“Why do the papers call you ’Pete’?” asked Leonore, anxiously.  “I rather like Peter, but Pete is dreadful!”

“To prove that I am unfit to be governor.”

“Are you serious?” asked Miss Biddle.

“Yes.  From their point of view, the dropping of the ‘r’ ought to convince voters that I am nothing but a tough and heeler.”

“But it won’t!” declared Leonore, speaking from vast experience.

“I don’t think it will.  Though if they keep at it, and really convince the voters who can be convinced by such arguments, that I am what they call me, they’ll elect me.”

“How?” asked Mrs. D’Alloi.

“Because intelligent people are not led astray but outraged by such arguments, and ignorant people, who can be made to believe all that is said of me, by such means, will think I am just the man for whom they want to vote.”

“How is it possible that the papers can treat you so?” said Watts.  “The editors know you?”

“Oh, yes.  I have met nearly every man connected with the New York press.”

“They must know better?”

“Yes.  But for partisan purposes they must say what they do.”

“Then they are deliberately lying to deceive the people?” asked Miss Biddle.

“It’s rather a puzzling matter in ethics,” said Peter.  “I don’t think that the newspaper fraternity have any lower standard of morals, than men in other professions.  In the main they stand for everything that is admirable, so long as it’s non-partisan, and some of the men who to-day are now writing me down, have aided me in the past more than I can say, and are at this moment my personal friends.”

“How dishonest!”

“I cannot quite call it that.  When the greatest and most honorable statesmen of Europe and America will lie and cheat each other to their utmost extent, under cover of the term ‘diplomacy,’ and get rewarded and praised by their respective countries for their knavery, provided it is successful, I think ‘dishonest’ is a strong word for a merely partisan press.  Certain it is, that the partisan press would end to-morrow, but for the narrowness and meanness of readers.”

“Which they cause,” said Ogden.

“Just as much,” said Peter, “as the saloon makes a drunkard, food causes hunger, and books make readers.”

“But, at least, you must acknowledge they’ve got you, when they say you are the saloon-keepers’ friend,” laughed Watts.

“Yes.  I am that—­but only for votes, you understand.”

“Mr. Stirling, why do you like saloons?” asked Miss Biddle.

“I don’t like saloons.  My wish is to see the day come, when such a gross form of physical enjoyment as tippling shall cease entirely.  But till that day comes, till humanity has taught itself and raised itself, I want to see fair play.”

“What do you mean?”