“And he was invited to call by Mrs. Dupont and Mrs. Sizer, which is more than you’ve ever been,” said Avery senior to Avery junior.

“That’s because of the prog,” growled the son, seeing his opportunity to square accounts quickly.

Coming out of church the next Sunday, Peter was laid hold of by the Bohlmanns and carried off to a mid-day dinner, at which were a lot of pleasant Germans, who made it very jolly with their kindly humor.  He did not contribute much to the laughter, but every one seemed to think him an addition to the big table.

Thus it came to pass that late in January Peter dedicated a week of evenings to “Society,” and nightly donning his dress suit, called dutifully on Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Sizer, Mrs. Purple, Mrs. Avery, Mrs. Costell, Mrs. Gallagher and Mrs. Bohlmann.  Peter was becoming very frivolous.

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN EVENING CALL.

But Peter’s social gadding did not end with these bread-and-butter calls.  One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famous picture-dealer, to look over an exhibition then advertised, and had nearly finished his patient examination of each picture, which always involved quite as much mental gymnastics as aesthetic pleasure to Peter, when he heard a pleasant: 

“How do you do, Mr. Stirling?”

Turning, he found Miss De Voe and a well-dressed man at his elbow.  Peter’s face lighted up in a way which made the lady say to herself:  “I wonder why he wouldn’t buy another ticket?” Aloud she said, “I want you to know another of my cousins.  Mr. Ogden, Mr. Stirling.”

“Charmed,” said Mr. Ogden genially.  Any expression which Peter had thought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this passive participle, that he merely bowed.

“I did not know you cared for pictures,” said Miss De Voe.

“I see most of the public exhibitions,” Peter told her.  “I try to like them.”

Miss De Voe looked puzzled.

“Don’t,” said Mr. Ogden.  “I tried once, when I first began.  But it’s much easier to notice what women say, and answer ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at the right points.”

Peter looked puzzled.

“Nonsense, Lispenard,” said Miss De Voe.  “He’s really one of the best connoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling.”

“There,” said Lispenard.  “You see.  Only agree with people, and they think you know everything.”

“I suppose you have seen the pictures, and so won’t care to go round with us?” inquired Miss De Voe.

“I’ve looked at them, but I should like to go over again with you,” said Peter.  Then he added, “if I shan’t be in the way.”

“Not a bit,” said Lispenard heartily.  “My cousin always wants a listener.  It will be a charity to her tongue and my ears.”  Miss De Voe merely gave him a very pleasant smile.  “I wonder why he wouldn’t buy a ticket?” she thought.