When the courts opened, Peter kept track of the calendars, and whenever a case or argument promised to be interesting, or to call out the great lights of the profession, he attended and listened to them.  He tried to write out the arguments used, from notes, and finally this practice induced him to give two evenings a week during the winter mastering shorthand.  It was really only a mental discipline, for any case of importance was obtainable in print almost as soon as argued, but Peter was trying to put a pair of slate-colored eyes out of his thoughts, and employed this as one of the means.

When winter came, and his long walks became less possible, he turned to other things.  More from necessity than choice, he visited the art and other exhibitions as they occurred, he went to concerts, and to plays, all with due regard to his means, and for this reason the latter were the most seldom indulged in.  Art and music did not come easy to him, but he read up on both, not merely in standard books, but in the reviews of the daily press, and just because there was so much in both that he failed to grasp, he studied the more carefully and patiently.

One trait of his New England training remained to him.  He had brought a letter from his own Congregational church in his native town, to one of the large churches of the same sect in New York, and when admitted, hired a sitting and became a regular attendant at both morning and evening service.  In time this produced a call from his new pastor.  It was the first new friend he had gained in New York.  “He seems a quiet, well-informed fellow,” was the clergyman’s comment; “I shall make a point of seeing something of him.”  But he was pastor of a very large and rich congregation, and was a hard-worked and hard-entertained man, so his intention was not realized.

Peter spent Christmastide with his mother, who worried not a little over his loss of flesh.

“You have been overworking,” she said anxiously.

“Why mother, I haven’t had a client yet,” laughed Peter.

“Then you’ve worried over not getting on,” said his mother, knowing perfectly well that it was nothing of the sort.  She had hoped that Peter would be satisfied with his six months’ trial, but did not mention her wish.  She marvelled to herself that New York had not yet discovered his greatness.

When Peter returned to the city, he made a change in his living arrangements.  His boarding-place had filled up with the approach of winter, but with the class of men he already knew too well.  Even though he met them only at meals, their atmosphere was intolerable to him.  When a room next his office fell vacant, and went begging at a very cheap price, he decided to use it as a bedroom.  So he moved his few belongings on his return from his visit to his mother’s.

Although he had not been particularly friendly to the other boarders, nor made himself obtrusive in the least, not one of them failed to speak of his leaving.  Two or three affected to be pleased, but “Butter-and-cheese” said he “was a first-rate chap,” and this seemed to gain the assent of the table generally.