two weeks. But you must get up toboggan parties, and
other nice things."

"I wonder what the papers will say," thought Peter, "if a governor gives
toboggan parties?"

After the late breakfast, Peter was taken down to see the tournament. He
thought he would not mind it, since he was allowed to sit next Leonore.
But he did. First he wished that she wouldn't pay so much attention to
the score. Then that the men who fluttered round her would have had the
good taste to keep away. It enraged Peter to see how perfectly willing
she was to talk and chat about things of which he knew nothing, and how
more than willing the men were. And then she laughed at what they said!

"That's fifteen-love, isn't it?" Leonore asked him presently.

"He doesn't look over fifteen," actually growled Peter. "I don't know
whether he's in love or not. I suppose he thinks he is. Boys fifteen
years old always do."

Leonore forgot the score, even, in her surprise. "Why," she said, "you
growl just like Betise (the mastiff). Now I know what the papers mean
when they say you roar."

"Well," said Peter, "it makes me cross to see a lot of boys doing
nothing but hit a small ball, and a lot more looking at them and
thinking that it's worth doing." Which was a misstatement. It was not
that which made Peter mad.

"Haven't you ever played tennis?"

"Never. I don't even know how to score."

"Dear me," said Leonore, "You're dreadfully illiterate."

"I know it," growled Peter, "I don't belong here, and have no business
to come. I'm a ward boss, and my place is in saloons. Don't hesitate to
say it."

All this was very foolish, but it was real to Peter for the moment, and
he looked straight ahead with lines on his face which Leonore had never
seen before. He ought to have been ordered to go off by himself till he
should be in better mood.

Instead Leonore turned from the tennis, and said: "Please don't talk
that way, Peter. You know I don't think that." Leonore had understood
the misery which lay back of the growl. "Poor fellow," she thought, "I
must cheer him up." So she stopped looking at the tennis. "See," she
said, "there are Miss Winthrop and Mr. Pell. Do take me over to them and
let me spring my surprise. You talk to Miss Winthrop."

"Why, Peter!" said Pell. "When did you come?"

"Last night. How do you do, Miss Winthrop?" Then for two minutes Peter
talked, or rather listened, to that young lady, though sighing
internally. Then, _Laus Deo!_ up