“Dear me,” said Leonore, “You’re dreadfully illiterate.” “I know it,” growled Peter, “I don’t belong here, and have no business to come. I’m a ward boss, and my place is in saloons. Don’t hesitate to say it.” All this was very foolish, but it was real to Peter for the moment, and he looked straight ahead with lines on his face which Leonore had never seen before. He ought to have been ordered to go off by himself till he should be in better mood. Instead Leonore turned from the tennis, and said: “Please don’t talk that way, Peter. You know I don’t think that.” Leonore had understood the misery which lay back of the growl. “Poor fellow,” she thought, “I must cheer him up.” So she stopped looking at the tennis. “See,” she said, “there are Miss Winthrop and Mr. Pell. Do take me over to them and let me spring my surprise. You talk to Miss Winthrop.” “Why, Peter!” said Pell. “When did you come?” “Last night. How do you do, Miss Winthrop?” Then for two minutes Peter talked, or rather listened, to that young lady, though sighing internally. Then, _Laus Deo!_ up came the poor little chap, whom Peter had libelled in age and affections, only ten minutes before, and set Peter free. He turned to see how Leonore’s petard was progressing, to find her and Pell deep in tennis. But just as he was going to expose his ignorance on that game, Leonore said: “Mr. Pell, what do you think of the political outlook?” Pell sighed internally, “You can read it in the papers,” he said. “No. I want your opinion. Especially about the great departure the Democratic Convention is going to make.” “You mean in endorsing Maguire?” Leonore began to visibly swell in importance. “Of course not,” she said, contemptuously. “Every one knows that that was decided against at the Manhattan dinner. I mean the unusual resolution about the next senator.” Pell ceased to sigh. “I don’t know what you mean?” he said. “Not really?” said Leonore incredulously, her nose cocking a little more airily. “I thought of course you would know about it. I’m so surprised!” Pell looked at her half quizzingly, and half questioningly. “What is the resolution?” “Naming a candidate for the vacancy for the Senate.” “Nonsense,” said Pell, laughing. “The convention has nothing to do with the senators. The Legislature elects them.” He thought, “Why can’t women, if they will talk politics, at least learn the ABC.” “Yes,” said Leonore, “but this is a new idea. The Senate has behaved so badly, that the party leaders think it will be better to make it a more popular body by having the New York convention nominate a man, and then they intend to make the legislature elect him. If the other states will only follow New York’s lead, it may make the Senate respectable and open to public opinion.” Pell sniffed obviously. “In what fool paper did you read that?”