The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him

by Paul Leicester Ford

  CHAPTER III.

  A CRAB CHAPTER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "No," said Peter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "But Mrs. Pierce?" queried Peter.

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

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