“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.

A NEW FRIEND.

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 would have news of—­of—­Watts.  But a moment’s glance at the writing showed him he was wrong, and he tore the envelope with little interest in his face.  Indeed after he had opened it, he looked at his wall for a moment before he fixed his mind on it.

It contained a brief note, to this effect: 

    “A recent trial indicates that Mr. Stirling needs neither praise
    not reward as incentives for the doing of noble deeds.

“But one who prefers to remain unknown cannot restrain her grateful thanks to Mr. Stirling for what he did; and being debarred from such acts herself, asks that at least she may be permitted to aid him in them by enclosing a counsel fee for ’the case of the tenement children of New York against the inhumanity of men’s greed.’

    “September third.”

Peter looked at the enclosure, and found it was a check for five hundred dollars.  He laid it on his desk, and read the note over again.  It was beyond question written by a lady.  Every earmark showed that, from the delicate scent of the paper, to the fine, even handwriting.  Peter wanted to know who she was.  He looked at the check to see by whom it was signed; to find that it was drawn by the cashier of the bank at which it was payable.

Half an hour later, a rapid walk had brought him to the bank the name of which was on the check.  It was an uptown one, which made a specialty of family and women’s accounts.  Peter asked for the cashier.

“I’ve called about this check,” he said, when that official materialized, handing the slip of paper to him.

“Yes,” said the cashier kindly, though with a touch of the resigned sorrow in his voice which cashiers of “family’s” and women’s banks acquire.  “You must sign your name on the back, on the left-hand end, and present it to the paying-teller, over at that window.  You’ll have to be identified if the paying-teller doesn’t know you.”

“I don’t want the money,” said Peter, “I want to know who sent the check to me?”

The cashier looked at it more carefully.  “Oh!” he said.  Then he looked up quickly at Peter? with considerable interest, “Are you Mr. Stirling?”