“I like Dorothy,” said Peter, “and I like Miss Biddle.  But I didn’t get the ride I wanted.”

He got a very nice look from those slate-colored eyes.

They set a music-box going, and Peter’s instruction began.  When it was over, Leonore said: 

“You’ve improved wonderfully.”

“Well enough to dance with you?”

“Yes,” said Leonore.  “I’ll take pity on you unless you’d rather talk to some other girl.”

Peter only smiled quietly.

“Peter,” said Leonore, later, as he was sipping his tea, “do you think I’m nothing but a foolish society flutterbird?”

“Do you want to know what I think of you?” asked Peter, eagerly.

“No,” said Leonore hastily.  “But do you think of me as nothing but a society girl?”

“Yes,” said Peter, truth speaking in voice and face.

The corners of Leonore’s mouth descended to a woeful degree.

“I think you are a society girl,” continued Peter, “because you are the nicest kind of society.”

Leonore fairly filled the room with her smile.  Then she said, “Peter, will you do me a favor?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell Dorothy that I have helped you translate cipher telegrams and write the replies?”

Peter was rather astonished, but said, “Yes.”

But he did it very badly, Leonore thought, for meeting Dorothy the next day at a lawn party, after the mere greetings, he said: 

“Dorothy, Miss D’Alloi has been helping me translate and write cipher telegrams.”

Dorothy looked startled at the announcement for a moment.  Then she gave a glance at Leonore, who was standing by Peter, visibly holding herself in a very triumphant attitude.  Then she burst out into the merriest of laughs, and kept laughing.

“What is it?” asked Peter.

“Such a joke,” gasped Dorothy, “but I can’t tell you.”

As for Leonore, her triumphant manner had fled, and her cheeks were very red.  And when some one spoke to Dorothy, and took her attention, Leonore said to Peter very crossly: 

“You are so clumsy!  Of course I didn’t mean that way.”

Peter sighed internally.  “I am stupid, I suppose,” he said to himself.  “I tried to do just what she asked, but she’s displeased, and I suppose she won’t be nice for the rest of the day.  If it was only law or politics!  But women!”

But Leonore didn’t abuse him.  She was very kind to him, despite her displeasure.  “If Dorothy would only let me alone,” thought Peter, “I should have a glorious time.  Why can’t she let me stay with her when she’s in such a nice mood.  And why does she insist on my being attentive to her.  I don’t care for her.  It seems as if she was determined to break up my enjoyment, just as I get her to myself.”  Peter mixed his “hers” and “shes” too thoroughly in this sentence to make its import clear.  His thoughts are merely reported verbatim, as the easiest way.  It certainly indicates that, as with most troubles, there was a woman in it.