The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him

by Paul Leicester Ford

  CHAPTER LII.

  A GUARDIAN ANGEL.

  Peter had as glorious an afternoon as he had had a bad morning. First hedanced a little. Then the two sat at the big desk in the desertedlibrary and worked together over those very complex dispatches till theyhad them translated. Then they had to discuss their import. Finally theyhad to draft answers and translate them into cipher. All this with theirheads very close together, and an utter forgetfulness on the part of acertain personage that snubbing rather than politics was her "plan ofcampaign." But Leonore began to feel that she was a political powerherself, and so forgot her other schemes. When they had the answeringdispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter and said:

  "I think we've done that very well," in the most approving voice. "Doyou think they'll do as we tell them?"

  Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so franklyand with such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed wasnoble or great enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times thatafternoon, it had seemed to him that he could not keep himself fromleaning over and taking one. He even went so far now as to speculate onexactly what Leonore would do if he did. Fortunately his face was notgiven to expressing his thoughts. Leonore never dreamed how narrow anescape she had. "If only she wouldn't be so friendly and confiding,"groaned Peter, even while absolutely happy in her mood. "I can't do it,when she trusts me so."

  "Well," said Leonore, "perhaps when you've done staring at me, you'llanswer my question."

  "I think they'll do as we tell them," smiled Peter. "But we'll get wordto-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we shall know better how theland lies, and can talk plainer."

  "Will there be more ciphers, to-morrow?"

  "Yes." To himself Peter said, "I must write Green and the rest totelegraph me every day."

  "Now we'll have a cup of tea," said Leonore. "I like politics."

  "Then you would like Albany," said Peter, putting a chair for her by thelittle tea-table.

  "I wouldn't live in Albany for the whole world," said Leonore, resumingher old self with horrible rapidity. But just then she burnt her fingerwith the match with which she was lighting the lamp, and her crueltyvanished in a wail. "Oh!" she cried. "How it hurts."

  "Let me see," said Peter sympathetically.

  The little hand was held up. "It does hurt," said Leonore, who saw thatthere was a painful absence of all signs of injury, and feared Peterwould laugh at such a burn after those he had suffered.

  But Peter treated it very seriously. "I'm sure it does," he said, takingpossession of the hand. "And I know how it hurts." He leaned over andkissed the little thumb. Then he didn't care a scrap whether Leonoreliked Albany or not.

  "I won't snub you this time," said Leonore to herself, "because youdidn't laugh at me for it."

  Peter's evening was not so happy. Leonore told him as they rose fromdinner that she was going to a dance. "We have permission to take you.Do you care to go?"

  "Yes. If you'll give me some dances."

  "I've told you once that I'll only give you the ones not taken by betterdancers. If you choose to stay round I'll take you for those."

  "Do you ever have a dance over?" asked Peter, marvelling at such apossibility.

  "I've only been to one dance. I didn't have at that."

  "Well," said Peter, growling a little, "I'll go."

  "Oh," said Leonore, calmly, "don't put yourself out on my account."

  "I'm not," growled Peter. "I'm doing it to please myself." Then helaughed, so Leonore laughed too.

  After a game of billiards they all went to the dance. As they enteredthe hall, Peter heard his name called in a peculiar voice behind. Heturned and saw Dorothy.

  Dorothy merely said, "Peter!" again. But Peter understood thatexplanations were in order. He made no attempt to dodge.

  "Dorothy," he said softly, giving a glance at Leonore, to see that shewas out of hearing, "when you spent that summer with Miss De Voe, didRay come down every week?"

  "Yes."

  "Would he have come if you had been travelling out west?"

  "Oh, Peter," cried Dorothy, below her breath, "I'm so glad it's come atlast!"

  We hope our readers can grasp the continuity of Dorothy's mentalprocesses, for her verbal ones were rather inconsequent.

  "She's lovely," continued the verbal process. "And I'm sure I can helpyou."

  "I need it," groaned Peter. "She doesn't care in the least for me, and Ican't get her to. And she says she isn't going to marry for--"

  "Nonsense!" interrupted Dorothy, contemptuously, and sailed into theladies' dressing-room.

  Peter gazed after her. "I wonder what's nonsense?" he thought.

  Dorothy set about her self-imposed task with all the ardor formatchmaking, possessed by a perfectly happy married woman. But Dorothyevidently intended that Leonore should not marry Peter, if one can judgefrom the tenor of her remarks to Leonore in the dressing-room. Peterliked Dorothy, and would probably not have believed her capable oftreachery, but it is left to masculine mind to draw any other inferencefrom the dialogue which took place between the two, as they prinkedbefore a cheval glass.

  "I'm so glad to have Peter here for this particular evening," saidDorothy.

  "Why?" asked Leonore, calmly, in the most uninterested of tones.

  "Because Miss Biddle is to be here. For two years I've been trying tobring those two together, so that they might make a match of it. Theyare made for each other."

  Leonore tucked a rebellious curl in behind the drawn-back lock. Then shesaid, "What a pretty pin you have."

  "Isn't it? Ray gave it to me," said Dorothy, giving Leonore all the lineshe wanted.

  "I've never met Miss Biddle," said Leonore.

  "She's a great beauty, and rich. And then she has that nice Philadelphiamanner. Peter can't abide the young-girl manner. He hates giggling andtalking girls. It's funny too, because, though he doesn't dance or talk,they like him. But Miss Biddle is an older girl, and can talk onsubjects which please him. She is very much interested in politics andphilanthropy."

  "I thought," said Leonore, fluffing the lace on her gown, "that Peternever talked politics."

  "He doesn't," said Dorothy. "But she has studied political economy. He'swilling to talk abstract subjects. She's just the girl for a statesman'swife. Beauty, tact, very clever, and yet very discreet. I'm doubly gladthey'll meet here, for she has given up dancing, so she can entertainPeter, who would otherwise have a dull time of it."

  "If she wants to," said Leonore.

  "Oh," said Dorothy, "I'm not a bit afraid about that. Peter's the kindof man with whom every woman's ready to fall in love. Why, my dear, he'shad chance after chance, if he had only cared to try. But, of course, hedoesn't care for such women as you and me, who can't enter into histhoughts or sympathize with his ambitions. To him we are nothing butdancing, dressing, prattling flutter-birds." Then Dorothy put her headon one side, and seemed far more interested in the effect of her ownfrock than in Peter's fate.

  "He talks politics to me," Leonore could not help saying. Leonore didnot like Dorothy's last speech.

  "Oh, Peter's such a gentleman that he always talks seriously even to us;but it's only his politeness. I've seen him talk to girls like you, andhe is delightfully courteous, and one would think he liked it. But, fromlittle things Ray has told me, I know he looks down on society girls."

  "Are you ready, Leonore?" inquired Mrs. D'Alloi.

  Leonore was very ready. Watts and Peter were ready also; had been readyduring the whole of this dialogue. Watts was cross; Peter wasn't. Peterwould willingly have waited an hour longer, impatient only for themoment of meeting, not to get downstairs. That is the difference betweena husband and a lover.

  "Peter," said Leonore, the moment they were on the stairs, "do you evertell other girls political secrets?"

  Dorothy was coming just behind, and she poked Peter in the back with herfan. Then, when Peter turned, she said with her lips as plainly as onecan without s
peaking: "Say yes."

  Peter looked surprised. Then he turned to Leonore and said, "No. You arethe only person, man or woman, with whom I like to talk politics."

  "Oh!" shrieked Dorothy to herself. "You great, big, foolish old stupid!Just as I had fixed it so nicely!" What Dorothy meant is quiteinscrutable. Peter had told the truth.

  But, after the greetings were over, Dorothy helped Peter greatly. Shesaid to him, "Give me your arm, Peter. There is a girl here whom I wantyou to meet."

  "Peter's going to dance this valse with me," said Leonore. And Peter hadtwo minutes of bliss, amateur though he was. Then Leonore said cruelly,"That's enough; you do it very badly!"

  When Peter had seated her by her mother, he said: "Excuse me for amoment. I want to speak to Dorothy."

  "I knew you would be philandering after the young married women. Men ofyour age always do," said Leonore, with an absolutely incomprehensiblecruelty.

  So Peter did not speak to Dorothy. He sat down by Leonore and talked,till a scoundrelly, wretched, villainous, dastardly, low-born, but verygood-looking fellow carried off his treasure. Then he wended his way toDorothy.

  "Why did you tell me to say 'yes'?" he asked.

  Dorothy sighed. "I thought you couldn't have understood me," she said;"but you are even worse than I supposed. Never mind, it's done now.Peter, will you do me a great favor?"

  "I should like to," said Peter.

  "Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia, is here. She doesn't know many of themen, and she doesn't dance. Now, if I introduce you, won't you try tomake her have a good time?"

  "Certainly," said Peter, gloomily.

  "And don't go and desert her, just because another man comes up. Itmakes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle isvery sensitive. I know you don't want to hurt her feelings." All thishad been said as they crossed the room. Then: "Miss Biddle, let meintroduce Mr. Stirling."

  Peter sat down to his duty. "I mustn't look at Leonore," he thought, "orI shan't be attentive." So he turned his face away from the roomheroically. As for Dorothy, she walked away with a smile of contentment."There, miss," she remarked, "we'll see if you can trample on dear oldPeter!"

  "Who's that girl to whom Mr. Stirling is talking?" asked Leonore of herpartner.

  "Ah, that's the rich Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia," replied thescoundrel, in very gentleman-like accents for one of his class. "Theysay she's never been able to find a man good enough for her, and soshe's keeping herself on ice till she dies, in hopes that she'll findone in heaven. She's a great catch."

  "She's decidedly good-looking," said Leonore.

  "Think so? Some people do. I don't. I don't like blondes."

  When Leonore had progressed as far as her fourth partner, she asked:"What sort of a girl is that Miss Biddle?"

  "She's really stunning," she was told. "Fellows are all wild about her.But she has an awfully snubbing way."

  "Is she clever?"

  "Is she? That's the trouble. She won't have anything to do with a manunless he's clever. Look at her to-night! She got her big fish rightoff, and she's driven away every man who's come near her ever since.She's the kind of a girl that, if she decides on anything, she does it."

  "Who's her big fish?" said Leonore, as if she had not noticed.

  "That big fellow, who is so awfully exclusive--Stirling. He doesn'tthink any people good enough for him but the Pells, and Miss De Voe, andthe Ogdens. What they can see in him I can't imagine. I sat opposite himonce at dinner, this spring, at the William Pells, and he only saidthree things in the whole meal. And he was sitting next that clever MissWinthrop."

  After the fifth dance, Dorothy came up to Leonore. "It's goingbeautifully," she said; "do you see how Peter has turned his back to theroom? And I heard a man say that Miss Biddle was freezing to every manwho tried to interrupt them. I must arrange some affairs this week sothat they shall have chances to see each other. You will help me?"

  "I'm very much engaged for this week," said Leonore.

  "What a pity! Never mind; I'll get Peter. Let me see. She ridesbeautifully. Did Peter bring his horses?"

  "One," said Leonore, with a suggestion of reluctance in stating thefact.

  "I'll go and arrange it at once," said Dorothy, thinking that Petermight be getting desperate.

  "Mamma," said Leonore, "how old Mrs. Rivington has grown!"

  "I haven't noticed it, dear," said her mother.

  Dorothy went up to the pair and said: "Peter, won't you show Miss Biddlethe conservatories! You know," she explained, "they are very beautiful."

  Peter rose dutifully, but with a very passive look on his face.

  "And, Peter," said Dorothy, dolefully, "will you take me in to supper? Ihaven't found a man who's had the grace to ask me."

  "Yes."

  "We'll sit at the same table," said Dorothy to Miss Biddle.

  When Peter got into the carriage that evening he was very blue. "I hadonly one waltz," he told himself, "and did not really see anything elseof her the whole evening."

  "Is that Miss Biddle as clever as people say she is?" asked Mrs.D'Alloi.

  "She is a very unusual woman," said Peter, "I rarely have known a betterinformed one." Peter's tone of voice carried the inference that he hatedunusual and informed women, and as this is the case with most men, hisvoice presumably reflected his true thoughts.

  "I should say so," said Watts. "At our little table she said thebrightest things, and told the best stories. That's a girl as is a girl.I tried to see her afterwards, but found that Peter was taking anItalian lesson of her."

  "What do you mean?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi.

  "I have a chap who breakfasts with me three times a week, to talkItalian, which I am trying to learn," said Peter, "and Dorothy told Mrs.Biddle, so she offered to talk in it. She has a beautiful accent and itwas very good of her to offer, for I knew very little as yet, and don'tthink she could have enjoyed it."

  "What do you want with Italian?" asked Mrs. D'Alloi.

  "To catch the Italian vote," said Peter.

  "Oh, you sly-boots," said Watts. Then he turned. "What makes my Dot sosilent?" he asked.

  "Oh," said Leonore in weary tones, "I've danced too much and I'm very,very tired."

  "Well," said Watts, "see that you sleep late."

  "I shall be all right to-morrow," said Leonore, "and I'm going to havean early horseback ride."

  "Peter and I will go too," said Watts.

  "I'm sorry," said Peter. "I'm to ride with Dorothy and Miss Biddle."

  "Ha, ha," said Watts. "More Italian lessons, eh?"

  Two people looked very cross that evening when they got to their rooms.

  Leonore sighed to her maid: "Oh, Marie, I am so tired! Don't let me bedisturbed till it's nearly lunch."

  And Peter groaned to nobody in particular, "An evening and a ride gone!I tried to make Dorothy understand. It's too bad of her to be so dense."

  So clearly Dorothy was to blame. Yet the cause of all this trouble fellasleep peacefully, remarking to herself, just before she drifted intodreamland, "Every man in love ought to have a guardian, and I'll bePeter's."