s. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the future
or not. I don't want to fight you. We've been good friends in the past,
and we can do more by pulling in double harness than by kicking, I don't
know a man I would rather see at the Hall." Peter held out his hand, and
Denton took it.

"All right, Mister Stirling. I'll do my best to stay friends," he said,
and went out.

Peter turned and smiled at Dennis. "They can't find out that it's not I,
but the ward. So every time there's trouble they lay it against me, and
it's hard to keep them friendly. And I hate quarrels and surliness."

"It's yezself can do it, though. Shure, Denton was in a great state av
mind this mornin', they was tellin' me, but he's all right now, an' will
vote right, or my name isn't Dennis Moriarty."

"Yes. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll vote square on Tuesday."

Just then Tim brought in the cards of Watts and Leonore, and strangely
enough, Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, and
after the greetings, Peter said:

"Miss D'Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis, Miss
D'Alloi has wanted to know you because she's heard of your being such a
friend to me."

"Shure," said Dennis, taking the little hand so eagerly offered him,
"Oim thinkin' we're both lucky to be in the thoughts at all, at all, av
such a sweet young lady."

"Oh, Mr. Moriarty, you've kissed the blarney stone."

"Begobs," responded Dennis, "it needs no blarney stone to say that.
It's afther sayin' itself."

"Peter, have you that opinion?"

"Yes." Peter handed her out a beautifully written sheet of script, all
in due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red ink
marginal references to such solid works as "Wheaton," "Story," and
"Cranch's" and "Wallace's" reports. Peter had taken it practically from
a "Digest," but many apparently learned opinions come from the same
source. And the whole was given value by the last two lines, which read,
"Respectfully submitted, Peter Stirling." Peter's name had value at the
bottom of a legal opinion, or a check, if nowhere else.

"Look, Mr. Moriarty," cried Leonore, too full of happiness over this
decision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to share
it, "I've always thought I was French--though I didn't feel so a
bit--and now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I'm so happy. I
hate foreigners."

Watts laughed. "Why, Dot. You mustn't say that to Mr. Moria