“Tell me.  If you don’t, somebody else will.  Please.”

“Why, Dot, these are all presentation swords.”

“Yes,” said Peter; “and so gorgeous that I don’t dare use them.  I keep the swords I wear at the armory.”

“Are you going to tell me what you did to get them?”

“That one was given me by my company when I was made captain.  That was subscribed for by some friends.  The one you have was given me by a railroad.”

“For what?”

“For doing my duty.”

“Come, papa.  We’ll go home.”

Peter surrendered.  “There were some substitutes for strikers in freight cars that were fitted up with bunks.  The strikers fastened the doors on them, and pushed them into a car-shed.”

“And what did you do?”

“We rolled the cars back.”

“I don’t think that was much.  Nothing to give a sword for.  Now, have you anything more to show us?”

“No.  I have a spare room, and Jenifer has a kitchen and sleeping place beyond, but they are not worth showing.”

They went out into the little square hall, and so into the study.  Leonore began unfolding her gloves.

“I’ve had a very nice time,” she said.  “I think I shall come again very often, I like down-town New York.”  Leonore was making her first trip to it, so that she spoke from vast knowledge.

“I can’t tell you how pleasant it has been to me.  It isn’t often that such sunshine gets in here,” said Peter.

“Then you do prefer sunshine to grimy old law books?” inquired Leonore, smiling demurely.

“Some sunshine,” said Peter, meaningly.

“Wherever there has been sunshine there ought to be lots of flowers.  I have a good mind—­yes, I will—­leave you these violets,” Leonore took a little bunch that she had worn near her throat and put them and her hand in Peter’s.  And she hadn’t put her glove on yet!  Then she put her gloves on, and Peter shook hands.  Then he remembered that he ought to see them to the elevator, so he took them out—­and shook hands again.  After that he concluded it was his duty to see them to the carriage—­and he shook hands again.

Peter was not an experienced hand, but he was doing very well.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE DUDE.

Just as Peter came back to his office, his lunch was announced.

“What makes you look so happy?” asked Ray.

“Being so,” said Peter, calmly.

“What a funny old chap he is?” Ray remarked to Ogden, as they went back to work.  “He brought me his opinion, just after lunch, in the Hall-Seelye case.  I suppose he had been grubbing all the morning over those awful figures, and a tougher or dryer job, you couldn’t make.  Yet he came in to lunch looking as if he was walking on air.”

When Peter returned to his office, he would have preferred to stop work and think for a bit.  He wanted to hold those violets, and smell them now and then.  He wished to read that letter over again.  He longed to have a look at that bit of ribbon and gold.  But he resisted temptation.  He said:  “Peter Stirling, go to work.”  So all the treasures were put in a drawer of his study table, and Peter sat down at his office desk.  First, after tearing up his note to Watts, he wrote another, as follows: