Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds.  But it struck him that this was really a chance—­from a business standpoint, entirely!  It is true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trust company would handle that sum of money for four hundred and odd dollars, he was bound to do the same; and this would certainly not pay him for his time.  “Sometimes, however,” said Peter to himself, “these, trusteeships have very handsome picking’s, aside from the half per cent.”  Peter did not say that the “pickings,” as they framed themselves in his mind, were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiable reason at all times for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of letters and other unearned increment.  So Peter was not obstinate this time.  “It’s such a simple matter that I can have the papers drawn while you wait, if you’ve half an hour to spare.”  Peter did this, thinking it would keep them longer, but later it occurred to him it would have been better to find some other reason, and leave the papers, because then Leonore would have had to come again soon.  Peter was not quite as cool and far-seeing as he was normally.

He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion that they go into his study.  Peter rang for his head clerk, and explained what was needed with great rapidity, and then left the latter and went into the study.

“I wonder what he’s in such a hurry for?” said the clerk, retiring with the papers.

When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing in chairs, and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking.  This was what Dennis was saying: 

“‘Schatter, boys, an’ find me a sledge.’  Shure, we thought it was demented he was, but he was the only cool man, an’ orders were orders.  Dooley, he found one, an’ then the captain went to the rails an’ gave it a swing, an’ struck the bolts crosswise like, so that the heads flew off, like they was shootin’ stars.  Then he struck the rails sideways, so as to loosen them from the ties.  Then says he:  ’Half a dozen av yez take off yez belts an’ strap these rails together!’ Even then we didn’t understand, but we did it All this time the dirty spal—­Oi ask yez pardon, miss—­all this time the strikers were pluggin’ at us, an’ bullets flyin’ like fun.  ‘Drop your muskets,’ says the captain, when we had done; ’fall in along those rails.  Pick them up, and double-quick for the shed door,’ says he, just as if he was on parade.  Then we saw what he was afther, and double-quick we went.  Begobs, that door went down as if it was paper.  He was the first in.  ‘Stand back,’ says he, ’till Oi see what’s needed.’  Yez should have seen him walk into that sheet av flame, an’ stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin’, an’ it so hot that we at the door were coverin’ our faces to save them from scorchin’.  Then he says:  ‘Get your muskets!’ We went, an’ Moike says to me:  ’It’s no good.  No man can touch them cars.  He’s goin’ to attind to the strikers,’ But