one thinks.
Now I know where he gets his nice manner. I ought to have recognized the
Harvard finish."

"When did you last hear from the D'Allois?" asked Miss Leroy.

"Not since they sailed," said Peter, wincing internally.

"Not really?" said the bridesmaid. "Surely you've heard of the baby?"

"No." Lines were coming into Peter's face which Miss De Voe had never
before seen.

"How strange. The letters must have gone astray. But you have written
him?"

"I did not know his address."

"Then you really haven't heard of the little baby--why, it was born
two--no, three years ago--and of Helen's long ill-health, and of their
taking a villa on the Riviera, and of how they hope to come home this
spring?"

"No."

"Yes. They will sail in June if Helen is well enough. I'm to be
god-mother."

"If you were Mr. D'Alloi's chum, you must have known Ray Rivington,"
said Dorothy.

"Yes. But I've not seen him since we graduated. He went out West."

"He has just returned. Ranching is not to his taste."

"Will you, if you see him, say that I'm in New York and should like to
run across him?"

"I will. He and Laurence--my second brother--are old cronies, and he
often drops in on us. I want you to know my brothers. They are both here
this evening."

"I have met the elder one, I suppose."

"No. That was a cousin, Lispenard Ogden. He spoke of meeting you. You
would be amused to hear his comment about you."

"Mr. Stirling doesn't like to have speeches repeated to him, Dorothy,"
said Miss De Voe.

"What do you mean?" asked Dorothy, looking from one to the other.

"He snubbed me the other evening when I tried to tell him what we heard,
coming out of the convention last autumn," explained Miss De Voe,
smiling slightly at the thought of treating Peter with a dose of his own
medicine.

Peter looked at Miss De Voe. "I hope you don't mean that?"

"How else could I take it?"

"You asked me if I wished something, and I merely declined, I think."

"Oh, no. You reproved me."

"I'm very sorry if I did. I'm always blundering."

"Tell us what Lispenard said, Dorothy. I'm curious myself."

"May I, Mr. Stirling?

"I would rather not," said Peter.

And Dorothy did not tell him, but in the drawing-room she told Miss De
Voe:

"He said that except his professor of archaeology at Heidelberg, Mr.
Stirling was the nicest old dullard he'd ever met, and that he must be a
very good chap to smoke with."

"He said that, Dorothy?" ex