e is a failure when I
see what you like in men. That Stirling is worth all your dancing men,
but just because he holds his tongue when he hasn't a sensible thing to
say, you think he's no good."

"Still he is 'a nobody.'"

"He's the fellow who made that big speech in the stump-tail milk case."

"Not that man?"

"Exactly. But of course he isn't 'brilliant.'"

"I never should have dreamed it."

"Still," said the heir, "he keeps his eloquence for cows, and not for
dinners."

"He talked very well at Dr. Purple's," said the mamma, whose opinion of
Peter had undergone a change.

"And he was invited to call by Mrs. Dupont and Mrs. Sizer, which is more
than you've ever been," said Avery senior to Avery junior.

"That's because of the prog," growled the son, seeing his opportunity to
square accounts quickly.

Coming out of church the next Sunday, Peter was laid hold of by the
Bohlmanns and carried off to a mid-day dinner, at which were a lot of
pleasant Germans, who made it very jolly with their kindly humor. He did
not contribute much to the laughter, but every one seemed to think him
an addition to the big table.

Thus it came to pass that late in January Peter dedicated a week of
evenings to "Society," and nightly donning his dress suit, called
dutifully on Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Sizer, Mrs. Purple, Mrs. Avery, Mrs.
Costell, Mrs. Gallagher and Mrs. Bohlmann. Peter was becoming very
frivolous.

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN EVENING CALL.

But Peter's social gadding did not end with these bread-and-butter
calls. One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famous
picture-dealer, to look over an exhibition then advertised, and had
nearly finished his patient examination of each picture, which always
involved quite as much mental gymnastics as aesthetic pleasure to Peter,
when he heard a pleasant:

"How do you do, Mr. Stirling?"

Turning, he found Miss De Voe and a well-dressed man at his elbow.
Peter's face lighted up in a way which made the lady say to herself: "I
wonder why he wouldn't buy another ticket?" Aloud she said, "I want you
to know another of my cousins. Mr. Ogden, Mr. Stirling."

"Charmed," said Mr. Ogden genially. Any expression which Peter had
thought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this passive
participle, that he merely bowed.

"I did not know you cared for pictures," said Miss De Voe.

"I see most of the public exhibitions," Peter told her. "I try to like
them."

Miss De Voe