“It’s the old saying; ’you can fool all of the people, some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time,’” laughed a voice.

Peter took his eyes off Leonore’s face, where they had been resting restfully, and glanced up.  Watts had entered the room.

“Go on,” said Watts.  “Don’t let me interrupt your political disquisitions; I have only come in for a cup of tea.”

“Miss D’Alloi and I were merely discussing bosses,” said Peter.  “Miss D’Alloi, when women get the ballot, as I hope they will, I trust you will be a good boss, for I am sure you will influence a great many votes.”

“Oh!” said Leonore, laughing, “I shan’t be a boss at all.  You’ll be my boss, I think, and I’ll always vote for you.”

Peter thought the day even more glorious than he had before.

CHAPTER XLVI.

THE BETTER ELEMENT.

The evening after this glorious day, Peter came in from his ride, but instead of going at once to his room, he passed down a little passage, and stood in a doorway.

“Is everything going right, Jenifer?” he queried.

“Yissah!”

“The flowers came from Thorley’s?”

“Yissah!”

“And the candies and ices from Maillard?”

“Yissah!”

“And you’ve frappe the champagne?”

“Yissah?”

“Jenifer, don’t put quite so much onion juice as usual in the Queen Isabella dressing.  Ladies don’t like it as much as men.”

“Yissah!”

“And you stood the Burgundy in the sun?”

“Yissah!  Wha foh yo’ think I doan do as I ginl’y do?”

Jenifer was combining into a stuffing bread crumbs, chopped broiled oysters, onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was becoming irritated at such evident doubt of his abilities.

Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried.  He glanced round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search of possible sources for slips, but did not see them.  All he was able to say was, “That broth smells very nice, Jenifer.”

“Yissah.  Dar ain’t nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and de squeezin’s of a hunerd clams, sah.  Dat sup will make de angels sorry dey died.  Dey’ll just tink you’se dreful unkine not to offer dem a secon’ help.  Buh doan yo’ do it, sah, foh when dey gits to dem prayhens, dey’ll be pow’ful glad yo’ didn’t.”  To himself, Jenifer remarked:  “Who he gwine hab dis day?  He neber so anxious befoh, not even when de Presidint an Guv’nor Pohter dey dun dine hyah.”

Peter went to his room and, after a due course of clubbing and tubbing, dressed himself with the utmost care.  Truth compels the confession that he looked in his glass for some minutes.  Not, however, apparently with much pleasure, for an anxious look came into his face, and he remarked aloud, as he turned away, “I don’t look so old, but I once heard Watts say that I should never take a prize for my looks, and he was right.  I wonder if she cares for handsome men?”