Miss De Voe and said, 'We
say Chicawgo. Now, how do you pronounce it in New York?' Miss De Voe put
on that quiet, crushing manner she has when a man displeases her, and
said, 'We never pronounce it in New York.'"

"Good for our Dutch-Huguenot stock! I tell you, Peter, blood does tell."

"It wasn't a speech I should care to make, because it did no good, and
could only mortify. But it does describe the position of the lower wards
of New York towards society. I've been working in them for nearly
sixteen years, and I've never even heard the subject mentioned."

"But I thought the anarchists and socialists were always taking a whack
at us?"

"They cry out against over-rich men--not against society. Don't confuse
the constituents with the compound. Citric acid is a deadly poison, but
weakened down with water and sugar, it is only lemonade. They growl at
the poison, not at the water and sugar. Before there can be hate, there
must be strength."

The next day Peter turned up in the park about four, and had a
ride--with Watts. The day after that, he was there a little earlier, and
had a ride--with the groom. The day following he had another ride--with
the groom. Peter thought they were very wonderful rides. Some one told
him a great many interesting things. About some one's European life,
some one's thoughts, some one's hopes, and some one's feelings. Some
one really wanted a friend to pour it all out to, and Peter listened
well, and encouraged well.

"He doesn't laugh at me, as papa does," some one told herself, "and so
it's much easier to tell him. And he shows that he really is interested.
Oh, I always said he and I should be good friends, and we are going to
be."

This put some one in a very nice frame of mind, and Peter thought he had
never met such a wonderful combination of frankness, of confluence, and
yet of a certain girlish shyness and timidity. Some one would tell him
something, and then appeal to him, if he didn't think that was so? Peter
generally thought it was. Some one did not drop her little touch of
coquetry, for that was ingrain, as it is in most pretty girls. But it
was the most harmless kind of coquetry imaginable. Someone was not
thinking at all of winning men's hearts. That might come later. At
present all she wanted was that they should think her pretty, and
delightful, so that--that they should want to be friend.

When Peter joined Watts and Leonore, however, on the fourth day, there
was a noti