't fool all of the
people all of the time,'" laughed a voice.

Peter took his eyes off Leonore's face, where they had been resting
restfully, and glanced up. Watts had entered the room.

"Go on," said Watts. "Don't let me interrupt your political
disquisitions; I have only come in for a cup of tea."

"Miss D'Alloi and I were merely discussing bosses," said Peter. "Miss
D'Alloi, when women get the ballot, as I hope they will, I trust you
will be a good boss, for I am sure you will influence a great many
votes."

"Oh!" said Leonore, laughing, "I shan't be a boss at all. You'll be my
boss, I think, and I'll always vote for you."

Peter thought the day even more glorious than he had before.

CHAPTER XLVI.

THE BETTER ELEMENT.

The evening after this glorious day, Peter came in from his ride, but
instead of going at once to his room, he passed down a little passage,
and stood in a doorway.

"Is everything going right, Jenifer?" he queried.

"Yissah!"

"The flowers came from Thorley's?"

"Yissah!"

"And the candies and ices from Maillard?"

"Yissah!"

"And you've _frappe_ the champagne?"

"Yissah?"

"Jenifer, don't put quite so much onion juice as usual in the Queen
Isabella dressing. Ladies don't like it as much as men."

"Yissah!"

"And you stood the Burgundy in the sun?"

"Yissah! Wha foh yo' think I doan do as I ginl'y do?"

Jenifer was combining into a stuffing bread crumbs, chopped broiled
oysters, onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was becoming
irritated at such evident doubt of his abilities.

Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried. He
glanced round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search of
possible sources for slips, but did not see them. All he was able to say
was, "That broth smells very nice, Jenifer."

"Yissah. Dar ain't nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and de
squeezin's of a hunerd clams, sah. Dat sup will make de angels sorry dey
died. Dey'll just tink you'se dreful unkine not to offer dem a secon'
help. Buh doan yo' do it, sah, foh when dey gits to dem prayhens, dey'll
be pow'ful glad yo' didn't." To himself, Jenifer remarked: "Who he gwine
hab dis day? He neber so anxious befoh, not even when de Presidint an
Guv'nor Pohter dey dun dine hyah."

Peter went to his room and, after a due course of clubbing and tubbing,
dressed himself with the utmost care. Truth compels the confession that
he looked in his