“I was charged with stealing the chapel Bible, and with painting a front door of one of the professors.” “And had you done these things?” “No.” The guests began to say good-night, so the dialogue was interrupted. When it came Peter’s turn to go, Miss De Voe said: “I hope you will not again refuse my dinner invitations.” “I have had a very pleasant evening,” said Peter. “But I had a pleasanter one, the other night.” “Good-evening,” said Miss De Voe mechanically. She was really thinking “What a very nice speech. He couldn’t have meant anything by his remark about the questions.” Peter dined the next evening with Lispenard, who in the course of the meal turned the conversation to Miss De Voe. Lispenard was curious to learn just what Peter knew of her. “She’s a great swell, of course,” he said incidentally. “I suppose so. I really know nothing about her, but the moment I saw her I felt that she was different from any other woman I had ever met.” “But you’ve found out about her since?” “No. I was tempted to question Dr. Purple, but I didn’t like to ask about a friend.” Lispenard laughed. “You’ve got a pretty bad case of conscience, I’m afraid. It’s a poor thing to have in New York, too. Well, my cousin is one of the richest, best born women in this country, though I say it. You can’t do better than cultivate her.” “Is that what you do?” “No. You have me there. She doesn’t approve of me at all. You see, women in this country expect a man to be serious and work. I can’t do either. I suppose its my foreign education. She likes my company, and finds my escortage very convenient. But while she thinks I’m a pretty good companion, she is sure I’m a poor sort of a man. If she takes a shine to you, make the most of it. She can give you anything she pleases socially.” “I suppose you have anything you please socially?” “Pretty much.” “And would you advise me to spend time to get it?” “Um. I wouldn’t give the toss of a copper for it—but I can have it. It’s not being able to have it that’s the bad thing.” “So I have found,” said Peter gravely. Lispenard laughed heartily, as he sipped his “Court France.” “I wish,” he said, “that a lot of people, whose lives are given to nothing else, could have heard you say that, in that tone of voice. You don’t spell Society with a capital, do you?” “Possibly,” said Peter, “if I had more capital, I should use some on society.” “Good,” said Lispenard. “Heavens,” he said to himself, “he’s made a joke! Cousin Anneke will never believe it.” He told her the next day, and his statement proved correct. “I know you made the joke,” she said. “He didn’t.” “And why shouldn’t he joke as well as I?” “It doesn’t suit him.” “Why not?” “Parlor tricks are all right in a lap-dog, but they only belittle a mastiff.”