bank, and had
used it to help--" Miss De Voe broke down, and, leaning against the
mantel, buried her face in her handkerchief.

"It's curious you should have heard of it," said Peter.

"He--he didn't mention names, b-bu-but I knew, of course."

"I didn't like to speak of it because--well--I've wanted to tell you the
good it's done. Suppose you sit down." Peter brought a chair, and Miss
De Voe took it.

"You must think I'm very foolish," she said, wiping her eyes.

"It's nothing to cry about." And Peter began telling her of some of the
things which he had been able to do:--of the surgical brace it had
bought; of the lessons in wood-engraving it had given; of the
sewing-machine it had helped to pay for; of the arrears in rent it had
settled. "You see," he explained, "these people are too self-respecting
to go to the big charities, or to rich people. But their troubles are
talked over in the saloons and on the doorsteps, so I hear of them, and
can learn whether they really deserve help. They'll take it from me,
because they feel that I'm one of them."

Miss De Voe was too much shaken by her tears to talk that evening. Miss
De Voe's life and surroundings were not exactly weepy ones, and when
tears came they meant much. She said little, till Peter rose to go, and
then only:

"I shall want to talk with you, to see what I can do to help you in your
work. Please come again soon. I ought not to have brought you here this
evening, only to see me cry like a baby. But--I had done you such
injustice in my mind about that seven dollars, and then to find
that--Oh!" Miss De Voe showed signs of a recurring break-down, but
mastered herself. "Good-evening."

Peter gone, Miss De Voe had another "good" cry--which is a feminine
phrase, quite incomprehensible to men--and, going to her room, bathed
her eyes. Then she sat before her boudoir fire, thinking. Finally she
rose. In leaving the fire, she remarked aloud to it:

"Yes. He shall have Dorothy, if I can do it."

So Dorothy became a pretty regular addition to the informal meals,
exhibitions and concerts. Peter was once more taken to the opera, but
Dorothy and Miss De Voe formed with him the party in the box on such
nights. Miss De Voe took him to call on Mrs. Odgen, and sang his praises
to both parents. She even went so far as to say frankly to them what was
in her mind.

Mr. Ogden said, "Those who know him speak very well of him. I heard
'Van' Pell praise him highly at Newpor