CHAPTER XLII.
DOWN-TOWN NEW YORK.
Peter had not been working long the next morning when he was told that"The Honorable Terence Denton wishes to see you," "Very well," he said,and that worthy was ushered in.
"Good-morning, Denton. I'm glad to see you. I was going down to the Hallto-day to say something, but you've saved me the trouble."
"I know you was. So I thought I'd get ahead of you," said Denton, with asurly tone and manner.
"Sit down," said Peter. Peter had learned that, with a certain class ofindividuals, a distance and a seat have a very dampening effect onanger. It is curious, man's instinctive desire to stand up to and benear the object for which anger is felt.
"You've been talking against me in the ward, and makin' them down onme."
"No, I didn't talk against you. I've spoken with some of the peopleabout the way you think of voting on the franchises."
"Yes. I wasn't round, but a friend heard Dennis and Blunkers a-goingover it last night. And it's you did it."
"Yes. But you know me well enough to be sure, after my talk with youyesterday, that I wouldn't stop there."
"So you try to set the pack on me."
"No. I try to see how the ward wants its alderman to vote on thefranchises."
"Look a-here. What are you so set on the Hummel crowd for?"
"I'm not."
"Is it because Hummel's a big contractor and gives you lots of lawbusiness?"
"No," said Peter, smiling. "And you don't think it is, either."
"Has they offered you some stock cheap?"
"Come, come, Denton. You know the _tu quoque_ do here."
Denton shifted in his seat uneasily, not knowing what reply to make.Those two little Latin words had such unlimited powers of concealment inthem. He did not know whether _tu quoque_ meant something about votes,an insulting charge, or merely a reply, and feared to make himselfridiculous by his response to them. He was not the first man who hasbeen hampered and floored by his own ignorance. He concluded he mustmake an entire change of subject to be safe. So he said, "I ain't goin'to be no boss's puppy dog."
"No," said Peter, finding it difficult not to smile, "you are not thatkind of a man."
"I takes my orders from no one."
"Denton, no one wants you to vote by order. We elected you alderman todo what was best for the ward and city, as it seems to you. You areresponsible for your votes to us, and no other man can be. I don't carewho orders you or advises you; in the end, you must vote yourself, andyou yourself will be held to account by us."
"Yes. But if I don't vote as you wants, you'll sour the boys on me."
"I shall tell them what I think. You can do the same. It's a fair gamebetween us."
"No, it ain't. You're rich and you can talk more."
"You know my money has nothing to do with it. You know I don't try todeceive the men in talking to them. If they trust what I tell them, it'sbecause it's reasonable, and because I haven't tricked them before."
"Well, are you goin' to drive me out?"
"I hope not. I think you've made a good alderman, Denton, and you'llfind I've said so."
"But now?"
"If you vote for that franchise, I shall certainly tell the ward that Ithink you've done wrong. Then the ward will do as they please."
"As you please, you mean."
"No. You've been long enough in politics to know that unless I can makethe ward think as I do, I couldn't do anything. What would you care formy opinion, if you didn't know that the votes are back of it?"
Just then the door swung open, and Dennis came in. "Tim said yez wasalone wid Denton, sir, so Oi came right in. It's a good-mornin', sir.How are yez, Terence?"
"You are just the man I want, Dennis. Tell Denton how the ward feelsabout the franchises."
"Shure. It's one man they is. An' if Denton will step down to my placethis night, he'll find out how they think."
"They never would have felt so, if Mister Stirling hadn't talked tothem. Not one in twenty knew the question was up."
"That's because they are most of them too hard working to keep track ofall the things. Come, Denton; I don't attempt to say how you shall vote.I only tell you how it seems to me. Go round the ward, and talk withothers. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the futureor not. I don't want to fight you. We've been good friends in the past,and we can do more by pulling in double harness than by kicking, I don'tknow a man I would rather see at the Hall." Peter held out his hand, andDenton took it.
"All right, Mister Stirling. I'll do my best to stay friends," he said,and went out.
Peter turned and smiled at Dennis. "They can't find out that it's not I,but the ward. So every time there's trouble they lay it against me, andit's hard to keep them friendly. And I hate quarrels and surliness."
"It's yezself can do it, though. Shure, Denton was in a great state avmind this mornin', they was tellin' me, but he's all right now, an' willvote right, or my name isn't Dennis Moriarty."
"Yes. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll vote square on Tuesday."
Just then Tim brought in the cards of Watts and Leonore, and strangelyenough, Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, andafter the greetings, Peter said:
"Miss D'Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis, MissD'Alloi has wanted to know you because she's heard of your being such afriend to me."
"Shure," said Dennis, taking the little hand so eagerly offered him,"Oim thinkin' we're both lucky to be in the thoughts at all, at all, avsuch a sweet young lady."
"Oh, Mr. Moriarty, you've kissed the blarney stone."
"Begobs," responded Dennis, "it needs no blarney stone to say that.It's afther sayin' itself."
"Peter, have you that opinion?"
"Yes." Peter handed her out a beautifully written sheet of script, allin due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red inkmarginal references to such solid works as "Wheaton," "Story," and"Cranch's" and "Wallace's" reports. Peter had taken it practically froma "Digest," but many apparently learned opinions come from the samesource. And the whole was given value by the last two lines, which read,"Respectfully submitted, Peter Stirling." Peter's name had value at thebottom of a legal opinion, or a check, if nowhere else.
"Look, Mr. Moriarty," cried Leonore, too full of happiness over thisdecision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to shareit, "I've always thought I was French--though I didn't feel so abit--and now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I'm so happy. Ihate foreigners."
Watts laughed. "Why, Dot. You mustn't say that to Mr. Moriarty. He's aforeigner himself."
"Oh, I forgot. I didn't think that----" Poor Leonore stopped there,horrified at what she had said.
"No," said Peter, "Dennis is not a foreigner. He's one of the mostardent Americans I know. As far as my experience goes, to make one ofDennis's bulls, the hottest American we have to-day, is theIrish-American."
"Oh, come," said Watts. "You know every Irishman pins his loyalty to the'owld counthry.'"
"Shure," said Dennis, "an' if they do, what then? Sometimes a man findsa full-grown woman, fine, an' sweet, an' strong, an' helpful to him, an'he comes to love her big like. But does that make him forget his oldweak mother, who's had a hard life av it, yet has done her best by him?Begobs! If he forgot her, he wouldn't be the man to make a good husband.Oi don't say Oi'm a good American, for its small Oi feel besides MistherStirling. But Oi love her, an' if she ever wants the arm, or the blood,or the life, av Dennis Moriarty, she's only got to say so."
"Well," said Watts, "this is very interesting, both as a point of viewand as oratory; but it isn't business. Peter, we came down this morningto take whatever legal steps are necessary to put Dot in possession ofher grandmother's money, of which I have been trustee. Here is a lot ofpapers about it. I suppose everything is there relating to it."
"Papa seemed to think it would be very wise to ask you to take care ofit, and pay me the income, I can't have t
he principal till I'mtwenty-five."
"You must tie it up some way, Peter, or Dot will make ducks and drakesof it. She has about as much idea of the value of money as she has ofthe value of foreigners. When we had our villa at Florence, shesupported the entire pauper population of the city."
Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds. But it struck himthat this was really a chance--from a business standpoint, entirely! Itis true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trustcompany would handle that sum of money for four hundred and odd dollars,he was bound to do the same; and this would certainly not pay him forhis time. "Sometimes, however," said Peter to himself, "these,trusteeships have very handsome picking's, aside from the half percent." Peter did not say that the "pickings," as they framed themselvesin his mind, were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiablereason at all times for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of lettersand other unearned increment. So Peter was not obstinate this time."It's such a simple matter that I can have the papers drawn while youwait, if you've half an hour to spare." Peter did this, thinking itwould keep them longer, but later it occurred to him it would have beenbetter to find some other reason, and leave the papers, because thenLeonore would have had to come again soon. Peter was not quite as cooland far-seeing as he was normally.
He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion thatthey go into his study. Peter rang for his head clerk, and explainedwhat was needed with great rapidity, and then left the latter and wentinto the study.
"I wonder what he's in such a hurry for?" said the clerk, retiring withthe papers.
When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing inchairs, and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking. This was whatDennis was saying:
"'Schatter, boys, an' find me a sledge.' Shure, we thought it wasdemented he was, but he was the only cool man, an' orders were orders.Dooley, he found one, an' then the captain went to the rails an' gave ita swing, an' struck the bolts crosswise like, so that the heads flewoff, like they was shootin' stars. Then he struck the rails sideways, soas to loosen them from the ties. Then says he: 'Half a dozen av yez takeoff yez belts an' strap these rails together!' Even then we didn'tunderstand, but we did it All this time the dirty spal--Oi ask yezpardon, miss--all this time the strikers were pluggin' at us, an'bullets flyin' like fun. 'Drop your muskets,' says the captain, when wehad done; 'fall in along those rails. Pick them up, and double-quick forthe shed door,' says he, just as if he was on parade. Then we saw whathe was afther, and double-quick we went. Begobs, that door went down asif it was paper. He was the first in. 'Stand back,' says he, 'till Oisee what's needed.' Yez should have seen him walk into that sheet avflame, an' stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin', an' it so hot that we atthe door were coverin' our faces to save them from scorchin'. Then hesays: 'Get your muskets!' We went, an' Moike says to me: 'It's no good.No man can touch them cars. He's goin' to attind to the strikers,' Butnot he. He came out, an' he says: 'B'ys, it's hot in there, but, if youdon't mind a bit av a burn, we can get the poor fellows out. Will yeztry?' 'Yes!' we shouted. So he explained how we could push cars widouttouchin' them. 'Fall in,' says he. 'Fix bayonets. First file to theright av the cars, second rank to the left. Forward, march!' An' we wentinto that hell, an' rolled them cars out just as if we was marchin' downBroadway, wid flags, an' music, an' women clappin' hands."
"But weren't you dreadfully burnt?"
"Oh, miss, yez should have seen us! We was blacker thin the divilhimsilf. Hardly one av us but didn't have the hair burnt off the parthis cap didn't cover; an', as for eyelashes, an' mustaches, an'blisters, no one thought av them the next day. Shure, the whole companywas in bed, except them as couldn't lie easy."
"And Mr. Stirling?"
"Shure, don't yez know about him?"
"No."
"Why, he was dreadful burnt, an' the doctors thought it would be blindhe'd be; but he went to Paris, an' they did somethin' to him there thatsaved him. Oh, miss, the boys were nearly crazy wid fear av losin' him.They'd rather be afther losin' the regimental cat."
Peter had been tempted to interrupt two or three times, but it was soabsorbing to watch Leonore's face, and its changing expression, as,unconscious of his presence, she listened to Dennis, that Peter had notthe heart to do it. But now Watts spoke up.
"Do you hear that, Peter? There's value for you! You're better than thecat."
So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennisleft. Then the necessary papers were brought in and looked over atPeter's study-table, and Miss D'Alloi took another of his pens. Peterhoped she'd stop and think a little, again, but she didn't. Just as shehad begun an L she hesitated, however.
"Why," she said, "this paper calls me 'Leonore D'Alloi, spinster!' I'mnot going to sign that."
"That is merely the legal term," Peter explained. Leonore pouted forsome time over it, but finally signed. "I shan't be a spinster, anyway,even if the paper does say so," she said.
Peter agreed with her.
"See what a great blot I've made on your clean blotter," said Leonore,who had rested the pen-point there. "I'm very sorry." Then she wrote onthe blotter, "Leonore D'Alloi. Her very untidy mark." "That was whatMadame Mellerie always made me write on my exercises."
Then they said "Good-bye." "I like down-town New York better andbetter," said Leonore.
So did Peter.