tatement."

"He's the only one who dares," said Ogden.

"Well, I did. Leonore would never have cared for such a silent, serious
man if I hadn't shown her that other women did, and--"

"Nonsense," laughed Ogden. "It was Podds did it. Dynamite is famous for
the uncertainty of the direction in which it will expend its force, and
in this case it blew in a circle, and carried Leonore's heart clear from
Newport to Peter."

"Or, to put it scientifically," said Lispenard, "along the line of least
resistance."

"It seems to me that Peter was the one who did it," said Le Grand. "But
of course, as a bachelor, I can't expect my opinion to be accepted."

"No," said Dorothy. "He nearly spoiled it by cheapening himself. No girl
will think a man is worth much who lets her tramp on him."

"Still," said Lispenard, "few girls can resist the flattery of being
treated by a man as if she is the only woman worth considering in the
world, and Peter did that to an extent which was simply disgraceful. It
was laughable to see the old hermit become social the moment she
appeared, and to see how his eyes and attention followed her. And his
learning to dance! That showed how things were."

"He began long before any of you dreamed," said Mrs. D'Alloi. "Didn't
he, Watts?"

"Undoubtedly," laughed Watts. "And so did she. I really think Leonore
did quite as much in her way, as Peter did. I never saw her treat any
one quite as she behaved to Peter from the very first. I remember her
coming in after her runaway, wild with enthusiasm over him, and saying
to me 'Oh, I'm so happy. I've got a new friend, and we are going to be
such friends always!'"

"That raises the same question," laughed Ogden, "that the Irishman did
about the street-fight, when he asked 'Who throwed that last brick
first?'"

"Really, if it didn't seem too absurd," said Watts, "I should say they
began it the moment they met."

"I don't think that at all absurd," said a gray-haired, refined looking
woman who was the least collapsed of the group, or was perhaps so well
bred as to conceal her feelings. "I myself think it began before they
even met. Leonore was half in love with Peter when she was in Europe,
and Peter, though he knew nothing of her, was the kind of a man who
imagines an ideal and loves that. She happened to be his ideal."

"Really, Miss De Voe," said Mr. Pierce, "you must have misjudged him.
Though Peter is now my grandson, I am still able to know what he is. He