won't do. Call him--um--call him Uncle Peter."

"I won't," said Leonore, delighting Peter thereby. "Let me see. What
shall I call you?" she asked of Peter.

"Honey," laughed Watts.

"What shall I call you?" Miss D'Alloi put her head on one side, and
looked at Peter out of the corners of her eyes.

"You must decide that, Miss D'Alloi."

"I suppose I must. I--think--I--shall--call--you--Peter." She spoke
hesitatingly till she said his name, but that went very smoothly. Peter
on the spot fell in love with the five letters as she pronounced them.

"Plain Peter?" inquired Watts.

"Now what will you call me?"

"Miss D'Alloi," said Peter.

"No. You--are--to--call--me--call--me--"

"Miss D'Alloi," re-affirmed Peter.

"Then I will call you Mr. Stirling, Peter."

"No, you won't."

"Why?"

"Because you said you'd call me Peter."

"But not if you won't--"

"You made no condition at the time of promise. Shall I show you the
law?"

"No. And I shall not call you Peter, any more, Peter."

"Then I shall prosecute you."

"But I should win the case, for I should hire a friend of mine to defend
me. A man named Peter." Leonore sat down in Peter's chair. "I'm going to
write him at once about it." She took one of his printed letter sheets
and his pen, and, putting the tip of the holder to her lips (Peter has
that pen still), thought for a moment. Then she wrote:

DEAR PETER:

I am threatened with a prosecution. Will you defend me? Address
your reply to "Dear Leonore."

LEONORE D'ALLOI.

"Now" she said to Peter, "you must write me a letter in reply. Then you
can have this note." Leonore rose with the missive in her hand.

"I never answer letters till I've received them." Peter took hold of the
slender wrist, and possessed himself of the paper. Then he sat down at
his desk and wrote on another sheet:

DEAR MISS D'ALLOI:

I will defend you faithfully and always.

PETER STIRLING

"That isn't what I said," remarked Miss D'Alloi. "But I suppose it will
have to do."

"You forget one important thing."

"What is that?"

"My retaining fee."

"Oh, dear," sighed Leonore. "My allowance is nearly gone. Don't you ever
do work for very, very poor people, for nothing?"

"Not if their poverty is pretence."

"Oh, but mine isn't. Really. See. Here is my purse. Look for yourself.
That's all I shall have till the first of the month."

She gave Peter her purse. He was still sitting at his