“My dear Hallowell,” he protested, “why the devil didn't you tell me you wanted a decoration? Of course the State department expressly forbids us to ask for one for ourselves, or for any one else. But what's the Constitution between friends? I'll get it for you at once--but, on two conditions: that you don't tell anybody I got it, and that you tell me why you want it, and what you ever did to deserve it.” Instead, Peter explained fully and so sympathetically that the diplomat demanded that he, too, should be enrolled as one of the Gilman Defense Committee. “Doctor Gilman's history,” he said, “must be presented to the Sultan. You must have the five volumes rebound in red and green, the colors of Mohammed, and with as much gold tooling as they can carry. I hope,” he added, “they are not soiled.” “Not by me,” Peter assured him. “I will take them myself,” continued Stimson, “to Muley Pasha, the minister of foreign affairs, and ask him to present them to his Imperial Majesty. He will promise to do so, but he won't; but he knows I know he won't so that is all right. And in return he will present us with the Order of the Crescent of the third class.” “Going up!” exclaimed Peter. “The third class. That will cost me my entire letter-of-credit.” “Not at all,” said Stimson. “I've saved you from the grafters. It will cost you only what you pay to have the books rebound. And the THIRD class is a real honor of which any one might be proud. You wear it round your neck, and at your funeral it entitles you to an escort of a thousand soldiers.” “I'd rather put up with fewer soldiers,” said Peter, “and wear it longer round my neck What's the matter with our getting the second class or the first class?” At such ignorance Stimson could not repress a smile. “The first class,” he explained patiently, “is the Great Grand Cross, and is given only to reigning sovereigns. The second is called the Grand Cross, and is bestowed only on crowned princes, prime ministers, and men of world-wide fame....” “What's the matter with Doctor Gilman's being of world-wide fame?” said Peter. “He will be some day, when Stetson starts boosting.” “Some day,” retorted Stimson stiffly, “I may be an ambassador. When I am I hope to get the Grand Cross of the Crescent, but not now. I'm sorry you're not satisfied,” he added aggrievedly. “No one can get you anything higher than the third class, and I may lose my official head asking for that.” “Nothing is too good for old man Gilman,” said Peter, “nor for you. You get the third class for him, and I'll have father make you an ambassador.”