be charitable to
+those 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, and
+good 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, I
+wish to present Mr. Stirling. My cousin, Miss Ogden, and Miss Minna
+Ogden."
+
+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 stopped
+here to try the spring, on my way to the United States."
+
+"It is hardly worth while, but if you will get into our carriage, we
+will drop you there. Or if you can spare the time, we will drive to our
+cottage, 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 one
+of the girls, as soon as they were seated.
+
+"I don't know," Peter told her. "It is my first experience at it. There
+is pretty strong feeling, and that of course makes it interesting to the
+delegates, 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 care
+to 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 interesting
+part," 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 City
+delegation room, and saw Costell. He easily secured admissions, and
+pencilling on a card, "At headquarters they tell me that the nominations
+will begin at the afternoon session, about two o'clock," he sent them
+back by the carriage. Then bearding the terrors of the colored "monarch
+of all he surveys," who guards the dining-room of every well-ordered
+Saratoga hotel, he satisfied as large an appetite as he remembered in a
+long time.
+
+The morning proceedings in the convention were purely formal. The
+election of the chairman, the roll-call, the naming of the committees,
+and other routine matter was gotten through with, but the real interest
+centred in the undertone of political talk, going on with little regard
+to the business in hand. After the committees were named, an unknown man
+came up to Peter, and introduced himself by a name which Peter at once
+recognized as that of one of the committee on the platform.
+
+"Mr. Costell thinks you might like to see this, and can perhaps suggest
+a change," explained Mr. Talcott, laying several sheets of manuscript on
+Peter'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 the
+committee-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 and
+wrote a paragraph for the platform. It pledged the party to investigate
+the food and tenement questions, and to pass such remedial legislation
+as should seem best. It pledged the party to do this, with as little
+disturbance and interference with present conditions as possible, "but
+fully recognizing the danger of State interference, we place human life
+above money profits, and human health above annual incomes, and shall
+use the law to its utmost to protect both." When it appeared in the
+platform, there was an addition that charged the failure to obtain
+legislation "which should have rendered impossible the recent terrible
+lesson in New York City" to "the obstruction in the last legislature in
+the interest of the moneyed classes and landlords, by the Republican
+party." 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. That
+was what others thought too. "Gad, that Stirling knows how to sling
+English," said one of the committee, when the paragraph was read aloud.
+"He makes it take right hold." Many an orator in that fall's campaign
+read the nineteenth section of the Democratic platform aloud, feeling
+that it was ammunition of the right kind. It is in all the New York
+papers 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 him
+up. 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 what
+we 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 few
+moments sufficed to complete the unfinished business, and then the
+chairman's gavel fell, and every one knew without his announcement that
+the crucial moment had been reached.
+
+Much to Peter's surprise, Kennedy was one of the members who was
+instantly on his feet, and was the one selected for recognition by the
+chairman. He was still more surprised when Kennedy launched at once into
+a glowing eulogium of Porter. Peter was sitting next Kennedy, and though
+he 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 deceiving
+of others. Most of all he grieved to think that a delegate of his ward,
+largely through his own interference, was acting discreditably. Peter
+wanted others to do right, and he felt that that was not what Kennedy
+was doing.
+
+The moment Kennedy finished, Peter rose, as did Maguire. The convention
+was cheering for Porter, and it took some time to quiet it to a
+condition when it was worth while recognizing any one. During this time
+the chairman leaned forward and talked with Green, who sat right below
+him, for a moment. Green in turn spoke to Costell, and a little slip of
+paper was presently handed up to the chairman, who from that moment
+became absolutely oblivious of the fact that Maguire was on his feet.
+When silence finally came, in spite of Maguire's, "Mr. Chairman," that
+individual said, "Mr. Stirling."
+
+Peter began in a low voice, "In rising, Mr. Chairman, to second the
+nomination of Mr. Porter, I feel that it would be idle in me to praise
+one so well known to all of us, even if he had not just been the subject
+of so appreciative a speech from my colleague--"
+
+Here cries of "louder" interrupted Peter, during which interruption
+Green said to Costell, "We've been tricked."
+
+"I'm not so sure," replied Costell, "Maguire's on his feet yet, and
+doesn't look happy. Something's happening which has not been slated."
+
+When Peter resumed, there were no more cries of "louder." His
+introduction had been a matter of trouble and doubt to him, for he liked
+Porter, and feared he might not show it. But now he merely had something
+to tell his audience, and that was easy work. So, his voice ringing very
+clear and distinct, he told them of the original election of the
+delegates; of the feeling of his ward; of the attempts to obtain a city
+nomination of Porter; of Maguire's promise. "Gad, he hits from the
+shoulder," said Green. As soon as the trend of his remarks was realized,
+Porter's supporters began to hiss and hoot. Peter at once stopped, but
+the moment silence came he began again, and after a repetition of this a
+few times, they saw they could neither embarrass nor anger him, so they
+let 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 I
+had made up my mind to vote for him, I made no secret of that
+intention. But he should not have been nominated by a city delegate, for
+he is not the choice of New York City, and any attempt to show that he
+is, or that he has any true backing there, is only an attempt to
+deceive. In seconding his nomination therefore, I wish it to be
+distinctly understood that both his nomination and seconding are
+personal acts, and in no sense the act of the delegates of the city of
+New York."
+
+There was a mingling of hoots and cheers as Peter sat down, though
+neither was very strong. In truth, the larger part of the delegates were
+very much in the dark as to the tendency of Peter's speech. "Was it
+friendly or unfriendly to Porter?" they wondered.
+
+"Mr. Maguire," said the chairman.
+
+"Mr. Chairman, the gentleman who has just sat down is to be complimented
+on his speech. In my whole life I have never heard so deceptive and
+blinding a narration. We know of Brutus stabbing his friend. But what
+shall we say of a pretended Brutus who caresses while he stabs?"
+
+Here the Porter adherents became absolutely sure of the character of
+Peter's speech, and hissed.
+
+"Nor is it Imperial Caesar alone," continued Maguire, "against whom he
+turns his poniard. Not content with one foul murder, he turns against
+Caesar's friends. By devilish innuendo, he charges the honorable Mr.
+Kennedy and myself with bargaining to deceive the American people. I
+call on him for proof or retraction."
+
+The convention laughed. Peter rose and said: "Mr. Chairman, I gave a
+truthful account of what actually took place last evening in the United
+States 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 my
+fault."
+
+The convention laughed. "Do you mean to charge such a bargain?" angrily
+shouted 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 now
+find it necessary to apologize."
+
+The convention roared. Maguire screamed something, but it could not be
+heard. The tenor of his remarks was indicated by his red face and
+clinched fist.
+
+Costell smiled his deep smile. "I'm very glad," he said to the man next
+him, "that we didn't pick Stirling up."
+
+Then Milton was nominated and seconded, as were also Catlin, and four
+minor 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, though
+where it started, no one knew. Evidently his adherents thought so, for
+one made a motion to adjourn. It was voted down, and once more the roll
+call started.
+
+"I shall vote for Milton," Peter told Schlurger, and the changes in the
+delegations as the call proceeded, proved that many changes were being
+made 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've
+beaten 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's
+delegates, but the moment they had begun to turn to Milton, enough New
+York City delegates had been transferred to Catlin to prevent Milton
+being chosen. Amid protests and angry words on all sides another ballot
+was 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 by
+acclamation. Half an hour served to choose the Lieutenant-Governor and
+the rest of the ticket, for the bulk of it had already been slated. The
+platform was adopted, and the convention dissolved.
+
+"Well," said Kennedy angrily to Peter, "I guess you've messed it this
+time. 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," he
+thought, "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, as
+they 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 she
+paused 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 understands
+everything 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 many
+men. So the ladies entered the carriage.
+
+"At least we know that he said he was trying to tell the truth," she
+went on, "and you just heard what that man said. I don't know why they
+all 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 was
+really 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 varies
+very much. Oliver, drive to the United States. We will take him home to
+dinner."
+
+"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. He
+turned 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 told
+him.
+
+"I am going to take the special to New York, and that leaves in half an
+hour."
+
+"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 she
+said: "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 of
+questions about the convention."
+
+"Hush, Minna," said Miss De Voe. She was nettled that Peter should
+refuse, and that her niece could stoop to beg of "a criminal lawyer and
+ward politician," as she put it mentally. But she was determined not to
+show it "We are sorry. Good-evening. Home, Oliver."
+
+So they did not learn from Peter why the convention laughed. The subject
+was brought up at dinner, and Dorothy asked the opinion of the voters of
+the 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 were
+as much at sea in regard to the Stirling-sixth-ward incident, as had
+been the rank-and-file in the convention. Three took their views from
+Maguire, 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 what
+effect it had had on the candidates none of the papers agreed in. One
+said it had killed Porter. Another, that "it was a purely personal
+matter without influence on the main question." The other papers shaded
+between these, though two called it "a laughable incident." The
+opposition press naturally saw in it an entire discrediting of both
+factions of the Democratic party, and absolute proof that the nominee
+finally selected was unfit for office.
+
+Unable to sift out the truth, the ladies again appealed to the voters of
+the 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 no
+objection," laughed the enfranchised being.
+
+"I don't think a man who made that speech about the children can be a
+scoundrel," said Dorothy.
+
+"I don't either," said Minna.
+
+"That's the way you women reason," responded he of the masculine
+intellect. "Because a man looks out for some sick kittens, ergo, he is a
+political saint. If you must take up with politicians, do take
+Republicans, for then, at least, you have a small percentage of chance
+in your favor that they are gentlemen."
+
+"Don't be a Pharisee, Lispenard," said Miss De Voe, utilizing Peter's
+rebuke.
+
+"Then don't trouble me with political questions. Politics are so vulgar
+in this country that no gentleman keeps up with them."
+
+Miss De Voe and the two girls dropped the "vulgar" subject, but Miss De
+Voe 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 both
+that he shouldn't call." Woman-like, Miss De Voe forgot that she had
+said Peter was a gentleman.
+
+If Peter had found himself a marked man in the trip up, he was doubly so
+on the return train. He sat most of the time by himself, pondering on
+what had happened, but he could not be unconscious of the number of
+people to whom he was pointed out. He was conscious too, that his course
+had not been understood, and that many of those who looked at him with
+interest, did so without approbation. He was not buoyed up either, by a
+sense that he had succeeded in doing the best. He had certainly hurt
+Porter, and had made enemies of Maguire and Kennedy. Except for the fact
+that he had tried to do right, he could see no compensating balance.
+
+Naturally the newspapers the next morning did not cheer him, though
+perhaps 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 time
+a long letter, telling her how and why he had taken this course. He
+wrote also a long letter to Porter, explaining his conduct. Porter had
+already been told that Peter was largely responsible for his defeat, but
+after reading Peter's letter, he wrote him a very kind reply, thanking
+him for his support and for his letter. "It is not always easy to do
+what one wants in politics," he wrote, "but if one tries with high
+motives, for high things, even defeat loses its bitterness. I shall not
+be 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 time
+you think my aid worth the asking, do not hesitate to call on me for
+it. 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 and
+Kennedy's course in the convention. He did not answer in kind the blame
+and criticism industriously sowed by Kennedy; but he dropped into a
+half-a-dozen saloons in the next few days, and told "the b'ys" a pretty
+full history of the "behind-the-scenes" part.
+
+"I'm afraid I made mistakes," he frankly acknowledged, "yet even now I
+don't see how I could have done differently. I certainly thought I was
+doing right."
+
+"An' so yez were," shouted Dennis. "An' if that dirty beast Kennedy
+shows his dirty face inside these doors, it's a washin' it will get wid
+the drainin' av the beer-glasses. We wants none av his dirty bargains
+here."
+
+"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 always
+makin'."
+
+"Yes," said Dennis. "It's Kennedy looks out for himself, an' we'll let
+him do it next time all by himself." It could not be traced to its
+origin, but in less than a week the consensus of opinion in the ward was
+that: "Kennedy voted for himself, but Stirling for us."
+
+The ward, too, was rather proud of the celebrity it had achieved. The
+papers had not merely paragraphed Peter, and the peculiar position of
+the "district" in the convention, but they had begun now asking
+questions as to how the ward would behave. "Would it support Catlin?"
+"Was it true that the ward machine had split, and intended to nominate
+rival tickets?" "Had one faction made a deal with the Republicans?"
+
+"Begobs," said Dennis, "it's the leaders an' the papers are just afther
+discoverin' there is a sixth ward, an' it's Misther Stirling's made them
+do it."
+
+The chief party leaders had stayed over at Saratoga, but Peter had a
+call from Costell before the week was out.
+
+"The papers gave it to you rather rough," Costell said kindly, "but they
+didn'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 course
+you 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 much
+who 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 to
+think he couldn't do much?"
+
+"I don't think he has much of a following. Even Moriarty, who was his
+strong 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 are
+settled. 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 in
+the saloons."
+
+"So I'm told. You'll never get a better place. Men listen there, as they
+never will at a mass-meeting." Costell rose. "If you are free next
+Sunday, 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's
+good enough to make my life happier, and after we've looked over my
+stables, I'll bring you back to the city behind a gray mare that will
+pass about anything there is on the road."
+
+So Peter had a half day in the country and enjoyed it very much. He
+looked over Mrs. Costell's flower-garden, in which she spent almost her
+whole 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 to
+Peter that the atmosphere had a gentle, homely tone that was very
+pleasing. 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 as
+possible. 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 with
+me, but she liked you, I could see."
+
+Peter spoke twice in the next week in small halls in his ward. He had
+good audiences, and he spoke well, if simply.
+
+"There ain't no fireworks in his stuff," said the ward satirist. "He
+don't unfurl the American flag, nor talk about liberty and the
+constitution. He don't even speak of us as noble freemen. He talks just
+as if he thought we was in a saloon. A feller that made that speech
+about the babies ought to treat us to something moving."
+
+That was what many of the ward thought. Still they went because they
+wanted to see if he wouldn't burst out suddenly. They felt that Peter
+had unlimited potentialities in the way of eloquence (for eloquence to
+them meant the ability to move the emotions) and merely saved his
+powers. Without quite knowing it they found what he had to say
+interesting. He brought the questions at issue straight back to
+elementary forms. He showed just how each paragraph in the platform
+would directly affect, not the state, but the "district."
+
+"He's thoroughly good," the party leaders were told. "If he would abuse
+the other side a little more, and stick in a little tinsel and calcium
+light he would be great."
+
+So he was called upon to speak elsewhere in the city. He worked at one
+of the polls on election day, and was pleased to find that he was able
+to prevent a little of the "trading" for which Kennedy had arranged. His
+ward went Democratic, as was a foregone conclusion, but by an unusually
+large majority, and Peter found that he and Dennis were given the credit
+for it, both in the ward, and at headquarters. Catlin was elected, and
+the Assembly had been won. So Peter felt that his three months' work had
+not been an entire failure. The proceeds of his speeches had added also
+two hundred and fifty dollars to his savings bank account, and one
+hundred 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 worried
+over 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, my
+boy, 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 not
+ask 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, you
+wouldn't mind. Here, the saloon is chiefly a loafing place for the lazy
+and shiftless, but in New York, it's very different. It's the poor man's
+club. If you could see the dark, cold, foul-aired tenements where they
+live, 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 wish
+the women could come. The bulk of the men are temperate, and only take a
+glass or two of beer or whisky, to pay for their welcome. They really go
+for the social part, and sit and talk, or read the papers. Of course a
+man gets drunk, sometimes, but usually it is not a regular customer, and
+even such cases would be fewer, it we didn't tax whisky so outrageously
+that the dishonest barkeepers are tempted to doctor their whisky with
+drugs which drive men frantic if they drink. But most of the men are too
+sensible, and too poor, to drink so as really to harm themselves."
+
+"Peter, Peter! To think that three years in New York should bring you to
+talk so! I knew New York was a sink-hole of iniquity, but I thought you
+were too good a boy to be misled."
+
+"Mother, New York has less evil in it than most places. Here, after the
+mills shut down, there's no recreation for the men, and so they amuse
+themselves with viciousness. But in a great place like New York, there
+are a thousand amusements specially planned for the evening hours.
+Exhibitions, theatres, concerts, libraries, lectures--everything to
+tempt one away from wrong-doing to fine things. And there wickedness is
+kept 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 the
+folks, while they say that in New York there isn't enough seats in
+churches for mor'n a quarter of the people. A missionary was saying only
+last week that we ought to help raise money to build churches in New
+York. Just think of there being mor'n ten saloons for every church! And
+that 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 do
+it."
+
+"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 to
+deal 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 he
+thinks best."
+
+"It's dreadful though, to have your son's first refusal be about going
+to 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. Bohlmann
+to come to a holiday festivity of which the Germans are so fond. He was
+too late to go, but he called promptly, to explain why he had not
+responded. He was very much surprised, on getting out his dress-suit,
+now donned for the first time in three years, to find how badly it
+fitted 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 the
+family room, and passed a very pleasant hour with the jolly brewer, his
+friendly wife, and the two "nice girls." They were all delighted with
+Catlin's election, and Peter had to tell them about his part in it. They
+did 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 for
+him 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 be
+taken in. That individual protested loudly on the ground that the coat
+was so old-fashioned that it would be better to make a new suit. Peter
+told him that he wore evening dress too rarely to make a new suit worth
+the having, and the tailor yielded rather than lose the job. Scarcely
+had it been put in order, when Peter was asked to dine at his
+clergyman's, and the next day came another invitation, to dine with
+Justice Gallagher. Peter began to wonder if he had decided wisely in
+vamping the old suit.
+
+He had one of the pleasantest evenings of his life at Dr. Purple's. It
+was a dinner of ten, and Peter was conscious that a real compliment had
+been paid him in being included, for the rest of the men were not merely
+older than himself, but they were the "strong" men of the church. Two
+were trustees. All were prominent in the business world. And it pleased
+Peter to find that he was not treated as the youngster of the party, but
+had his opinions asked. At one point of the meal the talk drifted to a
+Bethel church then under consideration, and this in turn brought up the
+tenement-house question. Peter had been studying this, both practically
+and in books, for the last three months. Before long, the whole table
+was listening to what he had to say. When the ladies had withdrawn,
+there was political talk, in which Peter was much more a listener, but
+it was from preference rather than ignorance. One of the men, a
+wholesale dealer in provisions, spoke of the new governor's
+recommendation 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 some
+day, 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, when
+they all joined the ladies, but Mrs. Purple took him off, and placed him
+between two women. They wanted to hear about "the case," so Peter
+patiently went over that well-worn subject. Perhaps he had his pay by
+being asked to call upon both. More probably the requests were due to
+what Mrs. Purple had said of him during the smoking time:
+
+"He seems such a nice, solid, sensible fellow. I wish some of you would
+ask 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. There
+was more to eat and drink, and the talk was fast and lively. Peter was
+very 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, breezy
+talker on her other side. After the dinner Peter had a pleasant chat
+with the Justice's seventeen-year-old daughter, who was just from a
+Catholic convent, and the two tried to talk in French. It is wonderful
+what rubbish is tolerable if only talked in a foreign tongue.
+
+"I don't see what you wanted to have that Stirling for?" said Honorable
+Mrs. 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 put
+down.
+
+"Then you see that you treat Stirling as if he was somebody. He's
+getting to be a power in the ward, and if you want to remain Mrs.
+Justice Gallagher and spend eight thousand--and pickings--a year, you
+see 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 many
+more French books than I have."
+
+Peter lunched with the wholesale provision-dealer as planned. The lunch
+hour proving insufficient for the discussion, a family dinner, a few
+days later, served to continue it. The dealer's family were not very
+enthusiastic about Peter.
+
+"He knows nothing but grub talk," grumbled the heir apparent, who from
+the proud altitude of a broker's office, had come to scorn the family
+trade.
+
+"He doesn't know any fashionable people," said one of the girls, who
+having unfulfilled ambitions concerning that class, was doubly
+interested 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 go
+on. Brilliant! Fashionable! I don't wonder marriage is a failure when I
+see 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 to
+say, 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 for
+dinners."
+
+"He talked very well at Dr. Purple's," said the mamma, whose opinion of
+Peter had undergone a change.
+
+"And he was invited to call by Mrs. Dupont and Mrs. Sizer, which is more
+than you've ever been," said Avery senior to Avery junior.
+
+"That's because of the prog," growled the son, seeing his opportunity to
+square accounts quickly.
+
+Coming out of church the next Sunday, Peter was laid hold of by the
+Bohlmanns and carried off to a mid-day dinner, at which were a lot of
+pleasant Germans, who made it very jolly with their kindly humor. He did
+not contribute much to the laughter, but every one seemed to think him
+an addition to the big table.
+
+Thus it came to pass that late in January Peter dedicated a week of
+evenings to "Society," and nightly donning his dress suit, called
+dutifully on Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Sizer, Mrs. Purple, Mrs. Avery, Mrs.
+Costell, Mrs. Gallagher and Mrs. Bohlmann. Peter was becoming very
+frivolous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+AN EVENING CALL.
+
+
+But Peter's social gadding did not end with these bread-and-butter
+calls. One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famous
+picture-dealer, to look over an exhibition then advertised, and had
+nearly finished his patient examination of each picture, which always
+involved 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: "I
+wonder why he wouldn't buy another ticket?" Aloud she said, "I want you
+to know another of my cousins. Mr. Ogden, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"Charmed," said Mr. Ogden genially. Any expression which Peter had
+thought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this passive
+participle, 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 like
+them."
+
+Miss De Voe looked puzzled.
+
+"Don't," said Mr. Ogden. "I tried once, when I first began. But it's
+much easier to notice what women say, and answer 'yes' and 'no' at the
+right points."
+
+Peter looked puzzled.
+
+"Nonsense, Lispenard," said Miss De Voe. "He's really one of the best
+connoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"There," said Lispenard. "You see. Only agree with people, and they
+think you know everything."
+
+"I suppose you have seen the pictures, and so won't care to go round
+with us?" inquired Miss De Voe.
+
+"I've looked at them, but I should like to go over again with you," said
+Peter. Then he added, "if I shan't be in the way."
+
+"Not a bit," said Lispenard heartily. "My cousin always wants a
+listener. It will be a charity to her tongue and my ears." Miss De Voe
+merely gave him a very pleasant smile. "I wonder why he wouldn't buy a
+ticket?" she thought.
+
+Peter was rather astonished at the way they looked at the pictures. They
+would pass by a dozen without giving them a second glance, and then stop
+at one, and chat about it for ten minutes. He found that Miss De Voe had
+not exaggerated her cousin's art knowledge. He talked familiarly and
+brilliantly, though making constant fun of his own opinions, and often
+jeering at the faults of the picture. Miss De Voe also talked well, so
+Peter really did supply the ears for the party. He was very much pleased
+when 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 your
+liking."
+
+"That's womanly," said Lispenard, "they are always deciding what a man
+should like."
+
+"No," denied Miss De Voe. "But I should think with your liking for
+children, that you would have preferred that piece of Brown's, rather
+than this sad, desolate sand-dune."
+
+"I cannot say why I like it, except, that I feel as if it had something
+to do with my own mood at times."
+
+"Are you very lonely?" asked Miss De Voe, in a voice too low for
+Lispenard to hear.
+
+"Sometimes," said Peter, simply.
+
+"I wish," said Miss De Voe, still speaking low, "that the next time you
+feel so you would come and see me."
+
+"I will," said Peter.
+
+When they parted at the door, Peter thanked Lispenard: "I've really
+learned a good deal, thanks to Miss De Voe and you. I've seen the
+pictures 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 search
+of listeners."
+
+"If you come and see me, Mr. Stirling," said Miss De Voe, "you shall see
+my pictures. Good-bye."
+
+"So that is your Democratic heeler?" said Lispenard, eyeing Peter's
+retreating 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. "Then
+that's your protector of sick kittens?"
+
+Miss De Voe made no reply. She was thinking of that dreary wintry
+stretch of sand and dune.
+
+Thus it came to pass that a week later, when a north-easter had met a
+south-wester overhead and both in combination had turned New York
+streets into a series of funnels, in and through which wind, sleet and
+snow fought for possession, to the almost absolute dispossession of
+humanity and horses, that Peter ended a long stare at his blank wall by
+putting on his dress-suit, and plunging into the streets. He had, very
+foolishly, decided to omit dinner, a couple of hours before, rather than
+face the storm, and a north-east wind and an empty stomach are enough to
+set any man staring at nothing, if that dangerous inclination is at all
+habitual. Peter realized this, for the opium eater is always keenly
+alive to the dangers of the drug. Usually he fought the tendency
+bravely, but this night he felt too tired to fight himself, and
+preferred to battle with a little thing like a New York storm. So he
+struggled through the deserted streets until he had reached his
+objective point in the broad Second Avenue house. Miss De Voe was at
+home, but was "still at dinner."
+
+Peter vacillated, wondering what the correct thing was under the
+circumstances. The footman, remembering him of old, and servants in
+those simple days being still open to impressions, suggested that he
+wait. Peter gladly accepted the idea. But he did not wait, for hardly
+had the footman left him than that functionary returned, to tell Peter
+that Miss De Voe would see him in the dining-room.
+
+"I asked you to come in here, because I'm sure, after venturing out such
+a 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 a
+cup of coffee decidedly better in quality than his home-brew. Blank
+walls ceased to have any particular value for the time.
+
+In a moment Miss De Voe joined him at the fire. A small table was moved
+up, 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 this
+evening. I was promising myself a very solitary time, and was dawdling
+over 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 give
+it up."
+
+"You didn't walk?"
+
+"Yes. I could have taken a solitary-car that passed, but the horses were
+so done up that I thought I was better able to walk."
+
+Miss De Voe touched the bell. "Another cup of coffee, Morden, and bring
+the cognac," she said. "I am not going to let you please your mother
+to-night," she told Peter. "I am going to make you do what I wish." So
+she 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 so
+obstinate sometimes, and so obedient at others," thought Miss De Voe. "I
+don't generally let men smoke, but I'm going to make an exception
+to-night in your case," she continued.
+
+It was a sore temptation to Peter, but he answered quickly, "Thank you
+for 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 and
+sleeted 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 to
+hear about it?"
+
+Miss De Voe looked at him curiously, but she did not seem particularly
+interested in what Peter had to tell her, in response to her "yes." It
+concerned an arrest on the streets for drunkenness.
+
+"I didn't think the fellow was half as drunk as frozen," Peter
+concluded, "and I told the policeman it was a case for an ambulance
+rather than a station-house. He didn't agree, so I had to go with them
+both 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 silent
+again.
+
+"It was coming up here," he said finally.
+
+"What is he trying to keep back?" asked Miss De Voe mentally. "I suppose
+some of the down-town places are not quite--but he wouldn't--" then she
+said out loud: "I wonder if you men do as women do, when they dine
+alone? Just live on slops. Now, what did you order to-night? Were you an
+ascetic 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 some
+conclusion from your menu." Miss De Voe laughed, so as to make it appear
+a joke, but she knew very well that she was misbehaving.
+
+"I didn't reply to your question," said Peter, "because I would have
+preferred 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 she
+was sitting up very straight in her chair. Women will do without eating
+for an indefinite period, and think nothing of it, but the thought of a
+hungry man fills them with horror--unless they have the wherewithal to
+mitigate 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 for
+nothing."
+
+"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 you
+as--"
+
+Peter interrupted again. "If that is so," he said, rising, "I had better
+go."
+
+"No," cried Miss De Voe. "Oh, won't you please? It's no trouble. I'll
+not 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 should
+be 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?" asked
+Miss 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 evening
+with me put above dinner. You know I had the feeling that you didn't
+like 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 wished
+to 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 fifty
+dollars in one month. I know men who would give that amount to dine with
+me." It was a foolish brag, but Miss De Voe felt that her usual means of
+inspiring respect were not working,--not even realized.
+
+"Very likely. But I can't afford such luxuries. I had spent more than
+usual and had to be careful."
+
+"Then it was economy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I had no idea my dinner invitations would ever be held in so little
+respect that a man would decline one to save seven dollars." Miss De Voe
+was hurt. "I had given him five hundred dollars," she told herself, "and
+he ought to have been willing to spend such a small amount of it to
+please me." Then she said; "A great many people economize in foolish
+ways."
+
+"I suppose so," said Peter. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you. I really
+didn't think I ought to spend the money."
+
+"Never mind," said Miss De Voe. "Were you pleased with the nomination
+and 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 the
+convention."
+
+"A great many people seem to have misunderstood me. I tried to make it
+clear."
+
+"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 it
+must be a mortifying subject to Peter, and knew that she ought to
+discontinue it. But she could not help saying, "Why?"
+
+"It's difficult to explain, I'm afraid. I had a feeling that a man was
+trying to do wrong, but I hoped that I was mistaken. It seemed to me
+that circumstances compelled me to tell the convention all about it, but
+I was very careful not to hint at my suspicion. Yet the moment I told
+them 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 put
+into it gave it a big meaning. "Then they were laughing at Maguire?"
+
+"At the time they were. Really, though, they were laughing at human
+weakness. 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 to
+understand. I ought to have said nothing, or charged a bargain right
+out, for then they would have understood. A friend of--a fellow I used
+to know, said I was the best chap for bungling he ever knew, and I'm
+afraid 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 Peter
+told about the little woman who hated politics and loved flowers, and
+about the cool, able manager of men, who could not restrain himself from
+putting his arms about the necks of his favorite horses, and who had
+told about the death of one of his mares with tears in his eyes. "He had
+his cheek cut open by a kick from one of his horses once, and he speaks
+of 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 something
+about you to a group of men which called my attention to him." Miss De
+Voe thought Peter would ask her what it was. "Would you like to know
+what 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 so
+absolutely without our standards." Her chair suddenly ceased to be
+comfortable. She rose, saying, "Let us go to the library. I shall not
+show you my pictures now. The gallery is too big to be pleasant such a
+night. You must come again for that. Won't you tell me about some of the
+other men you are meeting in politics?" she asked when they had sat down
+before another open fire. "It seems as if all the people I know are just
+alike--I suppose it's because we are all so conventional--and I am very
+much 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., and
+Miss Gallagher, and their dinner companions. He did not satirize in the
+least. He merely told various incidents and conversations, in a sober,
+serious way; but Miss De Voe was quietly amused by much of the narrative
+and said to herself, "I think he has humor, but is too serious-minded to
+yield to it." She must have enjoyed his talk for she would not let Peter
+go early, and he was still too ignorant of social usages to know how to
+get away, whether a woman wished or no. Finally he insisted that he must
+leave 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 me
+send 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 very
+settling kind of voice.
+
+"He's obstinate," thought Miss De Voe. "And he makes his obstinacy so
+dreadfully--dreadfully pronounced!" Aloud she said: "You will come
+again?"
+
+"If you will let me."
+
+"Do. I am very much alone too, as perhaps you know?" Miss De Voe did not
+choose to say that her rooms could be filled nightly and that
+everywhere she was welcome.
+
+"No. I really know nothing about you, except what you have told me, and
+what I have seen."
+
+Miss De Voe laughed merrily at Peter's frankness. "I feel as if I knew
+all 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 get
+accustomed to Peter. All her social experience failed to bridge the
+chasm 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 the
+pause could not continue indefinitely, and she finally said: "I have
+lived alone ever since my father's death. I have relatives, but prefer
+to stay here. I am so much more independent. I suppose I shall have to
+move some day. This part of the city is beginning to change so." Miss De
+Voe was merely talking against time, and was not sorry when Peter shook
+hands, and left her alone.
+
+"He's very different from most men," she said to the blazing logs. "He
+is 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 few
+days, in Peter's receiving a formal dinner invitation, which he accepted
+with a promptness not to be surpassed by the best-bred diner-out. He
+regretted now his vamping of the old suit. Peter understood that he was
+in for quite another affair than the Avery, the Gallagher, or even the
+Purple dinner. He did not worry, however, and if in the dressing-room he
+looked furtively at the coats of the other men, he entirely forgot the
+subject the moment he started downstairs, and thought no further of it
+till he came to take off the suit in his own room.
+
+When Peter entered the drawing-room, he found it well filled with young
+people, and for a moment a little of the bewildered feeling of four
+years before came over him. But he found himself chatting with Miss De
+Voe, and the feeling left him as quickly as it had come. In a moment he
+was introduced to a "Miss Lenox," who began talking in an easy way which
+gave Peter just as much or as little to say as he chose. Peter wondered
+if 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 other
+side. He had barely exchanged greetings with her, when he heard his name
+spoken from across the table, and looking up, he found Miss Leroy
+sitting opposite.
+
+"I hope you haven't entirely forgotten me," that girl said, the moment
+his 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 mortal
+terror 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 I
+thought 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 the
+Harvard 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 never
+before seen.
+
+"How strange. The letters must have gone astray. But you have written
+him?"
+
+"I did not know his address."
+
+"Then you really haven't heard of the little baby--why, it was born
+two--no, three years ago--and of Helen's long ill-health, and of their
+taking a villa on the Riviera, and of how they hope to come home this
+spring?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Yes. They will sail in June if Helen is well enough. I'm to be
+god-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 to
+run across him?"
+
+"I will. He and Laurence--my second brother--are old cronies, and he
+often drops in on us. I want you to know my brothers. They are both here
+this evening."
+
+"I have met the elder one, I suppose."
+
+"No. That was a cousin, Lispenard Ogden. He spoke of meeting you. You
+would 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 own
+medicine.
+
+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 De
+Voe:
+
+"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 a
+very 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 hit
+things off in epigrams, and sometimes he's very foolish." Then she
+turned 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 you
+remember. It's curious I've never heard of him since then."
+
+"You know he's the man who made that splendid speech when the poor
+children 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 in
+talking!"
+
+"Was Mrs. D'Alloi a great friend of his?"
+
+"No. She told me that Watts had brought him to see them only once. I
+don'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 a
+moment, 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 she
+exploited 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 than
+there was in the army of the Potomac. My cousin Lispenard says it's
+wrecking his nervous system to live up to the reputation she makes for
+him."
+
+"I never had a sister, but it must be rather a good thing to live up
+to."
+
+"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 same
+work. 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 few
+clients."
+
+"Fortunately it doesn't take many. Two or three rich steady clients will
+keep a fellow running. I know a man who's only got one, but he runs him
+for 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 the
+thought of making a steady living out of the Blacketts, Dooleys or
+Milligans.
+
+"It's all a matter of friends."
+
+Peter had a different theory, but he did not say so. Just at that point
+they were joined by Laurence Ogden, who was duly introduced, and in a
+moment the conversation at their end of the table became general. Peter
+listened, enjoying his Havana.
+
+When they joined the ladies, they found Lispenard Ogden there, and he
+intercepted 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. He
+hopes to have his own taste approved and flattered. I'm not a bit good
+at 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 to
+have 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 room
+together?"
+
+"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 you
+together?"
+
+"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 front
+door 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 a
+pleasanter 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 remark
+about the questions."
+
+Peter dined the next evening with Lispenard, who in the course of the
+meal turned the conversation to Miss De Voe. Lispenard was curious to
+learn 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 her
+I 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 ask
+about a friend."
+
+Lispenard laughed. "You've got a pretty bad case of conscience, I'm
+afraid. It's a poor thing to have in New York, too. Well, my cousin is
+one 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, women
+in 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 my
+escortage very convenient. But while she thinks I'm a pretty good
+companion, she is sure I'm a poor sort of a man. If she takes a shine to
+you, make the most of it. She can give you anything she pleases
+socially."
+
+"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 spell
+Society with a capital, do you?"
+
+"Possibly," said Peter, "if I had more capital, I should use some on
+society."
+
+"Good," said Lispenard. "Heavens," he said to himself, "he's made a
+joke! 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 a
+mastiff."
+
+Lispenard laughed good-naturedly. He was used to his cousin's hits at
+his do-nothingness, and rather enjoyed them. "He is a big beast, isn't
+he? But he's a nice fellow. We had such a good time over Le Grand's
+etchings last night. Didn't get away till after one. It's really a
+pleasure to find a man who can smoke and keep quiet, and yet enjoy
+things strongly. Le Grand was taken with him too. We just fitted each
+other."
+
+"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 tell
+him 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 you
+can give him."
+
+"You don't know what you are talking about."
+
+But Lispenard was right. Peter had enjoyed the dinner at Miss De Voe's
+and 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 was
+thinking 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 at
+home. He received a very pleasant letter expressing her regret at
+missing him, and a request to lunch with her two days later, and to go
+with 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, but
+business called him to Albany on that day.
+
+"I really regret it," said Miss De Voe to Dorothy. "It is getting so
+late in the season, that unless he makes his call quickly, I shall
+hardly be able to give him more than one other chance."
+
+Peter's business in Albany had been sprung on him suddenly. It was
+neither more nor less than a request sent verbally through Costell from
+Governor 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's
+hands."
+
+"I hope he'll make good appointments," said Peter, anxiously.
+
+"I think he will," said Costell, smiling quietly. "But I don't believe
+they will be able to do much. Commissions are commonly a way of staving
+off legislation."
+
+Peter went up to Albany and saw Catlin. Much to his surprise he found
+the Governor asking his advice about the bills and the personnel of the
+commissions. But after a few minutes he found that this seeking for aid
+and support in all matters was chronic, and meant nothing special in his
+own case.
+
+"Mr. Schlurger tells me, though he introduced the bills, that you
+drafted both. Do you think I had better sign them?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. Costell told me to take your advice. You really think I had
+better?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Governor evidently found something solacing in the firm voice in
+which 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. Having
+committed himself, he wrote the rest rapidly. He paused for a moment
+over the second bill, and fingered it nervously. Then he signed it
+quickly. "That's done." He shoved them both away much as if they were
+dangerous.
+
+"I wonder," thought Peter, "if he enjoys politics?"
+
+"There's been a great deal of trouble about the commissioners," said the
+Governor.
+
+"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 the
+appointments are bad."
+
+"I know I shall. Just look over those lists, and see if you think
+they'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 you
+would think of me."
+
+"That was done by Costell," said the Governor, hastening to shift the
+responsibility.
+
+"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 each
+commission."
+
+"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 take
+evidence; perhaps we can get the scientific part that way."
+
+Peter did his best to brace Catlin up; and his talk or other pressure
+seemed to have partially galvanized the backbone of that limp
+individual, for a week later the papers announced the naming of the two
+commissions. The lists had been changed, however. That on food consisted
+of Green, a wholesale grocer, and a member of the Health Board. Peter's
+name had been dropped. That on tenements, of five members, was made up
+of Peter; a very large property-owner in New York, who was a member as
+well of the Assembly; a professional labor agitator; a well-known
+politician of the better type, and a public contractor. Peter, who had
+been studying some reports of a British Royal Commission on the same
+subject, looked grave, thinking that what the trained men in England had
+failed in doing, he could hardly hope to accomplish with such
+ill-assorted instruments. The papers were rather down on the lists. "The
+appointments have destroyed any chance of possible benefit," was their
+general conclusion, and Peter feared they were right.
+
+Costell laughed when Peter spoke of the commissions. "If you want Catlin
+to do anything well, you've got to stand over him till it's done. I
+wanted you on both commissions, so that you could see how useless they
+all are, and not blame us politicians for failing in our duty. Green
+promises to get you appointed Secretary of the Food Commission, which is
+the 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 to
+examine its motley members. The big landlord was a great swell, who had
+political ambitions, but was too exclusive, and too much of a dilettante
+to be a real force. Peter took a prejudice against him before meeting
+him, for he knew just how his election to the Assembly had been
+obtained--even the size of the check--and Peter thought buying an
+election was not a very creditable business. He did not like what he
+knew of the labor agitator, for such of the latter's utterances and
+opinions 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. Then
+the naming of a secretary was discussed, each member but Peter having a
+candidate. Much to Peter's surprise, the landlord, Mr. Pell, named Ray
+Rivington.
+
+"I thought he was studying law?" Peter said.
+
+"He is," said Pell. "But he can easily arrange to get off for the few
+hours we shall meet a week, and the five dollars a day will be a very
+nice 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 every
+year. They try to live on their traditions, and traditions don't pay
+grocers. I hope you'll help him. He's a very decent fellow."
+
+"I shall vote for him," replied Peter, marvelling that he should be able
+to give a lift to the man who, in the Harvard days, had seemed so
+thoroughly the mate of Watts and the other rich fellows of the "gang."
+Rivington being the only candidate who had two votes, he was promptly
+selected.
+
+Thirty arduous minutes were spent in waiting for the arrival of the
+fifth member of the Commission, and in the election of chairman and
+secretary. A motion was then made to adjourn, on the ground that the
+Commission could not proceed without the secretary.
+
+Peter promptly objected. He had been named secretary for this particular
+meeting, and offered to act until Rivington could be notified. "I
+think," he said, "that we ought to lay out our programme."
+
+The labor agitator agreed with him, and, rising, delivered an extempore
+speech, declaring that "we must not delay. The leeches (here he looked
+at 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 the
+chairman's arm. "If you stop him," he said in a low voice, "he'll think
+we 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 an
+outline of action which he had drawn up, and having written it in
+duplicate, he passed one draft over to Mr. Pell.
+
+They all let the speech go on, Peter, Mr. Pell and the chairman chatting
+over the plan, while the contractor went to sleep. The agitator tried to
+continue, but as the inattention became more and more evident, his
+speech 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's
+outline was read aloud.
+
+"I don't move its adoption," said Peter. "I merely submit it as a
+basis."
+
+Not one of the members had come prepared with knowledge of how to go to
+work, except the chairman, who had served on other commissions. He said:
+
+"I think Mr. Stirling's scheme shows very careful thought and is
+admirable. 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 different
+conditions."
+
+Mr. Pell objected to the proposed frequent sittings. Thereupon the
+agitator praised that feature. The hour of meeting caused discussion.
+But finally the scheme was adopted, and the date of the first session
+fixed.
+
+Peter went downstairs with Mr. Pell, and the latter offered to drop him
+at his office. So they drove off together, and talked about the
+Commission.
+
+"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 the
+preliminary work, drafted the "Inquiries" and other printed papers
+necessary to be sent out before the first meeting, and told him about
+the procedure at the meetings.
+
+"I know I shall get into all kinds of pickles," said Ray. "I write such
+a bad hand that often I can't read it myself. How the deuce am I to take
+down evidence?"
+
+"I shall make notes for my own use, and you will be welcome to them, if
+they will help you."
+
+"Thanks, Peter. That's like you."
+
+The Commission began its inquiry, on the date fixed, and met three times
+a week from that time on. Peter did not try to push himself forward, but
+he was by far the best prepared on the subject, and was able to suggest
+the best sources of information. He asked good questions, too, of the
+various witnesses summoned. Finally he was the one regular attendant,
+and therefore was the one appealed to for information elicited at
+previous meetings. He found the politician his best helper. Pell was
+useful when he attended, which was not very often, and even this
+intermittent attendance ceased in June. "I'm going to Newport," he
+explained, and did not appear again till late in the fall. The
+contractor really took no part in the proceedings beyond a fairly
+frequent attendance, and an occasional fit of attention whenever the
+inquiry 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 in
+reading over the minutes of previous meetings. But he was in earnest,
+and proved to be perfectly reasonable as soon as he found that the
+commissioners' duties were to inquire and not to make speeches. Peter
+walked home with him several times, and they spent evenings together in
+Peter'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 went
+to see these persons after they had been before the Commission, and
+talked with them, finding that they were quite willing to give facts in
+private which they did not care to have put on record.
+
+He had been appointed the Secretary of the Food Commission, and spent
+much time on that work. He was glad to find that he had considerable
+influence, and that Green not merely acted on his suggestions, but
+encouraged him to make them. The two inquiries were so germane that they
+helped him reciprocally. No reports were needed till the next meeting of
+the Legislature, in the following January, and so the two commissions
+took enough evidence to swamp them. Poor Ray was reduced almost to
+despair over the mass of "rubbish" as he called it, which he would
+subsequently have to put in order.
+
+Between the two tasks, Peter's time was well-nigh used up. It was
+especially drawn upon when the taking of evidence ceased and the
+drafting of the reports began. Ray's notes proved hopeless, so Peter
+copied out his neatly, and let Ray have them, rather glad that
+irrelevant and useless evidence was thus omitted. It was left to Peter
+to draw the report, and when his draft was submitted, it was accompanied
+by a proposed General Tenement-house Bill. Both report and bill were
+slightly amended, but not in a way that Peter minded.
+
+Peter drew the Food-Commission report as well, although it went before
+the Commission as Green's. To this, too, a proposed bill was attached,
+which had undergone the scrutiny of the Health Board, and had been
+conformed to their suggestions.
+
+In November Peter carried both reports to Albany, and had a long talk
+with Catlin over them. That official would have preferred no reports,
+but since they were made, there was nothing to do but to submit them to
+the Legislature. Peter did not get much encouragement from him about the
+chances for the bills. But Costell told him that they could be "whipped
+through. The only danger is of their being amended, so as to spoil
+them."
+
+"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 believe
+in your own truthfulness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+IN THE MEANTIME.
+
+
+In spite of nine months' hard work on the two Commissions, it is not to
+be supposed that Peter's time was thus entirely monopolized. If one
+spends but seven hours of the twenty-four in sleep, and but two more on
+meals, there is considerable remaining time, and even so slow a worker
+as Peter found spare hours not merely for society and saloons, but for
+what else he chose to undertake.
+
+Socially he had an evening with Miss De Voe, just before she left the
+city for the summer; a dinner with Mr. Pell, who seemed to have taken a
+liking to Peter; a call on Lispenard; another on Le Grand; and a family
+meal at the Rivingtons, where he was made much of in return for his aid
+to Ray.
+
+In the saloons he worked hard over the coming primary, and spent
+evenings as well on doorsteps in the district, talking over objects and
+candidates. 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's
+politics. He had become a recognized quantity in the control of the
+district, and the various ward factions tried hard to gain his support.
+When the primary met, the proceedings, if exciting, were never for a
+moment doubtful, for Gallagher, Peter, Moriarty and Blunkers had been
+able to agree on both programme and candidates. An attempt had been made
+to "turn down" Schlurger, but Peter had opposed it, and had carried his
+point, to the great gratitude of the silent, honest German. What was
+more important to him, this had all been done without exciting hard
+feelings.
+
+"Stirling's a reasonable fellow," Gallagher told Costell, not knowing
+how much Peter was seeing of the big leader, "and he isn't dead set on
+carrying his own schemes. We've never had so little talk of mutiny and
+sulking 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"' visitings
+again, though not with quite the former regularity. Yet he rarely let a
+week pass without having spent a couple of evenings there. The
+spontaneous welcome accorded him was payment enough for the time, let
+alone the pleasure and enjoyment he derived from the imps. There was
+little that could raise Peter in their estimation, but they understood
+very well that he had become a man of vast importance, as it seemed to
+them. 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, who
+was about to "play ball."
+
+"Cheese it yerself. He won't dare tech me," shouted Tim, "so long as
+Mister 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 by
+that 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 that
+part 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, with
+music, 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 whisky
+cause some ---- cusses don't drink like as dey orter." Then catching a
+look in Peter's face, he laughed rather shamefacedly. "I forgits," he
+explained. "Yer see I'm so da--" he checked himself--"I swears widout
+knowin' 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. Yer
+wouldn'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 dull
+subject?"
+
+"Yer just talk what yer want. We'll listen."
+
+After Peter had thought it over for a day, he went to Blunkers's gin
+palace.
+
+"Look here," he said. "Would it be possible to hire one more barge, and
+take 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 was
+Peter's idea. So every child who went, nearly wild with delight, felt
+that the sail, the sand, the sea, and the big feed, was all owed to
+Peter.
+
+It was rather an amusing experience to Peter. He found many of his party
+friends in the district, not excluding such men as Gallagher, Kennedy
+and others of the more prominent rank. He made himself very pleasant to
+those whom he knew, chatting with them on the trip down. He went into
+the water with the men and boys, and though there were many good
+swimmers, Peter's country and river training made it possible for him to
+give 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 the
+tenement-house question for twenty minutes. The speech was very
+different from what they expected, and rather disappointed them all.
+However, he won back their good opinions in closing, for he ended with a
+very pleasant "thank you," to Blunkers, so neatly worded, and containing
+such a thoroughly apt local joke, that it put all in a good humor, and
+gave them something to tell their neighbors, on their return home. The
+advantage of seldom joking is that people remember the joke, and it gets
+repeated. Peter almost got the reputation of a wit on that one joke,
+merely because it came after a serious harangue, and happened to be
+quotable. Blunkers was so pleased with the end of the speech that he got
+Peter to write it out, and to this day the "thank you" part of the
+address, in Peter's neat handwriting, handsomely framed, is to be seen
+in Blunkers's saloon.
+
+Peter also did a little writing this summer. He had gone to see three or
+four of the reporters, whom he had met in "the case," to get them to
+write up the Food and Tenement subjects, wishing thereby to stir up
+public feeling. He was successful to a certain degree, and they not
+merely wrote articles themselves, but printed three or four which Peter
+wrote. In two cases, he was introduced to "staff" writers, and even
+wrote an editorial, for which he was paid fifteen dollars. This money
+was all he received for the time spent, but he was not working for
+shekels. All the men told him to let them know when he had more
+"stories" for them, and promised him assistance when the reports should
+go in to the legislature.
+
+Peter visited his mother as usual during August. Before going, he called
+on Dr. Plumb, and after an evening with him, went to two tenements in
+the district. As the result of these calls, he carried three children
+with him when he went home. Rather pale, thin little waifs. It is a
+serious matter to charge any one with so grave a crime as changling, but
+Peter laid himself open to it, for when he came back, after two weeks,
+he returned very different children to the parents. The fact that they
+did not prosecute for the substitution only proves how little the really
+poor care for their offspring.
+
+But this was not his only summering. He spent four days with the
+Costells, as well as two afternoons later, thoroughly enjoying, not
+merely the long, silent drives over the country behind the fast horses,
+but the pottering round the flower-garden with Mrs. Costell. He had been
+reading up a little on flowers and gardening, and he was glad to swap
+his theoretical for her practical knowledge. Candor compels the
+statement that he enjoyed the long hours stretched on the turf, or
+sitting idly on the veranda, puffing Mr. Costell's good Havanas.
+
+Twice Mr. Bohlmann stopped at Peter's office of a Saturday and took him
+out to stay over Sunday at his villa in one of the Oranges. The family
+all 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 Dummer
+id 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 a
+lawyer 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 two
+statements. He liked the two girls. They were nice-looking, sweet,
+sincere women. He knew that Mr. Bohlmann was ranked as a millionaire
+already, and was growing richer fast. Yet--Peter needed no blank walls.
+
+During this summer, Peter had a little more law practice. A small grocer
+in one of the tenements came to him about a row with his landlord. Peter
+heard 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 can
+do something," and the man agreeing, Peter went to see the landlord, a
+retail 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. Such
+material repairs could not have been foreseen when the lease was made."
+
+The tobacconist was rather obstinate at first. Finally he said, "I'll
+tell you what I'll do. I'll contribute one hundred dollars towards the
+repairs, if you'll make a tenant named Podds in the same building pay
+his rent; or dispossess him if he doesn't, so that it shan't cost me
+anything."
+
+Peter agreed, and went to see the tenant in arrears. He found that the
+man had a bad rheumatism and consequently was unable to work. The wife
+was doing what she could, and even the children had been sent on the
+streets to sell papers, or by other means, to earn what they could. They
+also owed a doctor and the above-mentioned grocer. Peter went back to
+the landlord and told him the story.
+
+"Yes," he said, "it's a hard case, I know, but, Mr. Stirling, I owe a
+mortgage on the place, and the interest falls due in September. I'm out
+four months' rent, and really can't afford any more." So Peter took
+thirty-two dollars from his "Trustee" fund, and sent it to the
+tobacconist. "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 for
+their credit, taking his chance of pay, and now got it paid in an
+equivalent of cash. He gave the nine dollars with alacrity.
+
+Peter took it upstairs and gave it to Mrs. Podds. "If things look up
+with you later," he said, "you can pay it back. If not, don't trouble
+about 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 to
+his 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 her
+self-imposed work of introducing Peter. He was twice invited to dinner
+and was twice taken with opera parties to sit in her box, besides
+receiving a number of less important attentions. Peter accepted
+dutifully all that she offered him. Even ordered a new dress-suit of a
+tailor recommended by Lispenard. He was asked by some of the people he
+met to call, probably on Miss De Voe's suggestion, and he dutifully
+called. Yet at the end of three months Miss De Voe shook her head.
+
+"He is absolutely a gentleman, and people seem to like him. Yet
+somehow--I don't understand it."
+
+"Exactly," laughed Lispenard. "You can't make a silk purse out of a
+sow's ear."
+
+"Lispenard," angrily said Miss De Voe, "Mr. Stirling is as much better
+than--"
+
+"That's it," said Lispenard. "Don't think I'm depreciating Peter. The
+trouble is that he is much too good a chap to make into a society or a
+lady'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, and
+simply 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 wants
+to know your swell friends."
+
+Either this conversation or Miss De Voe's own thoughts, led to a change
+in her course. Invitations to formal dinners and to the opera suddenly
+ceased, and instead, little family dinners, afternoons in galleries, and
+evenings at concerts took their place. Sometimes Lispenard went with
+them, sometimes one of the Ogden girls, sometimes they went alone. It
+was an unusual week when Peter's mail did not now bring at least one
+little 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 you
+about something," it said. That same evening he was shown into her
+drawing-rooms. She thanked him with warmth for coming so quickly, and
+Peter saw that only the other visitors prevented her from showing some
+strong feeling. He had stumbled in on her evening--for at that time
+people still had evenings--but knowing her wishes, he stayed till they
+were left alone together.
+
+"Come into the library," she said. As they passed across the hall she
+told Morden, "I shall not receive any more to-night."
+
+The moment they were in the smaller and cosier room, without waiting to
+sit even, she began: "Mr. Stirling, I dined at the Manfreys yesterday."
+She spoke in a voice evidently endeavoring not to break. Peter looked
+puzzled.
+
+"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 had
+used it to help--" Miss De Voe broke down, and, leaning against the
+mantel, 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 the
+good it's done. Suppose you sit down." Peter brought a chair, and Miss
+De 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 the
+things which he had been able to do:--of the surgical brace it had
+bought; of the lessons in wood-engraving it had given; of the
+sewing-machine it had helped to pay for; of the arrears in rent it had
+settled. "You see," he explained, "these people are too self-respecting
+to go to the big charities, or to rich people. But their troubles are
+talked over in the saloons and on the doorsteps, so I hear of them, and
+can 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. Miss
+De Voe's life and surroundings were not exactly weepy ones, and when
+tears came they meant much. She said little, till Peter rose to go, and
+then only:
+
+"I shall want to talk with you, to see what I can do to help you in your
+work. Please come again soon. I ought not to have brought you here this
+evening, only to see me cry like a baby. But--I had done you such
+injustice in my mind about that seven dollars, and then to find
+that--Oh!" Miss De Voe showed signs of a recurring break-down, but
+mastered herself. "Good-evening."
+
+Peter gone, Miss De Voe had another "good" cry--which is a feminine
+phrase, quite incomprehensible to men--and, going to her room, bathed
+her eyes. Then she sat before her boudoir fire, thinking. Finally she
+rose. 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, but
+Dorothy and Miss De Voe formed with him the party in the box on such
+nights. Miss De Voe took him to call on Mrs. Odgen, and sang his praises
+to both parents. She even went so far as to say frankly to them what was
+in 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 the
+politicians thought of him as a rising man."
+
+"He seems a nice steady fellow," said the mamma. "I don't suppose he has
+much practice?"
+
+"Oh, don't think of the money," said Miss De Voe. "What is that compared
+to 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. They
+need not think of money. If he and Dorothy only will care for each
+other!"
+
+Peter and Dorothy did like each other. Dorothy was very pretty, and had
+all the qualities which make a girl a strong magnet to men. Peter could
+not help liking her. As for Dorothy, she was like other women. She
+enjoyed the talking, joking, "good-time" men in society, and chatted and
+danced with them with relish. But like other women, when she thought of
+marriage, she did not find these gingerbread ornamentations so
+attractive. The average woman loves a man, aside from his love for her,
+for his physical strength, and his stiff truth-telling. The first is
+attractive to her because she has it not. Far be it from man to say why
+the second attracts. So Dorothy liked Peter. She admired many qualities
+in him which she would not have tolerated in other men. It is true that
+she laughed at him, too, for many things, but it was the laughter of
+that peculiar nature which implies admiration and approval, rather than
+the lower feelings. When the spring separation came, Miss De Voe was
+really quite hopeful.
+
+"I think things have gone very well. Now, Mr. Stirling has promised to
+spend a week with me at Newport. I shall have Dorothy there at the same
+time," she told Mrs. Ogden.
+
+Lispenard, who was present, laughed as usual. "So you are tired of your
+new plaything already?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Arn't you marrying him so as to get rid of his calls and his
+escortage?"
+
+"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 to
+Wellington 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 August
+visit to his mother. Miss De Voe had told him casually that Dorothy
+would be there, and Dorothy was there. Yet he saw wonderfully little of
+her. It is true that he could have seen more if he had tried, but Peter
+was not used to practice finesse to win minutes and hours with a girl,
+and did not feel called upon, bluntly, to take such opportunities. His
+stay was not so pleasant as he had expected. He had thought a week in
+the same house with Miss De Voe, Dorothy and Lispenard, without much
+regard 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 when
+she went home:
+
+"I can't imagine what is the matter with Cousin Anneke. All last spring
+she was nicer to me than she has ever been before, but from the moment I
+arrived at Newport, and before I could possibly have said or done
+anything to offend her, she treated me in the snippiest way. After two
+days I asked her what the matter was, but she insisted there was
+nothing, and really lost her temper at my suggesting the idea. There was
+something, I know, for when I said I was coming home sooner than I had
+at first intended, she didn't try to make me stay."
+
+"Perhaps," said Mrs. Ogden, "she was disappointed in something, and so
+vented her feeling on you."
+
+"But she wasn't cross--except when I asked her what the matter was. She
+was 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 some
+joke to himself, and kept making remarks that nobody could understand,
+and chuckling over them. I told him once that he was rude, but he said
+that '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 is
+the 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 a
+comedy, not a tragedy.' What could he mean?"
+
+Lispenard stayed on to see the "comedy," and seemed to enjoy it, if the
+amused expression on his face when he occasionally gave himself up to
+meditation was any criterion. Peter had been pressed to stay beyond the
+original 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 gone
+before, although Dorothy had departed and Peter liked Dorothy. But he
+saw much more of Miss De Voe, and Miss De Voe was in a much pleasanter
+mood. They took long drives and walks together, and had long hours of
+talk in and about the pleasant house and grounds. Miss De Voe had cut
+down her social duties for the ten days Peter was there, giving far more
+time for them to kill than usually fell to Newporters even in those
+comparitively 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 marry
+Lispenard."
+
+"Do you think cousins ought to marry?"
+
+Miss De Voe had looked at Peter when she made her remark. Peter had
+replied quietly, but his question, as Miss De Voe understood it, was
+purely scientific, not personal. Miss De Voe replied:
+
+"I suppose it is not right, but it is so much better than what may
+happen, that it really seems best. It is so hard for a girl in Dorothy's
+position 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 well
+situated to get the right kind of a husband.
+
+"It is hard to make it clear--but--I'll tell you my own story, so that
+you can understand. Since you don't ask questions, I will take the
+initiative. That is, unless your not asking them means you are not
+interested?" 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 in
+earnest?" 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 rise
+in New York real estate made them in time, much richer. They both
+belonged to old families. I was the only child--Lispenard says old
+families are so proud of themselves that they don't dare to have large
+families for fear of making the name common. Of course they lavished all
+their thought, devotion and anxiety on me. I was not spoiled; but I was
+watched and tended as if I were the most precious thing the world
+contained. When I grew up, and went into society, I question if I ever
+was a half-hour out of the sight of one or the other of my parents. I
+had plenty of society, of course, but it was restricted entirely to our
+set. None other was good enough for me! My father never had any
+business, so brought no new element into our household. It was old
+families, year in and year out! From the moment I entered society I was
+sought for. I had many suitors. I had been brought up to fear
+fortune-hunting, and suspected the motives of many men. Others did not
+seem my equals--for I had been taught pride in my birth. Those who were
+fit as regarded family were, many of them, unfit in brains or
+morals--qualities not conspicuous in old families. Perhaps I might have
+found one to love--if it had not been for the others. I was surrounded
+wherever I went and if by chance I found a pleasant man to talk to,
+_tete-a-tete,_ we were interrupted by other men coming up. Only a few
+even of the men whom I met could gain an _entree_ to our house.--They
+weren't thought good enough. If a working, serious man had ever been
+able to see enough of me to love me, he probably would have had very
+little opportunity to press his suit. But the few men I might have cared
+for were frightened off by my money, or discouraged by my popularity and
+exclusiveness. They did not even try. Of course I did not understand it
+then. 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 slightest
+inducement to marry--especially among the men I saw the most. I led
+this life for six years. Then my mother's death put me in mourning. When
+I went back into society, an almost entirely new set of men had
+appeared. Those whom I had known were many of them married--others were
+gone. Society had lost its first charm to me. So my father and I
+travelled three years. We had barely returned when he died. I did not
+take up my social duties again till I was thirty-two. Then it was as the
+spinster aunt, as you have known me. Now do you understand how hard it
+is for such a girl as Dorothy to marry rightly?"
+
+"Yes. Unless the man is in love. Let a man care enough for a woman, and
+money or position will not frighten him off."
+
+"Such men are rare. Or perhaps it is because I did not attract them. I
+did not understand men as well then as I do now. Of some whom I thought
+unlovable or dull at that time, I have learned to think better. A woman
+does 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. Even
+now, thirty-seven though I am, if I could find a true man who could love
+me as I wish to be loved, I could love him with my whole heart. It would
+be my happiness not merely to give him social position and wealth, but
+to make his every hope and wish mine also."
+
+All this had been said in the same natural manner in which they both
+usually spoke. Miss De Voe had talked without apparent emotion. But when
+she began the last remark, she had stopped looking at Peter, and had
+gazed off through the window at the green lawn, merely showing him her
+profile. 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 see
+this look pass and his face, and especially his mouth, settle into a
+rigid determination, even while the eyes remained sad.
+
+Miss De Voe ended the pause by beginning, "Don't you"--but Peter
+interrupted her there, by saying:
+
+"It is a very sad story to me--because I--I once craved love and
+sympathy."
+
+Miss De Voe turned and looked at him quickly. She saw the look of
+suffering 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," she
+said, laying her hand on Peter's shoulder, "we have both missed the
+great prize in life. Your lot is harder than the one I have told you
+about. It is very,"--Miss De Voe paused a moment,--"it is very sad to
+love--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 the
+train:
+
+"You see I go back to the city occasionally in the summer, so as to make
+the country bearable, and then I go back to the country, so as to make
+the city endurable. I shall be in Newport again in a week. When will you
+come 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 a
+question.
+
+"Perhaps," continued Lispenard, "she talked too much, and so did not
+remember 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 know
+it."
+
+The color blazed up into Lispenard's face and he rose, saying:
+
+"Did I understand you aright?" The manner and attitude were both
+threatening though repressed.
+
+"If you tell me that I misunderstood you, I will apologize. If you think
+the statement insulting, I will withdraw it. I did not speak to insult
+you; but because I wished you to know how your questions impressed me."
+
+"When a man tells another he is contemptible, he cannot expect to escape
+results. This is no place to have a scene. You may send me your apology
+when we reach New York--"
+
+Peter interrupted. "I shall, if you will tell me I wronged you in
+supposing your questions to be malicious."
+
+Lispenard paid no attention to the interjection. "Otherwise," he
+finished, "we will consider our relations ended." He walked away.
+
+Peter wrote Lispenard that evening a long letter. He did not apologize
+in 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 was
+told that Lispenard had gone west for a hunting trip, quite
+unexpectedly. "He said not to expect him back till he came. He seemed
+out of sorts at something." In September Peter had a letter from Miss De
+Voe. Merely a few lines saying that she had decided to spend the winter
+abroad, and was on the point of sailing. "I am too hurried to see my
+friends, but did not like to go without some good-byes, so I write
+them." On the whole, as in the case of most comedies, there was little
+amusement for the actual performers. A great essayist has defined
+laughter as a "feeling of superiority in the laugher over the object
+laughed at." If this is correct, it makes all humor despicable.
+Certainly much coarseness, meanness and cruelty are every day
+tolerated, because of the comic covering with which it is draped.
+
+It is not to be supposed that this comedy nor its winter prologue had
+diverted Peter from other things. In spite of Miss De Voe's demands on
+his time he had enough left to spend many days in Albany when the
+legislature took up the reports of the Commissions. He found strong
+lobbies against both bills, and had a long struggle with them. He had
+the help of the newspapers, and he had the help of Costell, yet even
+with this powerful backing, the bills were first badly mangled, and
+finally 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 be
+entirely bad. Second only to Pell, was his whilom enemy, the former
+District-Attorney, now a state senator, who battled himself into Peter's
+reluctant admiration and friendship by his devotion and loyalty to the
+bills. Peter concluded that he had not entirely done the man justice in
+the past. Curiously enough, his chief antagonist was Maguire.
+
+Peter did not give up the fight with this defeat. His work for the bills
+had revealed to him the real under-currents in the legislative body, and
+when it adjourned, making further work in Albany only a waste of time,
+he availed himself of the secret knowledge that had come to him, to
+single out the real forces which stood behind and paid the lobby, and to
+interview them. He saw the actual principals in the opposition, and
+spoke with utmost frankness. He told them that the fight would be
+renewed, on his part, at every session of the legislature till the bills
+were passed; that he was willing to consider proposed amendments, and
+would accept any that were honest. He made the fact very clear to them
+that they would have to pay yearly to keep the bills off the statute
+book. Some laughed at him, others quarrelled. But a few, after listening
+to him, stated their true objections to the bills, and Peter tried to
+meet them.
+
+When the fall elections came, Peter endeavored to further his cause in
+another way. Three of the city's assemblymen and one of her senators had
+voted against the bills. Peter now invaded their districts, and talked
+against them in saloons and elsewhere. It very quickly stirred up hard
+feeling, which resulted in attempts to down him. But Peter's blood
+warmed up as the fight thickened, and hisses, eggs, or actual attempts
+to injure him physically did not deter him. The big leaders were
+appealed to to call him off, but Costell declined to interfere.
+
+"He wouldn't stop anyway," he told Green, "so we should do no good. Let
+them fight it out by themselves." Both of which sentences showed that
+Mr. Costell understood his business.
+
+Peter had challenged his opponents to a joint debate, and when that was
+declined by them, he hired halls for evenings and spoke on the subject.
+He argued well, with much more feeling than he had shown since his
+speech in "the case." After the first attempt of this kind, he had no
+difficulty in filling his halls. The rumor came back to his own district
+that he was "talkin' foin," and many of his friends there turned out to
+hear him. The same news went through other wards of the city and drew
+men from them. People were actually excluded, for want of room, and
+therefore every one became anxious to hear his speeches. Finally, by
+subscription of a number of people who had become interested, headed by
+Mr. Pell, the Cooper Union was hired, and Peter made a really great
+speech to nearly three thousand people.
+
+The papers came to his help too, and stood by him manfully. By their
+aid, it was made very clear that this was a fight against a selfish
+lobby. By their aid, it became one of the real questions of the local
+campaign, and was carried beyond the borders of the city, so as to play
+a part in the county elections. Peter met many of the editors, and
+between his expert knowledge, acquired on the Commissions, and his
+practical knowledge, learned at Albany, proved a valuable man to them.
+They repaid his help by kind words and praise in their columns, and
+brought him forward as the chief man in the movement. Mrs. Stirling
+concluded that the conspiracy to keep Peter in the background had been
+abandoned.
+
+"Those York papers couldn't help my Peter's getting on," was the way she
+put it.
+
+The results of this fight were even better than he had hoped. One
+Assemblyman gave in and agreed no longer to oppose the bills. Another
+was defeated. The Senator had his majority so cut down that he retired
+from the opposition. The questions too had become so much more
+discussed and watched, and the blame so fastened upon the lobby that
+many members from the country no longer dared to oppose legislation on
+the subject. Hence it was that the bills, newly drawn by Peter, to
+reduce opposition as far as possible, when introduced by Schlurger soon
+after the opening of the legislature, went through with a rush, not even
+ayes and nays being taken. Aided by Mr. Costell, Peter secured their
+prompt signing by Catlin, his long fight had ended in victory.
+
+The "sixt" was wild with joy over the triumph. Whether it was because it
+was 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 voters
+got up a display of fireworks on the night when the news of the signing
+of the bills reached New York. When Peter returned to the city, he was
+called down to a hall one evening, to witness a torchlight procession
+and receive resolutions "engrossed and framed" from his admiring
+friends. Blunkers was chairman and made a plain speech which set the
+boys cheering by its combination of strong feeling and lack of grammar.
+Then Justice Gallagher made a fine-sounding, big-worded presentation. In
+the enthusiasm of the moment, Dennis broke the programme by rising and
+giving vent to a wild burst of feeling, telling his audience all that
+they owed to Peter, and though they knew already what he told them, they
+cheered 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 av
+order 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 fall
+campaign, and Dennis, who had insisted on escorting him, took him to
+task about his "physical culture."
+
+"It's thirty pounds yez are too heavy, sir," he told Peter. "An' it's
+too little intirely yez afther knowin' av hittin'."
+
+Peter asked his advice, bought Indian clubs, dumb-bells, and
+boxing-gloves, and under Dennis's tutelage began to learn the art of
+self-defence. He was rather surprised, at the end of two months, to find
+how much flesh he had taken off, how much more easily he moved, how much
+more he was eating, and how much more he was able to do, both mentally
+and 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 militia
+regiment most patronized by the "sixth," and in which Dennis was already
+a sergeant. Peter received a warm welcome from the regiment, for Dennis,
+who was extremely popular, had heralded his fame, and Peter's physical
+strength and friendly way did the rest. Ogden Ogden laughed at him for
+joining 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 friends
+dutifully, but his long visits to Albany, his evenings with Dennis, and
+his drill nights, interfered badly with his acceptance of the
+invitations sent him. He had, too, made many friends in his commission
+work and politics, so that he had relatively less time to give to his
+older ones. The absence of Miss De Voe and Lispenard somewhat reduced
+his social obligations it is true, but the demands on his time were
+multiplying fast.
+
+One of these demands was actual law work. The first real case to come to
+him was from the contractor who had served on the tenement-commission.
+He was also employed by the Health Board as special counsel in a number
+of prosecutions, to enforce clauses of his Food Bill. The papers said it
+was because of his familiarity with the subject, but Peter knew it was
+the influence of Green, who had become a member of that Board. Then he
+began to get cases from the "district," and though there was not much
+money in each case, before long the number of them made a very
+respectable total.
+
+The growth of his practice was well proven by a suggestion from Dummer
+that they should join forces. "Mr. Bohlmann wants to give you some of
+his work, and it's easier to go into partnership than to divide his
+practice."
+
+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 to
+take 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 you
+choose. I'll manage the others."
+
+"I should like to," said Peter. "I'm very grateful for the offer--but we
+could hardly do that successfully. If the firm was good for anything, we
+should be known as belonging to it, and the public could not well
+discriminate."
+
+So that chance of success was passed. But every now and then Bohlmann
+sent him something to do, and Dummer helped him to a joint case
+occasionally.
+
+So, though friends grew steadily in numbers, society saw less and less
+of Peter. Those who cared to study his tastes came to recognize that to
+force formal entertaining on him was no kindness, and left it to Peter
+to drop in when he chose, making him welcome when he came.
+
+He was pleased to get a letter from Lispenard during the winter, from
+Japan. It was long, but only the first paragraph need be quoted, for the
+rest 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 Miss
+De Voe, also, a line of Christmas greetings, and received a long letter
+from 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 case
+you again meet them." From that time on Miss De Voe and he corresponded,
+she telling him of her Italian, Greek and Egyptian wanderings, and he
+writing of his doings, especially in regard to a certain savings bank
+fund standing in the name of "Peter Stirling, trustee" to which Miss De
+Voe had, the winter before, arranged to contribute a thousand dollars
+yearly.
+
+As his practice increased he began to indulge himself a little. Through
+the instrumentality of Mr. Pell, he was put first into one and later
+into a second of the New York clubs, and his dinners became far less
+simple in consequence. He used these comforters of men, indeed, almost
+wholly 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 he
+asked Mr. Costell to pick him up a saddle-horse, whereupon that friend
+promptly 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 doorsteps
+of the district, yet candor compels us to add that he now had in his
+room a box of cigars labelled "Habana." These were creature pleasures,
+however, which he only allowed himself on rare occasions. And most of
+these luxuries did not appear till his practice had broadened beyond the
+point already noted.
+
+Broaden it did. In time many city cases were thrown in his way. As he
+became more and more a factor in politics, the judges began to send him
+very profitable referee cases. Presently a great local corporation, with
+many 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 was
+added.
+
+"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 I
+think the right is with the plaintiff." This caused demur at first, but
+eventually he was employed, and it was found that money was saved in the
+long run, for Peter was very successful in getting people to settle out
+of court.
+
+Then the savings bank, for which Peter had done his best (not merely as
+recorded, but at other times), turned over its law business to him,
+giving him many real estate transactions to look into, besides papers to
+draw. "He brings us a good many depositors," Mr. Lapham told his
+trustees, "and is getting to be a large depositor himself."
+
+Peter began to find help necessary, and took a partner. He did this at
+the suggestion of Ogden Ogden, who had concluded his clerkship, and who
+said to Peter:
+
+"I have a lot of friends who promise me their work. I don't know how
+much it will be, but I should like to try it with you. Of course, yours
+is 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--one
+of Peter's original "angle" friends, now six years older than when Peter
+and he had first met.
+
+Ogden's friends did materialize, and brought good paying cases. As the
+city, referee, corporation and bank work increased, their joint practice
+needed 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 over
+them 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 do
+all the palavering and running round very well. He's just the fellow to
+please people." This was what Ogden urged, adding, "I might as well tell
+you that I'm interested for another reason, too. He and Dorothy will
+marry, if he can ever get to the marrying point. This, of course, is to
+be between us."
+
+"I'll be very glad to have him, both for his own sake, and for what
+you'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's
+original little "ten by twelve" being left to the possession of the
+office boy. That functionary gazed long hours at the map of Italy on the
+blank wall, but it did not trouble him. He only whistled and sang street
+songs at it. As for Peter, he was too busy to need blank walls. He had
+fought two great opponents. The world and himself. He had conquered them
+both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+A RENEWAL.
+
+
+If the American people had anglicized themselves as thoroughly into
+liking three-volume stories, as they have in other things, it would be a
+pleasure to trace the next ten years of Peter's life; for his growing
+reputation makes this period a far easier matter to chronicle than the
+more obscure beginnings already recorded. If his own life did not supply
+enough material we could multiply our characters, as did Dickens, or
+journey sideways, into little essays, as did Thackeray. His life and his
+biographer's pen might fail to give interest to such devices, but the
+plea is now for "realism," which most writers take to mean microscopical
+examination of minutia. If the physical and psychical emotions of a
+heroine as she drinks a glass of water can properly be elaborated so as
+to fill two printed pages, Peter's life could be extended endlessly.
+There were big cases, political fights, globe trottings, and new
+friends, all of which have unlimited potentialities for numerous
+chapters. But Americans are peculiar people, and do not buy a pound of
+sugar any the quicker because its bulk has been raised by a skilful
+admixture of moisture and sand. So it seems best partly to take the
+advice of the Bellman, in the "Hunting of the Snark," to skip sundry
+years. 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 contents
+of 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 his
+diary calendar. After this he went to a door, and, opening it, said:
+
+"I am going uptown for the afternoon. If Mr. Murtha comes, Mr. Ogden
+will see him.".
+
+Peter went down and took a cab, giving the driver a number in Grammercy
+Park.
+
+The footman hesitated on Peter's inquiry. "Mr. D'Alloi is in, sir, but
+is having his afternoon nap, and we have orders he's not to be
+disturbed."
+
+"Take him my card. He will see me."
+
+The footman showed Peter into the drawing-room, and disappeared. Peter
+heard low voices for a moment, then the curtains of the back room were
+quickly 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'Alloi
+continued:
+
+"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 that
+you 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 as
+well since you've found us out. Only you should have asked for both of
+us."
+
+"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 warmest
+feeling 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 to
+disabuse 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 who
+it 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. Was
+it her long ill-health, or was it the mere lapse of years, which had
+wrought such changes in her? Except for the eyes, everything had
+altered. The cheeks had lost their roundness and color; the hair had
+thinned noticeably; lines of years and pain had taken away the sweet
+expression that formerly had counted for so much; the pretty roundness
+of the figure was gone, and what charm it now had was due to the
+modiste's skill. Peter felt puzzled. Was this the woman for whom he had
+so suffered? Was it this memory that had kept him, at thirty-eight,
+still a bachelor? Like many another man, he found that he had been
+loving 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 been
+loving it for many years, to the exclusion of all other womankind. Now
+he 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 many
+pretty girls, and many sweet ones since that week at the Pierces. He had
+gained 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 a
+change. His years had brought tact, if they had not made him less
+straightforward. So he merely said, "You think so?"
+
+"Ever so much. You've really grown slender, in spite of your broad
+shoulders--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 great
+change. As the roundness had left it, the eyes and the forehead had both
+become more prominent features, and both were good. The square, firm jaw
+still remained, but the heaviness of the cheek and nose had melted into
+lines which gave only strength and character, and destroyed the dulness
+which people used to comment upon. The face would never be called
+handsome, in the sense that regular features are supposed to give
+beauty, but it was strong and speaking, with lines of thought and
+feeling.
+
+"You know," laughed Mrs. D'Alloi, "you have actually become
+good-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-seventh
+Street can be put in order. It has been closed since Mrs. D'Alloi's
+death. 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 who
+have said you were getting very famous."
+
+"I spend a good deal of time in politics. I cannot say whether I have
+made myself famous, or infamous. It seems to depend on which paper I
+read."
+
+"Yes, I saw a paper on the steamer, that--" Mrs. D'Alloi hesitated,
+remembering that it had charged Peter with about every known sin of
+which man is capable. Then she continued, "But I knew it was wrong." Yet
+there was quite as much of question as of assertion in her remark. In
+truth, Mrs. D'Alloi was by no means sure that Peter was all that was
+desirable, for any charge made against a politician in this country has
+a peculiar vitality and persistence. She had been told that Peter was an
+open supporter of saloons, and that New York politics battened on all
+forms of vice. So a favorite son could hardly have retained the purity
+that women take as a standard of measurement. "Don't you find ward
+politics very hard?" she asked, dropping an experimental plummet, to see
+what depths of iniquity there might be.
+
+"I haven't yet."
+
+"But that kind of politics must be very disagreeable to gentlemen. The
+men 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 familiar
+with 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 is
+everything that is good and kind!" Mrs. D'Alloi's face lighted up with
+happiness 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't
+speak of yourself so, even if it is the truth. Leave that to me. How are
+you, Peter, old fellow? I'd apologize for keeping you waiting, but if
+you'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 better
+than I."
+
+Watts laughed. "You'll have to excuse this, old man. Will happen
+sometimes, 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 she
+prettier 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--Peter
+won't mind--and now I know you two want to talk old times, so I'll leave
+you together. Good-bye, Peter--or rather _au revoir_--for you must be a
+regular visitor now. Watts, arrange with Peter to dine with us some day
+this week."
+
+Mrs. D'Alloi disappeared through the doorway. Peter's pulse did not
+change a beat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+HELP.
+
+
+The moment she was gone, Watts held out his hand, saying: "Here, old
+man, let us shake hands again. It's almost like going back to college
+days to see my old chum. Come to the snuggery, where we shan't be
+interrupted." They went through two rooms, to one fitted up as a
+smoking-room and office. "It's papa-in-law's workshop. He can't drop his
+work 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 so
+quickly?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, the truth of it is, I'm in an awful mess. Yesterday I was so
+desperate I thought I should blow my brains out. I went round to the
+club to see if I couldn't forget or drown my trouble, just as sick as a
+man could be. Fellows talking. First thing I heard was your name. 'Just
+won a great case.' 'One of the best lawyers in New York.' Thinks I to
+myself, 'That's a special providence.' Peter always was the fellow to
+pull me through my college scrapes. I'll write him.' Did it, and played
+billiards for the rest of the evening, secure in the belief that you
+would 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 to
+you."
+
+"Is it money trou--?"
+
+"No, no!" Watts interrupted. "It isn't that. The truth is I've a great
+deal more money than is good for me, and apparently always shall have. I
+wish it were only that!"
+
+"How can I help you?" began Peter.
+
+"I knew you would," cried Watts, joyfully. "Just the same old reliable
+you always were. Here. Draw up nearer. That's it. Now then, here goes. I
+shan'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, and
+there's the devil to pay. Now you'll pull me through, old man, won't
+you?"
+
+"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, very
+quietly. "I would rather know nothing about it." Peter rose.
+
+"Don't desert me," cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting his
+hand 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 myself
+in 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 the
+doorway. He stopped and turned. "She does not know?"
+
+"Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believe
+it. She worships me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore--if you won't
+save me!"
+
+"Can they be saved?"
+
+"That's what I want to know. Here--sit down, please! I'll tell you all
+about it."
+
+Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down.
+
+"It began in Paris twelve years ago. Such affairs have a way of
+beginning in Paris, old man. It's in the atmosphere. She--"
+
+"Stop. I will ask questions. There's no good going over the whole
+story." Peter tried to speak calmly, and to keep his voice and face from
+showing what he felt. He paused a moment, and then said: "She threatens
+to expose you. Why?"
+
+"Well, after three years I tired of it and tried to end it. Then she
+used it to blackmail me for ten years, till, in desperation, I came to
+America, 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 on
+earth, 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 perfectly
+furious over my coming off without telling her--always had an awful
+temper--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 of
+fleas 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 she
+says 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 only
+temper."
+
+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 write
+letters during my infatuation. Talleyrand was right when he said only
+fools 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 one
+woman 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 I
+am. 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 his
+emotion, but it would jerk out questions.
+
+"Yes, I know. I've said that to myself over and over again. Why, look
+here." Watts pulled a small revolver from his hip pocket. "This will
+show you how close to the desperation point I have come. I've carried
+that for two days, so that if worse comes to worse--well. Phut!--_Voila
+tout_."
+
+Peter rose, speaking in a voice ringing with scorn. "You would escape
+your sin, to leave it with added disgrace for your wife and daughter to
+bear! Put up your pistol, Watts D'Alloi. If I am to help you, I want to
+help 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 further
+offers 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 give
+me 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 which
+made the man leave the room without waiting to see if Watts demurred.
+
+A complete silence followed. Then came the rustle of skirts, and a woman
+entered 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," she
+said in French, speaking very low and distinctly, "you thought it best
+not to order your groom to turn me out, as you did that last day in
+Paris, when you supposed your flight to America left you free to do as
+you pleased? But you did not escape me. Here I am."
+
+Watts sat down in an easy-chair, and striking a match, lighted a
+cigarette. "That, Celestine," he said in French, "is what in English we
+call a self-evident proposition."
+
+Celestine's foot began to tap the floor, "You needn't pretend you
+expected I would follow you. You thought you could drop me, like an old
+slipper."
+
+Watts blew a whiff of tobacco from his mouth. "It was a remark of
+Ricard's, I believe, 'that in woman, one should always expect the
+unexpected.'"
+
+"_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 in
+French, "Will you not sit down, please?"
+
+She turned in surprise, for she had been too wrought up to notice that
+Peter 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 in
+all 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 to
+you? What are you to me? I don't even know you. My mind's made up. I
+tell you--" The woman was lashing herself into a fury, and Peter
+interrupted her again:
+
+"Pardon me. We are strangers. If I ask anything of you for myself, I
+should expect a refusal. But I ask it for humanity, to which we all owe
+help. Only hear what I have to say. I do not claim it as a right, but as
+a favor."
+
+Celestine sat down. "I listen," she said. She turned her chair from
+Watts and faced Peter, as he stood at the study table.
+
+Peter paused a moment, and then said: "After what I have seen, I feel
+sure 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'Alloi
+has carried a pistol in his pocket, and if you disgrace him he will
+probably shoot himself."
+
+"Bon!"
+
+"But where is your revenge? He will be beyond your reach, and you will
+only 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 the
+cruelest acts possible. A wife, who trusts and believes in him, will
+have her faith and love shattered. His daughter--a young girl, with all
+her life before her--must ever after despise her father and blush at
+her name. Do not punish the weak and innocent for the sin of the
+guilty!" Peter spoke with an earnestness almost terrible. Tears came
+into his eyes as he made his appeal, and his two auditors both rose to
+their 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 failed
+to hear the door from the dining-room move, or notice the entrance of
+Mrs. D'Alloi as Peter ended his plea.
+
+A moment's silence followed Peter's outburst of feeling. Then the
+Frenchwoman cried:
+
+"Truly, truly. But what will you do for me and my child? Haven't we been
+ill-treated? Don't you owe us help, too? Justice? Don't we deserve
+tenderness 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 you
+talking? Whose child? Who is this woman?"
+
+Watts jumped as if he had been shot. Celestine even retreated before the
+terrible voice and face with which Mrs. D'Alloi asked her questions. A
+sad, 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 managed
+to 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's
+all 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 he
+said:
+
+"This is the mother, Mrs. D'Alloi."
+
+"Yes? Yes?"
+
+Peter raised his eyes to Helen's and looked at her. Then he said
+quietly:
+
+"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 by
+Mrs. D'Alloi, who threw her arms about Watt's neck, and cried: "Oh! my
+husband. 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 passed
+out, which she did quietly. Another moment found the two on the
+sidewalk. "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 ten
+blocks. When they reached the hotel entrance, Peter asked: "Can you see
+me for a few moments?"
+
+"Yes. Come to my private parlor." They took the elevator, and were but a
+moment in reaching that apartment.
+
+Peter spoke the moment the door was closed. "Madame," he said, "you saw
+that 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, your
+dramatic, _mon Dieu!_ your noble sacrifice? Non, non. Celestine Lacour
+could never do so. She will suffer cruelty, penury, insults, before she
+behaves so shamefully, so perfidiously."
+
+Peter did not entirely sympathize with the Frenchwoman's admiration for
+the dramatic element, but he was too good a lawyer not to accept an
+admission, no matter upon what grounds. He held out his hand promptly.
+"Madame," he said, "accept my thanks and admiration for your generous
+conduct."
+
+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--I
+leave 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 known
+only to the Latin races. Just then a side door was thrown open, and a
+boy of about twelve years of age dashed into the room, followed by a
+French poodle.
+
+"Little villain!" cried Celestine. "How dare you approach without
+knocking? 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 it
+known that I am the mother of a child of twelve. It would not be
+believed, 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, that
+for 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 did
+not have an expression of pleasure on his face as he rode down-town, nor
+was 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, and
+called on an insurance company and talked for a while with the
+president. Then he called at a steamship office. After that he spent
+twenty minutes with the head of one of the large schools for boys in the
+city. Then he returned to his office.
+
+"A Mr. D'Alloi is waiting for you in your private office, sir," he was
+told. "He said that he was an old friend and insisted on going in
+there."
+
+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, and
+interrupted him.
+
+"I have arranged it all with Madame Lacour," Peter said coldly. "She
+sails on La Bretagne on Thursday. You are to buy an annuity for three
+thousand dollars a year. In addition, you are to buy an annuity for the
+boy till he is twenty-five, of one thousand dollars a year, payable to
+me as his guardian. This will cost you between forty and fifty thousand
+dollars. I will notify you of the amount when the insurance company
+sends it to me. In return for your check, I shall send you the letters
+and 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 you
+think--?"
+
+"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 on
+his 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. I
+shan'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 long
+he would have sat will never be known, if his brown study had not been
+ended by Rivington's entrance. "The Appeals have just handed down their
+decision 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 see
+if I can't knock some of my dulness out of me." Within an hour he was at
+the Riding Club.
+
+"Hello," said the stable man. "Twice in one day! You're not often here
+at 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 not
+yourself need fear any horse. Only look out for the ice."
+
+Peter rode into the Park in ten minutes. He met Lispenard at the first
+turn.
+
+"Hello! It's not often you are here at this hour." Lispenard reined his
+horse up alongside.
+
+"No," said Peter. "I've been through a very revolt--a very disagreeable
+experience, and I've come up here to get some fresh air. I don't want to
+be sociable."
+
+"That's right. Truthful as ever. But one word before we separate. Keppel
+has just received two proofs of Haden's last job. He asks awful prices
+for them, but you ought to see them."
+
+"Thanks." And the two friends separated as only true friends can
+separate.
+
+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. He
+shook himself presently, and set Mutineer at a sharp canter round the
+larger circle of the bridle path. But before they had half swung the
+circle, he was deep in thought again, and Mutineer was taking his own
+pace. Peter deserved to get a stumble and a broken neck or leg, but he
+didn't. He was saved from it by an incident which never won any credit
+for its good results to Peter, however much credit it gained him.
+
+Peter was so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not hear
+the clutter of a horse's feet behind him, just as he struck the long
+stretch of the comparatively straight path along the Reservoir. But
+Mutineer did, and pricked up his ears. Mutineer could not talk
+articulately, but all true lovers of horses understand their language.
+Mutineer's cogitations, transmuted into human speech, were something to
+this effect:
+
+"Hello! What's that horse trying to do? He can't for a moment expect to
+pass me!"
+
+But the next moment a roan mare actually did pass him, going at a swift
+gallop.
+
+Mutineer laid his ears back, "The impudence!" he said. "Does that
+little 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 who
+are most seldom passed by their kind, object to it most when it happens.
+
+Peter suddenly came back to affairs earthly to find Mutineer just
+settling into a gait not permitted by Park regulations. He drew rein,
+and Mutineer, knowing that the fun was up, danced round the path in his
+bad temper.
+
+"Really," he said to himself, "if I wasn't so fond of you, I'd give you
+and 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 a
+groom was in view, going also at a gallop.
+
+"Hout of the way," cried the groom, to Peter, for Mutineer was waltzing
+round the path in a way that suggested "no thoroughfare." "Hi'm after
+that runaway."
+
+Peter looked after the first horse, already a hundred feet away. He said
+nothing to groom nor horse, but Mutineer understood the sudden change in
+the reins, even before he felt that maddening prick of the spurs. There
+was a moment's wild grinding of horse's feet on the slippery road and
+then Mutineer had settled to his long, tremendous stride.
+
+"Now, I'll show you," he remarked, "but if only he wouldn't hold me so
+damned tight." We must forgive Mutineer for swearing. He lived so much
+with the stablemen, that, gentleman though he was, evil communications
+could not be entirely resisted.
+
+Peter was riding "cool." He knew he could run the mare down, but he
+noticed that the woman, who formed the mount, was sitting straight, and
+he could tell from the position of her elbows that she was still pulling
+on her reins, if ineffectually. He thought it best therefore to let the
+mare wind herself before he forced himself up, lest he should only make
+the runaway horse the wilder. So after a hundred yards' run, he drew
+Mutineer down to the mare's pace, about thirty feet behind her.
+
+They ran thus for another hundred yards. Then suddenly Peter saw the
+woman drop her reins, and catch at the saddle. His quick eye told him in
+a moment what had happened. The saddle-girth had broken, or the saddle
+was turning. He dug his spurs into Mutineer, so that the horse, who had
+never had such treatment, thought that he had been touched by two
+branding irons. He gave a furious shake of his ears, and really showed
+the blood of his racing Kentucky forebears. In fifteen seconds the horse
+was running even with the mare.
+
+Peter had intended merely to catch the reins of the runaway, trusting to
+his strength to do what a woman's could not. But when he came up
+alongside, he saw that the saddle had turned so far that the rider could
+not keep her seat ten seconds longer. So he dropped his reins, bent
+over, and putting his arms about the woman lifted her off the precarious
+seat, and put her in front of him. He held her there with one arm, and
+reached for his reins. But Mutineer had tossed them over his head.
+
+"Mutineer!" said Peter, with an inflection of voice decidedly
+commanding.
+
+"I covered a hundred yards to your seventy," Mutineer told the roan
+mare. "On a mile track I could go round you twice, without getting out
+of breath. I could beat you now, even with double mount easily. But my
+Peter has dropped the reins and that puts me on my honor. Good-bye."
+Mutineer checked his great racing stride, broke to a canter; dropped to
+a trot; altered that to a walk, and stopped.
+
+Peter had been rather astonished at the weight he had lifted. Peter had
+never lifted a woman before. His chief experience in the weight of
+human-kind had been in wrestling matches at the armory, and only the
+largest and most muscular men in the regiment cared to try a bout with
+him. 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 the
+cross-buttock with two hundred pounds of bone and brawn, he marvelled
+much at the ease with which he transferred the rider. "She can't weigh
+over eighty pounds," he thought. Which was foolish, for the woman
+actually weighed one hundred and eighteen, as Peter afterwards learned.
+
+The woman also surprised Peter in another way. Scarcely had she been
+placed in front of him, than she put her arms about his neck and buried
+her face in his shoulder. She was not crying, but she was drawing her
+breath in great gasps in a manner which scared Peter terribly. Peter had
+never 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 for
+a woman's head.
+
+2. That a man's arm about a woman's waist is a very pleasant position
+for the arm.
+
+3. That a pair of woman's arms round a man's neck, with the clasped
+hands, even if gloved, just resting on the back of his neck, is very
+satisfying.
+
+Peter could not see much of the woman. His arm told him that she was
+decidedly slender, and he could just catch sight of a small ear and a
+cheek, whose roundness proved the youth of the person. Otherwise he
+could only see a head of very pretty brown hair, the smooth dressing of
+which could not entirely conceal its longing to curl.
+
+When Mutineer stopped, Peter did not quite know what to do. Of course it
+was his duty to hold the woman till she recovered herself. That was a
+plain duty--and pleasant. Peter said to himself that he really was sorry
+for her, and thought his sensations were merely the satisfaction of a
+father in aiding his daughter. We must forgive his foolishness, for
+Peter 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 ten
+seconds after, no change in the condition occurred. Then suddenly the
+woman stopped her gasps. Peter, who was looking down at her, saw the
+pale cheek redden. The next moment, the arms were taken from his neck
+and the woman was sitting up straight in front of him. He got a downward
+look at the face, and he thought it was the most charming he had ever
+seen.
+
+The girl kept her eyes lowered, while she said firmly, though with
+traces of breathlessness and tremulo in her voice, "Please help me
+down."
+
+Peter was out of his saddle in a moment, and lifted the girl down. She
+staggered slightly on reaching the ground, so that Peter said: "You had
+better lean on me."
+
+"No," said the girl, still looking down, "I will lean against the
+horse." She rested against Mutineer, who looked around to see who was
+taking this insulting liberty with a Kentucky gentleman. Having looked
+at her he said: "You're quite welcome, you pretty dear!" Peter thought
+he would like to be a horse, but then it occurred to him that equines
+could not have had what he had just had, so he became reconciled to his
+lot.
+
+The girl went on flushing, even after she was safely leaning against
+Mutineer. There was another ten seconds' pause, and then she said, still
+with downcast eyes, "I was so frightened, that I did not know what I was
+doing."
+
+"You behaved very well," said Peter, in the most comforting voice he
+could command. "You held your horse splendidly."
+
+"I wasn't a bit frightened, till the saddle began to turn." The girl
+still kept her eyes on the ground, and still blushed. She was undergoing
+almost the keenest mortification possible for a woman. She had for a
+moment been horrified by the thought that she had behaved in this way to
+a groom. But a stranger--a gentleman--was worse! She had not looked at
+Peter's face, but his irreproachable riding-rig had been noticed. "If it
+had 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 her
+something else to think about.
+
+"As soon as you feel able to walk, you had better take my arm. We can
+get a cab at the 72d Street entrance, probably. If you don't feel able
+to walk, sit down on that stone, and I'll bring a cab. It oughtn't to
+take me ten minutes."
+
+"You are very good," said the girl, raising her eyes, and taking a look
+at 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 she
+looked down after the glance, she ceased leaning against the horse, and
+said, "I behaved very foolishly, of course. Now I will do whatever you
+think best."
+
+Before Peter had recovered enough from his thrill to put what he thought
+into speech, a policeman came riding towards them, leading the roan
+mare. "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 leave
+the other entrances before it's as dark as this."
+
+"Never mind the cab," said the girl. "If you'll help me to mount, I'll
+ride 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 marvellously
+fascinating combination as was indicated by the clinging position of a
+minute ago and the erect one of the present moment. He tightened the
+girth with a pull that made the roan mare wonder if a steam-winch had
+hold of the end, and then had the pleasure of the little foot being
+placed 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 are
+required 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. "I
+beg your pardon, Mr. Stirling. It was so dark, and you are so seldom
+here afternoons that I didn't know you."
+
+"Tell the chief that this needn't go on record, nor be given to the
+reporters."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Stirling."
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the girl in a frank yet shy way, "but will you
+tell 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. I
+didn't think I could behave so to a stranger! I must have felt it was
+you." 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 wrong
+to hold a young girl's hand. If it was wrong, it was certainly a very
+small 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 and
+complimentary, but he failed to understand anything of it, except its
+general friendliness. His manner may have suggested this, for suddenly
+the girl said:
+
+"But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I am
+Leonore 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 something
+delightful in it.
+
+"But--she's a child."
+
+"I'll be eighteen next week," said Leonore, with all the readiness of
+that number of years to proclaim its age.
+
+Peter concluded that he must accept the fact. Watts could have a child
+that old. Having reached this conclusion, he said, "I ought to have
+known you by your likeness to your mother." Which was an unintentional
+lie. Her mother's eyes she had, as well as the long lashes; and she had
+her mother's pretty figure, though she was taller. But otherwise she was
+far more like Watts. Her curly hair, her curvy mouth, the dimple, and
+the contour of the face were his. Leonore D'Alloi was a far greater
+beauty than her mother had ever been. But to Peter, it was merely a
+renewal of his dream.
+
+Just at this point the groom rode up. "Beg pardon, Miss D'Alloi," he
+said, 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 broken
+something 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 Peter
+thought. He said, "I shall ride with you, of course." So they started
+their 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 feet
+behind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could never
+overtake Fly-away. So when I felt the saddle begin to slip, I thought I
+was--was going to be dragged--as I once saw a woman in England--Oh!--and
+then suddenly I saw a horse's head, and then I felt some one take hold
+of me so firmly that I didn't have to hold myself at all, and I knew I
+was 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 in
+their strength, and Leonore and Fly-away glorified them for it. Yet in
+spite of this, as Peter looked down at the curly head, from his own and
+Mutineers altitude, he felt no superiority, and knew that the slightest
+wish expressed by that small mouth, would be as strong with him as if a
+European army obeyed its commands.
+
+"What a tremendous horse you have?" said Leonore. "Isn't he?" assented
+Peter. "He's got a bad temper, I'm sorry to say, but I'm very fond of
+him. He was given me by my regiment, and was the choice of a very dear
+friend 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--in
+1882--at Maggiore. The first time, I was only six, but she used to tell
+me stories about you and the little children in the angle. The last time
+she told me all she could remember about you. We used to drift about the
+lake moonlight nights, and talk about you."
+
+"What made that worth doing to you?"
+
+"Oh from the very beginning, that I can remember, papa was always
+talking about 'dear old Peter'"--the talker said the last three words
+in such a tone, shot such a look up at Peter, half laughing and half
+timid, that in combination they nearly made Peter reel in his
+saddle--"and you seemed almost the only one of his friends he did speak
+of, so I became very curious about you as a little girl, and then Miss
+De Voe made me more interested, so that I began questioning Americans,
+because I was really anxious to learn things concerning you. Nearly
+every 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 made
+one feel.
+
+"Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?"
+
+"Oh, nearly everybody knew something. That is, every one we've met in
+the 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 that
+time, except at the Shrubberies."
+
+"No, he hadn't seen you. But he knew a lot about you, from Mr. Lapharn
+and Mr. Avery, and some other men who had met you."
+
+"Who else?"
+
+"Miss Leroy, mamma's bridesmaid, who spent two weeks at our villa near
+Florence, and Dr. Purple, your clergyman, who was in the same house with
+us 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 all
+the rest put together."
+
+"I feel quite safe in their hands. Dorothy and I formed a mutual
+admiration 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 wedding
+journey, and probably saw everything rose-colored."
+
+"That was it. Dorothy told me about your giving Mr. Rivington a full
+partnership, in order that Mr. Ogden should give his consent."
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"Ray swore that he wouldn't tell. And Dorothy has always appeared
+ignorant. And yet she knew it on her wedding trip."
+
+"She couldn't help it. She said she must tell some one, she was so
+happy. So she told mamma and me. She showed us your photograph. Papa and
+mamma 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, had
+the same frank, fearless gaze that her mother had of yore. But she did
+not look as often nor as long, and did not seem so wrapped up in the
+man's remarks when she looked. We are afraid even at seventeen that
+Leonore had discovered that she had very fetching eyes, and did not
+intend to cheapen them, by showing them too much. During the whole of
+this 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 face
+up 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. For
+the moment Peter did not agree with Mr. Weller that "life isn't all beer
+and skittles."
+
+"I've been so anxious to meet you. I've begged papa ever since we landed
+to take me to see you. And he's promised me, over and over again, to do
+it, but something always interfered. You see, I felt very strange
+and--and queer, not knowing people of my own country, and I felt that I
+really knew you, and wouldn't have to begin new as I do with other
+people. I do so dread next winter when I'm to go into society. I don't
+know 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 next
+winter. I've shut myself up too much." This was a discovery of Peter's
+made in the last ten seconds.
+
+"How nice that will be! And will you promise to give me a great deal of
+attention?"
+
+"You'll probably want very little. I don't dance." Peter suddenly became
+conscious 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. Was
+it possible life had such richness in it? Then he said with a bitter
+note 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 men
+I've seen valsing. Young men I mean. And I've seen men seventy years old
+dancing 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 a
+stable.
+
+"Why," said Leonore, "here we are already! What a short ride it has
+been."
+
+Peter thought so too, and groaned over the end of it. But then he
+suddenly remembered that Leonore was to be lifted from her horse. He
+became cold with the thought that she might jump before he could get to
+her, and he was off his horse and by her side with the quickness of a
+military training. He put his hands up, and for a moment had--well,
+Peter could usually express himself but he could not put that moment
+into words. And it was not merely that Leonore had been in his arms for
+a 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 the
+groom. "I wish to see Miss D'Alloi home."
+
+"Thank you very much, but my maid is here in the brougham, so I need not
+trouble you. Good-bye, and thank you. Oh, thank you so much!" She stood
+very close to Peter, and looked up into his eyes with her own. "There's
+no one I would rather have had save me."
+
+She stepped into the brougham, and Peter closed the door. He mounted his
+horse 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 to
+bother 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 evening
+papers. His dinner was eaten with equal coolness. Not till he had
+reached his study did he vary his ordinary daily routine. Then, instead
+of working or reading, he rolled a comfortable chair up to the fire, put
+on 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 he
+smoked are not recorded, lest the statement should make people skeptical
+of the narrative.
+
+Of course Peter knew that life had not lost its troubles. He was not
+fooling himself as to what lay before him. He was not callous to the
+sufferings already endured. But he put them, past, and to come, from him
+for 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 did
+not seem to be thinking of that. He had just been through what he called
+a "revolting experience," but it is doubtful if he was thinking of that.
+Whatever his thoughts were, they put a very different look on his face
+than that which it used to wear while he studied blank walls.
+
+When Peter sat down, rather later than usual at his office desk the next
+morning, he took a sheet of paper, and wrote, "Dear sir," upon it. Then
+he tore it up. He took another and wrote, "My dear Mr. D'Alloi." He tore
+that up. Another he began, "Dear Watts." A moment later it was in the
+paper basket. "My dear friend," served to bring a similar fate to the
+fourth. Then Peter rose and strolled about his office aimlessly. Finally
+he went out into a gallery running along the various rooms, and, opening
+a door, put his head in.
+
+"You hypocritical scoundrel," he said. "You swore to me that you would
+never 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've
+never been on a honeymoon. Really, old fellow, I was so happy over your
+generosity in giving me a full share, when I didn't bring a tenth of the
+business, and so happy over Dorothy, that If I hadn't told her, I should
+have 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 a
+secret."
+
+"How can you expect a person to keep a secret when you can't keep it
+yourself?" Peter and Ray were both laughing.
+
+Ray said to himself, "Peter has some awfully knotty point on hand, and
+is resting the brain tissue for a moment." Ray had noticed, when Peter
+interrupted him during office hours, on matters not relating to
+business, that he had a big or complex question in hand.
+
+Peter closed the door and went back to his room. Then he took a fifth
+sheet 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 not
+hear 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 moment
+he looked up, jump he did. He jumped so that he was shaking hands
+before 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 have
+spent ten minutes palavering your boy, in order to make him let us
+surprise you, and then when we spring it on you, you don't budge. Wasn't
+it shabby treatment, Dot?"
+
+"You've disappointed us awfully, Mr. Stirling."
+
+Peter was shaking hands more deliberately with Leonore than he had with
+Watts. He had been rather clever in shaking hands with him first, so
+that he need not hurry himself over the second. So he had a very nice
+moment--all too short--while Leonore's hand lay in his. He said, in
+order to prolong the moment, without making it too marked, "It will take
+something more frightful than you, Miss D'Alloi, to make me jump." Then
+Peter was sorry he had said it, for Leonore dropped her eyes.
+
+"Now, old man, give an account of yourself." Watts was speaking
+jauntily, but not quite as easily as he usually did. "Here Leonore and I
+waited all last evening, and you never came. So she insisted that we
+come this morning."
+
+"I don't understand?" Peter was looking at Leonore as if she had made
+the remark. Leonore was calmly examining Peter's room.
+
+"Why, even a stranger would have called last night to inquire about
+Dot's health, after such an accident. But for you not to do it, was
+criminal. If you have aught to say why sentence should not now be passed
+on you, speak now or forever--no--that's the wedding ceremony, isn't it?
+Not criminal sentence--though, on second thought, there's not much
+difference."
+
+"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 his
+voice.
+
+Miss D'Alloi's interest in legal literature suddenly ceased. She turned
+and Peter had a momentary glimpse of those wonderful eyes. Either his
+words or tone had evidently pleased Miss D'Alloi. The corners of her
+mouth 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 suffered
+no serious shock from her runaway, and passed a good night. It seemed to
+Miss D'Alloi that the least return she could make for Mr. Stirling's
+kindness, was to save him the trouble of coming to inquire about Miss
+D'Alloi's health, and so leave Mr. Stirling more time to his grimy old
+law 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 my
+loss; but I can say that I'm sorry."
+
+"That's quite enough," said Leonore. "I thought perhaps you didn't want
+to be friends. And as I like to have such things right out, I made papa
+bring me down this morning so that I could see for myself." She spoke
+with a frankness that seemed to Peter heavenly, even while he grew cold
+at the thought that she should for a moment question his desire to be
+friends.
+
+"Of course you and Peter will be friends," said Watts.
+
+"But mamma told me last night--after we went upstairs, that she was sure
+Mr. Stirling would never call."
+
+"Never, Dot?" cried Watts.
+
+"Yes. And when I asked her why, she wouldn't tell me at first, but at
+last she said it was because he was so unsociable. I shan't be friends
+with any one who won't come to see me." Leonore was apparently looking
+at the floor, but from under her lashes she was looking at something
+else.
+
+Whatever Peter may have felt, he looked perfectly cool. Too cool,
+Leonore thought. "I'm not going to make any vows or protestations of
+friendship," 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 are
+to be friends, we must each leave the other to act freely."
+
+"Well," said Leonore, "that is, I suppose, a polite way of saying that
+you 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 the
+telling till the first time I call on you." Peter was smiling down at
+her.
+
+Miss D'Alloi looked up at Peter, to see what meaning his face gave his
+last remark. Then she held out her two hands. "Of course we are to be
+the best of friends," she said. Peter got a really good look down into
+those eyes as they shook hands.
+
+The moment this matter had been settled, Leonore's manner changed. "So
+this is the office of the great Peter Stirling?" she said, with the
+nicest tone of interest in her voice, as it seemed to Peter.
+
+"It doesn't look it," said Watts. "By George, with the business people
+say your firm does, you ought to do better than this. It's worse even
+than our old Harvard quarters, and those were puritanical enough."
+
+"There is a method in its plainness. If you want style, go into Ogden's
+and 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 room
+simple, to put them at their ease. I've never heard of my losing a
+client yet, because my room is as it is, while I should have frightened
+away 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 to
+frighten away. There can't be any money in their business?"
+
+"We weren't talking of money. We were talking of people. I am very glad
+to say, that with my success, there has been no change in my relations
+with 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. The
+one shelf of law books. The one cheap cabinet of drawers. The four
+simple chairs, and the plain desk. Behold the great politician! The man
+of the people."
+
+Peter made no reply. But Leonore said to him, "I'm glad you help the
+poor people still, Mr. Stirling," and gave Peter another glimpse of
+those eyes. Peter didn't mind after that.
+
+"Look here, Dot," said Watts. "You mustn't call chum Mr. Stirling. That
+won't do. Call him--um--call him Uncle Peter."
+
+"I won't," said Leonore, delighting Peter thereby. "Let me see. What
+shall I call you?" she asked of Peter.
+
+"Honey," laughed Watts.
+
+"What shall I call you?" Miss D'Alloi put her head on one side, and
+looked 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 spoke
+hesitatingly till she said his name, but that went very smoothly. Peter
+on 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 the
+law?"
+
+"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 defend
+me. A man named Peter." Leonore sat down in Peter's chair. "I'm going to
+write him at once about it." She took one of his printed letter sheets
+and his pen, and, putting the tip of the holder to her lips (Peter has
+that 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 you
+can have this note." Leonore rose with the missive in her hand.
+
+"I never answer letters till I've received them." Peter took hold of the
+slender wrist, and possessed himself of the paper. Then he sat down at
+his 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 will
+have 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 ever
+do 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 very
+deliberately proceeded to empty the contents out on his blotter. He
+handled each article. There was a crisp ten-dollar bill, evidently the
+last of those given by the bank at the beginning of the month. There
+were two one-dollar bills. There was a fifty-cent piece, two quarters
+and a dime. A gold German twenty-mark piece, about eight inches of
+narrow crimson ribbon, and a glove button, completed the contents. Peter
+returned the American money and the glove button to the purse and handed
+it 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, with
+anything but legal guardedness concerning unprovable statements. He
+folded up the ribbon neatly and put it, with the coin, in his waistcoat
+pocket.
+
+"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 his
+tone.
+
+"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 crossing
+the Ghemi. And I must have the ribbon. I need it to match for a gown it
+goes with." Miss D'Alloi put true anxiety into her voice, whatever she
+really felt.
+
+"I shall be glad to help you match it," said Peter, "and any time you
+send me word, I will go shopping with you. As for your luck, I shall
+keep that for the present."
+
+"Now I know," said Leonore crossly, "why lawyers have such a bad
+reputation. They are perfect thieves!" She looked at Peter with the
+corners of her mouth drawn down. He gazed at her with a very grave look
+on his face. They eyed each other steadily for a moment, and then the
+corners of Leonore's mouth suddenly curled upwards. She tried hard for a
+moment to keep serious. Then she gave up and laughed. Then they both
+laughed.
+
+Many people will only see an amusing side to the dialogue here so
+carefully recorded. If so, look back to the time when everything that he
+or she said was worth listening to. Or if there has never been a he or a
+she, 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 Leonore
+was not heart-whole. Leonore had merely had a few true friends, owing to
+her roving life, and at seventeen a girl craves friends. When,
+therefore, the return to America was determined upon, she had at once
+decided that Peter and she would be the closest of friends. That she
+would tell him all her confidences, and take all her troubles to him.
+Miss De Voe and Dorothy had told her about Peter, and from their
+descriptions, as well as from her father's reminiscences, Leonore had
+concluded that Peter was just the friend she had wanted for so long.
+That Leonore held her eyes down, and tried to charm yet tantalize her
+intended friend, was because Leonore could not help it, being only
+seventeen and a girl. If Leonore had felt anything but a friendly
+interest and liking, blended with much curiosity, in Peter, she never
+would have gone to see him in his office, and would never have talked
+and laughed so frankly with him.
+
+As for Peter, he did not put his feelings into good docketed shape. He
+did not attempt to label them at all. He had had a delicious half-hour
+yesterday. He had decided, the evening before, that he must see those
+slate-colored eyes again, if he had to go round the world in pursuit of
+them. How he should do it, he had not even thought out, till the next
+morning. He had understood very clearly that the owner of those
+slate-colored eyes was really an unknown quantity to him. He had
+understood, too, that the chances were very much against his caring to
+pursue those eyes after he knew them better. But he was adamant that he
+must see those eyes again, and prove for himself whether they were but
+an _ignis fatuus_, or the radiant stars that Providence had cast for the
+horoscope of Peter Stirling. He was studying those eyes, with their
+concomitants, at the present time. He was studying them very coolly, to
+judge from his appearance and conduct. Yet he was enjoying the study in
+a way that he had never enjoyed the study of somebody "On Torts."
+Somebody "On Torts," never looked like that. Somebody "On Torts," never
+had luck-pieces, and silk ribbons. Somebody "On Torts," never wrote
+letters and touched the end of pens to its lips. Somebody "On Torts,"
+never courtesied, nor looked out from under its eyelashes, nor called
+him Peter.
+
+While this investigation had been progressing, Watts had looked at the
+shelf of law books, had looked out of the window, had whistled, and had
+yawned. Finally, in sheer _ennui_ he had thrown open a door, and looked
+to 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 and
+railroads, 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 the
+unsociable old hermit bestows himself."
+
+So Leonore and Peter followed Watts's lead. The room into which they
+went 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 side
+street. It had one other door besides that by which they had entered.
+Here the ordinary quality ended. Except for the six openings already
+noted and a large fireplace, the walls were shelved from floor to
+ceiling (which was not a low one), with dusky oak shelving. The ceiling
+was panelled in dark oak, and the floor was covered with a smooth
+surface of the same wood. Yet though the shelves were filled with books,
+few could be seen, for on every upright of the shelving, were several
+frames of oak, hinged as one sees them in public galleries occasionally,
+and these frames contained etchings, engravings, and paintings. Some
+were folded back against the shelves. Others stood out at right angles
+to them and showed that the frames were double ones, both sides
+containing something. Four easy-chairs, three less easy chairs, and a
+large table desk, likewise of dusky oak were the sole other fittings of
+the room, if we except two large polar bear skins.
+
+"Oh," cried Leonore looking about, "I'm so glad to see this. People have
+told me so much about your rooms. And no two of them ever agreed."
+
+"No," said Peter. "It seems a continual bone of contention with my
+friends. They scold me because I shelved it to the ceiling, because I
+put in one-colored wood, because I framed my pictures and engravings
+this way, and because I haven't gone in for rugs, and bric-a-brac, and
+the usual furnishings. At times I have really wondered, from their
+determination to change things, whether it was for them to live in, or
+for my use?"
+
+"It is unusual," said Leonore, reluctantly, and evidently selecting a
+word 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 no
+background."
+
+"It's--it's--" Leonore hesitated. "It's not so startling, after a
+moment."
+
+"You see they had to hang this way, or go unhung. I hadn't wall space
+for 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,'" called
+Watts. "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 have
+had 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 his
+money, and I bought them of him."
+
+"That was Mr. Le Grand?" asked Leonore, ceasing her study of the "Three
+Crosses."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mrs. Rivington told me about it."
+
+"It must have been devilish hard for him to part with such a
+collection," said Watts.
+
+"He hasn't really parted with them. He comes down here constantly, and
+has a good time over them. It was partly his scheme to arrange them this
+way."
+
+"And are the paintings his, too, Peter?"
+
+Peter could have hugged her for the way she said Peter. "No," he managed
+to remark. "I bought some of them, and Miss De Voe and Lispenard Ogden
+the others. People tell me I spoil them by the flat framing, and the
+plain, broad gold mats. But it doesn't spoil them to me. I think the
+mixture of gold mats and white mats breaks the monotony. And the
+variation 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?" inquired
+Watts.
+
+"Really, papa, it is plain. Just as simple as can be."
+
+"Simple! Yes, sweet simplicity! Three-thousand-dollar-etching
+simplicity! Millet simplicity! Oh, yes. Peter's a simple old dog."
+
+"No, but the woodwork and the furniture. Isn't this an enticing chair? I
+must try it." And Leonore almost dissolved from view in its depths.
+Peter has that chair still. He would probably knock the man down who
+offered to buy it.
+
+It occurred to Peter that since Leonore was so extremely near the
+ground, and was leaning back so far, that she could hardly help but be
+looking up. So he went and stood in front of the fireplace, and looked
+down at her. He pretended that his hands were cold. Watts perhaps was
+right. Peter was not as simple as people thought.
+
+It seemed to Peter that he had never had so much to see, all at once, in
+his 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 would
+have been very restful to the eye; if it hadn't been for the distracting
+chin below it. Then there were the little feet, just sticking out from
+underneath the tailor-made gown, making Peter think of Herrick's famous
+lines. Finally there were those two hands! Leonore was very deliberately
+taking off her gloves. Peter had not seen those hands ungloved yet, and
+waited almost breathlessly for the unveiling. He decided that he must
+watch and shake hands at parting before Leonore put those gloves on
+again.
+
+"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 owns
+the building, and when it came to rebuild, it had the architect fit this
+floor for me just as I wished it. So I put our law-offices in front and
+arranged my other rooms along the side street. Would you like to see
+them?" Peter asked this last question very obviously of Leonore.
+
+"Very much."
+
+So they passed through the other door, to a little square hall, lighted
+by 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 city
+and the bay, which is very fine," Peter said. "And I have a staircase to
+the 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 my
+idiosyncracies. This is my mealing closet."
+
+It was a room nine feet square, panelled, ceiled and floored in
+mahogany, and the table and six chairs were made of the same material.
+
+"So this is what the papers call the 'Stirling political incubator?' It
+doesn'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 sit
+here blowy nights, with the candles lit, eating nuts and telling
+stories? It makes me think of the expression, 'snug as a bug.'"
+
+"Miss Leroy told me, Peter, what a reputation your dinners had, and how
+every 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 it
+contained, including its owner--Then Peter said to himself, "You really
+don't know anything about her. Stop your foolishness." Still Peter knew
+that--that foolishness was nice. He said, "People only care for my
+dinners because they are few and far between, and their being way down
+here in the city, after business hours, makes them something to talk
+about. Society wants badly something to talk about most of the time. Of
+course, my friends are invited." Peter looked down at Leonore, and she
+understood, 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. He
+looks after me generally, but his true forte is cooking. For oysters and
+fish and game I can't find his equal. And, as I never attempt very
+elaborate dinners, he cooks and serves for a party of six in very good
+shape. We are not much in haste down here after six, because it's so
+still and quiet. The hurry's gone up-town to the social slaves. Suppose
+you stay and try his skill at lunch to-day? My partners generally are
+with 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 first
+time we come." Peter and Watts tried to persuade her, but she was not
+persuadable. Leonore had no intention, no matter how good a time it
+meant, 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 of
+food matters under the pretext that she was displaying great
+housekeeping knowledge. She told Peter that he ought to keep his
+champagne 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. It
+ought to be stood on end, so that the sediment can settle." She
+criticised the fact that a brace of canvas-backs were on ice. "All your
+game should be hung," she said. She put her finger or her eyes into
+every drawer and cupboard, and found nothing to praise. She was
+absolutely grave over it, but before long Peter saw the joke and entered
+into it. It was wonderful how good some of the things that she touched
+tasted later.
+
+Then they went into Peter's sleeping-room, Leonore said it was very
+ordinary, 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 potters
+with them. She keeps all the windows full of flowers--perhaps you have
+noticed them in the other rooms, as well?"
+
+"Yes. I liked them, but I didn't think they could be yours. They grow
+too well for a man."
+
+"It seems as if Mrs. Costell had only to look at a plant, and it breaks
+out blossoming," Peter replied.
+
+"What a nice speech," said Leonore.
+
+"It's on a nice subject," Peter told her. "When you have that, it's very
+easy 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 had
+evidently been planned as an umbrella-stand.
+
+"Why do you have three swords?" she asked, taking the handsomest from
+its resting place.
+
+"So that I can kill more people."
+
+"Why, Dot, you ought to know that an officer wants a service sword and a
+dress-sword."
+
+"But these are all dress-swords. I'm afraid you are very proud of your
+majorship."
+
+Peter only smiled a reply down at her.
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, "I have found out your weakness at last. You like
+gold lace and fixings."
+
+Still Peter only smiled.
+
+"This sword is presented to Captain Peter Stirling in recognition of his
+gallant conduct at Hornellsville, July 25, 1877," Leonore read on the
+scabbard. "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 keep
+the 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 was
+subscribed for by some friends. The one you have was given me by a
+railroad."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For doing my duty."
+
+"Come, papa. We'll go home."
+
+Peter surrendered. "There were some substitutes for strikers in freight
+cars that were fitted up with bunks. The strikers fastened the doors on
+them, 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 you
+anything more to show us?"
+
+"No. I have a spare room, and Jenifer has a kitchen and sleeping place
+beyond, 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 very
+often, I like down-town New York." Leonore was making her first trip to
+it, so that she spoke from vast knowledge.
+
+"I can't tell you how pleasant it has been to me. It isn't often that
+such 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. I
+have a good mind--yes, I will--leave you these violets," Leonore took a
+little bunch that she had worn near her throat and put them and her hand
+in Peter's. And she hadn't put her glove on yet! Then she put her gloves
+on, and Peter shook hands. Then he remembered that he ought to see them
+to the elevator, so he took them out--and shook hands again. After that
+he concluded it was his duty to see them to the carriage--and he shook
+hands 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 back
+to work. "He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in the
+Hall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning over
+those awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn't make. Yet
+he came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air."
+
+When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop work
+and think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them now
+and then. He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to have a
+look at that bit of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation. He
+said: "Peter Stirling, go to work." So all the treasures were put in a
+drawer 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 and
+dumb-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 a
+box of cigars, or a bunch of violets, gold-piece, ribbon and sheet of
+paper? One thing is certain. Peter passed another evening without
+reading or working. And two such idle evenings could not be shown in
+another week of his life for the last twenty years.
+
+The next day Peter was considerably nearer earth. Not that he didn't
+think those eyes just as lovely, and had he been thrown within their
+radius, he would probably have been as strongly influenced as ever. But
+he was not thrown within their influence, and so his strong nature and
+common sense reasserted themselves. He took his coffee, his early
+morning ride, and then his work, in their due order. After dinner, that
+evening, he only smoked one cigar. When he had done that, he remarked to
+himself--apropos of the cigars, presumably--"Peter, keep to your work.
+Don't burn yourself again." Then his face grew very firm, and he read a
+frivolous book entitled: "Neun atiologische und prophylactische Satze
+... uber die Choleraepidemien in Ostindien," till nearly one o'clock.
+
+The following day was Sunday. Peter went to church, and in the afternoon
+rode out to Westchester to pass the evening there with Mrs. Costell.
+Peter thought his balance was quite recovered. Other men have said the
+same thing. The fact that they said so, proved that they were by no
+means sure of themselves.
+
+This was shown very markedly on Monday in Peter's case, for after lunch
+he did not work as steadily as he had done in the morning hours. He was
+restless. Twice he pressed his lips, and started in to work very, very
+hard--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, and
+go to work again, with a great determination in his face, only to look
+at the watch again before long. Finally he touched his bell.
+
+"Jenifer," he said, "I wish you would rub off my spurs, and clean up my
+riding 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 at
+a sharp canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden far
+when he suddenly checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple of
+riders. "I've been looking for you," he said frankly. Peter had not
+ceased to be straightforward.
+
+"Hello! This is nice," said Watts.
+
+"Don't you think it's about time?" said Leonore. Leonore had her own
+opinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry with Peter--not
+at 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'm
+here now."
+
+"How long ago did that occur to you, please?" said Leonore, with
+dignity.
+
+"About the time it occurred to me that you might ride here regularly
+afternoons."
+
+"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 those
+eyes. 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 is
+very nice, Peter," said Leonore. "If we see each other every day in the
+Park, we can tell each other everything that we are doing or thinking
+about. So we will be very good friends for sure." Leonore spoke and
+looked as if this was the pleasantest of possibilities, and Peter was
+certain it was.
+
+"I say, Peter," said Watts. "What a tremendous dude we have come out. I
+wanted to joke you on it the first time I saw you, but this afternoon
+it's positively appalling. I would have taken my Bible oath that it was
+the last thing old Peter would become. Just look at him, Dot. Doesn't he
+fill 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 man
+absolutely 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 toney
+friends?"
+
+"Of course I tried to dress correctly for my up-town friends, when I was
+with them. But it was not they who made me careful, though they helped
+me 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 the
+furnishing 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 at
+first. 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 in
+positions to a certain extent representative of it. I never thought
+much how I dressed, and it seems that sometimes at public meetings, and
+parades, and that sort of thing, I wasn't dressed quite as well as the
+other men. So when the people of my ward, who were present, were asked
+to point me out to strangers, they were mortified about the way I
+looked. It seemed to reflect on the ward. The first inkling I had of it
+was after one of these parades, in which, without thinking, I had worn a
+soft hat. I was the only man who did not wear a silk one, and my ward
+felt very badly about it. So they made up a purse, and came to me to ask
+me to buy a new suit and silk hat and gloves. Of course that set me
+asking questions, and though they didn't want to hurt my feelings, I
+wormed enough out of them to learn how they felt. Since then I've spent
+a good deal of money on tailors, and dress very carefully."
+
+"Good for 'de sixt'! Hurrah for the unwashed democracy, where one man's
+as good as another! So a 'Mick' ward wants its great man to put on all
+the frills? I tell you, chum, we may talk about equality, but the lower
+classes can't but admire and worship the tinsel and flummery of
+aristocracy."
+
+"You are mistaken. They may like to see brilliant sights. Soldiers,
+ball-rooms or the like, and who does not? Beauty is aesthetic, not
+aristocratic. But they judge people less by their dress or money than is
+usually supposed. Far less than the people up-town do. They wanted me to
+dress better, because it was appropriate. But let a man in the ward try
+to 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 hardest
+thing to forgive in this world is your equal's success. But they
+wouldn'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 told
+to get out. I don't believe you could get a drink. And you would stand a
+chance of pretty rough usage. Last week I went right from a dinner to
+Blunkers's to say a word to him. I was in evening dress, newcastle, and
+crush hat--even a bunch of lilies of the valley--yet every man there
+was willing to shake hands and have me sit down and stay. Blunkers
+couldn't have been dressed so, because it didn't belong to him. For the
+same reason, you would have no business in Blunkers's place, because you
+don't belong there. But the men know I dressed for a reason, and came to
+the saloon for a reason. I wasn't putting on airs. I wasn't intruding my
+wealth on them."
+
+"Look here, chum, will you take me into Blunkers's place some night, and
+let 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 bring
+Blunkers up to watch one of your formal dinners. He would enjoy the
+sight, 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 one
+tooth. The question arose as to which it should be. 'I'm so brave,' said
+one, 'that I can wait till to-morrow.' 'I'm such a coward,' said the
+other, '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 my
+blood tingle when I hear them talk over the 'fun' as they call it. They
+get detectives to protect them, and then go through the tenements--the
+homes of the poor--and pry into their privacy and poverty, just out of
+curiosity. Then they go home and over a chafing dish of lobster or
+terrapin, and champagne, they laugh at the funny things they saw. If the
+poor could get detectives, and look in on the luxury and comfort of the
+rich, they wouldn't see much fun in it, and there's less fun in a
+down-town tenement than there is in a Fifth Avenue palace. I heard a
+girl 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 people
+weeping and drinking whisky at the same time. Isn't it heartless?' Yet
+the dead--perhaps the bread-winner of the family, fallen in the
+struggle--perhaps the last little comer, not strong enough to fight
+this 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 over
+that body, according to their customs, or the party who looked in on
+them and laughed?" Peter had forgotten where he was, or to whom he was
+talking.
+
+Leonore had listened breathlessly. But the moment he ceased speaking,
+she bowed her head and began to sob. Peter came down from his indignant
+tirade 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 he
+had 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 the
+most intricate puzzle ever yet propounded by man or woman--that is, to
+find a woman's pocket. She complicated things even more by trying to
+talk. "I--I--know I'm ver--ver--very fooooooolish," she managed to get
+out, however much she failed in a similar result with her
+pocket-handkerchief.
+
+"Since I caused the tears, you must let me stop them," said Peter. He
+had produced his own handkerchief, and was made happy by seeing Leonore
+bury her face in it, and re-appear not quite so woe-begone.
+
+"I--only--didn't--know--you--could--talk--like--like that," explained
+Leonore.
+
+"Let this be a lesson for you," said Watts. "Don't come any more of your
+jury-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 hear
+talking about you. I tell you, when you rear your head up like that, and
+your eyes blaze so, and you put that husk in your voice, I don't wonder
+you fetch them. By George, you were really splendid to look at."
+
+That was the reason why Leonore had not cried till Peter had finished
+his speech. We don't charge women with crying whenever they wish, but we
+are 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, Watts
+saying he would go with Peter to his club. As soon as they were in the
+cab, he said:
+
+"I wanted to see you about your letter."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Everything's going as well as can be expected. Of course the little
+woman's scandalized over your supposed iniquity, but I'm working the
+heavy sentimental 'saved-our-little-girl's life' business for all it's
+worth. I had her crying last night on my shoulder over it, and no woman
+can do that and be obstinate long. She'll come round before a great
+while."
+
+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 himself
+that she was not for him, be it understood--and how could he see enough
+of her to do that--for Peter recognized that it would take a good deal
+of that charming face and figure and manner to pall on him--if he was
+excluded from her home? So he justified the continuance of the attempt
+by saying to himself: "She only excludes me because of something of
+which I am guiltless, and I've saved her from far greater suffering than
+my presence can ever give her. I have earned the privilege if ever man
+earned 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 on
+his audience. We call it "saying what the people want said." But many of
+the greatest speakers first suggest an idea to their listeners, and when
+they say it in plain English, a moment later, the audience say,
+mentally, "That's just what we thought a moment ago," and are convinced
+that the speaker is right.
+
+Peter remained silent, and Watts continued: "We get into our own house
+to-morrow, and give Leonore a birthday dinner Tuesday week as a
+combined house-warming and celebration. Save that day, for I'm
+determined you shall be asked. Only the invitation may come a little
+late. You won't mind that?"
+
+"No. But don't send me too many of these formal things. I keep out of
+them as much as I can. I'm not a society man and probably won't fit in
+with your friends."
+
+"I should know you were not _de societe_ by that single speech. If
+there's one thing easy to talk to, or fit in with, it's a society man or
+woman. It's their business to be chatty and pleasant, and they would be
+polite and entertaining to a kangaroo, if they found one next them at
+dinner. That's what society is for. We are the yolk of the egg, which
+holds and blends all the discordant, untrained elements. The oil,
+vinegar, salt, and mustard We don't add much flavor to life, but people
+wouldn't mix without us."
+
+"I know," said Peter, "if you want to talk petty personalities and
+trivialities, that it's easy enough to get through endless hours of
+time. But I have other things to do."
+
+"Exactly. But we have a purpose, too. You mustn't think society is all
+frivolity. 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, and
+that the people who will centre their whole life on it must be the
+leaders of it? To you, the spending hours over a new _entree_, or over a
+cotillion figure, seems rubbish, but it's the exact equivalent of your
+spending hours over who shall be nominated for a certain office. Because
+you are willing to do that, you are one of the 'big four.' Because we
+are 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 so
+much in running it, that we don't have enough for other subjects, and so
+you think we are stupid. I remember a woman once saying she didn't like
+conversazioni, 'because they are really brain-parties, and there is
+never enough to go round, and give a second help,' Any way, how can you
+expect society to talk anything but society, when men like yourself stay
+away 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, intellectual
+men."
+
+"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 a
+dinner together, where there was a Chicago man who became irritated at
+one or two bits of ignorance displayed by some of the other guests over
+the 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 even
+know how to pronounce its name.' He turned to Miss De Voe and said, 'We
+say Chicawgo. Now, how do you pronounce it in New York?' Miss De Voe put
+on that quiet, crushing manner she has when a man displeases her, and
+said, '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, and
+could only mortify. But it does describe the position of the lower wards
+of New York towards society. I've been working in them for nearly
+sixteen years, and I've never even heard the subject mentioned."
+
+"But I thought the anarchists and socialists were always taking a whack
+at us?"
+
+"They cry out against over-rich men--not against society. Don't confuse
+the constituents with the compound. Citric acid is a deadly poison, but
+weakened down with water and sugar, it is only lemonade. They growl at
+the poison, not at the water and sugar. Before there can be hate, there
+must be strength."
+
+The next day Peter turned up in the park about four, and had a
+ride--with Watts. The day after that, he was there a little earlier, and
+had a ride--with the groom. The day following he had another ride--with
+the groom. Peter thought they were very wonderful rides. Some one told
+him a great many interesting things. About some one's European life,
+some one's thoughts, some one's hopes, and some one's feelings. Some
+one really wanted a friend to pour it all out to, and Peter listened
+well, and encouraged well.
+
+"He doesn't laugh at me, as papa does," some one told herself, "and so
+it'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 to
+be."
+
+This put some one in a very nice frame of mind, and Peter thought he had
+never met such a wonderful combination of frankness, of confluence, and
+yet of a certain girlish shyness and timidity. Some one would tell him
+something, and then appeal to him, if he didn't think that was so? Peter
+generally thought it was. Some one did not drop her little touch of
+coquetry, for that was ingrain, as it is in most pretty girls. But it
+was the most harmless kind of coquetry imaginable. Someone was not
+thinking at all of winning men's hearts. That might come later. At
+present all she wanted was that they should think her pretty, and
+delightful, so that--that they should want to be friend.
+
+When Peter joined Watts and Leonore, however, on the fourth day, there
+was a noticeable change in Leonore's manner to him. He did not get any
+welcome except a formal "Good-afternoon," and for ten minutes Watts and
+he had to sustain the conversation by firing remarks at each other past
+a very silent intermediary. Peter had no idea what was wrong, but when
+he found that she did not mollify at the end of that time, he said to
+her;
+
+"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 be
+friends."
+
+"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 a
+little. "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 would
+do it soon, because mamma said to-day she thought of asking you to my
+birthday dinner next Tuesday, but I said you oughtn't to be asked till
+you 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 her
+mouth.
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I wish you had said this evening, because that's
+nearer, 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 tell
+him 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. Do
+tell 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 I
+haven't found anybody yet who could really tell it to me. Please tell
+about it nicely, Peter." Leonore was looking at Peter with the most
+pleading of looks.
+
+"It was during the great railroad strike. The Erie had brought some men
+up from New York to fill the strikers' places. The new hands were lodged
+in freight cars, when off work, for it wasn't safe for them to pass
+outside the guard lines of soldiers. Some of the strikers applied for
+work, and were reinstated. They only did it to get inside our lines. At
+night, when the substitutes in the cars were fast asleep, tired out with
+the double work they had done, the strikers locked the car-doors. They
+pulled the two cars into a shed full of freight, broke open a petroleum
+tank, and with it wet the cars and some others loaded with jute. They
+set fire to the cars and barricaded the shed doors. Of course we didn't
+know till the flames burst through the roof of the shed, when by the
+light, one of the superintendents found the bunk cars gone. The
+fire-department was useless, for the strikers two days before, had cut
+all the hose. So we were ordered up to get the cars out. Some strikers
+had concealed themselves in buildings where they could overlook the
+shed, and while we were working at the door, they kept firing on us. We
+were in the light of the blazing shed, and they were in the dark, which
+gave them a big advantage over us, and we couldn't spare the time to
+attend 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, and
+fortunately they were the nearest to the door. We took our muskets--for
+the frames of the cars were blazing, and the metal part too hot to
+touch--and fixing bayonets, drove them into the woodwork and so pushed
+the cars out. When we were outside, we used the rails again, to smash an
+opening in the ends of the cars which were burning the least. We got the
+men 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 taking
+up the rails. I happened to know how to get a rail up quickly, without
+waiting to unscrew the bolts. I had read it, years before, in a book on
+railroad construction. I didn't think that paragraph would ever help me
+to save forty lives--for five minutes' delay would have been fatal. The
+inside 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 the
+real 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 new
+toggery out of that night's work. I've heard people say militia are no
+good. If they could have stood by me that night, and seen my company
+working over those blazing cars, in that mass of burning freight, with
+the roof liable to fall any minute, and the strikers firing every time a
+man showed himself, I think they would have altered their opinion."
+
+"Oh," said Leonore, her eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "How splendid it
+is to be a man, and be able to do real things! I wish I had known about
+it in Europe."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because the officers were always laughing about our army. I used to get
+perfectly wild at them, but I couldn't say anything in reply. If I could
+only 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't
+that 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 this
+country when you become of age. That constitutes nationality."
+
+"Oh, how lovely! I knew I was an American, really, but papa was always
+teasing me and saying I was a foreigner. I hate foreigners."
+
+"Confound you, chum, you've spoiled one of my best jokes! It's been such
+fun to see Dot bristle when I teased her. She's the hottest little
+patriot that ever lived."
+
+"I think Miss D'Alloi's nationality is akin to that of a case of which I
+once heard," said Peter, smiling. "A man was bragging about the number
+of famous men who were born in his native town. He mentioned a
+well-known personage, among others, and one of his auditors said: 'I
+didn't know he was born there,' 'Oh, yes, he was,' replied the man. 'He
+was 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 certain
+object 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 a
+syndicate, and charged eight thousand dollars."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Leonore. "I wonder if I can afford to get your opinion
+on my being an American? I should like to frame it and hang it in my
+room. Would it be expensive?"
+
+"It is usual with lawyers," said Peter gravely, "to find out how much a
+client has, and then make the bill for a little less. How much do you
+have?"
+
+"I really haven't any now. I shall have two hundred dollars on the
+first. 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 my
+property on Tuesday. I forget how much it is, but I'm sure I can afford
+to have an opinion."
+
+"Why, Dot, we must get those papers out, and you must find some one to
+put 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 all
+your work, that he does each thing cheaper, doesn't he?"
+
+"Yes. Because he divides what his client has, on several jobs, instead
+of on one," Peter told her.
+
+"Then I think I'll have you do it all. We'll come down and see you about
+it. But write out that opinion at once, so that I can prove that I'm an
+American."
+
+"Very well. But there's a safer way, even, of making sure that you're an
+American."
+
+"What is that?" said Leonore, eagerly.
+
+"Marry one," said Peter.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Leonore, "I've always intended to do that, but not for a
+great many years."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+CALLS.
+
+
+Peter dressed himself the next evening with particular care, even for
+him. As Peter dressed, he was rather down on life. He had been kept from
+his ride that afternoon by taking evidence in a referee case. "I really
+needed the exercise badly," he said. He had tried to work his
+dissatisfaction off on his clubs and dumb-bells, but whatever they had
+done 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 a
+proper meal. Still, he did not look happy, when, on rising from his
+coffee, he glanced at his watch and found that it was but ten minutes
+past 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 walked
+four blocks, and then threw open the swing door of a brilliantly lighted
+place, stepping at once into a blaze of light and warmth which was most
+attractive 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 attitudes
+denoting ease. Two, at a small table in the corner, were playing
+dominoes. Three others, in another corner, were amusing themselves with
+"High, Low, Jack." Two were reading papers. The rest were collected
+round the centre table, most of them smoking. Some beer mugs and
+tumblers were standing about, but not more than a third of the twenty
+were drinking anything. The moment Peter entered, one of the men jumped
+to his feet.
+
+"B'ys," he cried, "here's Misther Stirling. Begobs, sir, it's fine to
+see yez. It's very scarce yez been lately." He had shaken hands, and
+then put a chair in place for Peter.
+
+The cards, papers, and dominoes had been abandoned the moment Dennis
+announced Peter's advent, and when Peter had finished shaking the hands
+held out to him, and had seated himself, the men were all gathered round
+the big table.
+
+Peter laid his hat on the table, threw back his Newcastle and lit a
+cigar. "I've been very short of time, Dennis. But I had my choice this
+evening before going uptown, of smoking a cigar in my own quarters, or
+here. 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 Board
+next Tuesday. He won't vote for it, he says. I told him I thought it was
+in the interest of the city to multiply means of transit, and asked him
+why he refused. He replied that he thought the Hummel gang had been
+offering 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 Board
+to vote the rival road."
+
+"I don't think there's much doubt that money is being spent by both
+sides," said Peter. "I fear no bill could ever pass without it. But the
+Hummel crowd are really responsible people, who offer the city a good
+percentage. The other men are merely trying to get the franchise, to
+sell 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 simply
+a choice between the two. I shouldn't mind if Denton voted against both
+schemes, but to say he'll vote against Hummel for that reason, and yet
+vote for the other franchise shows that he's not square. I didn't say so
+to him, because I wanted to talk it over with the ward a little first to
+see if they stood with me."
+
+"That we do, sir," said Dennis, with a sureness which was cool, if
+nothing more. Fortunately for the boldness of the speaker, no one
+dissented, 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, or
+some 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't
+agree widus, shure, Oi'll make them."
+
+"Thank you. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night, Mr. Stirling," came a chorus, and Peter passed into the
+street by the much maligned side-door.
+
+Dennis turned to the group with his face shining with enthusiasm. "Did
+yez see him, b'ys? There was style for yez. Isn't he somethin' for the
+ward to be proud av?"
+
+Peter turned to Broadway, and fell into a long rapid stride. In spite of
+the cold he threw open his coat, and carried his outer covering on his
+arm. Peter had no intention of going into an up-town drawing-room with
+any suggestion of "sixt" ward tobacco. So he walked till he reached
+Madison 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 the
+Fifty-seventh Street house, in reply to Peter's ring. Yet he was told
+that, "The ladies are still at dinner."
+
+Peter turned and went down the stoop. He walked to the Avenue, and
+stopped at a house not far off.
+
+"Is Mrs. Pell at home?" he asked, and procured entrance for both his
+pasteboard and himself.
+
+"Welcome, little stranger," was his greeting. "And it is so nice that
+you 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 talking
+about, so that I could enlighten our legislators when I go back," said a
+man of forty.
+
+"I wrote Pope a long letter to-day, which I asked him to show you," said
+Peter. "Things are in a bad shape, and getting worse."
+
+"But, Peter," queried the woman, "if you are the leader, why do you let
+them get so?"
+
+"So as to remain the leader," said Peter, smiling quietly.
+
+"Now that's what comes of ward politics," cried Mrs. Pell, "You are
+beginning to make Irish bulls."
+
+"No," replied Peter, "I am serious, and because people don't understand
+what I mean, they don't understand American politics."
+
+"But you say in effect that the way you retain your leadership, is by
+not leading. That's absurd!"
+
+"No. Contradiction though it may seem the way to lose authority, is to
+exercise it too much. Christ enunciated the great truth of democratic
+government, 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 nominate
+Maguire?" 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't
+seen for time out of mind, and just as I think I have a red-letter
+evening before me, you begin your everlasting politics."
+
+"I merely stopped in to shake hands," said Peter. "I have a call to make
+elsewhere, and can stay but twenty minutes. For that time we choose you
+speaker, and you can make us do as it pleases you."
+
+Twenty minutes later Peter passed into the D'Alloi drawing-room. He
+shook Mrs. D'Alloi's hand steadily, which was more than she did with
+his. Then he was made happy for a moment, with that of Leonore. Then he
+was introduced to a Madame Mellerie, whom he placed at once as the
+half-governess, half-companion, who had charge of Leonore's education; a
+Mr. Maxwell, and a Marquis de somebody. They were both good-looking
+young fellows; and greeted Peter in a friendly way. But Peter did not
+like 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 see
+Madame Mellerie. But he made a virtue of necessity, and he was too
+instinctively courteous not to treat the Frenchwoman with the same touch
+of deference his manner towards women always had. After they had been
+chatting for a little on French literature, it occurred to Peter that
+her opinion of him might have some influence with Leonore, so he decided
+that he would try and please her. But this thought turned his mind to
+Leonore, and speaking of her to her governess, he at once became so
+interested in the facts she began to pour out to him, that he forgot
+entirely 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 was
+completed, Mrs. D'Alloi turned to place her puppets properly again. But
+she found a decided bar to her intentions. Peter had formed his own
+conclusions as to why he had been set to entertain Madame Mellerie, not
+merely from the fact itself, but from the manner in which it had been
+done, and most of all, from the way Mrs. D'Alloi had managed to stand
+between Leonore and himself, as if protecting the former, till she had
+been able to force her arrangements. So with the first stir Peter had
+risen, and when the little bustle had ceased he was already standing by
+Leonore, talking to her. Mrs. D'Alloi did not look happy, but for the
+moment she was helpless.
+
+Peter had had to skirt the group to get to Leonore, and so had stood
+behind her during the farewells. She apparently had not noticed his
+advent, but the moment she had done the daughter-of-the-house duty, she
+turned to him, and said: "I wondered if you would go away without seeing
+me. 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 had
+seen you. I'm rather a persistent man in some things."
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, bobbing her head in a very knowing manner, "Miss De
+Voe told me."
+
+"Mr. Stirling," said Mrs. D'Alloi, "can't you tell us the meaning of the
+Latin motto on this seal?" Mrs. D'Alloi held a letter towards him, but
+did not stir from her position across the room.
+
+Peter understood the device. He was to be drawn off, and made to sit by
+Mrs. D'Alloi, not because she wanted to see him, but because she did not
+want him to talk to Leonore. Peter had no intention of being dragooned.
+So he said: "Madame Mellerie has been telling me what a good Latin
+scholar Miss D'Alloi is. I certainly shan't display my ignorance, till
+she 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 for
+himself. Mrs. D'Alloi looked discouraged, the more when Peter and
+Leonore put their heads close together, to examine the envelope.
+
+"'_In bonam partem_,'" read Leonore. "That's easy, mamma. It's--why, she
+isn'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 then
+said in an apologetic tone--"Would you like to invite madame? I've been
+telling her about your rooms--and you--and I think it would please her
+so."
+
+"That makes five," said Peter.
+
+"Oh, goody!" said Leonore, "I mean," she said, correcting herself, "that
+that is very kind of you."
+
+"And now the sixth?"
+
+"That must be a man of course," said Leonore, wrinkling up her forehead
+in the intensity of puzzlement. "And I know so few men." She looked out
+into space, and Peter had a moment's fear lest she should see the
+marquis, and name him. "There's one friend of yours I'm very anxious to
+meet. 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 of
+him."
+
+"Oh! I haven't that feeling about him. I----"
+
+"I think you would understand him and see the fine qualities. But do you
+think 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 can
+have 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 really
+begun 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 the
+Burgundy for that day, if your mamma accedes."
+
+"Peter, I wanted to ask you the other day about that. I thought you
+didn't drink wine."
+
+"I don't. But I give my friends a glass, when they are good enough to
+come to me. I live my own life, to please myself, but for that very
+reason, I want others to live their lives to please themselves. Trying
+to live other people's lives for them, is a pretty dog-in-the-manger
+business."
+
+Just then Mrs. D'Alloi joined them. "Were you able to translate it?" she
+asked, sitting down by them.
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Leonore. "It means 'Towards the right side,' or as a
+motto it might be translated, 'For the right side.'"
+
+Mrs. D'Alloi had clearly, to use a western expression, come determined
+to "settle down and grow up with the country." So Peter broached the
+subject of the dinner, and when she hesitated, Leonore called Watts into
+the group. He threw the casting ballot in favor of the dinner, and so it
+was 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, he
+turned 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 to
+you, 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 Hall
+to-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 a
+surly tone and manner.
+
+"Sit down," said Peter. Peter had learned that, with a certain class of
+individuals, a distance and a seat have a very dampening effect on
+anger. It is curious, man's instinctive desire to stand up to and be
+near the object for which anger is felt.
+
+"You've been talking against me in the ward, and makin' them down on
+me."
+
+"No, I didn't talk against you. I've spoken with some of the people
+about the way you think of voting on the franchises."
+
+"Yes. I wasn't round, but a friend heard Dennis and Blunkers a-going
+over it last night. And it's you did it."
+
+"Yes. But you know me well enough to be sure, after my talk with you
+yesterday, 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 the
+franchises."
+
+"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 law
+business?"
+
+"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 in
+them. He did not know whether _tu quoque_ meant something about votes,
+an insulting charge, or merely a reply, and feared to make himself
+ridiculous by his response to them. He was not the first man who has
+been hampered and floored by his own ignorance. He concluded he must
+make 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 that
+kind of a man."
+
+"I takes my orders from no one."
+
+"Denton, no one wants you to vote by order. We elected you alderman to
+do what was best for the ward and city, as it seems to you. You are
+responsible for your votes to us, and no other man can be. I don't care
+who orders you or advises you; in the end, you must vote yourself, and
+you 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 game
+between 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 to
+deceive the men in talking to them. If they trust what I tell them, it's
+because 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'll
+find I've said so."
+
+"But now?"
+
+"If you vote for that franchise, I shall certainly tell the ward that I
+think 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 make
+the ward think as I do, I couldn't do anything. What would you care for
+my 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 was
+alone 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 feels
+about the franchises."
+
+"Shure. It's one man they is. An' if Denton will step down to my place
+this night, he'll find out how they think."
+
+"They never would have felt so, if Mister Stirling hadn't talked to
+them. Not one in twenty knew the question was up."
+
+"That's because they are most of them too hard working to keep track of
+all 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 with
+others. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the future
+or 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't
+know a man I would rather see at the Hall." Peter held out his hand, and
+Denton 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, and
+it'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 av
+mind this mornin', they was tellin' me, but he's all right now, an' will
+vote 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 strangely
+enough, Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, and
+after the greetings, Peter said:
+
+"Miss D'Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis, Miss
+D'Alloi has wanted to know you because she's heard of your being such a
+friend 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, av
+such 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, all
+in due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red ink
+marginal references to such solid works as "Wheaton," "Story," and
+"Cranch's" and "Wallace's" reports. Peter had taken it practically from
+a "Digest," but many apparently learned opinions come from the same
+source. And the whole was given value by the last two lines, which read,
+"Respectfully submitted, Peter Stirling." Peter's name had value at the
+bottom of a legal opinion, or a check, if nowhere else.
+
+"Look, Mr. Moriarty," cried Leonore, too full of happiness over this
+decision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to share
+it, "I've always thought I was French--though I didn't feel so a
+bit--and now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I'm so happy. I
+hate foreigners."
+
+Watts laughed. "Why, Dot. You mustn't say that to Mr. Moriarty. He's a
+foreigner 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 most
+ardent Americans I know. As far as my experience goes, to make one of
+Dennis's bulls, the hottest American we have to-day, is the
+Irish-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 finds
+a 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 old
+weak 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 Misther
+Stirling. 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 view
+and as oratory; but it isn't business. Peter, we came down this morning
+to take whatever legal steps are necessary to put Dot in possession of
+her grandmother's money, of which I have been trustee. Here is a lot of
+papers 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 of
+it, and pay me the income, I can't have the principal till I'm
+twenty-five."
+
+"You must tie it up some way, Peter, or Dot will make ducks and drakes
+of it. She has about as much idea of the value of money as she has of
+the value of foreigners. When we had our villa at Florence, she
+supported the entire pauper population of the city."
+
+Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds. But it struck him
+that this was really a chance--from a business standpoint, entirely! It
+is true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trust
+company 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 for
+his time. "Sometimes, however," said Peter to himself, "these,
+trusteeships have very handsome picking's, aside from the half per
+cent." Peter did not say that the "pickings," as they framed themselves
+in his mind, were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiable
+reason at all times for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of letters
+and other unearned increment. So Peter was not obstinate this time.
+"It's such a simple matter that I can have the papers drawn while you
+wait, if you've half an hour to spare." Peter did this, thinking it
+would keep them longer, but later it occurred to him it would have been
+better to find some other reason, and leave the papers, because then
+Leonore would have had to come again soon. Peter was not quite as cool
+and far-seeing as he was normally.
+
+He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion that
+they go into his study. Peter rang for his head clerk, and explained
+what was needed with great rapidity, and then left the latter and went
+into the study.
+
+"I wonder what he's in such a hurry for?" said the clerk, retiring with
+the papers.
+
+When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing in
+chairs, and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking. This was what
+Dennis was saying:
+
+"'Schatter, boys, an' find me a sledge.' Shure, we thought it was
+demented 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 it
+a swing, an' struck the bolts crosswise like, so that the heads flew
+off, like they was shootin' stars. Then he struck the rails sideways, so
+as to loosen them from the ties. Then says he: 'Half a dozen av yez take
+off yez belts an' strap these rails together!' Even then we didn't
+understand, but we did it All this time the dirty spal--Oi ask yez
+pardon, miss--all this time the strikers were pluggin' at us, an'
+bullets flyin' like fun. 'Drop your muskets,' says the captain, when we
+had done; 'fall in along those rails. Pick them up, and double-quick for
+the shed door,' says he, just as if he was on parade. Then we saw what
+he was afther, and double-quick we went. Begobs, that door went down as
+if it was paper. He was the first in. 'Stand back,' says he, 'till Oi
+see what's needed.' Yez should have seen him walk into that sheet av
+flame, an' stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin', an' it so hot that we at
+the door were coverin' our faces to save them from scorchin'. Then he
+says: '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,' But
+not he. He came out, an' he says: 'B'ys, it's hot in there, but, if you
+don't mind a bit av a burn, we can get the poor fellows out. Will yez
+try?' 'Yes!' we shouted. So he explained how we could push cars widout
+touchin' them. 'Fall in,' says he. 'Fix bayonets. First file to the
+right av the cars, second rank to the left. Forward, march!' An' we went
+into that hell, an' rolled them cars out just as if we was marchin' down
+Broadway, 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 divil
+himsilf. Hardly one av us but didn't have the hair burnt off the part
+his cap didn't cover; an', as for eyelashes, an' mustaches, an'
+blisters, no one thought av them the next day. Shure, the whole company
+was 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 blind
+he'd be; but he went to Paris, an' they did somethin' to him there that
+saved 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 so
+absorbing to watch Leonore's face, and its changing expression, as,
+unconscious of his presence, she listened to Dennis, that Peter had not
+the heart to do it. But now Watts spoke up.
+
+"Do you hear that, Peter? There's value for you! You're better than the
+cat."
+
+So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennis
+left. Then the necessary papers were brought in and looked over at
+Peter's study-table, and Miss D'Alloi took another of his pens. Peter
+hoped she'd stop and think a little, again, but she didn't. Just as she
+had begun an L she hesitated, however.
+
+"Why," she said, "this paper calls me 'Leonore D'Alloi, spinster!' I'm
+not going to sign that."
+
+"That is merely the legal term," Peter explained. Leonore pouted for
+some 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 on
+the blotter, "Leonore D'Alloi. Her very untidy mark." "That was what
+Madame Mellerie always made me write on my exercises."
+
+Then they said "Good-bye." "I like down-town New York better and
+better," 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, and
+make 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 young
+lady 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 decided
+to only take papa's. But I put yours up in my room, and shall keep them
+there." Then Peter had to give place to another, just as he had decided
+that 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 the
+pretty rounded figure in the dainty evening dress of French open-work
+embroidery. "I didn't think she could be lovelier than she was in her
+street and riding dresses but she is made for evening dress," was his
+thought. He knew this observation wasn't right, however, so he glanced
+round the room, and then walked up to a couple.
+
+"There, I told Mr. Beekman that I was trying to magnetize you, and
+though your back was turned, you came to me at once."
+
+"Er--really, quite wonderful, you know," said Mr. Beekman. "I positively
+sharn'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 over
+here."
+
+Peter smiled. "I go out so little now, that I have turned selfish. I
+don't go to entertain people. I go to be entertained. Tell me what you
+have 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 the
+dining-room. Miss De Voe gave her arm to Beekman calmly, but her eyes
+followed Peter. They both could have made a better arrangement. Most
+dinner guests can.
+
+It was a large dinner, and so was served in the ball-room. The sixty
+people gathered were divided into little groups, and seated at small
+tables holding six or eight. Peter knew all but one at his table, to the
+extent of having had previous meetings. They were all fashionables, and
+the talk took the usual literary-artistic-musical turn customary with
+that set. "Men, not principles" is the way society words the old cry, or
+perhaps "personalities, not generalities" is a better form. So Peter ate
+his dinner quietly, the conversation being general enough not to force
+him to do more than respond, when appealed to. He was, it is true,
+appealed to frequently. Peter had the reputation, as many quiet men
+have, of being brainy. Furthermore he knew the right kind of people, was
+known to enjoy a large income, was an eligible bachelor, and was
+"interesting and unusual." So society no longer rolled its Juggernaut
+over him regardlessly, as of yore. A man who was close friends with half
+a dozen exclusives of the exclusives, was a man not to be disregarded,
+simply because he didn't talk. Society people applied much the same test
+as did the little "angle" children, only in place of "he's frinds wid
+der perlice," they substituted "he's very intimate with Miss De Voe, and
+the Ogdens and the Pells."
+
+Peter had dimly hoped that he would find himself seated at Leonore's
+table--He had too much self depreciation to think for a moment that he
+would take her in--but hers was a young table, he saw, and he would not
+have minded so much if it hadn't been for that Marquis. Peter began to
+have a very low opinion of foreigners. Then he remembered that Leonore
+had the same prejudice, so he became more reconciled to the fact that
+the Marquis was sitting next her. And when Leonore sent him a look and a
+smile, and held up the wrist, so as to show the pearl bracelet, Peter
+suddenly thought what a delicious _rissole_ he was eating.
+
+As the dinner waned, one of the footmen brought him a card, on which
+Watts had written: "They want me to say a few words of welcome and of
+Dot. 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? Only
+one? 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 to
+hear it." Peter said, "Tell Mr. D'Alloi that I will with pleasure." Then
+he 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 may
+give me a glass," and Watts was on his feet. He gave "our friends" a
+pleasant welcome, and after apologizing for their absence, said that at
+least, "like the little wife in the children's play, 'We too have not
+been idle,' for we bring you a new friend and introduce her to you
+to-night."
+
+Then Peter rose, and told the host: "Your friends have been grieved at
+your long withdrawal from them, as the happy faces and welcome we tender
+you 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 of
+American nature, despite its life and strength and freshness; that we
+had lost you for all time. But to-night we can hardly regret even this
+long interlude, if to that circumstance we owe the happiest and most
+charming combination of American nature and European art--Miss D'Alloi."
+
+Then there was applause, and a drinking of Miss D'Alloi's health, and
+the ladies passed out of the room--to enjoy themselves, be it
+understood, leaving the men in the gloomy, quarrelsome frame of mind it
+always does.
+
+Peter apparently became much abstracted over his cigar, but the
+abstraction was not perhaps very deep, for he was on his feet the moment
+Watts 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 different
+from what I had been told to think you. Every one said you were very
+silent and very uncomplimentary, and never joked, but you are not a bit
+as they said, and I thought you had probably changed, just as you had
+about the clothes. But Mrs. Grinnell says she never heard you make a
+joke or a compliment in her life, and that at the Knickerbocker they
+call you 'Peter, the silent.' You are a great puzzle."
+
+Dorothy laughed. "Here we four women--Mrs. Grinnell, and Mrs. Winthrop
+and Leonore and myself--have been quarrelling over you, and each
+insisting you are something different. I believe you are not a bit firm
+and stable, as people say you are, but a perfect chameleon, changing
+your tint according to the color of the tree you are on. Leonore was the
+worst, though! She says that you talk and joke a great deal. We could
+have 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, do
+you 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 a
+woman-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 so
+untalkative to women. I don't like men who think badly of women. Now, I
+want 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, nor
+treated me as they do other men. And so, when I am put with a
+small-talk woman, I feel all at sea, and, try as I may, I can't please
+her. They are never friendly with me as they are with other men."
+
+"Rubbish!" said Dorothy. "It's what you do, not what she does, that
+makes the trouble. You look at a woman with those grave eyes and that
+stern jaw of yours, and we all feel that we are fools on the spot, and
+really become so. I never stopped being afraid of you till I found out
+that in reality you were afraid of me. You know you are. You are afraid
+of all women."
+
+"He isn't a bit afraid of women," affirmed Leonore.
+
+Just then Mr. Beekman came up. "Er--Mrs. Rivington. You know this
+is--er--a sort of house-warming, and they tell me we are to go over the
+house, don't you know, if we wish. May I harve the pleasure?"
+
+Dorothy conferred the boon. Peter looked down at Leonore with a laugh in
+his 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 only
+imitated so far and then they both laughed.
+
+Leonore rose. "With pleasure. I only wish Mrs. Grinnell had heard you. I
+didn't know you could mimic?"
+
+"I oughtn't. It's a small business. But I am so happy that I couldn't
+resist 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! What
+room 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. There
+were her pictures, most of them her own purchases in Europe; and her
+books and what she thought of them; and her thousand little knick-knacks
+of one kind and another. Peter wasn't at all in a hurry to see the rest
+of the house.
+
+"These are the photographs of my real friends," said Leonore, "except
+yours. 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 have
+none left."
+
+"Then you must sit."
+
+"Very well. But it must be an exchange." Peter almost trembled at his
+boldness, 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 open
+a 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, and
+let me have these four?"
+
+"Oh, you greedy!" said Leonore, laughing. "Yes, if you'll do something
+I'm going to ask you."
+
+Peter pocketed the four. "That is a bargain," he said, with a brashness
+simply disgraceful in a good business man. "Now, what is it?"
+
+"Miss De Voe told me long ago about your savings-bank fund for helping
+the poor people. Now that I have come into my money, I want to do what
+she does. Give a thousand dollars a year to it--and then you are to tell
+me just what you do with it."
+
+"Of course I'm bound to take it, if you insist. But it won't do any
+good. Even Miss De Voe has stopped giving now, and I haven't added
+anything to it for over five years."
+
+"Why is that?"
+
+"You see, I began by loaning the fund to people who were in trouble, or
+who could be boosted a little by help, and for three or four years, I
+found the money went pretty fast. But by that time people began to pay
+it back, with interest often, and there has hardly been a case when it
+hasn't been repaid. So what with Miss De Voe's contributions, and the
+return of the money, I really have more than I can properly use already.
+There's only about eight thousand loaned at present, and nearly five
+thousand 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 kill
+temporary pain. It stops the pain for the moment, but only to weaken the
+system 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 as
+it helps."
+
+"I have thought about this for five years as something I should do. I'm
+so grieved." And Leonore looked her words.
+
+Peter could not stand that look. "I've been thinking of sending a
+thousand dollars of the fund, that I didn't think there was much chance
+of using, to a Fresh Air fund and the Day Nursery. If you wish I'll send
+two thousand instead and then take your thousand? Then I can use that
+for whatever I have a chance."
+
+"That will do nicely. But I thought you didn't think regular charities
+did much good?"
+
+"Some don't. But it's different with children. They don't feel the
+stigma and are not humiliated or made indolent by help. We can't do too
+much to help them. The future of this country depends on its poor
+children. 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 food
+and 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 much
+better chance."
+
+"Oh, it's very interesting," said Leonore. "Tell me some more about the
+poor 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, trying
+to find some way to do it. I think the finest opportunity for
+benevolence, not already attempted, would be a company to lend money to
+the poor, just as I have attempted, on a small scale, in my ward. You
+see there are thousands of perfectly honest people who are living on day
+wages, and many of them can lay up little or no money. Then comes
+sickness, or loss of employment, or a fire which burns up all their
+furniture and clothes, or some other mischance, and they can turn only
+to pawnbrokers and usurers, with their fearful charges; or charity, with
+its shame. Then there are hundreds of people whom a loan of a little
+money would help wonderfully. This boy can get a place if he had a
+respectable suit of clothes. Another can obtain work by learning a
+trade, but can't live while he learns it. A woman can support herself if
+she can buy a sewing-machine, but hasn't the money to buy it. Another
+can get a job at something, but is required to make a deposit to the
+value of the goods intrusted to her. Now, if all these people could go
+to 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 of
+knowing how much would be asked for. But a hundred thousand dollars
+would do to start with."
+
+"Why, that's only a hundred people giving a thousand each," cried
+Leonore eagerly. "Peter, I'll give a thousand, and I'll make mamma and
+papa give a thousand, and I'll speak to my friends and--"
+
+"Money isn't the difficult part," said Peter, longing to a fearful
+degree to take Leonore in his arms. "If it were only money, I could do
+it myself--or if I did not choose to do it alone, Miss De Voe and Pell
+would help me."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"It's finding the right man to run such a company. I can't give the
+time, for I can do more good in other directions. It needs a good
+business man, yet one who must have many other qualities which rarely go
+with a business training. He must understand the poor, because he must
+look into every case, to see if it is a safe risk--or rather if the past
+life of the applicant indicates that he is entitled to help. Now if your
+grandfather, who is such an able banker, were to go into my ward, and
+ask about the standing of a man in it, he wouldn't get any real
+information. But if I ask, every one will tell me what he thinks. The
+man in control of such a bank must be able to draw out the truth. Unless
+the management was just what it ought to be, it would be bankrupt in a
+few months, or else would not lend to one quarter of the people who
+deserve help. Yet from my own experience, I know, that money can be
+loaned to these people, so that the legal interest more than pays for
+the occasional loss, and that most of these losses are due to
+inability, more than to dishonesty."
+
+"I wish we could go on talking," sighed Leonore. "But the people are
+beginning 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-night
+to 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 better
+not interrupt."
+
+"I didn't see you," said Leonore.
+
+"Indeed!" said Lispenard, with immense wonderment. "I can't believe
+that. You know you were cutting us." Then he turned to Peter. "You old
+scamp, 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, but
+this one has been the pleasantest of my life."
+
+"That's very nice. And thank you, Peter, for the bracelet, and the
+flowers, and the compliment. They were all lovely. Would you like a
+rose?"
+
+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 from
+Washington 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 that
+evening. 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 she
+doesn't care for money, and she isn't eaten up with ambition. She is
+absolutely untouched by the world yet. Then she is natural, yet
+reserved, with other men. She's not husband-hunting, like so many of
+them. And she's loving, not merely of those about her, but of
+everything."
+
+Musicians will take a simple theme and on it build unlimited variations.
+This was what Peter proceeded to do. From Fifty-seventh Street to
+Peter's rooms was a matter of four miles. Peter had not half finished
+his thematic treatment of Leonore when he reached his quarters. He sat
+down before his fire, however, and went on, not with hope of exhausting
+all 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 my
+best to make her love me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+A GOOD DAY.
+
+
+The next day it was raining torrents, but despite this, and to the utter
+neglect of his law business, Peter drove up-town immediately after
+lunch, to the house in Fifty-seventh Street. He asked for Watts, but
+while he was waiting for the return of the servant, he heard a light
+foot-step, and turning, he found Leonore fussing over some flowers. At
+the 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 lips
+were trembling slightly.
+
+Peter felt a great temptation to say something strong. "Why can't the
+women let such an innocent child alone?" he thought to himself. Aloud he
+said, "If any wrong was done, which I don't think, it was my fault. Can
+I do anything?"
+
+"I don't believe so," said Leonore, with a slight unsteadiness in her
+voice. "They say that men will always monopolize a girl if she will
+allow it, and that a really well-mannered one won't permit it for a
+moment."
+
+Peter longed to take her in his arms and lay the little downcast head
+against his shoulder, but he had to be content with saying: "I am so
+sorry they blame you. If I could only save you from it." He evidently
+said it in a comforting voice, for the head was raised a trifle.
+
+"You see," said Leonore, "I've always been very particular with men, but
+with you it seemed different. Yet they both say I stayed too long
+upstairs, and were dreadfully shocked about the photographs. They said I
+ought 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 this
+point.
+
+Peter turned to go, but in leaving he said: "Is there any pleasure or
+service I can do, to make up for the trouble I've caused you?"
+
+Leonore put her head on one side, and looked a little less
+grief-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 I
+would rather see her choose, or to whom I would sooner trust her."
+
+"Thank you, Watts," said Peter, gratefully. "Watts is weak, but he is a
+good fellow," was his mental remark. Peter entirely forgot his opinion
+of two weeks ago. It is marvellous what a change a different point of
+view 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 the
+little woman, and how she loves me. From no other man can she learn what
+will 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 shall
+have a clear field and every chance."
+
+"I fear not. There's something more. Mrs. D'Alloi won't pardon that
+incident--nor do I blame her. I can't force my presence here if she does
+not give her consent. It would be too cruel, even if I could hope to
+succeed in spite of her. I want to see her this morning. You can tell
+better than I whether you had best speak to her first, or whether I
+shall tell her."
+
+"H'm. That is a corker, isn't it? Don't you think you had better let
+things drift?"
+
+"No. I'm not going to try and win a girl's love behind the mother's
+back. Remember, Watts, the mother is the only one to whom a girl can go
+at 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. Watts
+put his head in. "Is my Rosebud so busy that she can't spare her lover a
+few moments?"
+
+"Watts, you know I live for you."
+
+Watts dropped down on the lounge. "Come here, then, like a loving little
+wife, 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 some
+more.
+
+"Now, I want to talk with you seriously, dear," he said. "Who do you
+think 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 face
+to her husband.
+
+"I've thought she attracted him, but he's such an impassive, cool old
+chap, 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 ranged
+themselves in Watts's mind). "I don't see what more you can ask, short
+of a title, and titles not only never have all those qualities combined,
+but they are really getting decidedly _nouveau richey_ and not
+respectable enough for a Huguenot family, who've lived two hundred and
+fifty years in New York. What a greedy mamma she is for her little
+girl."
+
+"Oh, Watts! But think!"
+
+"It's hard work, dear, with your eyes to look at. But I will, if you'll
+tell me what to think about."
+
+"My husband! You cannot have forgotten? Oh, no! It is too horrible for
+you to have forgotten that day."
+
+"You heavenly little Puritan! So you are going to refuse Peter as a
+son-in-law, because he--ah--he's not a Catholic monk. Why, Rosebud, if
+you are going to apply that rule to all Dot's lovers, you had better
+post 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 better
+than trust our little girl to Peter."
+
+"With that stain! Oh, Watts, give him our pure, innocent, spotless
+child!"
+
+"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 and
+true 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'm
+no better than I should be, and it's nothing but your love that makes
+you think I am."
+
+"I won't hear you say such things of yourself. You know you are the best
+and 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 arms
+round 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 believe
+would not be true to her, or make her happy. I know every circumstance
+of Peter's connection with that woman, and he is as blameless as man
+ever was. Such as it was, it was ended years ago, and can never give him
+more trouble. He is a strong man, and will be true to Dot. She might get
+a man who would make her life one long torture. She may be won by a man
+who only cares for her money, and will not even give her the husks of
+love. But Peter loves her, and has outgrown his mistakes. And don't
+forget that but for him we might now have nothing but some horribly
+mangled remains to remember of our little darling. Dear, I love Dot
+twenty times more than I love Peter. For her sake, and yours, I am
+trying to do my best for her."
+
+So presently Mrs. D'Alloi came into the library, where Peter sat. She
+held out her hand to him, but Peter said:
+
+"Let me say something first. Mrs. D'Alloi, I would not have had that
+occurrence happen in your home or presence if I had been able to prevent
+it. It grieves me more than I can tell you. I am not a roue. In spite of
+appearances I have lived a clean life. I shall never live any other in
+the future. I--I love Leonore. Love her very dearly. And if you will
+give her to me, should I win her, I pledge you my word that I will give
+her the love, and tenderness, and truth which she deserves. Now, will
+you give me your hand?"
+
+"He is speaking the truth," thought Mrs. D'Alloi, as Peter spoke. She
+held 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 Leonore
+reposing in an exceedingly undignified position before the fire on a big
+tiger-skin, and stroking a Persian cat, who, in delight at this enviable
+treatment, purred and dug its claws into the rug. Peter stood for a time
+watching the pretty tableau, wishing he was a cat.
+
+"Yes, Tawney-eye," said Leonore, in heartrending tones, "it isn't a good
+day at all."
+
+"I'm going to quarrel with you on that," said Peter. "It's a glorious
+day."
+
+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 and
+the 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 dinner
+and am to monopolize you till then. Thirdly, she says we may be just as
+good friends as we please. Fourthly, she has asked me to come and stay
+for 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 forgot
+her "papas, proprieties, potatoes, prunes and prisms," and dropping down
+on the rug, buried her face in the cat's long silky hair. Then she
+reappeared 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 her
+dignity enough to rise, and say, "Now, I want to pay you for your
+niceness. 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 the
+tea-table, and we'll have afternoon tea together. It's the day of all
+others 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 the
+same."
+
+"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 you
+were 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 you
+feel that it really is. I never saw him in my life, when it wasn't 'a
+foine day.' I tell him he carries his sunshine round in his heart."
+
+"You are so different," said Leonore, "from what every one said. I never
+knew a man pay such nice compliments. That's the seventh I've heard you
+make."
+
+"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 warm
+cup of tea; perhaps it was the blazing logs; perhaps it was the shade of
+the lamp, which cast such a pleasant rosy tint over everything; perhaps
+it 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 begun
+to read the papers--the political part, I mean--and there are so many
+things I don't understand which I want to ask you to explain."
+
+"That is very nice," said Peter, "because there are a great many things
+of which I want to tell you."
+
+"Goody!" said Leonore, forgetting again she was now bound to conduct
+herself as befit a society girl. "And you'll not laugh at me if I ask
+foolish 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 a
+certain extent."
+
+"But don't they speak of a boss as something not nice?" asked Leonore, a
+little timidly, as if afraid of hurting Peter's feelings.
+
+"Usually it is used as a stigma," said Peter, smiling. "At least by the
+kind 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 are
+bosses bad, and are you a boss?"
+
+"You are asking me one of the biggest questions in American politics. I
+probably can't answer it, but I'll try to show you why I can't. Are
+there 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 abstract
+politics." Then he rallied and said: "Well, that is the condition of men
+as well, and it is that condition, which creates the so-called boss. In
+every community there are men who influence more or less the rest. It
+may be that one can only influence half a dozen other intimates. Another
+may exert power over fifty. A third may sway a thousand. One may do it
+by mere physical superiority. Another by a friendly manner. A third by
+being better informed. A fourth by a deception or bribery. A fifth by
+honesty. 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 he
+has his admirers. Sloftky is popular with the Jews, because he is of
+their 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 of
+men who are a little more marked than the rest, who have power to
+influence the opinions of men about them, and therefore have power to
+influence 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 can
+usually affect an average of twenty-five votes. But now we get to
+another rung of the ladder. Here we have Dennis, and such men as
+Blunkers, Denton, Kennedy, Schlurger and others. They not merely have
+their own set of followers, but they have more or less power to dominate
+the little bosses of whom I have already spoken. Take Dennis for
+instance. He has fifty adherents who stick to him absolutely, two
+hundred and fifty who listen to him with interest, and a dozen of the
+smaller bosses, who pass his opinions to their followers. So he can thus
+have some effect on about five hundred votes. Of course it takes more
+force and popularity to do this and in this way we have a better grade
+of men."
+
+"Yes. I like Mr. Moriarty, and can understand why others do. He is so
+ugly, 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 by
+being better informed, and by being more far-seeing. Such men as
+Gallagher 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 with
+other work have no time. They don't need the great personal popularity
+of 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 their
+intentions, must meet and try to arrange to pull together, for otherwise
+they can do nothing. Naturally, in a dozen or twenty men, there will be
+grades, 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 the
+papers call a boss of a ward. Then when these various ward bosses
+endeavor to unite for general purposes, the strongest man will sway
+them, 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 city
+without consultation with me. But of course I am more dependent on the
+voters than they are on me, for if they choose to do differently from
+what 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 right
+over 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 the
+voters. If they should defeat what I want three times running, every one
+would laugh at me, and my power would be gone. So you see that a boss is
+only 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 you
+do anything?"
+
+"There comes in the problem of practical politics. The question of who
+can affect the voters most. Take my own ward. Suppose that I want
+something done so much that I insist. And suppose that some of the other
+leaders are equally determined that it shan't be done. The ward splits
+on 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 tell
+them why and what I want to do. Then the men I have had to antagonize do
+the same, and the voters decide between us. It then is a question as to
+which side can win the majority of the voters. Because I have been very
+successful in this, I am the so-called boss. That is, I can make the
+voters feel that I am right."
+
+"How?"
+
+"For many reasons. First, I have always tried to tell the voters the
+truth, and never have been afraid to acknowledge I was wrong, when I
+found I had made a mistake, so people trust what I say. Then, unlike
+most of the leaders in politics, I am not trying to get myself office or
+profit, and so the men feel that I am disinterested. Then I try to be
+friendly with the whole ward, so that if I have to do what they don't
+like, their personal feeling for me will do what my arguments never
+could. With these simple, strong-feeling, and unreasoning folk, one can
+get ten times the influence by a warm handshake and word that one can by
+a logical argument. We are so used to believing what we read, if it
+seems reasonable, that it is hard for us to understand that men who
+spell out editorials with difficulty, and who have not been trained to
+reason from facts, are not swayed by what to us seems an obvious
+argument. But, on the contrary, if a man they trust, puts it in plain
+language to them, they see it at once. I might write a careful
+editorial, 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 the
+saloons, and tell the men just the same thing, and there isn't a man who
+wouldn'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 have
+tried very hard to be popular. I have endeavored to make a friend of
+every man in it with whom one could be friendly, because I wished to be
+as powerful as possible, so that the men would side with me whenever I
+put 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 by
+political influence. When I was able to take a hand, I felt that I could
+do 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 in
+the ward, and on election day I asked a good many men, as a personal
+favor, to vote for the Republican, and my friends asked others. Even
+Dennis 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 their
+ballots.' 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 that
+year. It was a great surprise to every one--even to myself--for the ward
+is Democratic by about four thousand majority. But I couldn't do that
+sort of thing often, for the men wouldn't stand it. In other words, I
+can 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 their
+opinions 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 of
+the old idea that great things are done by one-man power. If you will go
+over the men who are said to control--the bosses, as they are called--in
+this city, you will find that they all have worked their way into
+influence slowly, and have been many years kept in power, though they
+could be turned out in a single fight. Yet this power is obtained only
+by the wish of a majority, for the day they lose the consent of a
+majority of the voters that day their power ends. We are really more
+dependent than the representatives, for they are elected for a certain
+time, while our tenure can be ended at any moment. Why am I a power in
+my ward? Because I am supposed to represent a given number of votes,
+which are influenced by my opinions. It would be perfectly immaterial to
+my importance how I influenced those votes, so long as I could control
+them. But because I can influence them, the other leaders don't dare to
+antagonize me, and so I can have my way up to a certain point. And
+because I can control the ward I have made it a great power in city
+politics."
+
+"How did you do that?"
+
+"By keeping down the factional feeling. You see there are always more
+men struggling for power or office, than can have it, and so there
+cannot but be bad blood between the contestants. For instance, when I
+first became interested in politics, Moriarty and Blunkers were quite as
+anxious to down each other as to down the Republicans. Now they are
+sworn 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. Still
+others 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 at
+first, and from being one of the most uncertain wards in the city, the
+sixth has been known at headquarters for the last five years as 'old
+reliability' from the big majority it always polls. So at headquarters I
+am looked up to and consulted. Now do you understand why and what a boss
+is?"
+
+"Yes, Peter. Except why bosses are bad."
+
+"Don't you see that it depends on what kind of men they are, and what
+kind of voters are back of them. A good man, with honest votes back of
+him, is a good boss, and _vice versa_."
+
+"Then I know you are a good boss. It's a great pity that all the bosses
+can't be good?"
+
+"I have not found them so bad. They are quite as honest, unselfish, and
+reasonable 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, I
+have never known a man who could control a thousand votes for five
+years, who was not a better man, all in all, than the voters whom he
+influenced. More one cannot expect. The people are not quick, but they
+find 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 the
+people all of the time,'" laughed a voice.
+
+Peter took his eyes off Leonore's face, where they had been resting
+restfully, and glanced up. Watts had entered the room.
+
+"Go on," said Watts. "Don't let me interrupt your political
+disquisitions; I have only come in for a cup of tea."
+
+"Miss D'Alloi and I were merely discussing bosses," said Peter. "Miss
+D'Alloi, when women get the ballot, as I hope they will, I trust you
+will be a good boss, for I am sure you will influence a great many
+votes."
+
+"Oh!" said Leonore, laughing, "I shan't be a boss at all. You'll be my
+boss, 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, but
+instead 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 _frappe_ the champagne?"
+
+"Yissah?"
+
+"Jenifer, don't put quite so much onion juice as usual in the Queen
+Isabella 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 broiled
+oysters, onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was becoming
+irritated at such evident doubt of his abilities.
+
+Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried. He
+glanced round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search of
+possible sources for slips, but did not see them. All he was able to say
+was, "That broth smells very nice, Jenifer."
+
+"Yissah. Dar ain't nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and de
+squeezin's of a hunerd clams, sah. Dat sup will make de angels sorry dey
+died. 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'll
+be pow'ful glad yo' didn't." To himself, Jenifer remarked: "Who he gwine
+hab dis day? He neber so anxious befoh, not even when de Presidint an
+Guv'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 that
+he looked in his glass for some minutes. Not, however, apparently with
+much pleasure, for an anxious look came into his face, and he remarked
+aloud, as he turned away, "I don't look so old, but I once heard Watts
+say that I should never take a prize for my looks, and he was right. I
+wonder if she cares for handsome men?"
+
+Peter forgot his worry in the opening of a box in the dining-room and
+the taking out of the flowers. He placed the bunches at the different
+places, raising one of the bouquets of violets to his lips, before he
+laid it down. Then he took the cut flowers, and smilax, and spread them
+loosely in the centre of the little table, which otherwise had nothing
+on it, except the furnishings placed at each seat. After that he again
+kissed a bunch of violets. History doesn't state whether it was the same
+bunch. 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?" he
+continued, 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 the
+rest. Peter, here's a letter from Muller. He's got that 'Descent' in its
+first state, in the most brilliant condition. You had better get it, and
+trash your present impression. It has always looked cheap beside the
+rest."
+
+"Very well. Will you attend to it?"
+
+Just then came the sound of voices and the rustle of draperies in the
+little hall.
+
+"Hello! Ladies?" said Le Grand. "This is to be one of what Lispenard
+calls your 'often, frequently, only once' affairs, is it?"
+
+"I'm afraid we are early," said Mrs. D'Alloi. "We did not know how much
+time to allow."
+
+"No. Such old friends cannot come too soon."
+
+"And as it is, I'm really starved," said another personage, shaking
+hands with Peter as if she had not seen him for a twelve-month instead
+of parting with him but two hours before. "What an appetite riding in
+the 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. So
+Leonore had to fight her country's battles by herself.
+
+"What's all this to-day's papers are saying, Peter?" asked Watts, as
+soon 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 nomination
+for 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 tried
+to get Peter, first and last, to talk politics, but not a fact do we
+get. They say it's his ability to hold his tongue which made Costell
+trust him and push him, and that that was the reason he was chosen to
+fill Costells place."
+
+"_I_ don't fill his place," said Peter. "No one can do that. I merely
+succeeded 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 the
+French."
+
+"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 appealed
+to the one face on which no amusement or skepticism was shown.
+
+"I think it is rather dangerous to ascribe any particular trait to any
+nationality. It is usually misleading. But most men who think much, talk
+little, and the French have many thinkers"
+
+"I always liked Von Moltke, just for it being said of him that he could
+be silent in seven languages," said Le Grand.
+
+"Yes," said Leonore. "It's so restful. We crossed on the steamer with a
+French Marquis who can speak six languages, and can't say one thing
+worth 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 never
+will 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 to
+him as to what you said about the bosses, and he told me that bosses
+could never be really good, unless the better element were allowed to
+vote, 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 the
+men and the laws which are to govern them. Aside from this, every ounce
+of 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 vote
+rightly, and if the wrong half carries the election, it is because more
+intelligent people have voted wrongly, have not voted, or have not taken
+the trouble to try and show the people the right way, but have left them
+to the mercies of the demagogue. If we grant that every man who takes
+care of himself has some brain, and some experience, his vote is of some
+value, even if not a high one. Suppose we have an eagle, and a thousand
+pennies. Are we any better off by tossing away the coppers, because each
+is worth so little. That is why I have always advocated giving the
+franchise to women. If we can add ten million voters to an election, we
+have added just so much knowledge to it, and made it just so much the
+harder to mislead or buy enough votes to change results."
+
+"You evidently believe," said Watts, "in the saying, 'Everybody knows
+more than anybody?'"
+
+Peter had forgotten all about his company in his interest over--over the
+franchise. So he started slightly at this question, and looked up
+from--from his subject.
+
+"Yes," said Le Grand. "We've been listening and longing to ask
+questions. When we see such a fit of loquacity, we want to seize the
+opportunity."
+
+"No," said Leonore, "I haven't finished. Tell me. Can't you make the men
+do 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 because
+a 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 as
+one makes a child behave without regard to its own desires. With grown
+men, such a system only results in widening the distance between the
+classes 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 him
+nearer to the more educated. He even educates himself by his own
+mistakes; for every bad man elected, and every bad law passed, make him
+suffer the results, and he can only blame himself. Of course we don't
+get as good a government or laws, but then we have other offsetting
+advantages."
+
+"What are those?"
+
+"We get men and laws which are the wish of the majority. Such are almost
+self-supporting and self-administering. It is not a mere combination of
+words, printing-ink, and white paper which makes a law. It is the
+popular sentiment back of it which enforces it, and unless a law is the
+wish of a majority of the people who are to be governed by it, it is
+either 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 by
+force, in the face of popular sentiment. Then, too, we get a stability
+almost unknown in governments which do not conform to the people. This
+country has altered its system of government less than any other great
+country in the last hundred years. And there is less socialistic
+legislation and propaganda here than anywhere else. That is, less
+discontent."
+
+"But, Peter, if the American people are as sensible as you think, how do
+you 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't
+these men elected?"
+
+"Who are as absolutely inexperienced and blind as to the way to
+influence votes, as well can be. Look at it, as a contest, without
+regard to the merit of the cause. On one side we have bosses, who know
+and understand the men in their wards, have usually made themselves
+popular, are in politics for a living, have made it a life-study, and by
+dear experience have learned that they must surrender their own opinions
+in order to produce harmony and a solid vote. The reformer, on the
+contrary, is usually a man who has other occupations, and, if I may say
+so, has usually met with only partial success in them. By that I mean
+that the really successful merchant, or banker, or professional man
+cannot take time to work in politics, and so only the less successful
+try. Each reformer, too, is sure that he himself is right, and as his
+bread and butter is not in the issue, he quarrels to his heart's content
+with his associates, so that they rarely can unite all their force. Most
+of the reform movements in this city have been attempted in a way that
+is simply laughable. What should we say if a hundred busy men were to
+get together to-morrow, and decide that they would open a great bank, to
+fight the clearing-house banks of New York? Yet this, in effect, is what
+the reformers have done over and over again in politics. They say to the
+men who have been kept in power for years by the people, 'You are
+scoundrels. The people who elected you are ignorant We know how to do
+it better. Now we'll turn you out.' In short, they tell the majority
+they are fools, but ask their votes. The average reformer endorses
+thoroughly the theory 'that every man is as good as another, and a
+little better.' And he himself always is the better man. The people
+won't stand that. The 'holier than thou' will defeat a man quicker in
+this 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 told
+that they are ignorant and wrong, and this assumption is the basis of
+most of the so-called educational campaigns. To give impetus to a new
+movement takes immense experience, shrewdness, tact, and many other
+qualities. The people are obstructive--that is conservative--in most
+things, and need plenty of time."
+
+"Unless _you_ tell them what they are to do," laughed Watts. "Then they
+know quick enough."
+
+"Well, that has taken them fifteen years to learn. Don't you see how
+absurd it is to suppose that the people are going to take the opinions
+of 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 it
+with campaign literature, which has served to light fires; their papers
+have argued, and nobody read them. But the ward knows me. There's hardly
+a voter who doesn't. They've tested me. Most of them like me. I've lived
+among them for years. I've gone on their summer excursions. I've talked
+with them all over the district. I have helped them in their troubles. I
+have said a kind word over their dead. I'm godfather to many. With
+others I've stood shoulder to shoulder when the bullets were flying.
+Why, the voters who were children when I first came here, with whom I
+use to sit in the angle, are almost numerous enough now to carry an
+election 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? That
+is the true secret of the failure of reformers. A logical argument is
+all right in a court of appeals, but when it comes to swaying five
+thousand votes, give me five thousand loving hearts rather than five
+thousand logical reasons."
+
+"Yet you have carried reforms."
+
+"I have tried, but always in a practical way. That is, by not
+antagonizing the popular men in politics, but by becoming one of them
+and making them help me. I have gained political power by recognizing
+that I could only have my own way by making it suit the voters. You see
+there are a great many methods of doing about the same thing. And the
+boss who does the most things that the people want, can do the most
+things that the people don't want. Every time I have surrendered my own
+wishes, 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 do
+not 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 of
+man as George William Curtis in office?"
+
+"Mr. Curtis probably stood for the noblest political ideas this country
+has ever produced. But he held a beacon only to a small class. A man who
+writes from an easy-chair, will only sway easy-chair people. And
+easy-chair people never carried an election in this country, and never
+will. This country cannot have a government of the best. It will always
+be a government of the average. Mr. Curtis was only a leader to his own
+grade, just as Tim Sullivan is the leader of his. Mr. Curtis, in his
+editorials, spoke the feelings of one element in America. Sullivan, in
+Germania Hall, voices another. Each is representative, the one of five
+per cent. of New York; the other of ninety-five per cent. If the
+American people have decided one thing, it is that they will not be
+taken care of, nor coercively ruled, by their better element, or
+minorities."
+
+"Yet you will acknowledge that Curtis ought to rule, rather than
+Sullivan?"
+
+"Not if our government is to be representative. I need not say that I
+wish 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 be
+a successful boss, as to be a successful merchant or banker. Yet one
+cannot tell. I myself have never been able to say what elements make a
+boss, except that he must be in sympathy with the men whom he tries to
+guide, and that he must be meeting them. Mr. Curtis had a broad, loving
+nature and sympathies, and if the people had discovered them, they would
+have liked him. But the reserve which comes with culture makes one
+largely conceal one's true feelings. Super-refinement puts a man out of
+sympathy 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 what
+Watts calls a tough, and such a man, to understand and admire one
+another."
+
+"But don't you think," said Mrs. D'Alloi, "that the people of our class
+are better and finer?"
+
+"The expression 'noblesse oblige' shows that," said madame.
+
+"My experience has led me to think otherwise," said Peter. "Of course
+there is a difference of standards, of ideals, and of education, in
+people, and therefore there are differences in conduct. But for their
+knowledge of what is right and wrong, I do not think the so-called
+better classes, which should, in truth, be called the prosperous
+classes, live up to their own standards of right any more than do the
+poor."
+
+"Oh, I say, draw it mild. At least exclude the criminal classes," cried
+Watts. "They know better."
+
+"We all know better. But we don't live up to our knowledge. I crossed on
+one of the big Atlantic liners lately, with five hundred other saloon
+passengers. They were naturally people of intelligence, and presumably
+of easy circumstances. Yet at least half of those people were plotting
+to rob our government of money by contriving plans to avoid paying
+duties truly owed. To do this all of them had to break our laws, and in
+most cases had, in addition, to lie deliberately. Many of them were
+planning to accomplish this theft by the bribery of the custom-house
+inspectors, thus not merely making thieves of themselves, but bribing
+other men to do wrong. In this city I can show you blocks so densely
+inhabited that they are election districts in themselves. Blocks in
+which 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 eat
+less and be less warm; where man and woman, old and young, must shiver
+in winter, and stifle in summer; where there is not room to bury the
+people who live in the block within the ground on which they dwell. But
+I cannot find you, in the poorest and vilest parts of this city, any
+block where the percentage of liars and thieves and bribe-givers is as
+large as was that among the first-class passengers of that floating
+palace. Each condition of society has its own mis-doings, and I believe
+varies little in the percentage of wrong-doers to the whole."
+
+"To hear Peter talk you would think the whole of us ought to be
+sentenced to life terms," laughed Watts. "I believe it's only an attempt
+on 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 call
+bad. I have met men whom I thought so, but when I knew them better I
+found the good in them more than balancing the evil. Our mistake is in
+supposing that some men are 'good' and others 'bad,' and that a sharp
+line can be drawn between them. The truth is, that every man has both
+qualities in him and in very few does the evil overbalance the good. I
+marvel at the goodness I find in humanity, when I see the temptation and
+opportunity 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 show
+it. "Let me tell you something in connection with that. A high light in
+place of a dark shadow. There was an attempt to convict some of the
+strikers, but it failed, for want of positive evidence. The moral proof,
+however, against a fellow named Connelly was so strong that there could
+be no doubt that he was guilty. Two years later that man started out in
+charge of a long express, up a seven-mile grade, where one of our
+railroads crosses the Alleghanies. By the lay of the land every inch of
+that seven miles of track can be seen throughout its entire length, and
+when he had pulled half way up, he saw a section of a freight train
+coming down the grade at a tremendous speed. A coupling had broken, and
+this part of the train was without a man to put on the brakes. To go on
+was death. To stand still was the same. No speed which he could give his
+train by backing would enable it to escape those uncontrolled cars. He
+sent his fireman back to the first car, with orders to uncouple the
+engine. He whistled 'on brakes' to his train, so that it should be held
+on the grade safely. And he, and the engine alone, went on up that
+grade, and met that flying mass of freight. He saved two hundred
+people's lives. Yet that man, two years before, had tried to burn alive
+forty 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 are
+thoroughly and wholly good things in this world, and one of them is this
+stuffing. Would it be possible for a fellow to have a second help?"
+
+Peter smiled. "Jenifer always makes the portions according to what is to
+follow, 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 gentmun
+want't sell his ap'tite foh a mess ob potash."
+
+"Never mind," said Watts. "I'm not a dyspeptic, and so don't need
+potash. But you might wrap the rest up in a piece of newspaper, and I'll
+take it home."
+
+"Peter, you must have met a great many men in politics whom you knew to
+be dishonest?" said Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"No. I have known few men whom I could call dishonest. But then I make a
+great distinction between the doer of a dishonest act and a dishonest
+man."
+
+"That is what the English call 'a fine-spun' distinction, I think," said
+madame.
+
+"I hope not. A dishonest man I hold to be one who works steadily and
+persistently with bad means and motives. But there are many men whose
+lives tell far more for good than for evil in the whole, yet who are not
+above doing wrong at moments or under certain circumstances. This man
+will lie under given conditions of temptations. Another will bribe, if
+the inducement is strong enough. A third will merely trick. Almost every
+man has a weak spot somewhere. Yet why let this one weakness--a partial
+moral obliquity or imperfection--make us cast him aside as useless and
+evil. As soon say that man physically is spoiled, because he is
+near-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 not
+hesitate which to use. But if we only have the latter, how foolish to
+refuse to employ it as we may, because we know there are in the world a
+few better ones."
+
+"Is not condoning a man's sins, by failing to blame him, direct
+encouragement to them?" said Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"One need not condone the sin. My rule has been, in politics, or
+elsewhere, to fight dishonesty wherever I found it. But I try to fight
+the act, not the man. And if I find the evil doer beyond hope of
+correction, I do not antagonize the doer of it. More can be done by
+amity and forbearance than by embittering and alienating. Man is not
+bettered by being told that he is bad. I had an alderman in here three
+or four days ago who was up to mischief. I could have called him a
+scoundrel, without telling him untruth. But I didn't. I told him what I
+thought was right, in a friendly way, and succeeded in straightening him
+out, so that he dropped his intention, yet went away my friend. If I had
+quarrelled with him, we should have parted company, he would have done
+the wrong, I should have fought him when election time came--and
+defeated him. But he, and probably fifty of his adherents in the ward
+would have become my bitter enemies, and opposed everything I tried in
+the future. If I quarrelled with enough such men, I should in time
+entirely lose my influence in the ward, or have it generally lessened.
+But by dealing as a friend with him, I actually prevented his doing what
+he intended, and we shall continue to work together. Of course a man can
+be so bad that this course is impossible, but they are as few in
+politics as they are elsewhere."
+
+"Taciturnity Stirling in his great circus feat of riding a whole ward at
+once," said Watts.
+
+"I don't claim that I'm right," said Peter. "I once thought very
+differently. 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 that
+if most people gave the energy they spend in reforming the world, or
+their friends, to reforming themselves, there would be no need of
+reformers."
+
+"The old English saying that 'people who can't mind their own business
+invariably mind some one's else,' seems applicable," said Watts.
+
+"But is it not very humiliating to you to have to be friends with such
+men?" 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 notoriously
+one of the worst influences in New York State politics. At Albany, in
+the interest of a great corporation, he was responsible for every job
+and bit of lobbying done in its behalf. I don't mean to say that he
+really bribed men himself, for he had lieutenants for the actual dirty
+work, but every dollar spent passed through his hands, and he knew for
+what purpose it was used. At the end of that time, so well had he done
+his work, that he was made president of the corporation. Because of that
+position, and because he is clever, New York society swallowed him and
+has ever since delighted to fete him. I find it no harder to shake hands
+and associate with the men he bribed, than you do to shake hands and
+associate with the man who gave the bribe."
+
+"Even supposing the great breweries, and railroads, and other interests
+to be chiefly responsible for bribery, that makes it all the more
+necessary to elect men above the possibility of being bribed," said Le
+Grand. "Why not do as they do in Parliament? Elect only men of such high
+character and wealth, that money has no temptation for them."
+
+"The rich man is no better than the poor man, except that in place of
+being 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. The
+slave-holders' course on secession. The millionaire silver senators'
+course on silver. The one was willing to make every poor man in England
+pay a half more for his bread than need be, in order that land might
+rent for higher prices. The slave-owner was willing to destroy his own
+country, rather than see justice done. The last are willing to force a
+great commercial panic, ruining hundreds and throwing thousands out of
+employment, if they can only get a few cents more per ounce for their
+silver. 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 the
+descent, "I'm afraid the politics were rather dull to you. I lectured
+because 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 in
+the 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 trouble
+you, 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 other
+everything."
+
+When Leonore had settled back in the carriage for the long drive, she
+cogitated: "Mr. Le Grand said that he and Miss De Voe, and Mr. Ogden had
+all 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's
+very 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 limit
+to all intricacy, and after a time Leonore began to get an inkling of
+the secret. She first noticed that Peter seemed to spend an undue amount
+of time with her. He not merely turned up in the Park daily, but they
+were constantly meeting elsewhere. Leonore went to a gallery. There was
+Peter! 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 with
+nothing better to do than to see her home. At first Leonore merely
+thought these meetings were coincidences, but their frequency soon ended
+this theory, and then Leonore noticed that Peter had a habit of
+questioning her about her plans beforehand, and of evidently shaping his
+accordingly.
+
+Nor was this all. Peter seemed to be constantly trying to get her to
+spend time with him. Though the real summer was fast coming, he had
+another 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 at
+the Country Club.
+
+Flowers, too, seemed as frequent as their meetings. Peter had always
+smiled inwardly at bribing a girl's love with flowers and bon-bons, but
+he had now discovered that flowers are just the thing to send a girl, if
+you love her, and that there is no bribing about it. So none could be
+too beautiful and costly for his purse. Then Leonore wanted a dog--a
+mastiff. The legal practice of the great firm and the politics of the
+city nearly stopped till the finest of its kind had been obtained for
+her.
+
+Another incriminating fact came to her through Dorothy.
+
+"I had a great surprise to-day," she told Leonore. "One that fills me
+with delight, and that will please you."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Peter asked me at dinner, if we weren't to have Anneke's house at
+Newport for the summer, and when I said 'yes,' he told me that if I
+would save a room for him, he would come down Friday nights and stay
+over Sunday, right through the summer. He has been a simply impossible
+man hitherto to entice into a visit. Ray and I felt like giving three
+cheers."
+
+"He seemed glad enough to be invited to visit Grey-Court," thought
+Leonore.
+
+But even without all this, Peter carried the answer to the puzzle about
+with him in his own person. Leonore could not but feel the difference in
+the way he treated, and talked, and looked at her, as compared to all
+about 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, and
+later certain, that there was a shade of eagerness in his manner, a
+tenderness 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, having
+found the answer. But the solving did not bring her much apparent
+pleasure.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she remarked to herself. "I thought we were going to be such
+good friends! That we could tell each other everything. And now he's
+gone and spoiled it. Probably, too, he'll be bothering me later, and
+then he'll be disappointed, and cross, and we shan't be good friends any
+more. Oh, dear! Why do men have to behave so? Why can't they just be
+friends?"
+
+It is a question which many women have asked. The query indicates a
+degree of modesty which should make the average masculine blush at his
+own self-love. The best answer to the problem we can recommend to the
+average woman is a careful and long study of a mirror.
+
+As a result of this cogitation Leonore decided that she would nip
+Peter's troublesomeness in the bud, that she would put up a sign,
+"Trespassing forbidden;" by which he might take warning. Many women have
+done the same thing to would-be lovers, and have saved the lovers much
+trouble and needless expense. But Leonore, after planning out a dialogue
+in her room, rather messed it when she came to put it into actual public
+performance. Few girls of eighteen are cool over a love-affair. And so
+it occurred thusly:
+
+Leonore said to Peter one day, when he had dropped in for a cup of
+afternoon 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 in
+London, who has followed me over here, and is troubling me. He's
+dreadfully poor, and papa says he thinks he is after my money. Do you
+think that can be so?"
+
+So far the public performance could not have gone better if it had been
+rehearsed. 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 leaning
+back 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 on
+my eyes they sometimes misbehave themselves. It's neuralgia of the optic
+nerve. Sometimes it pains me badly. Don't mind me. It will be all right
+in 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 long
+since I have had a return of my trouble that I have stopped carrying
+it."
+
+"What causes it?"
+
+"Usually a shock. It's purely nervous."
+
+"But there was no shock now, was there?" said Leonore, feeling so guilty
+that she felt it necessary to pretend innocence.
+
+Peter pulled himself together instantly and, leaning over, began
+deliberately to gather up the fragments of the cup. Then he laid the
+pieces on the tea-table and said: "I was dreadfully frightened when I
+felt the cup slipping. It was very stupid in me. Will you try to forgive
+me 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 original
+question, saying bravely: "I don't know enough about Mr. Max ---- the
+Englishman, to speak of him, but I think I would not suspect men of
+that, even if they are poor."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because it would be much easier, to most men, to love you than to love
+your money."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'm so glad. I felt so worried over it. Not about this case, for I
+don't care for him, a bit. But I wondered if I had to suspect every man
+who came near me."
+
+Peter's eyes ceased to burn, and his second cup of tea, which a moment
+before 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 so
+dangerous 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 least
+five 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, and
+she could talk of five years! It was the clearest possible indication to
+Peter that Leonore was heart-whole. "No one, who is in love," he
+thought, "could possibly talk of five years, or five months even." When
+Peter got back to his chambers that afternoon, he was as near being
+despairing as he had been since--since--a long time ago. Even the
+obvious fact, that, if Leonore was not in love with him, she was also
+not in love with any one else, did not cheer him. There is a flag in the
+navy known as the Blue-Peter. That evening, Peter could have supplied
+our whole marine, with considerable bunting to spare.
+
+But even worse was in store for him on the morrow. When he joined
+Leonore in the Park that day, she proved to him that woman has as much
+absolute brutality as the lowest of prize-fighters. Women get the
+reputation of being less brutal, because of their dread of
+blood-letting. Yet when it comes to torturing the opposite sex in its
+feelings, they are brutes compared with their sufferers.
+
+"Do you know," said Leonore, "that this is almost our last ride
+together?"
+
+"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, I
+have at last persuaded papa to travel a little, so that I can see
+something of my own country, and not be so shamefully ignorant. We are
+going to Washington on Saturday, and from there to California, and then
+through the Yellowstone, and back by Niagara. We shan't be in Newport
+till the middle of August"
+
+Peter did not die at once. He caught at a life-preserver of a most
+delightful 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 her
+little hand softly on the wound she had herself just made, in a way
+which women have. Then she stabbed again. "But we think it pleasanter to
+have it just a party of four."
+
+"How long shall you be in Washington?" asked Peter, catching wildly at a
+straw this time.
+
+"For a week. Why?"
+
+"The President has been wanting to see me, and I thought I might run
+down 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 to
+ask.
+
+"The President wants me with him, but I may go to a hotel. It leaves one
+so much freer." Peter was a lawyer, and saw no need of committing
+himself. "If I am there when you are, I can perhaps help you enjoy
+yourself. I think I can get you a lunch at the White House, and, as I
+know most of the officials, I have an open sesame to some other nice
+things." Poor Peter! He was trying to tempt Leonore to tolerate his
+company by offering attractions in connection therewith. A chromo with
+the pound of tea. And this from the man who had thought flowers and
+bon-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 papers
+say?"
+
+"No, I would give twenty-five thousand dollars to-day if I could name
+the 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 of
+yours which I want to know."
+
+"No," said Leonore. "I don't think that's necessary. You are to tell me
+without making me promise anything." Leonore might deprecate a man's
+falling in love with her, but she had no objection to the power and
+perquisites 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's
+sudden firmness was real and how much pretence. Then she became
+unconscious of his presence.
+
+Peter said something.
+
+Silence.
+
+Peter said something else.
+
+Silence.
+
+"Are you really so anxious to know?" he asked, surrendering without
+terms.
+
+He had a glorious look at those glorious eyes. "Yes," said the dearest
+of all mouths.
+
+"The great panic," said Peter, "has led to the formation of a so-called
+Labor party, and, from present indications, they are going to nominate a
+bad man. Now, there is a great attempt on foot to get the Democratic
+convention 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 in
+something discreditable. But he's truckled himself into a kind of
+popularity and power, and, having always been 'a Democrat,' he hopes to
+get 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 country
+with 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 very
+disagreeable to myself."
+
+"How?"
+
+"This is a great secret, you understand?"
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, all interest and eagerness. "I can keep a secret
+splendidly."
+
+"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 in
+our trying to be friends. So we had better give up at once. Don't you
+think so?"
+
+"What a pretty horse Miss Winthrop has?" said Leonore. And she never
+obtained an answer to her question, nor answered Peter's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+A MUTINEER.
+
+
+After Peter's return from Washington, there was a settled gloom about
+him positively appalling. He could not be wooed, on any plea, by his
+closest friends, to journey up-town into the social world. He failed
+entirely to avail himself of the room in the Rivington's Newport villa,
+though Dorothy wrote appealingly, and cited his own words to him. Even
+to his partners he became almost silent, except on law matters. Jenifer
+found 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 moments
+that this atmosphere seemed to yield at all was when Peter took a very
+miscellaneous collection of rubbish out of a little sachet, meant for
+handkerchiefs, which he now carried in his breast-pocket, and touched
+the various articles to his lips. Then for a time he would look a little
+less suicidal.
+
+But it was astonishing the amount of work he did, the amount of reading
+he got through, the amount of politics he bossed, and the cigars he
+smoked, between the first of June, and the middle of August The
+party-leaders had come to the conclusion that Peter did not intend to
+take a hand in this campaign, but, after his return from Washington,
+they decided otherwise. "The President must have asked him to
+interfere," was their whispered conclusion, "but it's too late now. It's
+all cut and dried."
+
+Peter found, as this remark suggested, that his two months' devotion to
+the dearest of eyes and sweetest of lips, had had serious results. As
+with Mutineer once, he had dropped his bridle, but there was no use in
+uttering, as he had, then, the trisyllable which had reduced the horse
+to order. He had a very different kind of a creature with which to deal,
+than a Kentucky gentleman of lengthy lineage, a creature called
+sometimes a "tiger." Yet curiously enough, the same firm voice, and the
+same firm manner, and a "mutineer," though this time a man instead of a
+horse, was effective here. All New York knew that something had been
+done, and wanted to know what. There was not a newspaper in the city
+that would have refused to give five thousand dollars for an authentic
+stenographic report of what actually was said in a space of time not
+longer than three hours in all. Indeed, so intensely were people
+interested, that several papers felt called upon to fabricate and print
+most absurd versions of what did occur, all the accounts reaching
+conclusions as absolutely different as the press portraits of
+celebrities. From three of them it is a temptation to quote the display
+headlines 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 read
+and almost unknown by reading people, yet which had more city
+advertising than all the other papers put together, and a circulation to
+match 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 truth
+to suggest inspiration. But there is no need to reprint the article that
+followed, for now it is possible, for the first time, to tell what
+actually occurred; and this contribution should alone permit this work
+to rank, as no doubt it is otherwise fully qualified to, in the dullest
+class of all books, that of the historical novel.
+
+The facts are, that Peter alighted from a hansom one evening, in the
+middle of July, and went into the Manhattan Club. He exchanged greetings
+with a number of men in the halls, and with more who came in while he
+was reading the evening papers. A man came up to him while he still
+read, and said:
+
+"Well, Stirling. Reading about your own iniquity?"
+
+"No," said Peter, rising and shaking hands. "I gave up reading about
+that 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 cafe."
+
+Peter said nothing, but turned, and the two entered that room. Peter
+shook hands with three men who were there, and they all drew up round
+one of the little tables. A good many men who saw that group, nudged
+each other, and whispered remarks.
+
+"A reporter from the _Sun_ is in the strangers' room. Mr. Stirling, and
+asks to see you," said a servant.
+
+"I cannot see him," said Peter, quietly. "But say to him that I may
+possibly 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 imagine
+any of you, for instance, making a political mistake but perhaps you may
+some day."
+
+A pause of a curious kind came after this, which was only interrupted by
+the arrival of three more men. They all shook hands, and Peter rang a
+bell.
+
+"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 a
+bewildered way. Thomas had served the club many years, but he had never
+heard of that cocktail.
+
+"Well, Thomas," said Peter, "if you don't have that in stock, make it
+seven Blackthorns."
+
+Then presently eight men packed themselves into the elevator, and a
+moment later were sitting in one of the private dining-rooms. For an
+hour and a half they chatted over the meal, very much as if it were
+nothing more than a social dinner. But the moment the servant had passed
+the cigars and light, and had withdrawn, the chat suddenly ceased, and a
+silence 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 ratification
+meeting."
+
+"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 original
+speaker 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 first
+speaker.
+
+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 on
+our local nominations, and Maguire is not merely a Democrat, but he
+gives 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," said
+Number Two.
+
+Then they all looked at Peter, and became silent. Peter puffed his cigar
+thoughtfully.
+
+"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 we
+can'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 of
+the party. For every vote the Labor people give Maguire, the support of
+that party will lose us a Democratic vote."
+
+"But we can't win with a triangular fight. The Republicans will simply
+walk over the course."
+
+If Peter had been a hot-headed reformer, he would have said: "Better
+that than that such a scoundrel shall win." But Peter was a politician,
+and so saw no need of saying the unpleasantest thing that occurred to
+him, even if he felt it. Instead, he said: "The Labor party will get as
+many votes from the Republicans as from us, and, for every vote the
+Labor party takes from us, we shall get a Republican vote, if we put up
+the 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 his
+truckling to the lowest passions and his socialistic speeches, will
+frighten conservative men enough to make them break party lines, and
+unite 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 trade
+with or endorse the Labor party. We can elect Maguire by the aid of the
+worst votes in this city, or we can elect our own man by the aid of the
+best. The one weakens our party in the future; the other strengthens
+it."
+
+"You think that possible?" asked the man who had sought information as
+to what they "were here for."
+
+"Yes. The Labor party makes a stir, but it wouldn't give us the oyster
+and be content with the shells if it really felt strong. See what it
+offers us. All the local and State ticket except six assemblymen, two
+senators, and a governor, tied hand and foot to us, whose proudest claim
+for years has been that he's a Democrat."
+
+"But all this leaves out of sight the fact that the thing's done," said
+Number 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 Two
+cried:
+
+"Come. We've decided. Now, put up or shut up. No more beating about the
+bush."
+
+Peter puffed his cigar.
+
+"Tell us what you intend, Stirling," said Number One. "We are committed
+beyond retreat. Come in with us, or stay outside the breastworks."
+
+"Perhaps," said Peter, "since you've taken your own position, without
+consulting 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 to
+support 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 Number
+One. "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 pledged
+to 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 Stephen
+Maguire, to speak against him in every ward of this city, and ask every
+man 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. You
+insist on supporting the Labor candidate and I shall support the
+Republican 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. "How
+many 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 not
+single. Bohlmann says the brewers will back me, Hummel says he'll be
+guided by me, and the President won't interfere."
+
+"You might as well give up," continued the previous questioner. "The
+Sixth is a sure thirty-five hundred to the bad, and between Stirling's
+friends, and the Hummel crowd, and Bohlmann's people, you'll lose
+twenty-five thousand in the rest of the city, besides the Democrats
+you'll frighten off by the Labor party. You can't put it less than
+thirty-five thousand, to say nothing of the hole in the campaign fund."
+
+The beauty about a practical politician is that votes count for more
+than his own wishes. Number One said:
+
+"Well, that's ended. You've smashed our slate. What have you got in its
+place?"
+
+"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 has
+intellect. Why don't you ask us to choose a college professor, and have
+done with it."
+
+"Come, Stirling," said the previous questioner, "the thing's been messed
+so that we've got to go into convention with just the right man to rally
+the 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't
+see 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 it
+back 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," said
+Number Three, laughing and doing the same.
+
+"It's a pity Costell isn't here," added the previous questioner. "After
+you're not yielding to him, he'd never believe we had forced you to take
+it."
+
+And that was what actually took place at that very-much-talked-about
+dinner.
+
+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 he
+turned to the newcomer. "It's all right," he said, "so far as the party
+is 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 of
+the front door instantly, leaving the reporter with a disappointed look
+on 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 what
+he didn't care to tell, yet he could have helped me to pay my month's
+rent as easily as could be."
+
+As for Peter, he fell into a long stride, and his face nearly equalled
+his 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 the
+gloom in his face which had been so fixed an expression for the last
+month. But he looked as a man might look who knew he had but a few hours
+to live, yet to whom death had no terror.
+
+"I am giving up," Peter thought, "everything that has been my true life
+till now. My profession, my friends, my chance to help others, my books,
+and my quiet. I shall be misunderstood, reviled and hated. Everything I
+do will be distorted for partisan purposes. Friends will misjudge.
+Enemies will become the more bitter. I give up fifty thousand dollars a
+year in order to become a slave, with toadies, trappers, lobbyists and
+favor-seekers as my daily quota of humanity. I even sacrifice the larger
+part of my power."
+
+So ran Peter's thoughts, and they were the thoughts of a man who had not
+worked seventeen years in politics for nothing. He saw alienation of
+friends, income, peace, and independence, and the only return a mere
+title, which to him meant a loss, rather than a gain of power. Yet this
+was one of the dozen prizes thought the best worth striving for in our
+politics. Is it a wonder that our government and office-holding is left
+to the foreign element? That the native American should prefer any other
+work, rather than run the gauntlet of public opinion and press, with
+loss of income and peace, that he may hold some difficult office for a
+brief term?
+
+But finally Peter rose. "Perhaps she'll like it," he said aloud, and
+presumably, since no woman is allowed a voice in American politics, he
+was thinking of Miss Columbia. Then he looked at some photographs, a
+scrap of ribbon, a gold coin (Peter clearly was becoming a money
+worshipper), three letters, a card, a small piece of blotting-paper, a
+handkerchief (which Leonore and Peter had spent nearly ten minutes in
+trying to find one day), a glove, and some dried rose-leaves and
+violets. Yet this was the man who had grappled an angry tiger but two
+hours 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 of
+August, his mail brought him a letter from Watts, announcing that they
+had been four days installed in their Newport home, and that Peter would
+now be welcome any time. "I have purposely not filled Grey-Court this
+summer, so that you should have every chance. Between you and me and the
+post, I think there have been moments when mademoiselle missed 'her
+friend' 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 I
+come to-day by Shore line limited? P.S."
+
+"When you get back, Jenifer," said Peter, "you may pack my trunk and
+your own. We may start for Newport at two." Evidently Peter did not
+intend to run any risks of missing the train, in case the answer should
+be favorable.
+
+Peter passed into his office, and set to work to put the loose ends in
+such shape that nothing should go wrong during his absence. He had not
+worked 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 what
+business?"
+
+"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 was
+stamped "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 to
+listen 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 of
+his head.
+
+"I have a message for you, Mr. Stirling," said the man, pulling a chair
+into 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 after
+a pause.
+
+"Mr. Samuels is my confidential clerk. You can speak with perfect
+freedom before him." Peter spoke without raising his eyes from his
+writing.
+
+"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 it
+unsaid."
+
+"Well, then," said the man, "your party's been tricking us, and we won't
+stand it."
+
+Peter wrote diligently.
+
+"And we know who's back of it. It was all pie down to that dinner of
+yours."
+
+"Is that Maguire's message?" asked Peter, though with no cessation of
+his labors.
+
+"Nop," said the man. "That's the introduction. Now, we know what it
+means. You needn't deny it. You're squinting at the governorship
+yourself. And you've made the rest go back on Maguire, and work for you
+on 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 fur
+and feathers, and if you go before the convention as a candidate, we'll
+fill 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'll
+hunt down and expose every discreditable thing you've ever done."
+
+Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his hands
+on 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, that
+I think we have the message at last. Go to him, and say that I have
+received his message. That I know him, and I know his methods. That I
+understand his hopes of driving me, as he has some, from his path, by
+threats of private scandal. That, judging others by himself, he believes
+no 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 accept
+the nomination. That rather than see him the nominee of the Democratic
+party, I will take it myself. Tell him to set on his blood-hounds. They
+are welcome to all they can unearth in my life."
+
+Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he was
+not quite sure that he could sustain this altitude, if he saw more of
+the 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. We
+have proof already."
+
+Peter turned, with an amused look on his face. "I was wondering," he
+said, "if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague threats."
+
+"No siree," said Curlew with a self-assured manner, but at the same time
+putting Peter's desk between the clerk and himself, so that his flank
+could not be turned. "We've got some evidence that won't be sweet
+reading for you, and we're going to print it, if you take the
+nomination."
+
+"Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once. That
+I 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 before
+it's through with."
+
+Peter stood silent for a moment, but his hands trembled slightly, and
+any one who understood anatomy could have recognized that every muscle
+in 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, "about
+yours and some one else's goings on. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Rivington
+won't thank you for having them printed."
+
+Instantly came a cry of fright, and the crack of a revolver, which
+brought Peter's partners and the clerks crowding into the room. It was
+to find Curlew lying back on the desk, held there by Peter with one
+hand, while his other, clasping the heavy glass inkstand, was swung
+aloft. There was a look on Peter's face that did not become it. An
+insurance company would not have considered Curlew's life at that moment
+a fair risk.
+
+But when Peter's arm descended it did so gently, put the inkstand back
+on the desk, and taking a pocket-handkerchief wiped a splash of ink from
+the hand that had a moment before been throttling Curlew. That worthy
+struggled up from his back-breaking attitude and the few parts of his
+face not drenched with ink, were very white, while his hands trembled
+more 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. And
+keep this to yourselves. I don't think the other floors could have heard
+anything through the fire-proof brick, but if any one comes, refer them
+to me." As the office cleared, Peter turned to his partners and said:
+"Mr. Curlew came here with a message which he thought needed the
+protection of a revolver. He judged rightly, it seems."
+
+"Are you hit?"
+
+"I felt something strike." Peter put his hand to his side. He unbuttoned
+his coat and felt again. Then he pulled out a little sachet from his
+breast-pocket, and as e did so, a flattened bullet dropped to the floor.
+Peter looked into the sachet anxiously. The bullet had only gone through
+the lower corner of the four photographs and the glove! Peter laughed
+happily. "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 looking
+stunned.
+
+Curlew moved towards the door.
+
+"One moment," said Peter, and Curlew stopped.
+
+"Ray," Peter continued, "I am faced with a terrible question. I want
+your advice?"
+
+"What, Peter?"
+
+"A man is trying to force me to stand aside and permit a political
+wrong. To do this, he threatens to publish lying affidavits of worthless
+scoundrels, to prove a shameful intimacy between a married woman and
+me."
+
+"Bosh," laughed Ray. "He can publish a thousand and no one would believe
+them of you."
+
+"He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it would
+connect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that ever
+lived. He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloat
+over it. That the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. That
+in the heat of a political contest, the partisans will be only too glad
+to believe it and repeat it. That no criminal prosecution, no court
+vindication, will ever quite kill the story as regards her. And so he
+hopes that, rather than entail this on a woman whom I love, and on her
+husband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I know of such a case in
+Massachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such a danger, the
+man 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've
+bribed, or forged affidavits of two of the stewards of the 'Majestic.'"
+
+Ray tried to spring forward towards Curlew. But Peter's hand still
+rested on his shoulder, and held him back, "I started to kill him,"
+Peter said quietly, "but I remembered he was nothing but the miserable
+go-between."
+
+"My God, Peter! What can I say?"
+
+"Ray! The stepping aside is nothing to me. It was an office which I was
+ready to take, but only as a sacrifice and a duty. It is to prevent
+wrong that I interfered. So do not think it means a loss to me to
+retire."
+
+"Peter, do what you intended to do. We must not compromise with wrong
+even for her sake."
+
+The two shook hands, "I do not think they will ever use it, Ray," said
+Peter. "But I may be mistaken, and cannot involve you in the
+possibility, without your consent."
+
+"Of course they'll use it," cried Ogden. "Scoundrels who could think of
+such a thing, will use it without hesitation."
+
+"No," said Peter. "A man who uses a coward's weapons, is a coward at
+heart. We can prevent it, I think." Then he turned to Curlew. "Tell Mr.
+Maguire about this interview. Tell him that I spared you, because you
+are not the principal. But tell him from me, that if a word is breathed
+against Mrs. Rivington, I swear that I'll search for him till I find
+him, and when I find him I'll kill him with as little compunction as I
+would 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 to
+the Labor headquarters and told his story.
+
+"And he'll do it too, Mr. Maguire," he said. "You should have seen his
+look 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 in
+Ray's room.
+
+"I wouldn't think so if I hadn't seen his face as he stood over that
+skunk. But if ever a man looked murder he did at that moment. And quiet
+old 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 what
+you 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. Think
+of such an end to your life. No matter what that scoundrel does, don't
+end your life on a gallows. It--"
+
+Peter held up his hand. "You don't know the American people, Ray. If
+Maguire uses that lying story, I can kill him, and there isn't a jury in
+the country which, when the truth was told, wouldn't acquit me. Maguire
+knows 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 stood
+looking at the ink-stains on his desk and floor, "that people think
+politics nothing but trickery and scoundrelism. Yet such vile weapons
+and slanders would not be used if there were not people vile and mean
+enough at heart to let such things influence them. The fault is not in
+politics. It is in humanity."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+SUNSHINE.
+
+
+But just as Peter was about to continue this rather unsatisfactory train
+of thought, his eye caught sight of a flattened bullet lying on the
+floor. He picked it up, with a smile. "I knew she was my good luck," he
+said. Then he took out the sachet again, and kissed the dented and bent
+coin. Then he examined the photographs. "Not even the dress is cut
+through," he said gleefully, looking at the full length. "It couldn't
+have hit in a better place." When he came to the glove, however, he
+grieved a little over it. Even this ceased to trouble him the next
+moment, for a telegram was laid on his desk. It merely said, "Come by
+all 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 blank
+wall, and thinking of a pair of slate-colored eyes. But his expression
+bore no resemblance to the one formerly assumed when that particular
+practice had been habitual.
+
+Nor was this expression the only difference in this day, to mark the
+change from Peter past to Peter present. For instead of manoeuvring to
+make Watts sit on the back seat, when he was met by the trap late that
+afternoon, at Newport, he took possession of that seat in the coolest
+possible manner, leaving the one by the driver to Watts. Nor did Peter
+look away from the girl on that back seat. Quite the contrary. It did
+not 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 to
+heighten his present joy. A sort of "shadow-box."
+
+He had had the nicest kind of welcome from his "friend." If the manner
+had not been quite so absolutely frank as of yore, yet there was no
+doubt as to her pleasure in seeing Peter. "It's very nice to see you
+again," she had said while shaking hands. "I hoped you would come
+quickly." Peter was too happy to say anything in reply. He merely took
+possession of that vacant seat, and rested his eyes in silence till
+Watts, after climbing into place, asked him how the journey to Newport
+had been.
+
+"Lovelier than ever," said Peter, abstractedly. "I didn't think it was
+possible."
+
+"Eh?" said Watts, turning with surprise on his face.
+
+But Leonore did not look surprised. She only looked the other way, and
+the corners of her mouth were curving upwards.
+
+"The journey?" queried Watts.
+
+"You mean Newport, don't you?" said Leonore helpfully, when Peter said
+nothing. Leonore was looking out from under her lashes--at things in
+general, 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 deceiving
+loophole she had opened.
+
+Watts said, "Oh, of course. It improves every year. But wasn't the
+journey 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. It
+was just as maddening as could be, how hard it was to get New York
+papers way out west. I'm awfully in the dark about some things. I've
+asked 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 the
+Tennis Tournament, and thought he would tell me all about it. But he was
+horrid! His whole manner said: 'I can't waste real talk on a girl.' I
+told him I was a great friend of yours, and that you would tell me when
+you came, but he only laughed and said, he had no doubt you would, for
+you were famous for your indiscretion. I hate men who laugh at women the
+moment they try to talk as men do."
+
+"I think," said Peter, "we'll have to turn Pell down. A Congressman who
+laughs 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 for
+you to tell him, that will astonish him very much, and make him want to
+know 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 Miss
+D'Alloi, so that if it leaks beyond Pell, I shall know whom to blame for
+it."
+
+"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 take
+back what I just said."
+
+"Did you roar, and did the tiger put its tail between its legs?" asked
+Watts.
+
+"That is the last thing our friends, the enemies, have found," said
+Peter.
+
+"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 boat
+to-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 drawn
+down.
+
+"I was not dodging," said Peter. "I only was asking a preliminary
+question. If you will get up, before breakfast, and ride with me, I will
+tell you everything that actually occurred at that dinner. You will be
+the only person, I think, who wasn't there, who knows." It was shameful
+and open bribery, but bosses are shameful and open in their doings, so
+Peter was only living up to his role.
+
+The temptation was too strong to be resisted, Leonore said, "Of coarse I
+will," and the corners of her mouth reversed their position. But she
+said to herself: "I shall have to snub you in something else to make up
+for it." Peter was in for a bad quarter of an hour somewhere.
+
+Leonore had decided just how she was going to treat Peter. To begin
+with, she intended to accentuate that "five years" in various ways. Then
+she would be very frank and friendly, just as long as he, too, would
+keep within those limits, but if Peter even verged on anything more, she
+intended to leave him to himself, just long enough to show him that such
+remarks as his "not caring to be friends," brought instant and dire
+punishment. "And I shan't let him speak," Leonore decided, "no matter if
+he wants to. For if he does, I'll have to say 'no,' and then he'll go
+back to New York and sulk, and perhaps never come near me again, since
+he's so obstinate, while I want to stay friends." Many such campaigns
+have been planned by the party of the first part. But the trouble is
+that, usually, the party of the second part also has a plan, which
+entirely disconcerts the first. As the darkey remarked: "Yissah. My dog
+he wud a beat, if it hadn't bin foh de udder dog."
+
+Peter found as much contrast in his evening, as compared with his
+morning, 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 papa
+always beats me. I'll teach you."
+
+So there was the jolliest of hours spent in this way, all of them
+laughing 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 to
+smash it."
+
+"It's something I really must learn," said Peter, who had refused over
+and 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 the
+drawing-room, Leonore asked: "Have you been learning how to valse?"
+
+Peter smiled at so good an American using so European a word, but said
+seriously, "No. I've been too busy."
+
+"That's a shame," said Leonore, "because there are to be two dances this
+week, 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 skirts
+back 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 in
+one's arms. But he recognized that this would follow. So he set to work
+manfully to imitate that dainty little glide. It seemed easy as she did
+it. 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 feet
+and 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 all
+night, with absolute contentment, so long as Leonore, after every
+failure, would show him the right way in her own person.
+
+Finally she said, "Now take my hands. No. Way apart, so that I can see
+your 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 strength
+failed. 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 a
+girl 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 the
+shortness, 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 idea
+at 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 dances
+the other men don't ask of me. But you don't dance well enough, in case
+I can get a better partner. I love valsing too much to waste one with a
+poor dancer."
+
+A moment before Peter thought waltzing the most exquisite pleasure the
+world contained. But he suddenly changed his mind, and concluded it was
+odious.
+
+"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 listener
+to his account of that dinner. The listener, speaking from vast
+political knowledge, told him at the end. "You did just right. I
+thoroughly approve of you."
+
+"That takes a great worry off my mind," said Peter soberly. "I was
+afraid, since we were to be such friends, and you wanted my help in the
+whirligig this winter, that you might not like my possibly having to
+live 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 having
+friends if they don't live near one."
+
+"That's what I think," said Peter. "I suppose I couldn't tempt you to
+come and keep house for me?"
+
+"Now I must snub him," thought Leonore. "No," she said, "It will be bad
+enough to do that five years from now, for the man I love." She looked
+out from under her eyelashes to see if her blow had been fatal, and
+concluded from the glumness in Peter's face, that she really had been
+too cruel. So she added: "But you may give me a ball, and we'll all come
+up and stay a week with you."
+
+Peter relaxed a little, but he said dolefully, "I don't know what I
+shall do. I shall be in such need of your advice in politics and
+housekeeping."
+
+"Well," said Leonore, "if you really find that you can't get on without
+help, we'll make it two weeks. But you must get up toboggan parties, and
+other nice things."
+
+"I wonder what the papers will say," thought Peter, "if a governor gives
+toboggan parties?"
+
+After the late breakfast, Peter was taken down to see the tournament. He
+thought 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 to
+the score. Then that the men who fluttered round her would have had the
+good taste to keep away. It enraged Peter to see how perfectly willing
+she was to talk and chat about things of which he knew nothing, and how
+more 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 know
+whether he's in love or not. I suppose he thinks he is. Boys fifteen
+years old always do."
+
+Leonore forgot the score, even, in her surprise. "Why," she said, "you
+growl just like Betise (the mastiff). Now I know what the papers mean
+when they say you roar."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "it makes me cross to see a lot of boys doing
+nothing but hit a small ball, and a lot more looking at them and
+thinking that it's worth doing." Which was a misstatement. It was not
+that 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 business
+to come. I'm a ward boss, and my place is in saloons. Don't hesitate to
+say it."
+
+All this was very foolish, but it was real to Peter for the moment, and
+he looked straight ahead with lines on his face which Leonore had never
+seen before. He ought to have been ordered to go off by himself till he
+should be in better mood.
+
+Instead Leonore turned from the tennis, and said: "Please don't talk
+that way, Peter. You know I don't think that." Leonore had understood
+the misery which lay back of the growl. "Poor fellow," she thought, "I
+must cheer him up." So she stopped looking at the tennis. "See," she
+said, "there are Miss Winthrop and Mr. Pell. Do take me over to them and
+let 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 Peter
+talked, or rather listened, to that young lady, though sighing
+internally. Then, _Laus Deo!_ up came the poor little chap, whom Peter
+had libelled in age and affections, only ten minutes before, and set
+Peter free. He turned to see how Leonore's petard was progressing, to
+find her and Pell deep in tennis. But just as he was going to expose his
+ignorance 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 the
+Democratic 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 the
+Manhattan 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 more
+airily. "I thought of course you would know about it. I'm so surprised!"
+
+Pell looked at her half quizzingly, and half questioningly. "What is the
+resolution?"
+
+"Naming a candidate for the vacancy for the Senate."
+
+"Nonsense," said Pell, laughing. "The convention has nothing to do with
+the senators. The Legislature elects them." He thought, "Why can't
+women, if they will talk politics, at least learn the ABC."
+
+"Yes," said Leonore, "but this is a new idea. The Senate has behaved so
+badly, that the party leaders think it will be better to make it a more
+popular body by having the New York convention nominate a man, and then
+they intend to make the legislature elect him. If the other states will
+only follow New York's lead, it may make the Senate respectable and open
+to 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. "The
+papers are always behind the times. But I didn't think that you would
+be, 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 you
+for next senator?" said Leonore, with both wonder and pity in her face
+and voice.
+
+"Who told you that?" said Pell, with an amount of interest blended with
+doubt that was a decided contrast to a moment ago.
+
+"That's telling," said Leonore. "You know, Mr. Pell, that one mustn't
+tell people who are outside the party councils everything."
+
+"I believe you are trying to stuff me," said Pell, "If it is so, or
+anything like it, you wouldn't know."
+
+"Oh," said Leonore, tantalizingly, "I could tell you a great deal more
+than 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, who
+had 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," said
+Peter seriously, "and she, and the President, and I, talked politics.
+Politically, Miss D'Alloi is rather a knowing person. I hope you haven't
+been saying anything indiscreet, Miss D'Alloi?"
+
+"I'm afraid I have," laughed Leonore, triumphantly, adding, "but I won't
+tell anything more."
+
+Pell looked after them as they went towards the carriage. "How
+extraordinary!" he said. "She couldn't have it from Peter. He tells
+nothing. 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 to
+have talked politics. But he'll get nothing but torture from me if he
+tries."
+
+It began to dawn on Peter that Leonore did not, despite her frank
+manner, mean all she said. He turned to her, and asked:
+
+"Are you really in earnest in saying that you'll refuse every man who
+asks you to marry him within five years?"
+
+Leonore's triumph scattered to the four winds. "What an awfully impudent
+question," she thought, "after my saying it so often. What shall I
+answer?" 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 to
+attempt it, I'll tell him frankly I don't care to listen."
+
+"She really means it," sighed Peter internally. "Why is it, that the
+best girls don't care to marry?" Peter became very cross, and, what is
+worse, looked it.
+
+Nor was Leonore much better, "There," she said, "I knew just how it
+would be. He's getting sulky already. He isn't nice any more. The best
+thing will be to let him speak, for then he'll go back to New York, and
+won't bother me." The corners of her mouth drew away down, and life
+became very gray.
+
+So "the best of friends" rode home from the Casino, without so much as
+looking 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 condition
+long. First Leonore had to be helped out of the carriage. This was
+rather pleasant, for she had to give Peter her hand, and so life became
+less unworth living to Peter. Then the footman at the door gave Peter
+two telegraphic envelopes of the bulkiest kind, and Leonore too began to
+take an interest in life again.
+
+"What are they about?" she asked.
+
+"The Convention. I came off so suddenly that some details were left
+unarranged."
+
+"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 another
+waltzing lesson after lunch?"
+
+"Don't bargain," said Leonore, disapprovingly.
+
+"Very well," said Peter, putting the telegrams in his pocket, and
+turning towards the stairs.
+
+Leonore let him go up to the first landing. But as soon as she became
+convinced that he was really going to his room, she said, "Peter."
+
+Peter turned and looked down at the pretty figure at the foot of the
+stairs. 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 read
+them to me," she said, "since we are such friends."
+
+"I do," said Peter, "And you ought to want to teach me to waltz, since
+we 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, by
+reading them to you."
+
+"Now I will teach him," said Leonore to herself.
+
+Peter unfolded the many sheets. "This is very secret, of course," he
+said.
+
+"Yes." Leonore looked round the hall as if she was a conspirator. "Come
+to the window-seat upstairs," she whispered, and led the way. When they
+had 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 for
+that, if I wasn't afraid you wouldn't read it."
+
+"You understand that you are not to repeat this to anyone." Peter was
+smiling over something.
+
+Leonore said, "Yes," half crossly and half eagerly.
+
+So Peter read:
+
+"Use Hudson knowledge counties past not belief local twenty imbecility
+certified of yet till yesterday noon whose Malta could accurately it at
+seventeen. Potomac give throw Haymarket estimated Moselle thirty-three
+to 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 to
+sit 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 not
+to 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. How
+tremendously interesting! We'll go at it right after lunch and decipher
+it 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. "I
+really must be careful," she told the enviable sponge as it passed over
+her face, "he's a man who needs very special treatment. I ought to send
+him 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 to
+live in Albany, and that will make it all right. Let me see. He said the
+governor served three years. That isn't five, but perhaps he'll have
+become sensible before then."
+
+As for Peter, he actually whistled during his ablutions, which was
+something 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 he
+danced a little. Then the two sat at the big desk in the deserted
+library and worked together over those very complex dispatches till they
+had them translated. Then they had to discuss their import. Finally they
+had to draft answers and translate them into cipher. All this with their
+heads very close together, and an utter forgetfulness on the part of a
+certain personage that snubbing rather than politics was her "plan of
+campaign." But Leonore began to feel that she was a political power
+herself, and so forgot her other schemes. When they had the answering
+dispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter and said:
+
+"I think we've done that very well," in the most approving voice. "Do
+you think they'll do as we tell them?"
+
+Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so frankly
+and with such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed was
+noble or great enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times that
+afternoon, it had seemed to him that he could not keep himself from
+leaning over and taking one. He even went so far now as to speculate on
+exactly what Leonore would do if he did. Fortunately his face was not
+given to expressing his thoughts. Leonore never dreamed how narrow an
+escape 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'll
+answer my question."
+
+"I think they'll do as we tell them," smiled Peter. "But we'll get word
+to-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we shall know better how the
+land lies, and can talk plainer."
+
+"Will there be more ciphers, to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes." To himself Peter said, "I must write Green and the rest to
+telegraph 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 the
+little tea-table.
+
+"I wouldn't live in Albany for the whole world," said Leonore, resuming
+her old self with horrible rapidity. But just then she burnt her finger
+with the match with which she was lighting the lamp, and her cruelty
+vanished 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 that
+there was a painful absence of all signs of injury, and feared Peter
+would laugh at such a burn after those he had suffered.
+
+But Peter treated it very seriously. "I'm sure it does," he said, taking
+possession of the hand. "And I know how it hurts." He leaned over and
+kissed the little thumb. Then he didn't care a scrap whether Leonore
+liked Albany or not.
+
+"I won't snub you this time," said Leonore to herself, "because you
+didn't laugh at me for it."
+
+Peter's evening was not so happy. Leonore told him as they rose from
+dinner 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 better
+dancers. If you choose to stay round I'll take you for those."
+
+"Do you ever have a dance over?" asked Peter, marvelling at such a
+possibility.
+
+"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 he
+laughed, so Leonore laughed too.
+
+After a game of billiards they all went to the dance. As they entered
+the hall, Peter heard his name called in a peculiar voice behind. He
+turned and saw Dorothy.
+
+Dorothy merely said, "Peter!" again. But Peter understood that
+explanations were in order. He made no attempt to dodge.
+
+"Dorothy," he said softly, giving a glance at Leonore, to see that she
+was out of hearing, "when you spent that summer with Miss De Voe, did
+Ray 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 at
+last!"
+
+We hope our readers can grasp the continuity of Dorothy's mental
+processes, for her verbal ones were rather inconsequent.
+
+"She's lovely," continued the verbal process. "And I'm sure I can help
+you."
+
+"I need it," groaned Peter. "She doesn't care in the least for me, and I
+can't get her to. And she says she isn't going to marry for--"
+
+"Nonsense!" interrupted Dorothy, contemptuously, and sailed into the
+ladies' dressing-room.
+
+Peter gazed after her. "I wonder what's nonsense?" he thought.
+
+Dorothy set about her self-imposed task with all the ardor for
+matchmaking, possessed by a perfectly happy married woman. But Dorothy
+evidently intended that Leonore should not marry Peter, if one can judge
+from the tenor of her remarks to Leonore in the dressing-room. Peter
+liked Dorothy, and would probably not have believed her capable of
+treachery, but it is left to masculine mind to draw any other inference
+from the dialogue which took place between the two, as they prinked
+before a cheval glass.
+
+"I'm so glad to have Peter here for this particular evening," said
+Dorothy.
+
+"Why?" asked Leonore, calmly, in the most uninterested of tones.
+
+"Because Miss Biddle is to be here. For two years I've been trying to
+bring those two together, so that they might make a match of it. They
+are made for each other."
+
+Leonore tucked a rebellious curl in behind the drawn-back lock. Then she
+said, "What a pretty pin you have."
+
+"Isn't it? Ray gave it to me," said Dorothy, giving Leonore all the line
+she wanted.
+
+"I've never met Miss Biddle," said Leonore.
+
+"She's a great beauty, and rich. And then she has that nice Philadelphia
+manner. Peter can't abide the young-girl manner. He hates giggling and
+talking 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 on
+subjects which please him. She is very much interested in politics and
+philanthropy."
+
+"I thought," said Leonore, fluffing the lace on her gown, "that Peter
+never talked politics."
+
+"He doesn't," said Dorothy. "But she has studied political economy. He's
+willing to talk abstract subjects. She's just the girl for a statesman's
+wife. Beauty, tact, very clever, and yet very discreet. I'm doubly glad
+they'll meet here, for she has given up dancing, so she can entertain
+Peter, 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 kind
+of man with whom every woman's ready to fall in love. Why, my dear, he's
+had chance after chance, if he had only cared to try. But, of course, he
+doesn't care for such women as you and me, who can't enter into his
+thoughts or sympathize with his ambitions. To him we are nothing but
+dancing, dressing, prattling flutter-birds." Then Dorothy put her head
+on one side, and seemed far more interested in the effect of her own
+frock than in Peter's fate.
+
+"He talks politics to me," Leonore could not help saying. Leonore did
+not 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, and
+he is delightfully courteous, and one would think he liked it. But, from
+little 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 ready
+during the whole of this dialogue. Watts was cross; Peter wasn't. Peter
+would willingly have waited an hour longer, impatient only for the
+moment of meeting, not to get downstairs. That is the difference between
+a husband and a lover.
+
+"Peter," said Leonore, the moment they were on the stairs, "do you ever
+tell other girls political secrets?"
+
+Dorothy was coming just behind, and she poked Peter in the back with her
+fan. Then, when Peter turned, she said with her lips as plainly as one
+can without speaking: "Say yes."
+
+Peter looked surprised. Then he turned to Leonore and said, "No. You are
+the 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 quite
+inscrutable. Peter had told the truth.
+
+But, after the greetings were over, Dorothy helped Peter greatly. She
+said to him, "Give me your arm, Peter. There is a girl here whom I want
+you to meet."
+
+"Peter's going to dance this valse with me," said Leonore. And Peter had
+two 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 a
+moment. I want to speak to Dorothy."
+
+"I knew you would be philandering after the young married women. Men of
+your age always do," said Leonore, with an absolutely incomprehensible
+cruelty.
+
+So Peter did not speak to Dorothy. He sat down by Leonore and talked,
+till a scoundrelly, wretched, villainous, dastardly, low-born, but very
+good-looking fellow carried off his treasure. Then he wended his way to
+Dorothy.
+
+"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 the
+men, and she doesn't dance. Now, if I introduce you, won't you try to
+make her have a good time?"
+
+"Certainly," said Peter, gloomily.
+
+"And don't go and desert her, just because another man comes up. It
+makes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle is
+very sensitive. I know you don't want to hurt her feelings." All this
+had been said as they crossed the room. Then: "Miss Biddle, let me
+introduce Mr. Stirling."
+
+Peter sat down to his duty. "I mustn't look at Leonore," he thought, "or
+I shan't be attentive." So he turned his face away from the room
+heroically. As for Dorothy, she walked away with a smile of contentment.
+"There, miss," she remarked, "we'll see if you can trample on dear old
+Peter!"
+
+"Who's that girl to whom Mr. Stirling is talking?" asked Leonore of her
+partner.
+
+"Ah, that's the rich Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia," replied the
+scoundrel, in very gentleman-like accents for one of his class. "They
+say she's never been able to find a man good enough for her, and so
+she's keeping herself on ice till she dies, in hopes that she'll find
+one 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 man
+unless he's clever. Look at her to-night! She got her big fish right
+off, 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't
+think any people good enough for him but the Pells, and Miss De Voe, and
+the Ogdens. What they can see in him I can't imagine. I sat opposite him
+once at dinner, this spring, at the William Pells, and he only said
+three things in the whole meal. And he was sitting next that clever Miss
+Winthrop."
+
+After the fifth dance, Dorothy came up to Leonore. "It's going
+beautifully," she said; "do you see how Peter has turned his back to the
+room? And I heard a man say that Miss Biddle was freezing to every man
+who tried to interrupt them. I must arrange some affairs this week so
+that 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 rides
+beautifully. Did Peter bring his horses?"
+
+"One," said Leonore, with a suggestion of reluctance in stating the
+fact.
+
+"I'll go and arrange it at once," said Dorothy, thinking that Peter
+might 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 Biddle
+the 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? I
+haven'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 had
+only one waltz," he told himself, "and did not really see anything else
+of 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 better
+informed one." Peter's tone of voice carried the inference that he hated
+unusual and informed women, and as this is the case with most men, his
+voice presumably reflected his true thoughts.
+
+"I should say so," said Watts. "At our little table she said the
+brightest 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 an
+Italian lesson of her."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"I have a chap who breakfasts with me three times a week, to talk
+Italian, 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 it
+was very good of her to offer, for I knew very little as yet, and don't
+think 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 so
+silent?" 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 have
+an 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 be
+disturbed 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 fell
+asleep peacefully, remarking to herself, just before she drifted into
+dreamland, "Every man in love ought to have a guardian, and I'll be
+Peter's."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+INTERFERENCE.
+
+
+When Peter returned from his ride the next day, he found Leonore reading
+the papers in the big hall. She gave him a very frigid "good-morning,"
+yet instantly relaxed a little in telling him there was another long
+telegram for him on the mantel. She said nothing of his reading the
+despatch to her, but opened a new sheet of paper, and began to read its
+columns with much apparent interest. That particular page was devoted to
+the current prices of "Cotton;" "Coffee;" "Flour;" "Molasses;" "Beans;"
+"Butter;" "Hogs;" "Naval Stores;" "Ocean Freights," and a large number
+of equally kindred and interesting subjects.
+
+Peter took the telegram, but did not read it. Instead he looked down at
+all of his pretty "friend" not sedulously hidden by the paper; He
+recognized that his friend had a distinctly "not-at-home" look, but
+after a moment's hesitation he remarked, "You don't expect me to read
+this alone?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Because," continued Peter, "it's an answer to those we wrote and sent
+yesterday, 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 could
+see 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 it
+on.
+
+But Peter said, "I caught you," and laughed. Then Leonore laughed. Then
+they filled in the space before lunch by translating and answering the
+telegram.
+
+As soon as that meal was over, Peter said, "Now will you teach me
+waltzing again?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I'm not going to spend time teaching a man to dance, who doesn't
+dance."
+
+"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 to
+one girl as to another. Since you don't like my dancing, I supposed you
+would hardly choose to dance again with me, or ropes wouldn't have held
+me."
+
+"I can talk Italian too," said Leonore, with no apparent connection.
+
+"Will you talk it with me?" said Peter eagerly. "You see, there are a
+good many Italians in the district, now, who by their ignorance and
+their not speaking English, are getting into trouble all the time. I
+want to learn, so as to help them, without calling in an interpreter."
+Peter was learning to put his requests on grounds other than his own
+wishes.
+
+"Yes," said Leonore very sweetly, "and I'll give you another lesson in
+dancing. How did you enjoy your ride?"
+
+"I like Dorothy," said Peter, "and I like Miss Biddle. But I didn't get
+the 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 was
+over, 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 to
+some other girl."
+
+Peter only smiled quietly.
+
+"Peter," said Leonore, later, as he was sipping his tea, "do you think
+I'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 a
+society 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 the
+nicest 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 telegrams
+and write the replies?"
+
+Peter was rather astonished, but said, "Yes."
+
+But he did it very badly, Leonore thought, for meeting Dorothy the next
+day at a lawn party, after the mere greetings, he said:
+
+"Dorothy, Miss D'Alloi has been helping me translate and write cipher
+telegrams."
+
+Dorothy looked startled at the announcement for a moment. Then she gave
+a glance at Leonore, who was standing by Peter, visibly holding herself
+in a very triumphant attitude. Then she burst out into the merriest of
+laughs, 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 very
+red. And when some one spoke to Dorothy, and took her attention, Leonore
+said 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 suppose
+she won't be nice for the rest of the day. If it was only law or
+politics! But women!"
+
+But Leonore didn't abuse him. She was very kind to him, despite her
+displeasure. "If Dorothy would only let me alone," thought Peter, "I
+should have a glorious time. Why can't she let me stay with her when
+she's in such a nice mood. And why does she insist on my being attentive
+to her. I don't care for her. It seems as if she was determined to break
+up 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. His
+thoughts are merely reported verbatim, as the easiest way. It certainly
+indicates that, as with most troubles, there was a woman in it.
+
+Peter said much this same thing to himself quite often during the
+following week, and always with a groan. Dorothy was continually putting
+her finger in. Yet it was in the main a happy time to Peter. His friend
+treated him very nicely for the most part, if very variably. Peter never
+knew in what mood he should find her. Sometimes he felt that Leonore
+considered him as the dirt under her little feet. Then again, she could
+not be too sweet to him. There was an evening--a dinner--at which he sat
+between Miss Biddle and Leonore when, it seemed to Peter, Leonore said
+and looked such nice things, that the millennium had come. Yet the next
+morning, she told him that: "It was a very dull dinner. I talked to
+nobody but you."
+
+Fortunately for Peter, the D'Allois were almost as new an advent in
+Newport, so Leonore was not yet in the running. But by the time Peter's
+first week had sped, he found that men were putting their fingers in, as
+well as Dorothy. Morning, noon, and night they gathered. Then lunches,
+teas, drives, yachts and innumerable other affairs also plunged their
+fingers in. Peter did not yield to the superior numbers, he went
+wherever Leonore went. But the other men went also, and understood the
+ropes far better. He fought on, but a sickening feeling began to creep
+over him of impending failure. It was soon not merely how Leonore
+treated him; it was the impossibility of getting her to treat him at
+all. Even though he was in the same house, it seemed as if there was
+always some one else calling or mealing, or taking tea, or playing
+tennis or playing billiards, or merely dropping in. And then Leonore
+took fewer and fewer meals at home, and spent fewer and fewer hours
+there. 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, he
+considered himself lucky. He understood at last what Miss De Voe had
+meant when she had spoken of the difficulty of seeing enough of a
+popular girl either to love her or to tell her of it. They prayed for
+rain 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'm
+needed in Syracuse." Peter spoke as if Syracuse was the ultimate of
+human 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 to
+Syracuse. 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 day
+and the next the wires to Newport from New York and Syracuse were kept
+hot, 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, because
+she 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 to
+his one ball-room accomplishment.
+
+"I'll give you the first," said Leonore, "and then if you'll sit near
+me, I'll give you a look every time I see a man coming whom I don't
+like, 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 I
+didn't go to Syracuse! What a shame it is there are other dances than
+waltzes."
+
+But after Peter had had two waltzes, he overheard his aged friend of
+fifteen years say something to a girl that raised him many degrees in
+his mind. "That's a very brainy fellow," said Peter admiringly. "That
+never occurred to me!"
+
+So he waited till he saw Leonore seated, and then joined her. "Won't
+you sit out this dance with me?" he asked.
+
+Leonore looked surprised. "He's getting very clever," she thought, never
+dreaming that Peter's cleverness, like so many other people's nowadays,
+consisted in a pertinent use of quotations. Parrot cleverness, we might
+term it. Leonore listened to the air which the musicians were beginning,
+and finding it the Lancers, or dreariest of dances, she made Peter happy
+by assenting.
+
+"Suppose we go out on the veranda," said Peter, still quoting.
+
+"Now of what are you going to talk?" said Leonore, when they were
+ensconced on a big wicker divan, in the soft half light of the Chinese
+lanterns.
+
+"I want to tell you of something that seems to me about a hundred years
+ago," said Peter. "But it concerns myself, and I don't want to bore
+you."
+
+"Try, and if I don't like it I'll stop you," said Leonore, opening up a
+line of retreat worthy of a German army.
+
+"I don't know what you'll think about it," said Peter, faltering a
+little. "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 could
+not see it, because Leonore sat so that her face was in shadow. But she
+could see his expression, and when he hesitated, with that drawn look on
+his face, Leonore said softly:
+
+"You mean--about--mamma?"
+
+Peter started. "Yes! You know?"
+
+"Yes," said Leonore gently. "And that was why I trusted you, without
+ever 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 been
+disappointed, so I asked mamma if she knew the girl, and then mamma told
+me. 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 I
+apologized 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 are
+paining me greatly. There is nothing in my whole life so bitter to me as
+what 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, and
+because 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. "Are
+you 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! And
+such 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 a
+despatch says your name was sprung on the Convention at nine, and that
+you 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 knew
+all about it."
+
+Every one laughed at this, except Dorothy. Dorothy had a suspicion that
+it 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 to
+take 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 my
+friends 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 this
+day holds woman to be the weaker vessel!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+OBSTINACY.
+
+
+The next morning Peter found that his prayer for a rainy day had been
+answered, 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 fortunately
+too, 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 were
+they seated at breakfast when Pell dropped in to congratulate him, and
+from that moment, despite the rain, every friend in Newport seemed to
+feel it a bounden duty to do the same, and to stay the longer because of
+the rain. Peter wished he had set the time for the Convention two days
+earlier or two days later.
+
+"I hope you won't ask any of these people to luncheon," Peter said in an
+aside to Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"Why?" he was asked.
+
+Peter looked puzzled, and finally said weakly, "I--I have a good deal to
+do."
+
+And then as proper punishment for his misdemeanor, the footman
+announced Dorothy and Miss Biddle, Ray and Ogden. Dorothy sailed into
+the 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 you
+seen this morning's 'Voice of Labor?' No? Good gracious, they've raked
+up that old verse in Watts's class-song and print it as proof that you
+were a drunkard in your college days. Here it is. Set to music and
+headed '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 other
+paper. But I wouldn't take the trouble in this case. The opposition
+would merely say that: 'Of course Mr. Stirling's intimate friends are
+bound to give such a construction to the song, and the attempt does them
+credit.'"
+
+"But why don't you deny it, Peter?" asked Leonore anxiously. "It's awful
+to think of people saying you are a drunkard!"
+
+"If I denied the untruths told of me I should have my hands full. Nobody
+believes such things, except the people who are ready to believe them.
+They wouldn't believe otherwise, no matter what I said. If you think a
+man 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 the
+newspapers, and see what they said about you, and then will misjudge
+you."
+
+"I am not afraid of that. I shall hardly be of enough account to figure
+in 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 which
+seems impossible now. The greater the man, the greater the abuse."
+
+"Why do the papers call you 'Pete'?" asked Leonore, anxiously. "I rather
+like 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 to
+convince 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 convince
+the voters who can be convinced by such arguments, that I am what they
+call me, they'll elect me."
+
+"How?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+"Because intelligent people are not led astray but outraged by such
+arguments, and ignorant people, who can be made to believe all that is
+said of me, by such means, will think I am just the man for whom they
+want to vote."
+
+"How is it possible that the papers can treat you so?" said Watts. "The
+editors know you?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I have met nearly every man connected with the New York
+press."
+
+"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 Miss
+Biddle.
+
+"It's rather a puzzling matter in ethics," said Peter. "I don't think
+that the newspaper fraternity have any lower standard of morals, than
+men in other professions. In the main they stand for everything that is
+admirable, so long as it's non-partisan, and some of the men who to-day
+are 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 honorable
+statesmen of Europe and America will lie and cheat each other to their
+utmost extent, under cover of the term 'diplomacy,' and get rewarded and
+praised by their respective countries for their knavery, provided it is
+successful, I think 'dishonest' is a strong word for a merely partisan
+press. Certain it is, that the partisan press would end to-morrow, but
+for the narrowness and meanness of readers."
+
+"Which they cause," said Ogden.
+
+"Just as much," said Peter, "as the saloon makes a drunkard, food causes
+hunger, and books make readers."
+
+"But, at least, you must acknowledge they've got you, when they say you
+are 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 gross
+form of physical enjoyment as tippling shall cease entirely. But till
+that day comes, till humanity has taught itself and raised itself, I
+want 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, and
+get what he wants at any time and all times. It is not fair, because a
+man's pockets are filled with nickels instead of eagles, that he shall
+not have the same right. For that reason, I have always spoken for the
+saloon, and even for Sunday openings. You know what I think myself of
+that day. You know what I think of wine. But if I claim the right to
+spend Sunday in my way and not to drink, I must concede an equal right
+to 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, in
+proportion to the number of drinkers of each. But a man who drinks
+champagne, is sent home in a cab, and is put to bed, while the man who
+can't afford that kind of drink, and is made mad by poisoned and
+doctored whisky, doctored and poisoned because of our heavy tax on it,
+must take his chance of arrest. That is the shameful thing about all our
+so-called temperance legislation. It's based on an unfair interference
+with personal liberty, and always discriminates in favor of the man with
+money. 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 wine
+everywhere."
+
+"That is neither possible nor right. You can't strengthen humanity by
+tying its hands. It must be left free to become strong. I have thought
+much about the problem, and I see only one fair and practical means of
+bettering our present condition. But boss as the papers say I am, I am
+not 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 another
+person'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 restraining
+him, as it does thieves, or murderers, or wife-beaters. My idea is, that
+a license, something perhaps like our dog-license, shall be given to
+every one who applies for it. That before a man can have a drink, this
+license must be shown. Then if a man is before the police court a second
+time, for drunkenness, or if his family petition for it, his license
+shall be cancelled, and a heavy fine incurred by any one who gives or
+sells that man a drink thereafter."
+
+"Oh," laughed Watts, "you are heavenly! Just imagine a host saying to
+his dinner-party, 'Friends, before this wine is passed, will you please
+show me your drink licenses.'"
+
+"You may laugh, Watts," said Peter, "but such a request would have saved
+many a young fellow from ruin, and society from an occasional terrible
+occurrence which even my little social experience has shown me. And it
+would soon be so much a matter of course, that it would be no more than
+showing your ticket, to prove yourself entitled to a ride. It solves the
+problem of drunkenness. And that is all we can hope to do, till humanity
+is--" 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 his
+sentence, it would have been, "half as perfect as you are."
+
+After this last relay of callers had departed, it began to pour so nobly
+that Peter became hopeful once more. He wandered about, making a
+room-to-room canvass, in search of happiness, and to his surprise saw
+happiness 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 conversation
+had carried them, "You mustn't go out," he said.
+
+"I'm going," said Leonore, made all the more eager now that it was
+forbidden.
+
+"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 to
+walk. 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 his
+head into the two rooms. Empty. He looked out of the front door. There
+in the distance, was that prettiest of figures, distinguishable even
+when 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 take
+Peter 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," she
+thought. "We'll see who can be the most obstinate." Aloud she said, "Who
+says 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, Peter
+would have been less nonplussed by it.
+
+Leonore felt her advantage, and used it shamefully. She knew that Peter
+was helpless, and she said, "How?" again, laughing at him.
+
+Peter groped blindly. "I shall make you," he said again, for lack of
+anything better.
+
+"Perhaps," said Leonore, helping him out, though with a most insulting
+laugh 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's
+perambulator," continued that segment of the Spanish Inquisition. If
+ever an irritating, aggravating, crazing, exasperating, provoking
+fretting enraging, "I dare you," was uttered, it was in Leonore's manner
+as she said this.
+
+Peter looked about hopelessly.
+
+"Please hurry up and say how," Leonore continued, "for I want to get
+down to the cliff walk. It's very wet here on the grass. Perhaps you
+will carry me back? You evidently think me a baby in arms." "He's such
+fun to tease," was her thought, "and you can say just what you please
+without being afraid of his doing anything ungentlemanly." Many a woman
+dares to torture a man for just the same reason.
+
+She was quite right as to Peter. He had recognized that he was
+powerless; that he could not use force. He looked the picture of utter
+indecision. But as Leonore spoke, a sudden change came over his face and
+figure. "Leonore had said it was wet on the grass! Leonore would wet her
+feet! Leonore would take cold! Leonore would have pneumonia! Leonore
+would 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 for
+the moment, and he said to himself: "I must do it, even if she never
+forgives me." Then the indecision left his face, and he took a step
+forward.
+
+Leonore caught her breath with a gasp. The "dare-you" look, suddenly
+changed 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 felt
+that she must fly, however ignominious such retreat might be.
+
+Peter followed, but though he could have caught her in ten seconds, he
+did not. As on a former occasion, he thought: "I'll let her get out of
+breath. Then she will not be so angry. At least she won't be able to
+talk. How gracefully she runs!"
+
+Presently, as soon as Leonore became convinced that Peter did not intend
+to 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 to
+acknowledge that she was out of breath since Peter wasn't. So she made
+no reply.
+
+"You are walking in the wrong direction," said Peter, laying his hand on
+her arm. Then, since she made no reply, his hand encircled the arm, and
+he stopped. Leonore took two more steps. Then she too, curiously enough,
+halted.
+
+"Stop holding me," she said, not entirely without betraying her
+breathlessness.
+
+"You are to come back," said Peter.
+
+He got an awful look from those eyes. They were perfectly blazing with
+indignation.
+
+"Stop holding me," she repeated.
+
+It was a fearful moment to Peter. But he said, with an appeal in his
+voice, "You know I suffer in offending you. I did not believe that I
+could touch you without your consent. But your health is dearer to me
+than your anger is terrible. You must come home."
+
+So Leonore, realizing that helplessness in a man exists only by his own
+volition, turned, and began walking towards the now distant house. Peter
+at once released her arm, and walked beside her. Not a glimpse did he
+get of those dear eyes. Leonore was looking directly before her, and a
+grenadier could not have held himself straighter. If insulted dignity
+was to be acted in pantomime, the actor could have obtained some
+valuable points from that walk.
+
+Peter walked along, feeling semi-criminal, yet semi-happy. He had saved
+Leonore 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 made
+Leonore's cheeks blaze, as Peter's touch had made her eyes. The rain had
+condensed in little diamonds on her stray curls, and on those long
+lashes. It seemed to Peter that he had never seen her lovelier. The
+longing to take her in his arms was so strong, that he almost wished she
+had 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 day
+at least. That meant a very terrible thing to him. A whole day of
+neglect; a whole day with no glimpse of these eyes; a whole day without
+a smile from those lips!
+
+Peter had too much sense to say anything at once. He did not speak till
+they were back in the hall. Leonore had planned to go straight to her
+room, but Peter was rather clever, since she preceded him, in getting to
+the foot of the staircase so rapidly that he was there first.
+
+This secured him his moment for speech. He said simply: "Miss D'Alloi, I
+ask your forgiveness for offending you."
+
+Leonore had her choice of standing silent, of pushing passed Peter, or
+of speaking. If she had done the first, or the second, her position was
+absolutely impregnable. But a woman's instinct is to seek defence or
+attack in words rather than actions. So she said: "You had no right, and
+you 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 was
+weakening. She said, "Let me by, please."
+
+Peter with reluctance gave her just room to pass. He felt that he had
+not 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 moment
+Leonore 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 him
+without 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 very
+different," he was told. "I put on tips and a mackintosh. You didn't put
+on 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, and
+Sweden 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. "It
+isn't worth while," he said.
+
+"I never heard of such obstinacy," said Leonore. "I pity your wife, if
+you 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 his
+hope 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 may
+keep me from taking cold." It was nearly five, o'clock, and Peter was
+longing for that customary half-hour at the tea-table.
+
+Leonore said in the kindness of her heart, "When you've changed your
+clothes, I'll make you a cup." Then she went upstairs. When she had
+reached the second floor, she turned, and leaning over the balustrade of
+the gallery, said, "Peter."
+
+"Yes," said Peter, surveying her from below, and thinking how lovely she
+was.
+
+Leonore was smiling saucily. She said in triumph: "I had my way. I did
+get my walk." Then she went to her room, her head having a very
+victorious carriage.
+
+Peter went to his room, smiling. "It's a good lawyer," he told his
+mirror, "who compromises just enough to make both sides think they've
+won." Peter changed his clothes with the utmost despatch, and hurried
+downstairs to the tea-table. She was not there! Peter waited nearly five
+minutes quietly, with a patience almost colossal. Then he began to get
+restless. He wandered about the room for another two minutes. Then he
+became woe-begone. "I thought she had forgiven me," he remarked.
+
+"What?" said the loveliest of visions from the doorway. Most women would
+have told one that the beauty lay in the Parisian tea-gown. Peter knew
+better. Still, he was almost willing to forgive Leonore the delay caused
+by the donning of it, the result was so eminently satisfactory. "And it
+will 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, taking
+possession of that article.
+
+"But then I can't put any sugar in."
+
+"Fingers were made before forks," suggested Peter. "You don't want to
+give 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 five
+months--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, but
+thought you must have gone to walk after all. Here, Peter. Here's a
+special delivery letter, for which I receipted a while ago. Give me a
+cup, Dot."
+
+Peter said, "Excuse me," and, after a glance at the envelope, opened the
+letter with a sinking sensation. He read it quickly, and then reached
+over and rang the bell. When the footman came, Peter rose and said
+something 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 had
+started upstairs, Leonore said, "Peter," on the landing. When Peter
+stopped, 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 to
+her room. "He's different," she said. "He isn't a bit afraid of
+displeasing me any more. I don't know what to do with him."
+
+Peter found Jenifer waiting. "Only pack the grip," he said. "I hope to
+come back in a few days." But he looked very glum, and the glumness
+stuck 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 back
+next week."
+
+"Next week!" cried Watts. "What has been sprung on you that will take
+you that long?"
+
+"It doesn't depend on me, unfortunately," said Peter, "or I wouldn't
+go."
+
+When the carriage was announced later, Peter shook hands with Watts and
+Mrs. D'Alloi, and then held out his hand to Leonore. "Good-bye," he
+said.
+
+"Are you going to tell me why you are going?" said that young lady, with
+her 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 if
+Leonore could have looked into the future she would have seen in her
+refusal the bitterest sorrow she had ever known.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+OATHS.
+
+
+As soon as Peter was on the express he went into the smoking cabin of
+the sleeping-car, and lighting a cigar, took out a letter and read it
+over again. While he was still reading it, a voice exclaimed:
+
+"Good! Here's Peter. So you are in it too?" Ogden continued, as Ray and
+he took seats by Peter.
+
+"I always did despise Anarchists and Nihilists," sighed Ray, "since I
+was trapped into reading some of those maudlin Russian novels, with
+their 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 party
+now, and I only have a formal notification to hold my regiment in
+readiness. If it's nothing but this Socialist and Anarchist talk, there
+is no real danger in it."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"This country can never be in danger from discontent with our
+government, for it's what the majority want it to be, or if not, it is
+made so at the next election. That is the beauty of a Democracy. The
+majority always supports the government. We fight our revolutions with
+ballots, not with bullets."
+
+"Yet Most says that blood must be shed."
+
+"I suppose," said Peter, "that he has just reached the stage of
+intelligence which doctors had attained when they bled people to make
+them 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't
+express himself, but way down underneath all the absurd talk of
+'natural monopolies,' and of 'the oppression of the money-power,' there
+lies a germ of truth, without which none of their theories would have a
+corporal's guard of honest believers. We have been working towards that
+truth in an unsystematic way for centuries, but we are a long way from
+it, and till we solve how to realize it, we shall have ineffectual
+discontent."
+
+"But that makes the whole thing only the more arrant nonsense," grumbled
+Ray. "It's foolish enough in all conscience sake, if they had a chance
+of success, but when they haven't any, why the deuce do they want to
+drag us poor beggars back from Newport?"
+
+"Why did Rome insist on burning while Nero fiddled?" queried Peter
+smiling. "We should hear nothing of socialism and anarchy if Newport and
+the 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 with
+Peter'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 and
+methods, but I sympathize with them, for I see the fearful problems
+which they think their theories will solve, and though I know how
+mistaken they are, I cannot blame them, when I see how seriously and
+honestly they believe in, and how unselfishly they work for, their
+ideas. Don't blame the Socialists, for they are quite as conscientious
+as were the Abolitionists. Blame it to the lack of scientific education,
+which leaves these people to believe that theories containing a half
+truth are so wholly true that they mean the regeneration and salvation
+of society."
+
+"I suppose you are right," sighed Ray, "for you've thought of it, and I
+haven't. I don't want to, either. I thank the Lord I'm not as serious as
+you, Graveyard. But if you want to air your theory, I'll lend you my
+ears, 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-bred
+men. They seem to think they've done all the work and study of their
+life in their four years, and so can dissipate mentally ever after." But
+Peter smiled as he said this and continued, more seriously: "Society and
+personal freedom are only possible in conjunction, when law or public
+opinion interferes to the degree of repressing all individual acts that
+interfere with the freedom of others; thus securing the greatest
+individual freedom to all. So far as physical force is concerned, we
+have pretty well realized this condition. Because a man is strong he can
+no longer take advantage of the weak. But strength is not limited to
+muscle. 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 it
+attempts to repress individualism, and reduce mankind to an evenness
+opposed to all natural laws, is suicidal of the best in favor of
+mediocrity. But so far as it attempts to protect that mediocrity and
+weakness from the superior minds of the best, it is only in line with
+the laws which protect us from murder and robbery. You can't expect men
+of 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, or
+joins a regiment. What's the good of being a good citizen, when the
+other 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 I
+furnish the raw material on which the dearest of women may lavish her
+affection. Heigh-ho! I wish I was before the fire with her now. It's
+rather 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's
+before us, and may not have much after to-night. But, Ray, there's a
+harder 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 really
+matters." Peter passed out of the cabin.
+
+"By George!" said Ray, "if it wasn't Peter, I'd have sworn there was
+salt water in his eyes."
+
+"Anneke has always insisted that he was lonely. I wonder if she's
+right?" Ogden queried.
+
+"If he is, why the deuce does he get off in those solitary quarters of
+his?"
+
+"Ray," said Ogden, "I have a sovereign contempt for a man who answers
+one 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; who
+promptly went and did the same to still others. While they were doing
+this, Peter drove uptown, and went into Dickel's riding academy. As he
+passed through the office, a man came out.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning."
+
+"Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes," said Peter. "How serious is it likely to
+be?"
+
+"We can't say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle the
+Anarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall need
+you."
+
+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 in
+force at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, that
+they'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 the
+unemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have called
+in the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying of
+arms."
+
+"It's rather rough on you, Stirling," spoke up a man, "to have it come
+while you are a nominee."
+
+Peter smiled, and passed into the room beyond. "Good-morning, General
+Canfield," he said. "I have taken the necessary steps to embody my
+regiment. Are there any further orders?"
+
+"If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station," the officer
+replied; "so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had better
+familiarize yourself at once."
+
+"General Canfield," said Peter, "my regiment has probably more
+sympathizers with the strikers than has any other in the city. It could
+not 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 prevent
+trouble."
+
+The man and Peter looked each other in the eye.
+
+"You have your orders," said the man, but he didn't look pleased or
+proud.
+
+Peter turned and left the room, looking very grave. He look his cab and
+went to his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went down
+into the streets. They seemed peaceably active as he walked through
+them. A small boy was calling an extra, but it was in reference to the
+arrival of a much-expected racing-yacht. There was nothing to show that
+a great business depression rested with crushing weight on the city, and
+especially on the poor; that anarchy was lifting its head, and from
+hungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood and blaze; that
+capital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle which
+perhaps meant death and destruction.
+
+The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeeze
+through, and was guarded by a keeper. Peter passed in, however, without
+question, and heard a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy was
+gathering, so too was order. Peter called his officers together, and
+gave a few orders. Then he turned and whispered for a moment with
+Dennis.
+
+"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 for
+the 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 on
+September 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 they
+are tryin' to put yez in a hole, an' they'll stan' by yez, no matter
+what yez are told to do."
+
+As quickly as possible Peter put on his fatigue uniform. When he came
+out, it was to find that the rank and file had done the same, and were
+now standing in groups about the floor. A moment later they were lined
+up.
+
+Peter stepped forward and said in a clear, ringing voice: "Before the
+roll is called I wish to say a word. We may receive orders any moment to
+take possession of the buildings and switches at the Central Station, to
+protect the property and operators of that road. This will be hard to
+some of you, who believe the strikers are right. But we have nothing to
+do with that. We have taken our oath to preserve order and law, and we
+are interested in having it done, far more than is the capitalist, for
+he can buy protection, whether laws are enforced or not, while the
+laboring man cannot. But if any man here is not prepared to support the
+State in its duty to protect the life and property of all, by an
+enforcement 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" was
+mustered 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 later
+came the rap of the drum, and the men rose from the floor and fell in. A
+few sharp, quick words were passed from mouth to mouth. Guns rose to the
+shoulders with a click and a movement almost mechanical. The regiment
+swung 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 break
+their lines to get within the curbs. So without sound of drum or music
+they passed through street after street. A regiment is thrilling when it
+parades to music: it is more so when it marches in silence.
+
+Presently it passed into a long tunnel, where the footfall echoed in a
+startling way. But as it neared the other end, a more startling sound
+could be heard. It was a low murmur, as of many voices, and of voices
+that were not pleasant. Peter's wisdom in availing himself of the
+protection and secrecy of the tunnel as an approach became obvious.
+
+A moment later, as the regiment debouched from the tunnel's mouth, the
+scene broke upon them. A vast crowd filled Fourth Avenue and
+Forty-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 melted
+into a long-thin one again, even as the regiment went forward. It was
+greeted with yells, and bottles and bricks were hurled from above it,
+but the appearance of the regiment had taken the men too much by
+surprise for them to do more. The head entered the mob, and seemed to
+disappear. 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. The
+regiment had passed through the crowd, and was within the station. Peter
+breathed a sigh of relief. To march up Fifth Avenue, with empty guns, in
+a parade, between ten thousand admiring spectators is one thing. To
+march between ten thousand angry strikers and their sympathizers, with
+ball cartridges in the rifles, is quite another. It is all the
+difference between smoking a cigar after dinner, and smoking one in a
+powder magazine.
+
+The regiment's task had only just begun, however. Peter had orders to
+clear the streets about the station. After a consultation with the
+police captain, the companies were told off, and filing out of the
+various doors, they began work. Peter had planned his debouchments so as
+to split the mob into sections, knowing that each fragment pushed back
+rendered the remainder less formidable. First a sally was made from the
+terminal station, and after two lines of troops had been thrown across
+Forty-second Street, the second was ordered to advance. Thus a great
+tongue of the mob, which stretched towards Third Avenue, was pressed
+back, almost to that street, and held there, without a quarter of the
+mob knowing that anything was being done. Then a similar operation was
+repeated on Forty-third Street and Forty-fourth Street, and possession
+was taken of Madison Avenue. Another wedge was driven into the mob and a
+section pushed along Forty-second, nearly to Fifth Avenue. Then what was
+left of the mob was pushed back from the front of the building down Park
+Avenue. Again Peter breathed more freely.
+
+"I think the worst is done," he told his officers. "Fortunately the
+crowd did not expect us, and was not prepared to resist. If you can once
+split 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 Moriarty
+orders 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 a
+line. On one side of this line sat or reclined Company D. and eight
+policemen. 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 the
+committee. The rest were the ubiquitous reporters. From the newspaper
+report 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. looked
+astounded. Finally, however, one of the committee said, "There's no good
+wasting time here." Then a reporter said to a confrere, "What a stunning
+headline that will make?" Then the Captain of Company D. got his mouth
+closed enough to exclaim, "Oi always thought he could swear if he tried
+hard. Begobs, b'ys, it's proud av him we should be this day. Didn't he
+swear strong an' fine like? Howly hivens! it's a delight to hear damn
+said like that."
+
+For some reason that "swear-word" pleased New York and the country
+generally, showing that even an oath has its purpose in this world, so
+long as it is properly used. Dean Swift said a lie "was too good to be
+lavished about." So it is of profanity. The crowd understood Peter's
+remark as they would have understood nothing else. They understood that
+besides those rifles and bayonets there was something else not to be
+trifled with. So in this case, it was not wasted.
+
+And Mr. Bohlmann, Christian though he was, as he read his paper that
+evening cried, "Och! Dod Beder Stirling he always does say chust der
+righd 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 gathering
+crowds. The reinforcement of the militia. The clearing and holding of
+Forty-second Street to the river. The arrival of the three barge-loads
+of "scabs." Their march through that street to the station safely,
+though at every cross street greeted with a storm of stones and other
+missiles. The struggle of the mob at the station to force back the
+troops so as to get at the "rats." The impact of the "thin line" and
+that dense seething mass of enraged, crazed men. The yielding of the
+troops 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. Then
+the dozen shots fired almost simultaneously. The great surge of the mob
+forward. The quick order, and the rattle of guns, as they rose to the
+shoulder. Another order, and the sheet of flame. The great surge of the
+mob 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 of
+wages, and were trying to settle it. At first blush capital had the best
+of it. "Only a few strikers and militia-men killed," was the apparent
+result of that struggle. The scabs were in safety inside the station,
+and trains were already making up, preparatory to a resumption of
+traffic. But capital did not go scot-free. "Firing in the streets of New
+York," was the word sent out all over the world, and on every exchange
+in the country, stocks fell. Capital paid twenty-five million dollars
+that day, for those few ounces of lead. Such a method of settlement
+seems rather crude and costly, for the last decade of the nineteenth
+century.
+
+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 on
+fences, lamp-posts, or barrels, wherever they could get an audience, and
+shrieked out invectives against police, troops, government, and
+property; and waved red flags. Orders went out to embody more regiments.
+Timid people retired indoors, and bolted their shutters. The streets
+became deserted, except where they were filled by groups of angry men
+listening to angrier speakers. It was not a calm night in New York.
+
+Yet in reality, the condition was less serious, for representatives of
+Capital, Labor, and Government were in consultation. Inside the
+station, in the Directors' room of the railroad, its officials, a
+committee of the strikers, and an officer in fatigue uniform, with a
+face to match, were seated in great leather-covered chairs, around a
+large table. When they had first gathered, there had been dark brows,
+and every sentence had been like the blow of flint on steel. At one
+moment all but the officer had risen from their seats, and the meeting
+had seemed ended. But the officer had said something quietly, and once
+more they had seated themselves. Far into the night they sat, while mobs
+yelled, and sentries marched their beats. When the gathering ended, the
+scowls were gone. Civil partings were exchanged, and the committee and
+the officer passed out together.
+
+"That Stirling is a gritty bull-dog for holding on, isn't he?" said one
+of 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 be
+the 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 hope
+you'll remember it when you're governor and we want things done."
+
+"Gentlemen," said Peter, "for every surrender of opinion you and the
+railroad officials have made to-night, I thank you. But you should have
+compromised twelve hours sooner."
+
+"So as you should not have had to make yourself unpopular?" asked
+Kurfeldt. "You needn't be afraid. You've done your best for us. Now
+we'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 all
+was as it should be. Then spreading his blanket in the passenger
+waiting-room, he fell asleep, not with a very happy look on the grave
+face.
+
+But the morning-papers announced that the strike was ended by a
+compromise, and New York and the country breathed easier.
+
+Peter did not get much sleep, for he was barely dreaming of--of a
+striker, who had destroyed his peace, by striking him in the heart with
+a 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." In
+ten 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, we
+shall have it." Then he smiled. "You'll have to have an understanding
+hereafter, before you make a man colonel, that he shan't run for
+office."
+
+"What are we in for now?"
+
+"I can't say. To-day's the time of the parade and meeting in City Hall
+Park."
+
+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 the
+bulletin boards of the newspapers, which were chiefly devoted to the
+doings about the Central Station, could be taken as such. Except for
+this, the regiment was the only indication that the universal peace had
+not come, and even this looked peaceful, as soon as it had settled down
+to hot coffee, bread and raw ham.
+
+In the park, however, was a suggestive sight. For not merely were all
+the benches filled with sleeping men, but the steps of the City Hall,
+the grass, and even the hard asphalt pavement were besprinkled with a
+dirty, ragged, hungry-looking lot of men, unlike those usually seen in
+the streets of New York. When the regiment marched into the square, a
+few of the stragglers rose from their recumbent attitudes, and looked at
+it, without much love in their faces. As the regiment breakfasted, more
+and more rose from their hard beds to their harder lives. They moved
+about restlessly, as if waiting for something. Some gathered in little
+groups and listened to men who talked and shrieked far louder than was
+necessary in order that their listeners should hear. Some came to the
+edge of the street and cursed and vituperated the breakfasting regiment.
+Some sat on the ground and ate food which they produced from their
+pockets 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 few
+scuffles occurred in attempts to get some. That crowd represented the
+slag and scum of the boiling pot of nineteenth-century conditions. And
+as the flotsam on a river always centres at its eddies, so these had
+drifted, from the country, and from the slums, to the centre of the
+whirlpool of American life. Here they were waiting. Waiting for what?
+The future only would show. But each moment is a future, till it becomes
+the present.
+
+While the regiment still breakfasted it became conscious of a monotonous
+sound, growing steadily in volume. Then came the tap of the drum, and
+the 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 ten
+minutes?"
+
+The next moment the head of another regiment swung from Chambers Street
+into the square. It was greeted by hisses and groans from the denizens
+of the park, but this lack of politeness was more than atoned for, by
+the order: "Present arms," passed down the immovable line awaiting it.
+After a return salute the commanding officers advanced and once more
+saluted.
+
+"In obedience to orders from headquarters, I have the honor to report my
+regiment to you, Colonel Stirling, and await your orders," said the
+officer 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, as
+they sliced meat off the same ham-bones and emptied the same cracker
+boxes. What was more, each was respecting and liking the other. One
+touch of danger is almost as efficacious as one touch of nature. It is
+not 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 their
+grub, much as if it was a legal rather than an illegal trouble to be
+dealt with.
+
+"Where were you?" asked Peter.
+
+"At the Sixty-third Street terminals," said Ray. "We didn't have any fun
+at all. As quiet as a cow. You always were lucky! Excuse me, Peter, I
+oughtn't to have said it," Ray continued, seeing Peter's face. "It's
+this 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 intention
+to protect the substitutes. They thought I was too much of a politician
+to dare to do it. So I swore, thinking they would understand that as
+they would not anything else. I hoped it might save actual firing. But
+they 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 to
+freedom. Freedom of life, of property, of food, of water, of air, of
+land. Destroy the money power!"
+
+"If we ever get to the freedom he wants," said Ray, "we'll utilize that
+chap 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," said
+Peter, "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't
+make 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 common
+sense, and therefore capable of thinking they can do anything, just as
+John 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 are
+comparatively few here, or else to go back to our armories, and let them
+have their meeting in peace. Our being here will only excite them."
+
+"Hear that," said Ray, as the crowd gave a great roar as another
+regiment came up Park Place, across the Park and spread out so as to
+cover Broadway.
+
+As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business. But many
+seemed to have none, and drifted into the Park. Some idlers came from
+curiosity, but most seemed to have some purpose other than the mere
+spectacle. From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twenty
+streets. As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking up
+positions, lay at ease. There was something terrible about the quiet way
+in which both crowd and troops increased. The mercury was not high, but
+it promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the car lines took off
+their cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The exchanges and the
+banks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their example.
+New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced each
+other.
+
+While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been
+yelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted
+himself, and limped towards Peter.
+
+"Mr. Stirling," he shouted, "come out from those murderers. I want to
+tell 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 want
+yours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here, quick. Hide
+yourself before the people rise in their might."
+
+Peter smiled sadly. "How are Mrs. Podds and the children?" he asked
+kindly.
+
+"What is a family at such a moment?" shrieked Podds.
+
+"The world is my family. I love the whole world, and I'm going to
+revolutionize it. I'm going to give every man his rights. The gutters
+shall reek with blood, and every plutocrat's castle shall be levelled to
+the 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 away
+from here. Get away before it's too late."
+
+Just then the sound of a horse's feet was heard, and a staff officer
+came cantering from a side street into the square. He saluted Peter and
+said, "Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamation
+forbidding the meeting and parade. General Canfield orders you to clear
+the Park, by pushing the mob towards Broadway. The regiments have been
+drawn 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. We
+claim 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 thousand
+men.
+
+"Brethren," yelled Podds, "the foot of the tyrant is on us. Rise. Rise
+in your might." Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of bayonets
+close upon him. He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing his
+arms about Peter's neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his free
+arm.
+
+"Don't push me off," shrieked Podds in his ear, "it's coming," and he
+clung with desperate energy to Peter.
+
+Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and the
+whole figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to send
+Podds flying across the street.
+
+But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then the
+earth shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers,
+rose in the air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street. Into that
+chasm a moment later, stones, rails, anarchists, and soldiers fell,
+leaving nothing but a thick cloud of overhanging dust. Underneath that
+great dun pall lay soldier and anarchist, side by side, at last at
+peace. The one died for his duty, the other died for his idea. The world
+was 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 ballad
+entitled "Happiness." She had sung it several times, and with gusto.
+
+The next morning she read the political part of the papers. "I don't see
+anything to have taken him back," she said "but I am really glad, for he
+was getting hard to manage. I couldn't send him away, but now I hope
+he'll stay there." Then Leonore fluttered all day, in the true Newport
+style, 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 was
+summoned back to New York last night, by business, quite unexpectedly,
+and Mr. Dupont telegraphed me this afternoon that he was detained
+there."
+
+"It's curious," said Dorothy. "Mr. Rivington and my brother came on
+Tuesday expecting to stay for a week, but they had special delivery
+letters yesterday, and both started for New York. They would not tell me
+what it was."
+
+"Mr. Stirling received a special delivery, too," said Leonore, "and
+started at once. And he wouldn't tell."
+
+"How extraordinary!" said the hostess. "There must be something very
+good at the roof-gardens."
+
+"It has something to do with headwears," said Leonore, not hiding her
+light 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 for
+headwear too."
+
+"They do that already," said a man, "but unlike women, they do it on the
+inside, 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 their
+carriage, Leonore said, "What a dull dinner it was?"
+
+"Oh, Leonore," cried Dorothy, "don't talk about dinners. I've kept up
+till now, bu--" and Dorothy's sentence melted into a sob.
+
+"Is it home, Mrs. Rivington?" asked the tiger, sublimely unconscious, as
+a 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 anarchist
+talk 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 her
+arm around Dorothy, and trying blindly to comfort her.
+
+"Is it a message, Mrs. Rivington?" asked the man, opening the
+carriage-door.
+
+"Ask for Mr. Melton, or Mr. Duer, and say Mrs. Rivington wishes to see
+one of them." Dorothy dried her eyes, and braced up. Before Leonore had
+time to demand an explanation, Peter's gentlemanly scoundrel was at the
+door.
+
+"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 been
+called 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 kissed
+each other in parting, not with the peck which women so often give each
+other, but with a true kiss. And when Leonore, in crossing the porch,
+encountered the mastiff which Peter had given her, she stopped and
+kissed him too, very tenderly. What is more, she brought him inside,
+which was against the rules, and put him down before the fire. Then she
+told the footman to bring her the evening-papers, and sitting down on
+the rug by Betise, proceeded to search them, not now for the political
+outlook, but for the labor troubles. Leonore suddenly awoke to the fact
+that there were such things as commercial depressions and unemployed.
+She read it all with the utmost care. She read the outpourings of the
+Anarchists, in a combination of indignation, amazement and fear, "I
+never dreamed there could be such fearful wretches!" she said. There was
+one man--a fellow named Podds--whom the paper reported as shrieking in
+Union 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 would
+blow you in pieces!" Thereby was she proving herself not unlike Podds.
+All humanity have something of the Anarchist in them. Then Leonore
+turned to the mastiff and told him some things. Of how bad the strikers
+were, and how terrible were the Anarchists. "Yes, dear," she said, "I
+wish we had them here, and then you could treat them as they deserve,
+wouldn't you, Betise? I'm so glad he has my luck-piece!"
+
+A moment later her father and another man came into the hall from the
+street, compelling Leonore to assume a more proper attitude.
+
+"Hello, Dot!" said Watts. "Still up? Vaughan and I are going to have a
+game of billiards. Won't you score for us?"
+
+"Yes," said Leonore.
+
+"Bad news from New York, isn't it?" said Vaughan, nonchalantly, as he
+stood back after his first play.
+
+Leonore saw her father make a grimace at Vaughan, which Vaughan did not
+see. 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's
+credit.
+
+"Yes. Eleven soldiers and twenty-two strikers."
+
+"What regiment was it?" asked Leonore.
+
+"Colonel Stirling's," said Vaughan, making a brilliant _masse_.
+"Fortunately it's a Mick regiment, so we needn't worry over who was
+killed."
+
+Leonore thought to herself: "You are as bad every bit as Podds!" Aloud
+she 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 game
+out with that position. I think, papa, that I'll go to bed. I find I'm a
+little tired. Good-night, Mr. Vaughan." Leonore went upstairs, slowly,
+deep in thought. She did not ring for her maid. On the contrary she lay
+down on her bed in her dinner-gown, to its everlasting detriment. "I
+know he isn't hurt," she said, "because I should feel it. But I wish the
+telegram had said." She hardly believed herself, apparently, for she
+buried her head in the pillow, and began to sob quietly. "If I only had
+said 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 till
+eight o'clock."
+
+Leonore took the newspaper silently and went to the library. Then she
+opened 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, and
+because he had my luck piece." Then she stepped out of one of the
+windows, called Betise to her, and putting her arms about his neck,
+kissed him.
+
+When the New York papers came things were even better, for they recorded
+the end of the strike. Leonore even laughed over that big, big D. "I
+can'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 hinted
+at afternoon tea, as she had a poor unfortunate who suggested tennis
+earlier 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 his
+voice.
+
+Leonore was raising a spoon to her mouth, but suddenly her hand trembled
+a little. After a glance at her father and mother, she pushed her
+tea-cup into the centre of the table as if she had finished it, though
+it had just been poured. Then she turned and began to talk and laugh
+with 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 he
+went 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 you
+to-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 I
+suffer 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 a
+bomb."
+
+"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, and
+went towards the door.
+
+"Leonore," cried her mother, "stay here with me, dear."
+
+"I'd rather be alone," said Leonore, quietly. She went upstairs to her
+room 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 before
+her at nothing, as Peter had so often done. Is it harder to lose out of
+life the man or woman whom one loves, or to see him or her happy in the
+love of another. Is the hopelessness of the impossible less or greater
+than 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 the
+library, 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 all
+over the city."
+
+"I must go to New York," said Leonore. "If you won't take me, I'll go
+with madame."
+
+"Not for a moment--" began Watts.
+
+"Papa," cried Leonore, "don't you see it's killing me? I can't bear
+it--" and Leonore stopped.
+
+"Yes, Watts, we must," said Mrs. D'Alloi.
+
+Two hours later they were all three rolling towards New York. It was a
+five hours' ride, but Leonore sat the whole distance without speaking,
+or showing any consciousness of her surroundings. For every turn of
+those wheels seemed to fall into a rhythmic repetition of: "If I had
+only said 'good-bye.'"
+
+The train was late in arriving, and Watts tried to induce Leonore to go
+to a hotel for the night. She only said "No. Take me to him," but it was
+in a voice which Watts could not disregard. So after a few questions at
+the terminal, which produced no satisfactory information, Watts told the
+cabman to drive to the City Hall Park.
+
+They did not reach it, however, for at the corner of Centre Street and
+Chambers, 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 by
+Broadway."
+
+"Why?" asked Watts.
+
+"The street is impassable."
+
+Watts got out, and held a whispered dialogue with the sentry. This
+resulted in the summoning of the officer of the watch. In the mean time
+Leonore descended and joined them. Watts turned and said to her: "The
+sentry says he's here."
+
+Presently an officer came up.
+
+"An' what do the likes av yez want at this time av night?" he inquired
+crossly. "Go away wid yez."
+
+"Oh, Captain Moriarty," said Leonore, "won't you let me see him? I'm
+Miss D'Alloi."
+
+"Shure," said Dennis, "yez oughtn't to be afther disturbin' him. It's
+two nights he's had no sleep."
+
+Leonore suddenly put her hand on Dennis's arm. "He's not killed?" she
+whispered, 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 av
+a 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 eye
+if he was dead?"
+
+Leonore put her head on Dennis's shoulder, and began to sob softly. For
+a moment Dennis looked aghast at the results of his speech, but suddenly
+his face changed. "Shure," he whispered, "we all love him just like
+that, an that's why the Blessed Virgin saved him for us."
+
+Then Leonore, with tears in her eyes, said, "I felt it," in the most
+joyful 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 promise
+you."
+
+"That yez shall," said Dennis. "Will yez take my arm?" The four passed
+within the lines. "Step careful," he continued. "There's pavin' stones,
+and rails, and plate-glass everywheres. It looks like there'd been a
+primary itself."
+
+All thought that was the best of jokes and laughed. They passed round a
+great chasm in the street and sidewalk. Then they came to long rows of
+bodies stretched on the grass, or rather what was left of the grass, in
+the Park. Leonore shuddered. "Are they all dead?" she whispered. "Dead!
+Shurely not. It's the regiment sleepin'," she was told. They passed
+between these rows for a little distance. "This is him," said Dennis,
+"sleepin' like a babby." Dennis turned his back and began to describe
+the 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 down
+on the ground beside him, regardless of the proprieties or the damp. She
+listened to hear if he was breathing, and when she found that he
+actually was, her face had on it a little thanksgiving proclamation of
+its own. Then with the prettiest of motherly manners, she softly pulled
+the blanket up and tucked it in about his arms. Then she looked to see
+if there was not something else to do. But there was nothing. So she
+made more. "The poor dear oughtn't to sleep without something on his
+head. He'll take cold." She took her handkerchief and tried to fix it so
+that it should protect Peter's head. She tried four different ways, any
+one of which would have served; but each time she thought of a better
+way, and had to try once more. She probably would have thought of a
+fifth, if Peter had not suddenly opened his eyes.
+
+"Oh!" said Leonore, "what a shame? I've waked you up. And just as I had
+fixed it right."
+
+Peter studied the situation calmly, without moving a muscle. He looked
+at the kneeling figure for some time. Then he looked up at the arc light
+a little distance away. Then he looked at the City Hall clock. Then his
+eyes came back to Leonore. "Peter," he said finally, "this is getting to
+be a monomania. You must stop it."
+
+"What?" said Leonore, laughing at his manner as if it was intended as a
+joke.
+
+Peter put out his hand and touched Leonore's dress. Then he rose quickly
+to his feet. "What is the matter?" he asked.
+
+"Hello," cried Watts. "Have you come to? Well. Here we are, you see. All
+the 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. "Such
+friends 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 want
+of sleep, so the best thing we can do, since we needn't hunt for you in
+scraps, is to go to the nearest hotel. Where is that?"
+
+"You'll have to go uptown," said Peter. "Nothing down here is open at
+this time."
+
+"I'm not sleepy," said Leonore, "but I am so hungry!"
+
+"Serves you right for eating no din--" Watts started to say, but Leonore
+interjected, in an unusually loud voice. "Can't you get us something?"
+
+"Nothing; that will do for you, I'm afraid," said Peter. "I had Dennett
+send up one of his coffee-boilers so that the men should have hot coffee
+through the night, and there's a sausage-roll man close to him who's
+doing 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 the
+sidewalk, and three Newport swells, and the Democratic nominee for
+governor sat upon it, with their feet in the gutter, and drank half-bean
+coffee and ate hot sausage rolls, made all the hotter by the undue
+amount of mustard which the cook would put in. What is worse, they
+enjoyed it as much as if it was the finest of dinners. Would not society
+have been scandalized had it known of their doings?
+
+How true it is that happiness is in a mood rather than in a moment. How
+eagerly we prepare for and pursue the fickle sprite, only to find our
+preparations 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 of
+the four. The coffee might have been all beans, and yet it would have
+been better than the best served in Viennese cafes. The rolls might have
+had even a more weepy amount of mustard, and yet the burning and the
+tears would only have been the more of a joke. The sun came up, as they
+ate, talked and laughed, touching everything about them with gold, but
+it 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 his
+friends to their cab. It had all been arranged that they were to go to
+Peter's quarters, and get some sleep. These were less than eight blocks
+away, but the parting was very terrific! However, it had to be done, and
+so it was gone through with. Hard as it was, Peter had presence of mind
+enough to say, through the carriage window.
+
+"You had better take my room, Miss D'Alloi, for the spare room is the
+largest. I give you the absolute freedom of it, minus the gold-box. Use
+anything you find."
+
+Then Peter went back to the chaotic street and the now breakfasting
+regiment, feeling that strikes, anarchists, and dynamite were only minor
+circumstances in life.
+
+About noon Leonore came back to life, and succeeded in making a very
+bewitching toilet despite the absence of her maid. Whether she peeped
+into 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 into
+some of the window flowers, she started to go to the bookshelves. As she
+walked her foot struck something which rang with a metallic sound, as it
+moved on the wood floor. The next moment, a man started out of a deep
+chair.
+
+"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 the
+hall, as if she were planning for a sudden flight.
+
+"The regiment was relieved by another from Albany this morning. So I
+came up here for a little sleep."
+
+"What a shame that I should have kept you out of your room," said
+Leonore, still eyeing the door. From Leonore's appearance, one would
+have supposed that she had purloined something of value from his
+quarters, and was meditating a sudden dash of escape with it.
+
+"I don't look at it in that light," said Peter. "But since you've
+finished 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. Then
+Leonore's anxious look left her, and she no longer looked at the door.
+One would almost have inferred that Leonore was afraid of Peter, but
+that is absurd, since they were such good friends, since Leonore had
+come all the way from Newport to see him, and since Leonore had decided
+that Peter must do as she pleased.
+
+Yet, curiously enough, when Peter returned in about twenty minutes, the
+same look came into Leonore's face.
+
+"We shall have something to eat in ten minutes," Peter said, "for I hear
+your father and mother moving."
+
+Leonore looked towards the door. She did not intend that Peter should
+see her do it, but he did.
+
+"Now what shall we do or talk about?" he said. "You know I am host and
+mustn't do anything my guests don't wish."
+
+Peter said this in the most matter-of-fact way, but Leonore, after a
+look 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," as
+well as he was able, for, despite his intentions, his mind would wander
+as 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 inflammatory
+rheumatism by the exposure, and was discharged. He suffered fearful
+pain, and saw his family suffer for bread. He grew bitter, and took up
+with these wild theories, not having enough original brain force, or
+education, 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 to
+despise me and ordered me out of his rooms. I had once done him a
+service, and felt angered at what I thought ungrateful conduct, so I
+made no attempt to keep up the friendliness. He knew yesterday that
+dynamite was in the hands of some of those men, and tried to warn me
+away. When I refused to go, he threw himself upon me, to protect me from
+the 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 driven
+off 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 a
+couple 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 door
+again, 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 you
+too." That was the way she paid Peter for his forbearance.
+
+Then they all went up on the roof, where in one corner there were pots
+of flowers about a little table, over which was spread an awning. Over
+that table, too, Jenifer had spread himself. How good that breakfast
+was! What a glorious September day it was! How beautiful the view of the
+city and the bay was! It was all so thoroughly satisfactory, that the
+three nearly missed the "limited." Of course Peter went to the station
+with them, and, short as was the time, he succeeded in obtaining for one
+of the party, "all the comic papers," "the latest novel," a small basket
+of fruit, and a bunch of flowers, not one of which, with the exception
+of the latter, the real object of these attentions wanted in the least.
+
+Just here it is of value to record an interesting scientific discovery
+of Leonore's, because women so rarely have made them. It was, that the
+distance from New York to Newport is very much less than the distance
+from Newport to New York.
+
+Curiously enough, two days later, his journey seemed to Peter the
+longest railroad ride he had ever taken. "His friend" did not meet him
+this time. His friend felt that her trip to New York must be offset
+before she could resume her proper self-respect. "He was very nice," she
+had said, in monologue, "about putting the trip down to friendship. And
+he was very nice that morning in his study. But I think his very
+niceness is suspicious, and so I must be hard on him!" A woman's
+reasoning is apt to seem defective, yet sometimes it solves problems not
+otherwise answerable.
+
+Leonore found her "hard" policy harder than she thought for. She told
+Peter the first evening that she was going to a card-party. "I can't
+take 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 the
+flowers, she remarked to some one who stood and watched her, "Miss
+Winthrop is engaged. How foolish of a girl in her first season! Before
+she'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 case
+her speech was too much for one dose, but when she glanced at him, he
+was smiling happily.
+
+"What is it?" asked Leonore, disapprovingly.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Peter. "I wasn't listening. Did you say Miss
+Winthrop 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 I
+may."
+
+In truth, Peter was not worrying any longer over what Leonore said or
+did to him. He was merely enjoying her companionship. He was at once
+absolutely happy, and absolutely miserable. Happy in his hope. Miserable
+in its non-certainty. To make a paradox, he was confident that she
+loved him, yet he was not sure. A man will be absolutely confident that
+a certain horse will win a race, or he will be certain that a profit
+will accrue from a given business transaction. Yet, until the horse has
+won, or the profit is actually made, he is not assured. So it was with
+Peter. He thought that he had but to speak, yet dared not do it. The
+present was so certain, and the future might have such agonies. So for
+two days he merely followed Leonore about, enjoying her pretty ways and
+hardly heeding her snubs and petulance. He was very silent, and often
+abstracted, but his silence and abstraction brought no relief to
+Leonore, and only frightened her the more, for he hardly let her out of
+his sight, and the silent devotion and tenderness were so obvious that
+Leonore 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 look
+in his face which really said the words: "My darling." Leonore thought
+this was a mean trick, of apparently sustaining the conventions of
+society, while in reality outraging them horribly, but she was helpless
+to better his conduct. Twice unwittingly he even called her "Leonore"
+(as he had to himself for two months), thereby terribly disconcerting
+the owner of that name. She wanted to catch him up and snub him each
+time, but she was losing her courage. She knew that she was walking on a
+mine, and could not tell what chance word or deed of hers would bring an
+explosion. "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 equipped
+as the law directs" for a cotillion. In the large hallway, he found
+Leonore, likewise in gala dress, resting her hand on the tall mantel of
+the hall, and looking down at the fire. Peter stopped on the landing to
+enjoy that pose. He went over every detail with deliberation. But girl,
+gown, and things in general, were much too tempting to make this distant
+glimpse over lengthy. So he descended to get a closer view. The pose
+said nothing, and Peter strolled to the fire, and did likewise. But if
+he 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 felt
+uneasy under that silent gaze.
+
+"It's only a little past ten," said Peter, who was quite satisfied with
+the _status quo_.
+
+Then silence came again. After this had held for a few moments, the pose
+said: "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 the
+Purdies' dressing-rooms, as standing here. Suppose we go to the library
+and 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 me
+tell 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 have
+had 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 in
+adding, "I want you to give me--a kiss."
+
+"Peter!" said Leonore, drawing back grieved and indignant. "I didn't
+think 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 obviously
+struggled to find words to say what he did mean as he had never
+struggled over the knottiest of legal points, or the hardest of
+wrestling matches. "If I thought you were a girl who would kiss a man
+for the asking, I should not care for a kiss from you." Peter strayed
+away from the fire uneasily. "But I know you are not." Peter gazed
+wildly round, as if the furnishings, of the hall might suggest the words
+for which he was blindly groping. But they didn't, and after one or two
+half-begun sentences, he continued: "I haven't watched you, and dreamed
+about you, and loved you, for all this time, without learning what you
+are." Peter roamed about the great hall restlessly. "I know that your
+lips will never give what your heart doesn't." Then his face took a
+despairing look, and he continued quite rapidly: "I ask without much
+hope. 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 have
+deceived you. I probably am what women say of me. But if I've been
+otherwise with you it is because you are different from any other woman
+in the world." Here the sudden flow of words ended, and Peter paced up
+and down, trying to find what to say. If any one had seen Peter as he
+paced, without his present environment, he would have thought him a man
+meditating suicide. Suddenly his voice and face became less wild, and he
+said tenderly: "There is no use in my telling you how I love you. You
+know it now, or will never learn it from anything I can say." Peter
+strode back to the fire. "It is my love which asks for a kiss. And I
+want 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 the
+whole of this monologue. But she must have seen something of Peter's
+uneasy wanderings about the room, for she had said to herself: "Poor
+dear! He must be fearfully in earnest, I never knew him so restless. He
+prowls 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 the
+words, "Give me what I ask, my darling."
+
+"Yes," said Leonore softly. "On your birthday." Then Leonore shrank back
+a little, as if afraid that her gift would be sought sooner. No young
+girl, 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 previous
+training to make them an unalloyed pleasure. The girl who is over-ready
+for her lover's first kiss, has tasted the forbidden fruit already, or
+has waited over-long for it.
+
+Peter saw the little shrinking and understood it. What was more, he
+heeded it as many men would not have done. Perhaps there was something
+selfish in his self-denial, for the purity and girlishness which it
+indicated were very dear to him, and he hated to lessen them by anything
+he did. He stood quietly by her, and merely said, "I needn't tell you
+how happy I am!"
+
+Leonore looked up into Peter's face. If Leonore had seen there any lack
+of desire to take her in his arms and kiss her, she would never have
+forgiven him. But since his face showed beyond doubt that he was longing
+to 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's
+confidingly, and said, "So am I." It means a good deal when a girl does
+not wish to run away from her lover the moment after she has confessed
+her love.
+
+So they stood for some time, Leonore looking down into the fire, and
+Peter 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 me
+what 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, and
+I want to see what my dream is like in reality."
+
+"That's a very funny request," said Leonore perversely. "You ought to
+have 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 a
+thoroughly satisfying look at them."
+
+"You look at them every time I look at you," said Leonore. "Sometimes it
+was very embarrassing. Just supposing that I showed them to you now, and
+that you find they aren't what you like?"
+
+"I never waste time discussing impossibilities," said Peter. "Are you
+going 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, still
+perversely, though smiling a look of contentment down into the fire.
+
+Peter said nothing for a moment, wishing to give Leonore's conscience a
+chance to begin to prick. Then be ended the silence by saying: "If I had
+anything that would give you pleasure, I wouldn't make you ask for it
+twice."
+
+"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 did
+not find that steady look altogether easy to bear, and yet was not
+willing to confess herself stared out of countenance, asked: "Do you
+like them?"
+
+"Yes," said Peter.
+
+"Is that all you can say? Other people have said very complimentary
+things!" 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 your
+eyes, 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 that
+Peter still held the hand given him some time before. To use a poker
+term, Peter was standing "pat," and wished no change. Once or twice the
+little hand had hinted that it had been held long enough, but Peter did
+not think so, and the hand had concluded that it was safest to let well
+alone. If it was too cruel It might rouse the sleeping lion which the
+owner of that hand knew to exist behind that firm, quiet face.
+
+Presently Peter put his unoccupied hand in his breast-pocket, and
+produced a small sachet. "I did something twice," he said, "that I have
+felt very meanly about at times. Perhaps you'll forgive me now?" He took
+from the sachet, a glove, and a small pocket-handkerchief, and without a
+word 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 your
+second 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 was
+cross-examining them.
+
+"I knew you had them all the time," said Leonore laughing. "It was
+dreadfully funny to see you pretend to hunt, when the guilty look on
+your own face was enough to show you had them. That's why I was so
+determined 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 in
+your room?" Leonore suddenly looked as worried as had Peter the moment
+before.
+
+Peter put his hand in the sachet, and produced a bent coin. "Look at
+that," he said.
+
+"Why, it's my luck-piece!" exclaimed Leonore. "And you've spoiled that
+too. What a careless boy!"
+
+"No," said Peter. "They are not spoiled to me. Do you know what cut
+these 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 the
+news of the shooting came, because I knew you had it. I was so glad you
+had 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 to
+have my luck."
+
+"I shall have it just the same even after I've given it to you," said
+Peter.
+
+"How?"
+
+"I'm going to have it made into a plain gold ring," replied Peter, "and
+when 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 talking
+about five years!"
+
+"Oh! Really, Peter," Leonore hastened to explain, in an anxious way, as
+if Peter had charged her with murder or some other heinous crime. "I did
+think so. I didn't find it out till--till that night. Really! Won't you
+believe 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 prick
+of conscience. She said: "Well--Peter--I mean--that is--at least, I did
+sometimes think before then--that when I married, I'd marry you--but I
+didn't think it would come so soon. Did you? I thought we'd wait. It
+would 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, which
+held hers.
+
+Peter enjoyed this exquisite pleasure in silence for a time, but the
+enjoyment 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 say
+it 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 absence
+of words. How long the absence would have continued is a debatable
+point. 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 stairs
+hurriedly.
+
+"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 he
+forgot the cigar and Watts. He went to his room, and thought of--of his
+birthday gift.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+"GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY."
+
+
+If Peter had roamed about the hall that evening, he was still more
+restless the next morning. He was down early, though for no apparent
+reason, 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's
+seeing her was a question which puzzled him not a little, when, by a
+chance glance out of a window, he saw that personage clipping roses off
+the bushes. He did not have time to spare, however, to reason out an
+explanation. He merely stopped roaming, and went out to--to the roses.
+
+"Good-morning," said Leonore pleasantly, though not looking at Peter, as
+she 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 its
+enormous weight. "Let me help you carry it," he said.
+
+"Very well," said Leonore. "But there's no occasion to carry my hand
+too. 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 hold
+something."
+
+"Very well," said Peter meekly.
+
+"Do you know," said Leonore, as she snipped, and dropped roses into the
+basket, "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 be
+gained by so doing. To that extent I am not at all obstinate."
+
+"Suppose," said Leonore, "that you go and cut the roses on those
+furthest 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't
+have any more roses for a week. You've cut twice as many roses as you
+usually do."
+
+"Then I'll go in and arrange them. I wish you would give Betise a run
+across 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 arranging
+the 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. You
+can't do less than pin it in my button-hole, considering that it is my
+birthday."
+
+"If I have a duty to do, I always get through with it at once," said
+Leonore. She picked out a rose, arranged the leaves as only womankind
+can, and, turning to Peter, pinned it in his button-hole. But when she
+went to take her hands away, she found them held against the spot so
+firmly that she could feel the heart-beats underneath.
+
+"Oh, please," was all she said, appealingly, while Peter's rose seemed
+to 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 I
+dreamed 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 so
+long!"
+
+Then Leonore, with very red cheeks, and a very timid manner, held her
+lips 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 it
+when you did get it."
+
+"I'm sorry I did it so badly," said Peter, contritely. "I always was
+slow! 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 take
+so long! I shan't be able to give you more than one a day. It takes so
+much 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 not
+profitable to write what they said. It is idle to write of the week
+that followed. To all others what they said and did could only be the
+sayings and doings of two very intolerable people. But to them it was
+what 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 lingered
+brought letter and telegraphic appeals to him from the party-leaders,
+over which Peter only laughed, and which he not infrequently failed even
+to answer. But Mr. Pell told Leonore something one day which made her
+say 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 forgive
+myself if I defeat you."
+
+"But a whole week," groaned Peter.
+
+"We shall break up here on the eighteenth, and of course you would have
+to 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 I
+shall lose before I go."
+
+"Dear me, Peter," sighed Leonore, "you oughtn't to ask them, since it's
+for your own sake. I can't keep you contented. You do nothing but
+encroach."
+
+"I should get them if I was here," said Peter, "And one a day is little
+enough! I think, if I oblige you by going away, I shouldn't be made to
+suffer 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 just
+as hard for me."
+
+So Peter buckled on his armor and descended into the arena. Whether he
+spoke well or ill, we leave it to those to say who care to turn back to
+the files of the papers of that campaign. Perhaps, however, it may be
+well to add that an entirely unbiassed person, after reading his opening
+speeches, delivered in the Cooper Union and the Metropolitan Opera
+House, in New York City, wrote him: "It is libel to call you
+Taciturnity. They are splendid! How I wish I could hear you--and see
+you, dear. I'm very lonely, and so are Betise and Tawney-eye. We do
+nothing but wander round the house all day, waiting for your letter, and
+the papers." Three thousand people in the Brooklyn Rink were kept
+waiting for nearly ten minutes by Peter's perusal of that letter. But
+when he had finished it, and had reached the Rink, he out-Stirlinged
+Stirling. A speaker nowadays speaks far more to the people absent than
+to the people present. Peter did this that evening. He spoke, it is
+true, to only one person that night, but it was the best speech of the
+campaign.
+
+A week later, Peter rang the bell of the Fifty-seventh Street house. He
+was 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 went
+through the hall, but his hurry suddenly came to an end, when a young
+lady, carrying her napkin, added herself to the vista. "I knew it must
+be you," she said, offering her hand very properly--(on what grounds
+Leonore surmised that a ring at the door-bell at nine o'clock meant
+Peter, history does not state)--"I wondered if you knew enough to come
+to breakfast. Mamma sent me out to say that you are to come right in."
+
+Peter was rather longer over the handshake than convention demands, but
+he asked very politely, "How are your father and--?" But just then the
+footman closed a door behind him, and Peter's interest in parents
+suddenly ceased.
+
+"How could you be so late?" said some one presently. "I watched out of
+the 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 this
+particular 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 after
+breakfast, so I dressed for it."
+
+"Suppose the disagreeable girl should break her engagement--or declare
+there never was one?"
+
+"She won't," said Peter. "It may not have been put in the contract, but
+the common law settles it beyond question."
+
+Leonore laughed a happy laugh. Then she asked: "For whom are those
+violets?"
+
+"I had to go to four places before I could get any at this season," said
+Peter. "Ugly girls are just troublesome enough to have preferences. What
+will you give me for them?"
+
+"Some of them," said Leonore, and obtained the bunch. Who dares to say
+after that that women have no business ability nor shrewdness? It is
+true that she kissed the fraction returned before putting it in Peter's
+button-hole, which raises the question which had the best of the
+bargain.
+
+"I'm behind the curtain, so I can't see anything," said a voice from a
+doorway, "and therefore you needn't jump; but I wish to inquire if you
+two want any breakfast?"
+
+A few days later Peter again went up the steps of the Fifty-seventh
+Street house. This practice was becoming habitual with Peter; in fact,
+so habitual that his cabby had said to him this very day, "The old
+place, sir?" Where Peter got the time it is difficult to understand,
+considering that his law practice was said to be large, and his
+political 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 a
+hall; from a hall he passed into a room; from a room he passed into a
+pair of arms.
+
+"Thank the Lord, you've come," Watts remarked. "Leonore has up and down
+refused to make the tea till you arrived."
+
+"I was at headquarters, and they would talk, talk, talk," said Peter. "I
+get out of patience with them. One would think the destinies of the
+human race depended on this campaign!"
+
+"So the Growley should have his tea," said a vision, now seated on the
+lounge at the tea-table. "Then Growley will feel better."
+
+"I'm doing that already," said Growley, sitting down on the delightfully
+short lounge--now such a fashionable and deservedly popular drawing-room
+article. "May I tell you how you can make me absolutely contented?"
+
+"I suppose that will mean some favor from me," said Leonore. "I don't
+like children who want to be bribed out of their bad temper. Nice little
+boys are never bad-tempered."
+
+"I was only bad-tempered," whispered Peter, "because I was kept from
+being with you. That's cause enough to make the best-tempered man in the
+universe 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 I
+thought 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 ten
+thousand, the 'Tribune' three thousand, and the 'Voice of Labor' 'a
+handful.' Oh! by the way, I brought you a 'Voice'." He handed Leonore a
+paper, which he took from his pocket.
+
+Now this was simply shameful of him! Peter had found, whenever the
+papers really abused him, that Leonore was doubly tender to him, the
+more, if he pretended that the attacks and abuse pained him. So he
+brought her regularly now that organ of the Labor party which was most
+vituperative of him, and looked sad over it just as long as was
+possible, 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 Peter
+coughed, suddenly looked sad, and continued--"the parts that do not
+speak 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-time
+straightforwardness.
+
+"After its saying that you had deceived your clients into settling those
+suits against Mr. Bohlmann, upon his promise to help you in politics, I
+don't believe they can say anything worse," said Leonore, putting two
+lumps of sugar (with her fingers) into a cup of tea. Then she stirred
+the tea, and tasted it. Then she touched the edge of the cup with her
+lips. "Is that right?" she asked, as she passed it to Peter.
+
+"Absolutely," said Peter, looking the picture of bliss. But then he
+remembered that this wasn't his role, so he looked sad and said: "That
+hurt me, I confess. It is so unkind."
+
+"Poor dear," whispered a voice. "You shall have an extra one to-day, and
+you 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 indefinite
+thing. Perhaps Leonore merely meant another cup of tea. Whatever she
+meant, Peter never learned, for, barely had he tasted his tea when the
+girl 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 the
+suffering 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 the
+stain great enough, but you must make my poor child suffer for it?" She
+shoved Peter away, and clasped Leonore wildly in her arms.
+
+"Mamma!" cried Leonore. "Don't talk so! Don't! I know he didn't! He
+couldn'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 so
+worded as to convey everything vile by innuendo and inference, yet in
+truth saying nothing.
+
+"Oh, my darling!" continued Mrs. D'Alloi. "You have a right to kill me
+for 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 only
+said "Watts?" but it was a cry for help and mercy as terrible as
+Leonore's had been the moment before.
+
+"Of course, chum," cried Watts. "Leonore, dear, it's all right. You
+mustn't mind. Peter's a good man. Better than most of us. You mustn't
+mind."
+
+"Don't," cried Leonore. "Let me speak. Mamma, did Peter tell you it was
+so?"
+
+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 to
+see us? Oh! I see it all! This is what mamma knew. This is what pained
+you. 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 threw
+herself upon the rug weeping. It was fearful the way those sobs shook
+her.
+
+"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's
+nothing to be done."
+
+Peter leaned over and picked up the prostrate figure, and laid it
+tenderly on the sofa. Then he kissed the edge of her skirt. "Yes. That's
+all I can do," he said quietly. "Good-bye, sweetheart. I'll go away." He
+looked 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 down
+them, staggering a little as if dizzy, and tried to walk towards the
+Avenue. Presently he ran into something. "Clumsy," said a lady's voice.
+"I beg your pardon," said Peter mechanically. A moment later he ran into
+something again. "I beg your pardon," said Peter, and two well-dressed
+girls laughed to see a bareheaded man apologize to a lamp-post. He
+walked on once more, but had not gone ten paces when a hand was rested
+on his shoulder.
+
+"Now then, my beauty," said a voice. "You want to get a cab, or I shall
+have 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. Then
+he gave Peter's office address, and also got in. He was fined the next
+day for being off his beat "without adequate reasons," but he never told
+where he had been. When they reached the building, he helped Peter into
+the 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 been
+told that Peter would dine up-town, had departed on his own leave of
+absence. The policeman had already gone through Peter's pockets to get
+money for cabby, and now he repeated the operation, taking possession
+of Peter's keys. He opened the door and, putting him into a deep chair
+in the study, laid the purse and keys on Peter's desk, writing on a
+scrap of paper with much difficulty: "mr. stirling $2.50 I took to pay
+the carriage. John Motty policeman 22 precinct," he laid it beside the
+keys and purse. Then he went back to his beat.
+
+And what was Peter doing all this time? Just what he now did. He tried
+to 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 stumbling
+over the desk and chairs. As he stumbled he thought, sometimes to
+himself, sometimes aloud: "If I could only think! I can't see. What was
+it Dr. Pilcere said about her eyes? Or was it my eyes? Did he give me
+some medicine? I can't remember. And it wouldn't help her. Why can't I
+think? What is this pain in her head and eyes? Why does everything look
+so dark, except when those pains go through her head? They feel like
+flashes of lightning, and then I can see. Why can't I think? Her eyes
+get in the way. He gave me something to put on them. But I can't give it
+to 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 the
+petroleum! Be quick, boys. Can't you hear my darling scream? It's
+terrible. If I could only think. What was it the French doctor said to
+do, if it came back? No. We want to get some rails." Peter dashed
+himself against a window. "Once more, men, together. Can't you hear her
+scream? Break down the door!" Peter caught up and hurled a pot of
+flowers at the window, and the glass shattered and fell to the floor and
+street "If I could see. But it's all dark. Are those lights? No. It's
+too late. I can't save her from it."
+
+So he wandered physically and mentally. Wandered till sounds of martial
+music came up through the broken window. "Fall in," cried Peter. "The
+Anarchists are after her. It's dynamite, not lightning. Podds, Don't let
+them hurt her. Save her. Oh! save her I Why can't I get to her? Don't
+try to hold me," he cried, as he came in contact with a chair. He caught
+it up and hurled it across the room, so that it crashed into the
+picture-frames, smashing chair and frames into fragments. "I can't be
+the 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 to
+see 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, will
+you stand by me, and help me to save her?"
+
+The band of music stopped. A moment's silence fell and then up from the
+street, came the air of: "Marching through Georgia," five thousand
+voices 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't
+shoot them. No! I only gave the order. It hurt me, but I didn't mean to
+hurt her. She's all I have. Do you think I intended to kill her? No! No
+sacrifice would be too great. And you can talk to me of votes! Two
+hundred thousand votes! I did my best for her. I didn't mean to hurt
+her. And I went to see the families. I went to see them all. If I only
+could think. But she is suffering too much. I can't think as long as she
+lies on the rug, and trembles so. See the flashes of lightning pass
+through her head. Don't bury your face in the rug. No wonder it's all
+dark. Try to think, and then it will be all right."
+
+Up from the street came the air of: "There were three crows," and the
+words:
+
+    "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've
+killed her. Now!" And another chair went flying across the room with
+such force, that the door to the hall flew off its hinges, and fell with
+a crash. "I've killed him" screamed Peter. "I've--No, I've killed my
+darling. All I have in the world!"
+
+And so he raved, and roamed, and stumbled, and fell; and rose, and
+roamed, and raved, and stumbled, and fell, while the great torchlight
+procession sang and cheered him from below.
+
+He was wildly fighting his pain still when two persons, who, after
+ringing and ringing, had finally been let in by Jenifer's key, stood
+where 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 that
+wild-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 on
+the 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 nothing
+but burn. It's the petroleum!" He started forward, but a slender arm
+arrested his attempt to rise, and he sank back again as if it had some
+power over him.
+
+"Hyah, miss. Foh de lub ub heaben, put some ub dis yar on he eyes," said
+Jenifer, who had appeared with a bottle, and was blubbering enough to
+supply a whole whaling fleet. "De doctor he done give dis yar foh de
+Aspic 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 the
+wash, began rubbing it softly over his eyes. It has always been a
+problem whether it was the remedy or the ends of those fingers which
+took those lines of suffering out of Peter's face and made him sit
+quietly in that chain Those having little faith in medicines, and much
+faith in a woman's hands, will opine the latter. Doctors will not.
+
+Sufficeth it to say, after ten minutes of this treatment, during which
+Peter's face had slowly changed, first to a look of rest, and then to
+one which denoted eagerness, doubt and anxiety, but not pain, that he
+finally 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?" He
+opened his eyes wildly and would have risen, only Leonore was kneeling
+in front of the chair still.
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Peter," begged Leonore. "We'll not talk of that
+now. 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 from
+Leonore's look than by what she said.
+
+"Oh, Peter. I made papa bring me--because--Oh! I wanted to ask you to do
+something. For my sake!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I wanted to ask you," sobbed Leonore, "to marry her. Then I shall
+always think you were what I--I--have been loving, and not--" Leonore
+laid her head down on his knee, and sobbed bitterly.
+
+Peter raised Leonore in his arms, and laid the little head on his
+shoulder.
+
+"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 his
+mother."
+
+"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 in
+her eyes, as well as of doubt.
+
+"Because it was better at that time than the truth. But Watts will tell
+you 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 you
+believe me?"
+
+"I do," cried Leonore. "I know you speak the truth. It's in your face
+and voice." And the next moment her arms were about Peter's neck, and
+her 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 listeners
+only, and for quite a time in the last three hours Mr. Pierce had been
+compelled to be silent. But at last Mr. Pierce believed his moment had
+come. Mr. Pierce thought he had an audience, and a plastic audience at
+that. And these three circumstances in combination made Mr. Pierce
+fairly bubbling with words. No longer would he have to waste his
+precious wit and wisdom, _tete-a-tete,_ or on himself.
+
+At first blush Mr. Pierce seemed right in his conjecture. Seated--in
+truth, collapsed, on chairs and lounges, in a disarranged and
+untidy-looking drawing-room, were nearly twenty very tired-looking
+people. 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 the
+multitude of flowers and the gay dresses proved beyond question that
+something else had made the disorder of the room and had put that
+exhausted look upon the faces.
+
+Experienced observers would have understood it at a glimpse. From the
+work and fatigues of this world, people had gathered for a little
+enjoyment of what we call society. It is true that both the room and its
+occupants did not indicate that there had been much recreation. But,
+then, one can lay it down as an axiom that the people who work for
+pleasure are the hardest-working people in the world; and, as it is that
+for which society labors, this scene is but another proof that they get
+very much fatigued over their pursuit of happiness and enjoyment,
+considering that they hunt for it in packs, and entirely exclude the
+most delicious intoxicant known--usually called oxygen--from their list
+of supplies from the caterer. Certainly this particular group did look
+exhausted far beyond the speech-making point. But this, too, was a
+deception. These limp-looking individuals had only remained in this
+drawing-room for the sole purpose of "talking it over," and Mr. Pierce
+had no walk-over before him.
+
+Mr. Pierce cleared his throat and remarked: "The development of marriage
+customs and ceremonies from primeval days is one of the most curious
+and--"
+
+"What a lovely wedding it has been!" said Dorothy, heaving a sigh of
+fatigue 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's
+hard it would be to find the equal av that tureen!' He was right! Its
+equal for ugliness is inconceivable."
+
+"Yet the poor beggars spent eight hundred dollars on it" sighed
+Lispenard, wearily.
+
+"Relative to the subject--" said Mr. Pierce.
+
+"And Leonore told me," said a charmingly-dressed girl, "that she liked
+it 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. We
+weren't in it at all with the Micks. She has come out as much a
+worshipper 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 worship
+him."
+
+"Well," sighed Lispenard, "that's the way things go in life. There's
+that fellow gets worshipped by every one, from the Irish saloon-keeper
+up to Leonore. While look at me! I'm a clever, sweet-tempered, friendly
+sort of a chap, but nobody worships me. There isn't any one who gives a
+second thought for yours truly. I seem good for nothing, except being
+best man to much luckier chaps. While look at Peter! He's won the love
+of a lovely girl, who worships him to a degree simply inconceivable. I
+never saw such idealization."
+
+"Then you haven't been watching Peter," said Mrs. D'Alloi, who, as a
+mother, had no intention of having it supposed that Leonore was not more
+loved 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 very
+proud 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 cast
+reflection on my statement."
+
+"He's the only one who dares," said Ogden.
+
+"Well, I did. Leonore would never have cared for such a silent, serious
+man if I hadn't shown her that other women did, and--"
+
+"Nonsense," laughed Ogden. "It was Podds did it. Dynamite is famous for
+the uncertainty of the direction in which it will expend its force, and
+in this case it blew in a circle, and carried Leonore's heart clear from
+Newport to Peter."
+
+"Or, to put it scientifically," said Lispenard, "along the line of least
+resistance."
+
+"It seems to me that Peter was the one who did it," said Le Grand. "But
+of course, as a bachelor, I can't expect my opinion to be accepted."
+
+"No," said Dorothy. "He nearly spoiled it by cheapening himself. No girl
+will think a man is worth much who lets her tramp on him."
+
+"Still," said Lispenard, "few girls can resist the flattery of being
+treated by a man as if she is the only woman worth considering in the
+world, and Peter did that to an extent which was simply disgraceful. It
+was laughable to see the old hermit become social the moment she
+appeared, and to see how his eyes and attention followed her. And his
+learning to dance! That showed how things were."
+
+"He began long before any of you dreamed," said Mrs. D'Alloi. "Didn't
+he, Watts?"
+
+"Undoubtedly," laughed Watts. "And so did she. I really think Leonore
+did quite as much in her way, as Peter did. I never saw her treat any
+one quite as she behaved to Peter from the very first. I remember her
+coming in after her runaway, wild with enthusiasm over him, and saying
+to me 'Oh, I'm so happy. I've got a new friend, and we are going to be
+such friends always!'"
+
+"That raises the same question," laughed Ogden, "that the Irishman did
+about the street-fight, when he asked 'Who throwed that last brick
+first?'"
+
+"Really, if it didn't seem too absurd," said Watts, "I should say they
+began it the moment they met."
+
+"I don't think that at all absurd," said a gray-haired, refined looking
+woman who was the least collapsed of the group, or was perhaps so well
+bred as to conceal her feelings. "I myself think it began before they
+even 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 who
+imagines 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. He
+is not at all the kind of man who allows himself to be controlled by an
+ideal."
+
+"I do not feel that I have ever known Peter. He does not let people
+perceive what is underneath," said Miss De Voe. "But of one thing I am
+sure. Nearly everything he does is done from sentiment. At heart he is
+an idealist."
+
+"Oh!" cried several.
+
+"That is a most singular statement," said Mr. Pierce. "There is not a
+man I know who has less of the sentimental and ideal in him. An idealist
+is a man of dreams and romance. Peter is far too sensible a fellow to
+be that. There is nothing heroic or romantic in him."
+
+"Nonsense, _Paternus_," said Watts. "You don't know anything about the
+old chap. You've only seen him as a cool clever lawyer. If your old
+definition of romance is right: that it is 'Love, and the battle between
+good and evil,' Peter has had more true romance than all the rest of us
+put together."
+
+"No," said Mr. Pierce. "You have merely seen Peter in love, and so you
+all think he is romantic. He isn't. He is a cool man, who never acts
+without weighing his actions, and therein has lain the secret of his
+success. He calmly marks out his line of life, and, regardless of
+everything else, pursues it. He disregards everything not to his
+purpose, and utilizes everything that serves. I predicted great success
+for him many years ago when he was fresh from college, simply from a
+study of his mental characteristics and I have proved myself a prophet.
+He has never made a slip, legally, politically, or socially. To use a
+yachting expression, he has 'made everything draw.' An idealist, or a
+man 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 her
+collapse as if galvanized into life and speech by Mr. Pierce's
+monologue. "You don't understand Peter. He is a man of great feeling.
+Think of that speech of his about those children! Think of his conduct
+to his mother as long as she lived! Think of the goodness and kindness
+he showed to the poor! Why, Ray says he has refused case after case for
+want of time in recent years, while doing work for people in his ward
+which was worth nothing. If--"
+
+"They were worth votes," interjected Mr. Pierce.
+
+"Look at his buying the Costell place in Westchester when Mr. Costell
+died so poor, and giving it to Mrs. Costell," continued Dorothy, warming
+with her subject. "Look at his going to those strikers' families, and
+arranging to help them. Were those things done for votes? If I could
+only tell you of something he once did for me, you would not say that he
+was a man without feeling."
+
+"I have no doubt," said Mr. Pierce blandly, "that he did many things
+which, on their face, seemed admirable and to indicate feeling. But if
+carefully examined, they would be found to have been advantageous to
+him. Any service he could have done to Mrs. Rivington surely did not
+harm him. His purchase of Costell's place pleased the political friends
+of the dead leader. His aiding the strikers' families placated the men,
+and gained him praise from the press. I dislike greatly to oppose this
+rose-colored view of Peter, but, from my own knowledge of the man, I
+must. He is without feeling, and necessarily makes no mistakes, nor is
+he led off from his own ambitions by sentiment of any kind. When we had
+that meeting with the strikers, he sat there, while all New York was
+seething, with mobs and dead just outside the walls, as cool and
+impassive as a machine. He was simply determined that we should
+compromise, because his own interests demanded it, and he carried his
+point merely because he was the one cool man at that meeting. If he had
+had feeling he could not have been cool. That one incident shows the
+key-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 to
+make friends. It was simply marvellous. I've seen it, over and over
+again, both in politics and society. He never seemed to excite envy or
+bitterness. He had a way of doing things which made people like him.
+Every one he meets trusts him. Yet nobody understands him. So he
+interests people, without exciting hostility. I've heard person after
+person say that he was an uninteresting, ordinary man, and yet nobody
+ever seemed to forget him. Every one of us feels, I am sure, that, as
+Miss De Voe says, he had within something he never showed people. I have
+never been able to see why he did or did not do hundreds of things. Yet
+it always turned out that what he did was right. He makes me think of
+the 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 by
+Peter's own explanation of his success. I spoke to him once of a rather
+curious line of argument, as it seemed to me, which he was taking in a
+case, and he said: 'Ogden, I take that course because it is the way
+Judge Potter's mind acts. If you want to convince yourself, take the
+arguments which do that best, but when you have to deal with judges or
+juries, take the lines which fit their capacities. People talk about my
+unusual success in winning cases. It's simply because I am not certain
+that my way and my argument are the only way and the only argument. I've
+studied the judges closely, so that I know what lines to take, and I
+always notice what seems to interest the jury most, in each case. But,
+more important than this study, is the fact that I can comprehend about
+how the average man will look at a certain thing. You see I am the son
+of plain people. Then I am meeting all grades of mankind, and hearing
+what they say, and getting their points of view. I have never sat in a
+closet 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 have
+succeeded, because I am merely the normal or average man, and therefore
+am understood by normal or average people, or by majorities, to put it
+in another way.'"
+
+"But Mr. Stirling isn't a commonplace man," said another of the
+charmingly dressed girls. "He is very silent, and what he says isn't at
+all clever, but he's very unusual and interesting."
+
+"Nevertheless," said Ogden, "I believe he was right. He has a way of
+knowing what the majority of people think or feel about things. And that
+is the secret of his success, and not his possession or lack of
+feeling."
+
+"You none of you have got at the true secret of Peter's success," said
+Ray. "It was his wonderful capacity for work. To a lazy beggar like
+myself it is marvellous. I've known that man to work from nine in the
+morning till one at night, merely stopping for meals."
+
+"Yet he did not seem an ambitious man," said Le Grand. "He cared nothing
+for social success, he never has accepted office till now, and he has
+refused over and over again law work which meant big money."
+
+"No," said Ray. "Peter worked hard in law and politics. Yet he didn't
+want office or money. He could more than once have been a judge, and
+Costell wanted him governor six years ago. He took the nomination this
+year against his own wishes. He cared as little for money or reputation
+in law, as he cared for society, and would compromise cases which would
+have added greatly to his reputation if he had let them go to trial. He
+might have been worth double what he is to-day, if he had merely
+invested his money, instead of letting it lie in savings banks or trust
+companies. I've spoken about it repeatedly to him, but he only said that
+he wasn't going to spend time taking care of money, for money ceased to
+be valuable when it had to be taken care of; its sole use to him being
+to 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," said
+Miss De Voe. "He had no desire for reputation or money, and so did not
+care to increase either."
+
+"And mark my words," said Lispenard. "From this day, he'll set no limit
+to his endeavors to obtain both."
+
+"He can't work harder than he has to get political power," said an
+usher. "Think of how anxious he must have been to get it, when he would
+spend so much time in the slums and saloons! He couldn't have liked the
+men he met there."
+
+"I've taken him to task about that, and told him he had no business to
+waste his time so," said Ogden; "but he said that he was not taking care
+of other people's money or trying to build up a great business, and that
+if he chose to curtail his practice, so as to have some time to work in
+politics, it was a matter of personal judgment."
+
+"I once asked Peter," said Miss De Voe, "how he could bear, with his
+tastes and feelings, to go into saloons, and spend so much time with
+politicians, and with the low, uneducated people of his district. He
+said, 'That is my way of trying to do good, and it is made enjoyable to
+me by helping men over rough spots, or by preventing political wrong. I
+have taken the world and humanity as it is, and have done what I could,
+without stopping to criticise or weep over shortcomings and sins. I
+admire men who stand for noble impossibilities. But I have given my own
+life to the doing of small possibilities. I don't say the way is the
+best. But it is my way, for I am a worker, not a preacher. And just
+because I have been willing to do things as the world is willing to have
+them done, power and success have come to me to do more.' I believe it
+was 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 love
+my own kin, with due apology to those of it who are present, but I must
+say that his whole career has been the worst case of sheer, downright
+luck of which I ever saw or heard."
+
+"Luck!" exclaimed Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, luck!" said Lispenard. "Look at it. He starts in like all the rest
+of us. And Miss Luck calls him in to look at a sick kitten die. Very
+ordinary occurrence that! Health-board report several hundred every
+week. But Miss Luck knew what she was about and called him in to just
+the right kind of a kitten to make a big speech about. Thereupon he
+makes it, blackguarding and wiping the floor up with a millionaire
+brewer. Does the brewer wait for his turn to get even with him? Not a
+bit. Miss Luck takes a hand in and the brewer falls on Peter's
+breast-bone, and loves him ever afterwards. My cousin writes him, and he
+snubs her. Does she annihilate him as she would have other men? No. Miss
+Luck has arranged all that, and they become the best of friends."
+
+"Lispenard--" Miss De Voe started to interrupt indignantly, but
+Lispenard continued, "Hold on till I finish. One at a time. Well. Miss
+Luck gets him chosen to a convention by a fluke and Peter votes against
+Costell's wishes. What happens? Costell promptly takes him up and pushes
+him for all he's worth. He snubs society, and society concludes that a
+man who is more snubby and exclusive than itself must be a man to
+cultivate. He refuses to talk, and every one promptly says: 'How
+interesting he is!' He gets in the way of a dynamite bomb. Does it kill
+him? 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 one
+breathes easier, and likes him the better. He enrages and shoots the
+strikers. Does he lose votes? Not one. Miss Luck arranges that the
+directors shall yield things which they had sworn not to yield; and the
+strikers are reconciled and print a card in praise of him. He runs for
+office. Do the other parties make a good fight of it? No. They promptly
+nominate a scoundrelly demagogue and a nonentity who thinks votes are
+won by going about in shirtsleeves. So he is elected by the biggest
+plurality the State has ever given. Has Miss Luck done enough? No. She
+at once sets every one predicting that he'll get the presidential
+nomination two years from now, if he cares for it. Be it friend or
+enemy, intentional or unintentional, every one with whom he comes in
+contact gives him a boost. While look at me! There isn't a soul who ever
+gave 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 Peter
+would never marry, because he would insist on taking women seriously,
+and because at heart he was afraid of them to a woeful degree, and
+showed it in such a way, as simply to make women think he didn't like
+them individually. But Miss Luck wouldn't allow that. Oh, no! Miss Luck
+isn'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. So
+she takes the loveliest of girls and trots her all over Europe, so that
+she shan't have friends, or even know men well. She arranges too, that
+the young girl shall have her head filled with Peter by a lot of
+admiring women, who are determined to make him into a sad, unfortunate
+hero, instead of the successful man he is. A regular conspiracy to
+delude a young girl. Then before the girl has seen anything of the
+world, she trots her over here. Does she introduce them at a dance, so
+that Peter shall be awkward and silent? Not she! She puts him where he
+looks his best--on a horse. She starts the thing off romantically, so
+that he begins on the most intimate footing, before another man has left
+his pasteboard. So he's way ahead of the pack when they open cry. Is
+that enough? No! At the critical moment he is called to the aid of his
+country. Gets lauded for his pluck. Gets blown up. Gets everything to
+make a young girl worship him. Pure luck! It doesn't matter what Peter
+says or does. Miss Luck always arranges that it turn up the winning
+card."
+
+"There is no luck in it," cried Mr. Pierce. "It was all due to his
+foresight and shrewdness. He plans things beforehand, and merely presses
+the button. Why, look at his marriage alone? Does he fall in love early
+in life, and hamper himself with a Miss Nobody? Not he! He waits till
+he has achieved a position where he can pick from the best, and then he
+does exactly that, if you'll pardon a doating grandfather's saying it."
+
+"Well," said Watts, "we have all known Peter long enough to have found
+out 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," said
+Dorothy. "It's terrible. What do you think she had the face to say to me
+to-day?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"She was speaking of their plans after returning from the wedding
+journey, and she said: 'I am going to have Peter keep up his bachelor
+quarters.' 'Does he say he'll do it?' I asked. 'I haven't spoken to
+him,' she replied, 'but of course he will.' I said: 'Leonore, all women
+think they rule their husbands, but they don't in reality, and Peter
+will be less ruled than any man I know.' Then what do you think she
+said?"
+
+"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 that
+I'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 women
+till this one appeared on the scene, develop into a regulation lover, I
+am quite prepared to believe that every one knows more than I do. At the
+same time, I can't afford to risk my reputation for discrimination and
+insight over such a simple thing as Peter's character. You've all tried
+to say what Peter is. Now I'll tell you in two words and you'll all find
+you 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, yet
+who 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 Peters
+wedding-day grasped his character? How clearly do we ever gain an
+insight into the feelings and motives which induce conduct even in those
+whom we best know and love? Each had found something in Peter that no
+other had discovered. We speak of rose-colored glasses, and Shakespeare
+wrote, "All things are yellow to a jaundiced eye." When we take a bit of
+blue glass, and place it with yellow, it becomes green. When we put it
+with red, it becomes purple. Yet blue it is all the time. Is not each
+person responsible for the tint he seems to produce in others? Can we
+ever learn that the thing is blue, and that the green or purple aspect
+is only the tinge which we ourselves help to give? Can we ever learn
+that we love and are loved entirely as we give ourselves colors which
+may harmonize with those about us? That love, wins love; kindness,
+kindness; hate, hate. That just such elements as we give to the
+individual, the individual gives back to us? That the sides we show are
+the sides seen by the world. There were people who could truly believe
+that 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 a
+compromiser of many of his own strongest principles. Yet there were
+people who could, say other things of him.
+
+But more important than the opinion of Peter's friends, and of the
+world, was the opinion of Peter's wife. Was she right in her theory that
+she was the only one who understood him? Or had she, as he had once
+done, reared an ideal, and given that ideal the love which she supposed
+she was giving Peter? It is always a problem in love to say whether we
+love people most for the qualities they actually possess, or for those
+with which our own love endows them. Here was a young girl,
+inexperienced in world and men, joyfully sinking her own life in that of
+a man whom, but a few months before, had been only a matter of hearsay
+to her. Yet she had apparently taken him, as women will, for better, for
+worse, till death, as trustfully as if he and men generally were as
+knowable as A B C, instead of as unknown as the algebraic X. Only once
+had she faltered in her trust of him, and then but for a moment. How far
+had her love, and the sight of Peter's misery, led her blindly to renew
+that trust? And would it hold? She had seen how little people thought of
+that scurrilous article, and how the decent papers had passed it over
+without a word. But she had also seen, the scandal harped upon by
+partisans and noted that Peter failed to vindicate himself publicly, or
+vouchsafe an explanation to her. Had she taken Peter with trust or
+doubt, knowledge or blindness?
+
+Perhaps a conversation between the two, a week later, will answer these
+questions. It occurred on the deck of a vessel. Yet this parting glimpse
+of Peter is very different from that which introduced him. The vessel is
+not drifting helplessly, but its great screw is whirling it towards the
+island of Martinique, as if itself anxious to reach that fairy land of
+fairy lands. Though the middle of November, the soft warmth of the
+tropics is in the air. Nor are the sea and sky now leaden. The first is
+turned into liquid gold by the phosphorescence, and the full moon
+silvers everything else. Neither is Peter pacing the deck with lines of
+pain and endurance on his face. He is up in the bow, where the vessel's
+forefoot throws up the white foam in silver drops in the moonlight. And
+he does not look miserable. Anything but that. He is sitting on an
+anchor stock, with his back comfortably braced against the rail. Another
+person is not far distant. What that person sits upon and leans against
+is 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 his
+words.
+
+"Will you if I bite off the end?" asked Eve, Jr., placing temptation
+most temptingly.
+
+"I like the idea exceedingly," said Peter. "But my right arm is so very
+pleasantly 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 to
+enjoy the sensation of that small hand rummaging in his waistcoat
+pockets. "You see, dear, that I am learning your ways," Leonore
+continued, in a tone of voice which suggested that that was the chief
+end of woman. Perhaps it is. The Westminster catechism only tells us the
+chief 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 I
+want 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 three
+years, 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 love
+them. I don't think I shall ever feel the same for any other place. It
+will be very convenient to have them whenever, we want to run down from
+Albany. 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 stay
+down there, with you uptown?"
+
+"Oh, no! Of course not. Peter! How absurd you are! But I shall go down
+very often. Sometimes we'll give little dinners to real friends. And
+sometimes, when we want to get away from people, we'll dine by ourselves
+and spend the night there. Then whenever you want to be at the saloons
+or primaries we'll dine together there and I'll wait for you. And then I
+think 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'll
+amuse myself with your flowers, and books, till you are ready to go
+uptown. 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 politics
+entirely, 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. I
+shall 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 speech
+for 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! Every
+word of it, and to prove it to you I shall never speak of it again. But
+when I've shown you that I trust you entirely, some stormy evening, when
+we've had the nicest little dinner together at your rooms, and I've
+given you some coffee, and bitten your cigar for you, I shall put you
+down before the fire, and sit down in your lap, as I am doing now, and
+put my arms about your neck so, and put my cheek so. And then I want
+you, without my asking to tell me why you told mamma that lie, and all
+about 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 of
+friends, 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 by
+myself I shall cry over it. Not because I doubt you, dear, but because
+you won't give me your confidence."
+
+"Do you know, Dear-heart, that I can't bear the thought of your doing
+that!"
+
+"Of course not, dear. That's the reason I tell you. I knew you couldn't
+bear it."
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+"Because I understand you, dear. I know just what you are. I'm the only
+person who does."
+
+"Tell me what I am."
+
+"I think, dear, that something once came into your life that made you
+very miserable, and took away all your hope and ambition. So, instead of
+trying to make a great position or fortune, you tried to do good to
+others. 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 you
+worked hard to get that. Then you found that you could help most by
+working in politics, so you did that. And you have tried to gain power
+so as to increase your power for good. I know you haven't liked a great
+deal you have had to do. I know that you much prefer to sit before your
+study fire and read than sit in saloons. I know that you would rather
+keep away from tricky people than to ask or take their help. But you
+have sacrificed your own feelings and principles because you felt that
+they were not to be considered if you could help others. And, because
+people have laughed at you or misunderstood, you have become silent and
+unsocial, except as you have believed your mixing with the world to be
+necessary to accomplish good."
+
+"What a little idealist we are!"
+
+"Well, dear, that isn't all the little idealist has found out. She knows
+something else. She knows that all his life her ideal has been waiting
+and longing for some one who did understand him, so that he can tell her
+all his hopes and feelings, and that at last he has found her, and she
+will try to make up for all the misery and sacrifice he has endured She
+knows, 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 felt
+that you didn't tell other people your real thoughts and feelings, and
+so, whenever you told me, it was really getting you to say that you
+loved me. You wanted me to know what you really are. And that was why I
+knew that you told me the truth that night. And that is the reason why I
+know that some day you will tell me about that lie."
+
+Peter, whatever he might think, did not deny the correctness of
+Leonore's theories concerning his motives in the past or his conduct in
+the 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 a
+fine subject it was always easy to make a fine speech. It's true, too,
+of thoughts, dear."
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING AND
+WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM***
+
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