"Did you understand what it all meant, Cousin Anneke?" asked Dorothy, as
they were coming downstairs.

"No. The man who got so angry seemed to think Mr. Stirling had--"

She stopped short. A group of men on the sidewalk were talking, and she
paused to hear one say:

"To see that young chap Stirling handling Maguire was an eye-opener."

Another man laughed, rather a deep, quiet laugh. "Maguire understands
everything but honesty," he said. "You can always beat him with that."

Miss De Voe would have like to stay and listen, but there were too many
men. So the ladies entered the carriage.

"At least we know that he said he was trying to tell the truth," she
went on, "and you just heard what that man said. I don't know why they
all laughed."

"He didn't seem to mind a bit."

"No. Hasn't he a funny half-embarrassed, half-cool manner?"

"He wasn't embarrassed after he was fairly speaking. You know he was
really fine-looking, when he spoke."

"Yes," said Dorothy. "You said he had a dull, heavy face."

"That was the first time I saw him, Dorothy. It's a face which varies
very much. Oliver, drive to the United States. We will take him home to
dinner."

"Oh, good," cried the youngest. "Then he will tell us why they laughed."

As they drove up to the hotel, Peter had just reached the steps. He
turned to the carriage, the moment he saw that they wanted him.

"We wish to carry you off to a simple country dinner," Miss De Voe told
him.

"I am going to take the special to New York, and that leaves in half an
hour."

"Take a later train."

"My ticket wouldn't be good on it."

Most men Miss De Voe would have snubbed on the spot, but to Peter she
said: "Then get another ticket."

"I don't care to do that," said Peter.

"Oh, please, Mr. Stirling," said Minna. "I want to ask you a lot of
questions about the convention."

"Hush, Minna," said Miss De Voe. She was nettled that Peter should
refuse, and that her niece could stoop to beg of "a criminal lawyer and
ward politician," as she put it mentally. But she was determined not to
show it "We are sorry. Good-evening. Home, Oliver."

So they did not learn from Peter why the convention laughed. The subject
was brought up at dinner, and Dorothy asked the opinion of the voters of
the family.

"Probably he had made a fluke of some kind," one said.

"More probably he had out-sharped the other side," suggested a second.

"It will be in the papers to-morrow," said