“I never had a sister, but it must be rather a good thing to live up to.”

“Yes.  And to live with.  Especially other fellows’ sisters.”

“Are you ready to part with yours for that purpose?”

“No.  That’s asking too much.  By the way, I think we are in the same work.  I’m in the office of Jarvis, Redburn and Saltus.”

“I’m trying it by myself.”

“You’ve been very lucky.”

“Yes.  I’ve succeeded much better than I hoped for.  But I’ve had very few clients.”

“Fortunately it doesn’t take many.  Two or three rich steady clients will keep a fellow running.  I know a man who’s only got one, but he runs him for all he’s worth, and gets a pretty good living out of him.”

“My clients haven’t been of that sort.”  Peter smiled a little at the thought of making a steady living out of the Blacketts, Dooleys or Milligans.

“It’s all a matter of friends.”

Peter had a different theory, but he did not say so.  Just at that point they were joined by Laurence Ogden, who was duly introduced, and in a moment the conversation at their end of the table became general.  Peter listened, enjoying his Havana.

When they joined the ladies, they found Lispenard Ogden there, and he intercepted Peter.

“Look here,” he said.  “A friend of mine has just come back from Europe, with a lot of prints.  He’s a fellow who thinks he has discrimination, and he wants me to come up and look them over to-morrow evening.  He hopes to have his own taste approved and flattered.  I’m not a bit good at that, with men.  Won’t you go with me, and help me lie?”

“Of course I should like to.”

“All right.  Dine with me at six at the Union Club.”

“I’m not going to let you talk to each other,” said Miss De Voe.  “Lispenard, go and talk with Miss McDougal.”

“See how quickly lying brings its own punishment,” laughed Lispenard, walking away.

“What does he mean?” asked Miss De Voe.

“The opposite of what he says, I think,” said Peter.

“That is a very good description of Lispenard.  Almost good enough to have been said by himself.  If you don’t mind, I’ll tell him.”

“No.”

“Do tell me, Mr. Stirling, how you and Watts D’Alloi came to room together?”

“He asked me.”

“Yes.  But what ever made him do that?”

“I’ve often wondered myself.”

“I can easily understand his asking you, but what first threw you together?”

“A college scrape.”

“Were you in a college scrape?”

“Yes.  I was up before the faculty twice.”

“Do tell me what you had done?”

“I was charged with stealing the chapel Bible, and with painting a front door of one of the professors.”

“And had you done these things?”

“No.”

The guests began to say good-night, so the dialogue was interrupted.  When it came Peter’s turn to go, Miss De Voe said: