The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him Part 84

"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 cla.s.s-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!"