“Why, Dot, we must get those papers out, and you must find some one to put the trust in legal shape, and take care of it for you,” said Watts. “I suppose,” said Leonore to Peter, “if you have one lawyer to do all your work, that he does each thing cheaper, doesn’t he?” “Yes. Because he divides what his client has, on several jobs, instead of on one,” Peter told her. “Then I think I’ll have you do it all. We’ll come down and see you about it. But write out that opinion at once, so that I can prove that I’m an American.” “Very well. But there’s a safer way, even, of making sure that you’re an American.” “What is that?” said Leonore, eagerly. “Marry one,” said Peter. “Oh, yes,” said Leonore, “I’ve always intended to do that, but not for a great many years.” CHAPTER XLI. CALLS. Peter dressed himself the next evening with particular care, even for him. As Peter dressed, he was rather down on life. He had been kept from his ride that afternoon by taking evidence in a referee case. “I really needed the exercise badly,” he said. He had tried to work his dissatisfaction off on his clubs and dumb-bells, but whatever they had done for his blood and tissue, they had not eased his frame of mind. Dinner made him a little pleasanter, for few men can remain cross over a proper meal. Still, he did not look happy, when, on rising from his coffee, he glanced at his watch and found that it was but ten minutes past eight. He vacillated for a moment, and then getting into his outside trappings, he went out and turned eastward, down the first side street. He walked four blocks, and then threw open the swing door of a brilliantly lighted place, stepping at once into a blaze of light and warmth which was most attractive after the keen March wind blowing outside. He nodded to the three barkeepers. “Is Dennis inside?” he asked. “Yes, Misther Stirling. The regulars are all there.” Peter passed through the room, and went into another without knocking. In it were some twenty men, sitting for the most part in attitudes denoting ease. Two, at a small table in the corner, were playing dominoes. Three others, in another corner, were amusing themselves with “High, Low, Jack.” Two were reading papers. The rest were collected round the centre table, most of them smoking. Some beer mugs and tumblers were standing about, but not more than a third of the twenty were drinking anything. The moment Peter entered, one of the men jumped to his feet. “B’ys,” he cried, “here’s Misther Stirling. Begobs, sir, it’s fine to see yez. It’s very scarce yez been lately.” He had shaken hands, and then put a chair in place for Peter. The cards, papers, and dominoes had been abandoned the moment Dennis announced Peter’s advent, and when Peter had finished shaking the hands held out to him, and had seated himself, the men were all gathered round the big table.