The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  THE DUDE.

  Just as Peter came back to his office, his lunch was announced.

  "What makes you look so happy?" asked Ray.

  "Being so," said Peter, calmly.

  "What a funny old chap he is?" Ray remarked to Ogden, as they went backto work. "He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in theHall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning overthose awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn't make. Yethe came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air."

  When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop workand think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them nowand then. He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to have alook at that bit of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation. Hesaid: "Peter Stirling, go to work." So all the treasures were put in adrawer of his study table, and Peter sat down at his office desk. First,after tearing up his note to Watts, he wrote another, as follows:

  WATTS:

  You can understand why I did not call last night, or bind myself as to the future. I shall hope to receive an invitation to call from Mrs. D'Alloi. How, I must leave to you; but you owe me this much, and it is the only payment I ask of you. Otherwise let us bury all that has occurred since our college days, forever.

  PETER.

  Then he ground at the law till six, when he swung his clubs anddumb-bells for ten minutes; took a shower; dressed himself, and dined.Then he went into his study, and opened a drawer. Did he find therein abox of cigars, or a bunch of violets, gold-piece, ribbon and sheet ofpaper? One thing is certain. Peter passed another evening withoutreading or working. And two such idle evenings could not be shown inanother week of his life for the last twenty years.

  The next day Peter was considerably nearer earth. Not that he didn'tthink those eyes just as lovely, and had he been thrown within theirradius, he would probably have been as strongly influenced as ever. Buthe was not thrown within their influence, and so his strong nature andcommon sense reasserted themselves. He took his coffee, his earlymorning ride, and then his work, in their due order. After dinner, thatevening, he only smoked one cigar. When he had done that, he remarked tohimself--apropos of the cigars, presumably--"Peter, keep to your work.Don't burn yourself again." Then his face grew very firm, and he read afrivolous book entitled: "Neun atiologische und prophylactische Satze... uber die Choleraepidemien in Ostindien," till nearly one o'clock.

  The following day was Sunday. Peter went to church, and in the afternoonrode out to Westchester to pass the evening there with Mrs. Costell.Peter thought his balance was quite recovered. Other men have said thesame thing. The fact that they said so, proved that they were by nomeans sure of themselves.

  This was shown very markedly on Monday in Peter's case, for after lunchhe did not work as steadily as he had done in the morning hours. He wasrestless. Twice he pressed his lips, and started in to work very, veryhard--and did it for a time. Then the restlessness would come on again.Presently he took to looking at his watch. Then he would snap it to, andgo to work again, with a great determination in his face, only to lookat the watch again before long. Finally he touched his bell.

  "Jenifer," he said, "I wish you would rub off my spurs, and clean up myriding trousers."

  "For lohd, sar, I done dat dis day yesserday."

  "Never mind, then," said Peter. "Tell Curzon to ring me up a hansom."

  When Peter rode into the park he did not vacillate. He put his horse ata sharp canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden farwhen he suddenly checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple ofriders. "I've been looking for you," he said frankly. Peter had notceased to be straightforward.

  "Hello! This is nice," said Watts.

  "Don't you think it's about time?" said Leonore. Leonore had her ownopinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry with Peter--notat all. But she did not look at him.

  Peter had drawn his horse up to the side on which Leonore was riding."That is just what I thought," he said deliberately, "and that's why I'mhere now."

  "How long ago did that occur to you, please?" said Leonore, withdignity.

  "About the time it occurred to me that you might ride here regularlyafternoons."

  "Don't you?" Leonore was mollifying.

  "No. I like the early morning, when there are fewer people."

  "You unsociable old hermit," exclaimed Watts.

  "But now?" asked Leonore.

  When Leonore said those two words Peter had not yet had a sight of thoseeyes. And he was getting desperately anxious to see them. So he replied:"Now I shall ride in the afternoons."

  He was rewarded by a look. The sweetest kind of a look. "Now, that isvery nice, Peter," said Leonore. "If we see each other every day in thePark, we can tell each other everything that we are doing or thinkingabout. So we will be very good friends for sure." Leonore spoke andlooked as if this was the pleasantest of possibilities, and Peter wascertain it was.

  "I say, Peter," said Watts. "What a tremendous dude we have come out. Iwanted to joke you on it the first time I saw you, but this afternoonit's positively appalling. I would have taken my Bible oath that it wasthe last thing old Peter would become. Just look at him, Dot. Doesn't hefill you with 'wonder, awe and praise?'"

  Leonore looked at Peter a little shyly, but she said frankly:

  "I've wondered about that, Peter. People told me you were a manabsolutely without style."

  Peter smiled. "Do you remember what Friar Bacon's brass head said?"

  "Time is: Time was: Time will never be again?" asked Leonore.

  "That fits my lack of style, I think."

  "Pell and Ogden, and the rest of them, have made you what I never could,dig at you as I would. So you've yielded to the demands of your toneyfriends?"

  "Of course I tried to dress correctly for my up-town friends, when I waswith them. But it was not they who made me careful, though they helpedme to find a good tailor, when I decided that I must dress better."

  "Then it was the big law practice, eh? Must keep up appearances?"

  "I fancy my dressing would no more affect my practice, than does thefurnishing of my office."

  "Then who is she? Out with it, you sly dog."

  "Of course I shan't tell you that"

  "Peter, will you tell me?" asked Leonore.

  Peter smiled into the frank eyes. "Who she is?"

  "No. Why you dress so nicely. Please?"

  "You'll laugh when I tell you it is my ward."

  "Oh, nonsense," laughed Watts. "That's too thin. Come off that roof.Unless you're guardian of some bewitching girl?"

  "Your ward, Peter?"

  "Yes. I don't know whether I can make you understand it. I didn't atfirst. You see I became associated with the ward, in people's minds,after I had been in politics for a few years. So I was sometimes put inpositions to a certain extent representative of it. I never thoughtmuch how I dressed, and it seems that sometimes at public meetings, andparades, and that sort of thing, I wasn't dressed quite as well as theother men. So when the people of my ward, who were present, were askedto point me out to strangers, they were mortified about the way Ilooked. It seemed to reflect on the ward. The first inkling I had of itwas after one of these parades, in which, without thinking, I had worn asoft hat. I was the only man who did not wear a silk one, and my wardfelt very badly about it. So they made up a purse, and came to me to askme to buy a new suit and silk hat and gloves. Of course that set measking questions, and though they didn't want to hurt my feelings, Iwormed enough out of them to learn how they felt. Since then I've spenta good deal of money on tailors, and dress very carefully."

  "Good for 'de sixt'! Hurrah for the unwashed democracy, where one man'sas good as another! So a 'Mick' ward wants its great man to put on allthe frills? I tell you, chum, we may talk about equality, but the lowerclasses can't but admire and worship the tinsel and flummery ofaristocracy."

  "You are
mistaken. They may like to see brilliant sights. Soldiers,ball-rooms or the like, and who does not? Beauty is aesthetic, notaristocratic. But they judge people less by their dress or money than isusually supposed. Far less than the people up-town do. They wanted me todress better, because it was appropriate. But let a man in the ward tryto dress beyond his station, and he'd be jeered out of it, or the ward,if nothing worse happened."

  "Oh, of course they'd hoot at their own kind," said Watts. "The hardestthing to forgive in this world is your equal's success. But theywouldn't say anything to one of us."

  "If you, or Pell, or Ogden should go into Blunkers's place in my ward,this evening, dressed as you are, or better, you probably would be toldto get out. I don't believe you could get a drink. And you would stand achance of pretty rough usage. Last week I went right from a dinner toBlunkers's to say a word to him. I was in evening dress, newcastle, andcrush hat--even a bunch of lilies of the valley--yet every man therewas willing to shake hands and have me sit down and stay. Blunkerscouldn't have been dressed so, because it didn't belong to him. For thesame reason, you would have no business in Blunkers's place, because youdon't belong there. But the men know I dressed for a reason, and came tothe saloon for a reason. I wasn't putting on airs. I wasn't intruding mywealth on them."

  "Look here, chum, will you take me into Blunkers's place some night, andlet me hear you powwow the 'b'ys?' I should like to see how you do it."

  "Yes," Peter said deliberately, "if some night you'll let me bringBlunkers up to watch one of your formal dinners. He would enjoy thesight, I'm sure."

  Leonore cocked her little nose up in the air, and laughed merrily.

  "Oh, but that's very different," said Watts.

  "It's just as different as the two men with the toothache," said Peter."They both met at the dentist's, who it seems had only time to pull onetooth. The question arose as to which it should be. 'I'm so brave,' saidone, 'that I can wait till to-morrow.' 'I'm such a coward,' said theother, 'that I don't dare have it done to-day.'"

  "Haven't you ever taken people to those places, Peter?" asked Leonore.

  "No. I've always refused. It's a society fad now to have what are called'slumming parties,' and of course I've been asked to help. It makes myblood tingle when I hear them talk over the 'fun' as they call it. Theyget detectives to protect them, and then go through the tenements--thehomes of the poor--and pry into their privacy and poverty, just out ofcuriosity. Then they go home and over a chafing dish of lobster orterrapin, and champagne, they laugh at the funny things they saw. If thepoor could get detectives, and look in on the luxury and comfort of therich, they wouldn't see much fun in it, and there's less fun in adown-town tenement than there is in a Fifth Avenue palace. I heard agirl tell the other night about breaking in on a wake by chance.'Weren't we lucky?' she said. 'It was so funny to see the poor peopleweeping and drinking whisky at the same time. Isn't it heartless?' Yetthe dead--perhaps the bread-winner of the family, fallen in thestruggle--perhaps the last little comer, not strong enough to fightthis earth's battle--must have lain there in plain view of that girl.Who was the most heartless? The family and friends who had gathered overthat body, according to their customs, or the party who looked in onthem and laughed?" Peter had forgotten where he was, or to whom he wastalking.

  Leonore had listened breathlessly. But the moment he ceased speaking,she bowed her head and began to sob. Peter came down from his indignanttirade like a flash. "Miss D'Alloi," he cried, "forgive me. I forgot.Don't cry so." Peter was pleading in an anxious voice. He felt as if hehad committed murder.

  "There, there, Dot. Don't cry. It's nothing to cry about."

  Miss D'Alloi was crying and endeavoring at the same time to solve themost intricate puzzle ever yet propounded by man or woman--that is, tofind a woman's pocket. She complicated things even more by trying totalk. "I--I--know I'm ver--ver--very fooooooolish," she managed to getout, however much she failed in a similar result with herpocket-handkerchief.

  "Since I caused the tears, you must let me stop them," said Peter. Hehad produced his own handkerchief, and was made happy by seeing Leonorebury her face in it, and re-appear not quite so woe-begone.

  "I--only--didn't--know--you--could--talk--like--like that," explainedLeonore.

  "Let this be a lesson for you," said Watts. "Don't come any more of yourjury-pathos on my little girl."

  "Papa! You--I--Peter, I'm so glad you told me--I'll never go to one."

  Watts laughed. "Now I know why you charm all the women whom I heartalking about you. I tell you, when you rear your head up like that, andyour eyes blaze so, and you put that husk in your voice, I don't wonderyou fetch them. By George, you were really splendid to look at."

  That was the reason why Leonore had not cried till Peter had finishedhis speech. We don't charge women with crying whenever they wish, but weare sure that they never cry when they have anything better to do.