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C * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ！ ~ | ¡ ¿ №ſ •） º2 J ！ •） © || ?. №. ~）; 2 sae $- či ſ; ~ º || || elſ: •. 2 *： ∞ № *: millinºminimum ºnlinnyſºmnimummittīnºlutil ºr, Jº Jº E№miſae，%|×№mmË ĒĶĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪńſííìĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĖ ..l' 33.3 FT | \?\_ | 3° 2 * 2-ſº *— 22222, , 2% THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING AND WHAT PEOPLE THOUGHT OF HIM BY PAUL LEICESTER FORD FI FTE EAW T H E D / 7. I O W, R E VISE D NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1896 CoPYRIGHT, 1894, BY HENRY HOLT & CO. 20*.*.*. L- - -3C 3×3: 7 Ço THOSE DEAR TO ME, AT S TO N E Y WOL DE, TURNERS, NEW YORK; PIN E H U R ST; NORWICH, CONNECTICUT; B. R O O K F A R M, Proctorsville, vermont; AND - D UN ESIDE, EASTHAMPTON, NEw York, THIS BOOK, WRITTEN WHILE AMONG THEM, ‘IS DEDICATED, THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING. CHAPTER I. ROMANCE AN’D 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 suc- cess. 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 in- troduced 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 “inar- ticulate 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 en- deavored 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 dis- cussing a moment ago—” If any one ventured to speak, even softo voce, before Mr. Pierce had finished all he had 2 7A/A A/OAVOA’AAE/A2 A3/E 7'E/2 SZZAZZA/G. 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 cock- tail. 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 to- gether 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 interest- ing 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 COIY) 62. - 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 : 3. “That modern times are less romantic and interesting than bygone centuries is a fallacy. From time imme- Ro/MAACE AND REALITY. 3 morial, 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 pro- fessed 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 contem- poraries 2 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 in- augurated the custom, now continued merely as an excuse for a cigar P. 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, 4. ZHE HOMOAAAZA Pºzzº SZZAZZwg. U/ 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 ex- pect of a son of a mill-foreman, who lives the first sixteen years of his life in a mill-village 2 If his hereditary ten- dencies 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. Boccac- cio 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 P ‘’ A PAEEA RAAVCAES. 5 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 any- thing 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 par- ticularly 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 6 7A/E A/OAVOA’AAE/A. AAE 7'EA ST/R/.../M/G. 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 un- ceasing 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 2 Dr. Holmes tells us that when James and Thomas con- verse 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,” A PAEAEAA’AAVCAE.S. 7 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 chew- ing 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 terse- ness 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 rec- Ognize 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 re- verse 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 dif- ficult 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 enfrée to the society which Cambridge 8 7 HE A/OAVORAAE/A2 FAE 7'EA ST/R/.../WG. and Boston dole out stintedly to certain privileged col. legians. 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, ‘‘ re- questing 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 eventu- ally landed him safely in Mrs. Purdie's parlor. His de- scription 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 2'. 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 P Call him simple ! Not by a circumstance A society beau couldn't have done it better. Can't guess 2 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 APPEARANCES. 9 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 fol- lowed. 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 after- wards 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 determina- tion 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 stig- matized 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 character- istics 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 I O THE HOMORA BAE AEA. TEAE ST/AC/./AVG. 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 un- stinted 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. A C/º A/S CAZAA’7'EA’. I CHAPTER III. A CRAB CHAPTER. MR. PIERCE and those about him had clearly indicated by the conversation, or rather monologue, already record- ed, that Peter was in a sense an odd number in the “Sun- rise’s ” complement of pleasure-seekers. Whether or no Mr. Pierce's monologue also indicated that he was not a man 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 uly. 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 col- legiate 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 lat- I 2 ZTAZAZ AſOAVOA’AAE ZAZ AAE 7/2/2 ,S ZT/A2/, //VG. ter'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 aid- ing and abetting in the true culprit's escape, and for re- fusing to tell who it was. Respect for his motives, how. ever, 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 pres- ident and, as Watts considerately put it : “but for your being on the corner at II:IO 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 P Who can tell, when sweet comes, how far it is sweetened by the bitter- ness that went before ? Dodging the future in this world is a success equal to that of the old woman who trium- phantly 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 insist- ance of the handsome, well-dressed, free-spending, New York swell. He was too conscious of the difference be- A C/º AAR CA/A A 7TAZA’. I3 tween himself and Watts's set, to wish or seek identifica- tion 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 mul- tiple, Peter was soon in a set from which many a seem. ingly far more eligible fellow was debarred. * Strangely enough, it did not change him perceptibly. . He still plodded on conscientiously at his studies, de- spite 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 2 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 l’” 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 I4. 7A7A. AſOAVOA’AAE/A2 AA 7TAZAC S 7/A2ZZAVG. 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 A CA’AA CA/A A 7TAZA’. I 5 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 men- tion. 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.” º Peter shook his head rather sadly. “You outclass me in brains, Watts, as much as you do in other things.” e “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 taper- ing-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 summer time. 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 evi. 5. I6 7 HE HONORABLE PETER STIRZ/AWG. dently 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 Shrub- beries. My mother knows only the right kind of people, While Mr. Pierce 5 y “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. Un- bendable, 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 P’ queried Peter. - “Oh,” explained Watts, “ of course Mrs. Pierce wrote AºA. GAAWAV/AVG.S. 17 the letter. I couldn't do it in my name, and so Mr. Pierce told her to do it. They're very fond 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 diplo- macy 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 attempt- ing to tell you anything new. I'm not going to try, and you are to con- sider 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 encyclopaedia, and intro- 4 18 7A/E A/OAVORAAE LA PAE 7/ER S 7/RAE/M/G. duce them in alphabetical order. Allow about ninety to the hour, unles? 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 3 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 pleas- ant 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 ques- lion, and the intonation of the last sentence was such as left him to infer that it was ot his turn to say something ; which, Peter had noticed, was the way in which girls generally ended their remarks. BAEG /AWAV/AVG.S. 19 “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 re- joinder, 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 ef 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 expres- sion—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. 2O THE HOMORABLE PETER S77RL/AWG. “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 P. How nice l’’ 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 for- got 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 show- ing 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 dark- ness, made the darker by the shadows of the long lashes, M/AVES AAWD COUAV 7'E/8-M/AVAE.S. 2 i 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 for- got 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 1’’ said Watts to himself on the front seat, “the old fellow's getting loguacious. Gar- rulity 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 ridicu- lous. 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, 22 THAE HOMOA’A BAE É PAE 7'EA ST/R/ ZAVG, 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 \ºgh 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 pleas- antly into his. Then he took Miss Pierce in to dinner, and sat between her and her mother, again becoming ab- sorbed in the slate-colored eyes, which seemed quite willing to be absorbed. After dinner, too, when the women had succeeded the weed, Peter in some way 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, de- voted 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 # M/AWAES AAWA) CO (7/V 7/ER-MIA/E.S. 23 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 aven 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. Wattsjokingly 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 ap- parent yielding to her views that amazed and rather frightened Mrs. Pierce, till he continued : “Beyond 24. f'A/E A/OAVORAAE J. A. PAE 7/2/2 ,S 77A2Z/AWG. question if 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 P’ interrupted Mr. Pierce, in an encouraging, in- quiring 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 stop- per 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 P’’ 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 per- fectly 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 paused there. “Don’t insult my intelligence,” laughed Mr. Pierce. “I do think. I think things can't be going better. I ?” asked Mrs. Pierce, and MIMES AAWD COUNTEA-MIA/ES. 25 was a little afraid of Mr. Pawling, and should have pre- ferred to have him and his sisters later, but since it is policy to invite them and they could not come at an other time, it was a godsend to have sensible, dull old Peter to keep her busy. If he had been in the least dan- gerous, 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 him- self. Helen will make any man a good wife, and who- ever wins her will not be the poorer. If the two can fix it between themselves, I shall cry nunc dimillis, but fur- ther 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, be- fore they saw too much of the world, they could accom- plish 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.” z 26 7AE HOMOAA BZZ PETEA STIRZZAVG. 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 min- utes 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 fortu- nate 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 re- peating 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 A MOZVO/OG UAE AAV/D A D/A/COGOE. 27 even 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, how- ever, 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 there- by, 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 2 ° 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 him- self in his battle for success. He forgot prudence and 28 7THE HOAVOA’A BIAZ AA 7TE/e S 77A2 LZAWG. 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 orna- mental.” - And so Peter's solitary tramp ceased, and he was help- ing 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 P’’ 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