strikers fastened the doors on
them, and pushed them into a car-shed."

"And what did you do?"

"We rolled the cars back."

"I don't think that was much. Nothing to give a sword for. Now, have you
anything more to show us?"

"No. I have a spare room, and Jenifer has a kitchen and sleeping place
beyond, but they are not worth showing."

They went out into the little square hall, and so into the study.
Leonore began unfolding her gloves.

"I've had a very nice time," she said. "I think I shall come again very
often, I like down-town New York." Leonore was making her first trip to
it, so that she spoke from vast knowledge.

"I can't tell you how pleasant it has been to me. It isn't often that
such sunshine gets in here," said Peter.

"Then you do prefer sunshine to grimy old law books?" inquired Leonore,
smiling demurely.

"Some sunshine," said Peter, meaningly.

"Wherever there has been sunshine there ought to be lots of flowers. I
have a good mind--yes, I will--leave you these violets," Leonore took a
little bunch that she had worn near her throat and put them and her hand
in Peter's. And she hadn't put her glove on yet! Then she put her gloves
on, and Peter shook hands. Then he remembered that he ought to see them
to the elevator, so he took them out--and shook hands again. After that
he concluded it was his duty to see them to the carriage--and he shook
hands again.

Peter was not an experienced hand, but he was doing very well.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE DUDE.

Just as Peter came back to his office, his lunch was announced.

"What makes you look so happy?" asked Ray.

"Being so," said Peter, calmly.

"What a funny old chap he is?" Ray remarked to Ogden, as they went back
to work. "He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in the
Hall-Seelye case. I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning over
those awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn't make. Yet
he came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air."

When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop work
and think for a bit. He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them now
and then. He wished to read that letter over again. He longed to have a
look at that bit of ribbon and gold. But he resisted temptation. He
said: "Peter Stirling, go to work." So all the treasures were put in a
drawer of his study table, and Peter sat down at his office desk. First,
after tearing up his note to Watts, he wro