CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

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 back to work. "He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in the Hall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning over those awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn't make. Yet he came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air."

When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop work and think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them now and then. He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to have a look at that bit of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation. He said: "Peter Stirling, go to work." So all the treasures were put in a drawer 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 and dumb-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 a box of cigars, or a bunch of violets, gold-piece, ribbon and sheet of paper? One thing is certain. Peter pa.s.sed another evening without reading or working. And two such idle evenings could not be shown in another week of his life for the last twenty years.

The next day Peter was considerably nearer earth. Not that he didn't think those eyes just as lovely, and had he been thrown within their radius, he would probably have been as strongly influenced as ever. But he was not thrown within their influence, and so his strong nature and common sense rea.s.serted themselves. He took his coffee, his early morning ride, and then his work, in their due order. After dinner, that evening, he only smoked one cigar. When he had done that, he remarked to himself--apropos of the cigars, presumably--"Peter, keep to your work.

Don't burn yourself again." Then his face grew very firm, and he read a frivolous book ent.i.tled: "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 afternoon rode out to Westchester to pa.s.s the evening there with Mrs. Costell.

Peter thought his balance was quite recovered. Other men have said the same thing. The fact that they said so, proved that they were by no means sure of themselves.

This was shown very markedly on Monday in Peter's case, for after lunch he did not work as steadily as he had done in the morning hours. He was restless. Twice he pressed his lips, and started in to work very, very hard--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, and go to work again, with a great determination in his face, only to look at the watch again before long. Finally he touched his bell.

"Jenifer," he said, "I wish you would rub off my spurs, and clean up my riding 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 at a sharp canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden far when he suddenly checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple of riders. "I've been looking for you," he said frankly. Peter had not ceased to be straightforward.

"h.e.l.lo! This is nice," said Watts.

"Don't you think it's about time?" said Leonore. Leonore had her own opinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry with Peter--not at 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'm here now."

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

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

"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 those eyes. 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 is very nice, Peter," said Leonore. "If we see each other every day in the Park, we can tell each other everything that we are doing or thinking about. So we will be very good friends for sure." Leonore spoke and looked as if this was the pleasantest of possibilities, and Peter was certain it was.

"I say, Peter," said Watts. "What a tremendous dude we have come out. I wanted to joke you on it the first time I saw you, but this afternoon it's positively appalling. I would have taken my Bible oath that it was the last thing old Peter would become. Just look at him, Dot. Doesn't he fill 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 man absolutely without style."

Peter smiled. "Do you remember what Friar Bacon's bra.s.s 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 toney friends?"

"Of course I tried to dress correctly for my up-town friends, when I was with them. But it was not they who made me careful, though they helped me 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 the furnishing 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?"