The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him. Paul Leicester Ford

minutes at the most. "Even the other lawyer, who had nothing to say but lies, took over a column to his speech. And his was printed close together, while that of Peter's was spread out (e.g. solid and leaded) making the difference in length all the greater." Mrs. Stirling wondered if there could be a conspiracy against her Peter, on the part of the Metropolitan press. She had promptly subscribed for a year to the New York paper which glorified Peter the most, supposing that from this time on his name would appear on the front page. When she found it did not and that it was not mentioned in the press and Health Board crusade against the other "swill-milk" dealers, she became convinced that there was some definite attempt to rob Peter of his due fame. "Why, Peter began it all," she explained, "and now the papers and Health Board pretend it's all their doings." She wrote a letter to the editor of the paper—a letter which was passed round the office, and laughed over not a little by the staff. She never received an answer, nor did the paper give Peter the more attention because of it.

      Two days after the trial, Peter had another call from Dummer.

      "You handled that case in great style, Mr. Stirling," he told Peter. "You know the ropes as well as far older men. You got just the right evidence out of your witnesses, and not a bit of superfluous rubbish. That's the mistake most young men make. They bury their testimony in unessential details, I tell you, those two children were worth all the rest put together. Did you send them to the country on purpose to get that kind of evidence?"

      "No," said Peter.

      "Well, every man in that jury was probably a father, and that child's talk took right hold of them. Not but that your speech would have done the business. You were mighty clever in just telling what you saw, and not going into the testimony. You could safely trust the judge to do that. It was a great speech."

      "Thank you," said Peter.

      "He's not to be taffied," thought the lawyer. "Plain talking's the way to deal with him." He ended his allusions to the trial, and said: "Now, Mr. Stirling, Mr. Bohlmann doesn't want to have these civil suits go any further. Mr. Bohlmann's a man of respectability, with a nice wife and some daughters. The newspapers are giving him quite enough music without your dragging him into court."

      "It's the only way I can reach him," said Peter.

      "But you mustn't want to reach him. He's really a well-meaning man, and if you ask your clergyman—for I believe you go to Dr. Purple's church?—you'll find he's very charitable and generous with his money."

      Peter smiled curiously. "Distributing money made that way is not much of a charity."

      "He didn't know," said the lawyer. Then catching a look which came into Peter's face, he instantly added, "at least, he had no idea it was that bad. He tells me that he hadn't been inside those cow-sheds for four years."

      "Come and see me to-morrow," said Peter.

      After Dummer had gone, Peter walked uptown, and saw his clergyman.

      "Yes," he was told, "Mr. Bohlmann has always stood high in the church, and has been liberal and sensible with his money. I can't tell you how this whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling. It must be terrible for his wife. His daughters, too, are such nice sweet girls. You've probably noticed them in church?"

      "No," Peter had not noticed them. He did not add that he did not notice young girls—that for some reason they had not interested him since—since—

      "Where does he live?" inquired Peter.

      "Not ten blocks from here," replied Dr. Purple, and named the street and number.

      Peter looked at his watch and, thanking the clergyman, took his leave. He did not go back to his office, but to the address, and asked for Mr. Bohlmann. A respectable butler showed him into a handsome parlor and carried his name to the brewer.

      There were already two girls in the room. One was evidently a caller. The other, a girl with a sweet, kindly, German face, was obviously one of the "nice" daughters. His arrival checked the flow of conversation somewhat, but they went on comparing their summer experiences. When the butler came back and said aloud, "Mr. Bohlmann will see you in the library, Mr. Stirling," Peter noticed that both girls turned impulsively to look at him, and that the daughter flushed red.

      He found Mr. Bohlmann standing uneasily on the rug by the fireplace, and a stout woman gazing out of the window, with her back to the room.

      "I had a call from your lawyer this morning, Mr. Bohlmann," said Peter, "and I have taken the liberty of coming to see you about the cases."

      "Sid down, sid down," said his host, nervously, though not sitting himself.

      Peter sat down. "I want to do what is best about the matter," he said.

      The woman turned quickly to look at him, and Peter saw that there were tears in her eyes.

      "Vell," said the brewer, "what is dat?"

      "I don't know," said Peter, "and that's why I've come to see you."

      Mr. Bohlmann's face worked for a moment. Then suddenly he burst into tears. "I give you my word, Mr. Stirling," he said, "that I didn't know it was so. I haven't had a happy moment since you spoke that day in court." He had heretofore spoken in English with a slight German accent. But this he said in German. He sat down at the table and buried his face in his arms. His wife, who was also weeping, crossed to him, and tried to comfort him by patting him on the back.

      "I think," said Peter, "we had best drop the suits."

      Mr. Bohlmann looked up. "It is not the money, Mr. Stirling," he said, still speaking in German. "See." He drew from a drawer in his desk a check-book, and filling up a check, handed it to Peter. It was dated and signed, but the amount was left blank. "There," he said, "I leave it to you what is right."

      "I think Mr. Dummer will feel we have not treated him fairly," said Peter, "if we settle it in this way."

      "Do not think of him. I will see that he has no cause for complaint," the brewer said. "Only let me know it is ended, so that my wife and my daughters—" he choked, and ended the sentence thus.

      "Very well," said Peter. "We'll drop the suits."

      The husband and wife embraced each other in true German fashion.

      Peter rose and came to the table. "Three of the cases were for five thousand each, and the other two were for two thousand each," he said, and then hesitated. He wished to be fair to both sides. "I will ask you to fill in the check for eight thousand dollars. That will be two each for three, and one each for two."

      Mr. Bohlmann disengaged himself from his wife, and took his pen. "You do not add your fee," he said.

      "I forgot it," laughed Peter, and the couple laughed with him in their happiness. "Make it for eight thousand, two hundred and fifty."

      "Och," said the brewer once more resuming his English. "Dat is too leedle for vive cases."

      "No," said Peter. "It was what I had decided to charge in case I got any damages."

      So the check was filled in, and Peter, after a warm handshake from both, went back to his office.

      "Dat iss a fine yoong mahn," said the brewer.

CHAPTER XVII.

       Table of Contents

A NEW FRIEND.

       Table of Contents

      The day after this episode, Peter had the very unusual experience of a note by his morning's mail. Except for his mother's weekly letter, it was the first he had received since Watts had sailed, two years before. For the moment he thought that it must be from him, and the color came into his face at the mere thought that he