rs and translate them into cipher. All this with their
heads very close together, and an utter forgetfulness on the part of a
certain personage that snubbing rather than politics was her "plan of
campaign." But Leonore began to feel that she was a political power
herself, and so forgot her other schemes. When they had the answering
dispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter and said:

"I think we've done that very well," in the most approving voice. "Do
you think they'll do as we tell them?"

Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so frankly
and with such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed was
noble or great enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times that
afternoon, it had seemed to him that he could not keep himself from
leaning over and taking one. He even went so far now as to speculate on
exactly what Leonore would do if he did. Fortunately his face was not
given to expressing his thoughts. Leonore never dreamed how narrow an
escape she had. "If only she wouldn't be so friendly and confiding,"
groaned Peter, even while absolutely happy in her mood. "I can't do it,
when she trusts me so."

"Well," said Leonore, "perhaps when you've done staring at me, you'll
answer my question."

"I think they'll do as we tell them," smiled Peter. "But we'll get word
to-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we shall know better how the
land lies, and can talk plainer."

"Will there be more ciphers, to-morrow?"

"Yes." To himself Peter said, "I must write Green and the rest to
telegraph me every day."

"Now we'll have a cup of tea," said Leonore. "I like politics."

"Then you would like Albany," said Peter, putting a chair for her by the
little tea-table.

"I wouldn't live in Albany for the whole world," said Leonore, resuming
her old self with horrible rapidity. But just then she burnt her finger
with the match with which she was lighting the lamp, and her cruelty
vanished in a wail. "Oh!" she cried. "How it hurts."

"Let me see," said Peter sympathetically.

The little hand was held up. "It does hurt," said Leonore, who saw that
there was a painful absence of all signs of injury, and feared Peter
would laugh at such a burn after those he had suffered.

But Peter treated it very seriously. "I'm sure it does," he said, taking
possession of the hand. "And I know how it hurts." He leaned over and
kissed the little thumb. Then he didn't care a scrap whether Leonore