t last summer. Said all the
politicians thought of him as a rising man."

"He seems a nice steady fellow," said the mamma. "I don't suppose he has
much practice?"

"Oh, don't think of the money," said Miss De Voe. "What is that compared
to getting a really fine man whom one can truly love?"

"Still, money is an essential," said the papa.

"Yes. But you both know what I intend to do for Dorothy and Minna. They
need not think of money. If he and Dorothy only will care for each
other!"

Peter and Dorothy did like each other. Dorothy was very pretty, and had
all the qualities which make a girl a strong magnet to men. Peter could
not help liking her. As for Dorothy, she was like other women. She
enjoyed the talking, joking, "good-time" men in society, and chatted and
danced with them with relish. But like other women, when she thought of
marriage, she did not find these gingerbread ornamentations so
attractive. The average woman loves a man, aside from his love for her,
for his physical strength, and his stiff truth-telling. The first is
attractive to her because she has it not. Far be it from man to say why
the second attracts. So Dorothy liked Peter. She admired many qualities
in him which she would not have tolerated in other men. It is true that
she laughed at him, too, for many things, but it was the laughter of
that peculiar nature which implies admiration and approval, rather than
the lower feelings. When the spring separation came, Miss De Voe was
really quite hopeful.

"I think things have gone very well. Now, Mr. Stirling has promised to
spend a week with me at Newport. I shall have Dorothy there at the same
time," she told Mrs. Ogden.

Lispenard, who was present, laughed as usual. "So you are tired of your
new plaything already?"

"What do you mean?"

"Arn't you marrying him so as to get rid of his calls and his
escortage?"

"Of course not. We shall go on just the same."

"Bully for you, Ma. Does Dr. Brown know it?"

Miss De Voe flushed angrily, and put an end to her call.

"What a foolish fellow Lispenard is!" she remarked unconsciously to
Wellington at the carriage door.

"Beg pardon, mum?" said Wellington, blank wonderment filling his face.

"Home, Wellington," said Miss De Voe crossly.

Peter took his week at Newport on his way back from his regular August
visit to his mother. Miss De Voe had told him casually that Dorothy
would be there, and Dorothy was there. Yet he saw wonderfully littl